Chapter Text
A knock at your door in the middle of the night, making you flinch, as you pick up the candelabrum on your desk and walk towards the door. Your eyes search the window panes to see if you can check who it could be(that too, at three in the morning, according to your clock). Your robe flows behind you as you walk to the door, cautiously placing your ear against the wood as you let out a sigh.
You can’t hear a thing.
[E/C] eyes dart around the living room, then to the cupboard underneath the bookshelf(it looks like there’s nothing there, but you store a secret weapon or two just in case). Creeping there slowly, you pull out a dagger just in case you get attacked(and then again, who would attack a Captain of the Knights of Favonius?). Your strides are quieter than feline ones, as you swiftly open the door and get in a stance, ready to defend yourself if need be.
“Seriously?”
“Kaeya?” you gasp, “Archons, what happened to you?”
His lip shivers as he takes in support from the pillar on your porch, his uncovered eye looking down at you with an animosity that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. His lashes are littered with icy little particles, and he’s barely able to hold himself together as he falls onto you. The tip of his nose and ears were lighter shades of his eyes as you help him in, pulling off his scarf and taking his sword from his sheath(you then proceeded to throw these things onto the floor haphazardly). His whole body was wet; the warmth of your home was probably melting the ice particles on him away as he says, “Cryo Mage. Got frozen too much."
(You almost roll your eyes. What does he take you for, a child?)
"You can’t get frozen that much from just one Mage. I’m not as dim-witted as you think I am,” you reply, your eyes narrowing at his as you lead him to the bathroom. One of his arms snake around your neck and hang there gently(his arm itself was so cold that you slightly grimaced when he placed it there), and your hand around his back for support as he struggles to walk. You finally reach the door of your bathroom, opening the door slightly and then using your foot to kick it wide open. You help him sit on the covered toilet seat as you say, “I’m going to run you a bath, so uh.. undress, or something.”
“Wouldn’t you like to see that?” he winks, looking at you with a signature smirk as he unclasps his sword from his back and places it to the side. You glare at him as you hand him a towel, then mutter a curse to which he chuckles, and you retort with, “I’ll throw you back into the lake if you don’t shut up right this second. You’ll freeze to death, then."
"You wouldn’t!” he gasps, feigning offense as hot water begins piling into the tub, you throw in a bit of bubble solution as he continues wiping his hair with the towel you had given him. When you turn back, his half-lidded eye stares back at you when you let out a stressed sigh, “How did you become a Cavalry Captain when you can’t follow simple directions?”
(You let out a small ‘hmph’ after you say that. It’s not like you’re irritated but just worried. He is a childhood friend, after all.)
He raises a brow when you walk towards him and take the towel from his hand and plop it on his head instead. Then, you slowly start removing the buttons on his shirt(they’re cold and they’re made of metal, you almost retreat your hand after touching the first one), gaining a taunt from the blue-haired man, “I’m getting very… dominating vibes from you at the moment. What do you say?"
"Do you want me to electrocute you?” you sneer, to which he says, “See, I told you. Dominating vibes.”
“Shut up and take your clothes off so I can see if you have any wounds. I’m getting spare clothes and the first-aid kit,” you retort, walking out of the bathroom in a hurry so you could get your hands on that medical box. You pick up an oversized shirt and pants that you think might fit him and head back to the bathroom after you find the kit, only to see Kaeya still sitting there—struggling to take his tight pants off. You sigh, placing the first-aid kit on the floor next to him as you crouch down and pull his pants off, he almost lets out a sigh of relief, but stays quiet as you assess his injuries.
Bruises. Lots of them, scattered all throughout his body. A nasty one that was already turning purple was formed by his shoulder and neck, and upon checking, some parts of his head had them too. And there were cuts as well; small ones, slashes, and some that were long but didn’t get too deep into his skin. You grimace as you look at each and every one, and when your eyes fall on his back—where he possesses a long gash, starting from the upper right quadrant of his torso to almost his lower back, you almost gasp.
(There’s quite a bit of blood too. You try not to yell at him now for being careless, but you can’t help but let at least one question slip.)
“It doesn’t look too deep, but what in the seven Archons were you thinking?” you say, slowly dabbing cotton(pressed with alcohol right before you started cleaning his injuries). He makes a wry face loads of times as you press cotton gently over the cuts, dabbing ever-so-lightly until he was all clean. You let out an indulgent hum of triumph before you say, “I’m leaving you some spare clothes, tell me when you’re done so I can bandage you up and help you to bed, okay?”
You get up from your spot, but his cold hand finds your wrist. You look back, your tired eyes pondering down at him with worry and curiosity at the same time, your hair falling a little too freely on your face as you turn. He gets up with a shaky breath, steadying himself slowly as he mumbles, “Thank you. For everything.”
You give him a faint smile in return along with a slight nod, as if an unsaid “you’re welcome”, as you leave him to tend to himself.
As you exit the bathroom, your mind diverts back to when you were young; running around as you trained together after meeting in the Knights of Favonius try-outs. You still remember it as vividly as ever—beating down ten training dummies at once, then a made-up reconnaissance mission, and a round of sparring other candidates to show skill and strength. Kaeya, being the cocky teenager he was, was up against you and decided to throw in a few mockeries along with jabs of his sword(that you had easily parried, which led to him being wide-eyed and open for an ambush). You almost chuckle to yourself, the way he instantly got you back in return, and the fight was later called a draw. In the evening that followed, you’d gone down to the tavern, only to see him there again(along with Diluc Ragnvindr). Your conversation with the two men started off as a few insults, but later on, you’d realized you had more in common than you’d originally thought.
You grew close to the contrasting characters of both Diluc and Kaeya sooner than you’d have liked back then(even their hair colors were complete opposites). Yet somehow, you’d warmed up to them as well.
The sound of water draining jolts you out of your thoughts as you knock twice on the bathroom door, walking in after you hear his voice struggle to say “come in!”. You peer in carefully first(so you don’t actually catch him indecent, you know?), and then shuffle inside after seeing that he has a towel atop his head and the pant you’d left him hanging loosely off his waist. He gives you a weak smile as he once again sits back on top of the covered toilet seat, and you pick up the first-aid kit once again—this time, to wrap bandages around most of his torso and parts of his arms. He distorts his expression every now and then, a sign of pain as you assume, but then he goes back to just watching you tend to his wounds.
“Why didn’t you become a healer instead?” he mumbles under his breath, some of his fair flopping right over his forehead. His eyepatch sat on top of the corner of the bathtub, and he peered down at you with both of his cerulean eyes. His eyes almost held stars in them, the way they rimmed from navy to cerulean—a very interesting blend, as you recall. And it was as if they had a twinkle. A small white dot, just like a speckle in the sky. You chuckle at his question, well he phrased it like more of a statement, really. Your reply was simple, “This is just simple first-aid. Healing is way different and more complex. Besides, I’m more cool with a sword in my hand, am I right?"
"You’re not cool, you’re scary,” he mocks, you letting out a flattered giggle soon after the comment. He hums, a carmine tint playing at his cheeks as you tend to his wounds. It’s as if he’s traveled back in time—you were in this exact position many times before. He was reckless at sparring, especially with you or Diluc; it’s like he purposely goes easy on the two of you for a reason, and almost always ends up getting injured one way or another. He’s beaten you and his adopted brother on multiple occasions, but he’s gotten wounded even then. And that’s when you come into the picture—crouching down next to his wounded body, tending to him as Diluc ridiculed him from behind or laughed at his exhausted state. It was all very different now; the three of you led separate lives, you and Kaeya alongside one another in the Knights of Favonius as Diluc watched from the sidelines and tended to help out a little now and then(even though he hates the Knights, he still cares for Monstadt). Kaeya almost finds himself smiling genuinely, recollecting those carefree days of youth was like a slap to his face—like a punishment for his actions. He almost wanted to forget his whole past as a whole, but it keeps flashing in the back of his mind. A reminder, that he was indifferent, that he never belonged. But just somehow, for once, he felt like he did. Even if it was while he sat on top of your toilet seat as you tended to his wounds, he felt like he deserved to be where he was after a long time.
“Kaeya?"
He blinks profusely, snapping out of his nostalgic thoughts as you look up at him from the same position on the floor. You let out a small huff, flicking his forehead as you’ve always done, before continuing, "I said, do you want to eat something? I have some leftover radish soup and grilled fish if you’d like."
He nods his head along with a thin-lipped smile as you get up to stand, and you give him a hand so he can do the same. He takes it, wrapping his palm with yours as he hoists himself up, almost yelping due to one of his wounds. You help him walk out to the dinner table, making him sit as you walk to the kitchen and warm the food. He watches you work, your eyebrows furrowed like they are most of the time while you’re on a mission. You almost work gracefully, he notices. It’s just like you wield your sword, not one movement is unnecessary or heedless and your body moves in such tandem that he finds himself staring.
Have you always been this way? he thinks to himself. Were your actions always overlooked by him, even though he’s more perceptive and observant than anyone else in the city? He watches you pour soup into a bowl for him, and placing some grilled fish onto a plate as you smoothly pick both of the dishes up and place them in front of him. He thanks you for the meal and begins almost immediately as you take the seat in front of him at the small dining table. He still remembers the first time he came to your place, the way he’d complimented your home for being 'quaint’, and 'cozy’ but then continued to make fun of how you only had two chairs at the dining table. You’d narrowed your eyes at him that day, and made him sit on the sofa as you and Diluc took your seats at the actual table. He’d scoffed, saying he didn’t need your companies anyway, and then he’d been petty all day, saying how the two of you were rude for not letting him in on the 'interesting’ conversations you might’ve had. And then on the next day when the three of you had been on a mission, he went ahead by himself, saying he was going to fight more hilichurls than you 'losers’. Albeit he ended up unconscious after facing two mitachurls, he still remembers the way you and Diluc had yelled at him later on in the day as you tended to his bruised forehead and stitched his gashed arm.
He finishes eating quite quickly. Mainly because he’s so exhausted that he could fall asleep if he closed his eyes for more than a second. You smile, ruffling his hair as you stand up and leave the plate and bowl in the sink. Then, as he stands, you walk over to help him to the guest room. You tuck him in, pulling the duvet up to his neck, and tell him to take care.
He grabs your wrist once again, whispering a small "thank you” as you let out a sigh. You hum, not wanting him to accidentally see your face and how your eyes widen the slightest bit when his hand touches yours. He lets go slowly, and for some reason, this whole ordeal now seems very intimate to you; him knocking on your door at an ungodly hour and quite literally falling into your arms, taking a bath and eating in front of you, grabbing your wrist out of the blue twice in one night, all those flirtatious comments(although you know for a fact that he’s like that with every single person he talks to), and most of all, the way he thanked you(twice, when even one expression of genuine gratitude is a rare occurrence from him). You let out a visible sigh, one where your chest heaves out, as you blow out the candelabrum on your desk. Then, you close the door to your room, looking over to the guest room that’s just opposite yours. For a moment, you feel your heart pick up its pace, and that’s when you shut the door and tuck yourself into bed as tightly as you can.
(You cannot continue secretly being in love with Kaeya Alberich—you just can’t.)
© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.