Chapter Text
It coalesced around her heart like water. He’d found a way to reach it, with his fingers kissed by frost, and miraculously had not frozen it there.
Now, in the cruelest twist of fate, his retraction from her heart had frozen her solid. Her heart felt chilled, a silent resignation to the fates the archons laid out for them.
Jean wanted to burn. She wanted to scream, to cry, to shake Kaeya by his shoulders and wail why, why you until her throat gave way.
But she didn't, and she couldn’t. Kaeya was unreadable, and Jean set her lips in a permanent line.
“So this is how it ends?”
“So it is.”
Jean’s fingers twitched where they wrapped around the hilt of her sword.
“I will not fight you, Kaeya.” She said softly, never breaking eye contact even as the former cavalry captain drew his own blade.
“You will have to, grandmaster, or you will die.”
The lilt in his voice was teasing, sing-song. But there was apprehension there, and Jean felt the beating wings of hope in her ribs.
It was crushed by the sound of metal swinging through the air, and the echoing clash of blade against blade as Jean turned to meet him.
There was nothing behind his eyes, she found. Jean's heart sank as she searched the crystalline depths for a twinge of guilt, of regret. She found nothing but her own desperate reflection.
Kaeya’s eye, now uncovered, was glassy. It reflected her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
I’ve failed you, haven’t I?
With a flick of her forearm, Jean pushed Kaeya’s blade away and met his blow again.
“I suppose I shall die then.”
There.
A crack, in his steely facade. Kaeya wavered, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. Jeans heart bloomed with hope once more, holding her sword out in front of her as Kaeya danced backward.
She dropped the blade, the metal clattering to the wet cobblestone pavement.
Kaeya faltered, staring at her. His knuckles tightened on the handle of his sword, and she could see him worrying the inside of his lip. The familiarity of the action panged at her heart.
They were fifteen, sparring in the Favonius training field. Chips of wood flew off the training dummies behind them as they met each other blow for blow.
Jean struck down, catching Kaeya by surprise. His sword flew out of his hand and he stumbled back as she tapped his chest with her blunt training sword. He bit the inside of his lip, clever eyes scrutinizing her stance, her posture.
Clever Kaeya. His gaze shifted from steely to apprehensive, and Jean heard the rustle of fabric as his hands shook.
“Grandmaster.”
Jean winced. The title sounded like a curse, the way he said it.
“My name is Jean.” She murmured, connecting their gazes with a shaky breath.
She would get him back. They had a chance, things would go back to normal-
Kaeya sheathed his sword in an abrupt motion, plucking Jean’s own blade from the cobble.
Suddenly himself again, he strode towards her, barely giving her time to react before he pressed the hilt of the sword into her palm.
Something crinkled against Jeans gloves as Kaeya’s hand rested on the small of her back, and pulled her lips against his.
Jean felt as if she’d been struck by lightning.
She didn’t understand him, the way he had enraptured her so intensely. She didn’t know how to organize these feelings, and if she couldn’t sort them, couldn’t categorize who she was into neat boxes…
Then who was she?
The rain slicked her hair to her skin, and she pulled him closer. She didn’t know who she was. The idea of herself was so far away, but Kaeya was here, and real, and all she wanted was for him to come back to her. To stay.
The kiss was, however, fleeting, Kaeya pulling away as quickly as he’d come.
“Don’t look for me, Jeanie.” He whispered, before heavy footsteps resounded throughout the courtyard from behind her.
Jean could only watch as Kaeya wiped his eyes, took a step back, then another, and then fled down the steps.
“Jean? Jean?!” Diluc’s voice was hoarse, rasping through the rain.
“I’m here…” Jean called back to him, as her throat began to close.
“Kaeya… Where is he.”
Diluc was frantic, his hands on Jeans shoulders as she shook her head.
“He… I… We lost him, Diluc.”
Her eyes burned as she finally looked at him, and found his face as crestfallen as hers.
Like it or not, they truly are brothers
“I lost him.”
It's all my fault.
His brother, gone again, and it was her fault.
He'll come back- he will. He has to come back-
Diluc pulled his friend into a hug, muscular arms shaking as he cried silently-- Jean wasn’t supposed to notice that, but she did, she always did--into her shoulder.
Jean had never cried in public. She refused to let herself be so vulnerable in front of those who needed her strength the most.
That night, she blamed it on the rain. But rain did not make her voice hoarse, did not make her eyes puffy and red.
Rain was not the reason for the gaping hole in her heart, crystallizing in her chest.
The paper between her fingers grew wet. Jean's grip grew tighter.