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In Mondstadt, gossip was as prosperous a trade as the city's wine industry. Some people even chose to pay with gossip, exchanging priceless information for material goods – and some became skilled enough at the craft to make a living out of it.
Needless to say, secrets didn't stay secret long in the City of Freedom. Everyone figured out everything eventually, and one way or another, the truth was laid bare. Such was the eventuality of the human need to whisper.
Diluc had pulled off a veritable miracle by keeping himself mysterious. The people of Mondstadt knew things, but they barely saw a sliver of who Diluc was. Even though a few key figures had figured out more, several crucial pieces would be forever absent from the picture.
One: Diluc hated alcohol. He drank when it was demanded of him, but it was with distaste and in extreme moderation. It was a testament to drunken stupor that no one ever noticed his disgust.
Two: Diluc was an insomniac. Either by choice or his body's command, he couldn't keep a healthy sleep schedule. The Darknight Hero had only come about because of his insomnia, as Diluc had decided to clear out a camp of Hilichurls one sleepless night. It hadn't made him any more tired, but he'd inadvertently created a platform to pursue justice with.
Three: Diluc Ragnvindr knew how to lie. And he was very, very good at it.
——————
“Traveler, this isn't necessary,” Diluc began, even though he could already see the determination in the kid's eyes. They were relentless; he would give them that. “I came out here because our interests aligned for this venture. I did not plan for you to take care of me.”
The Traveler cracked a faint smile. “I know you don't like favors, Master Diluc,” they said evenly. “But that's not what this is. You're helping me, so I want to help you. Would it be so bad to sleep in a warm bed tonight?”
Gods-damn it, the kid had a point. Diluc hated sleeping in the cold, even if he'd long since grown used to it. And... well... it was one night, right? Even if he was sleeping in a floating teapot – which housed a pocket realm if Diluc understood correctly. It sure as hell looked like a regular teapot to him.
Diluc sighed heavily, then gave the Traveler a weary nod. “Very well,” he muttered. “How do I get in?”
The Traveler beamed and promptly shoved the teapot towards Diluc. He instinctively raised his hands to catch it, and suddenly, golden light exploded from its spout, engulfing him like a blanket and sinking into his skin. Diluc flailed wildly, but his body had melted an incorporeal mass of energy. And- where was the Traveler? Where was Teyvat? A blank sheet of whiteness stretched all the way to the nonexistent horizon.
In retrospect, Diluc would realize that the whole ordeal only lasted about two seconds. The light swallowed him whole, he caught a glimpse of a world between worlds, and he opened his eyes and found himself in front of a Liyue-styled mansion. But, at the time, Diluc collapsed to his knees as soon as he had a body to command.
“What the hell was that?” he gasped. Someone shimmered into existence next to him, and Diluc glared up at the blond kid. “You didn't think to warn me?”
A smaller being garbed in white materialized at the Traveler's shoulder, and Diluc barely bit back a snarl.
“Paimon didn't expect that Master Diluc would get so dizzy from the teapot's magic!” Paimon chirped, floating around Diluc's head. This time, he snarled, and she zipped backward with a cry of alarm. “Yikes! He's kinda grumpy right now! Paimon thinks we should show him to one of the guest rooms and let him sleep.”
“I don't need a guide,” Diluc snapped. He picked himself up, momentarily distracted by how green the grass beneath his boots was. Then his anger and embarrassment returned tenfold, and he glowered up at the mansion. “This is your home, right? I can just walk inside and choose a room?”
The Traveler and Paimon exchanged a knowing glance. Both nodded in unison, and Diluc decided he didn't care enough to question their odd behavior. It was nearing midnight as it was.
So Diluc ignored the strange teapot spirit that watched him passively, pushed through the front doors, and stomped up to the second floor. The mansion was nice, he supposed. Decorations of all sorts adorned the walls, and detailed furniture sat here and there. But Diluc wasn't interested in décor. He reached the second floor and made a beeline for the first open door he saw. To his immense relief, it was a guest room.
He assumed it was a guest room, anyway. And if he accidentally took the Traveler's bed for the night, well, the fault fell on their shoulders. They should have been more specific in their instructions rather than telepathically conversing with Paimon.
Despite the late hour (and the fresh cuts and bruises adorning his skin, courtesy of a particularly vicious batch of Treasure Hunters), Diluc performed each of his nighttime rituals. He stripped down to his pants and loose undershirt, carefully checked his claymore for nicks, then kicked off his boots. Only once he was sure that the door had a lock did he topple into bed. The coolness of the sheets eased Diluc's aches, and he slipped towards darkness.
Of course, it was never that easy.
Location had no bearing on Diluc's body. It didn't care that he wasn't at home with his paperwork and books, and so, it did what it did almost every night. Diluc's body stiffened, relaxed, then settled into that limbo state between complete exhaustion and total awareness.
On any other night, Diluc might have caved to frustration and spent the next few hours burning the trees outside the mansion. But the Traveler had been kind enough to give him a room, so destruction was out of the question. Diluc couldn't work, either, as everything was safely locked away in his desk. The only thing left was his least favorite pastime.
Diluc didn't like to think. Once he started thinking, his carefully crafted lies fractured, splintered, and shattered. And when those fell away...
Something creaked in the next room over.
Diluc went from mildly hazy to fully alert in a heartbeat, and he sat bolt upright. The creak continued, moving from the outer wall to the southern wall, and-
Oh. He knew that cadence – recognized how the floorboards creaked more on some steps, then eased on others. It was pathetic, really. Years and years had passed, and yet, Diluc knew those footfalls by heart.
A sharp pang struck him right between his ribs, and he almost smiled. Ah, there it was. Once, Diluc had been alarmed by such poignant pain. But now? Now, he simply pressed his palm flat against his sternum. He was well-acquainted with the bitter kiss of guilt. Of sorrow, of longing.
Of regret.
The best liars were excellent manipulators; this was something Diluc had known for many years. But liars didn't always manipulate others. A great many of them were good liars simply because they were experts in deluding themselves. Once they believed that something was the truth, they argued their case with fervor.
At first, Diluc had classified himself into the latter category. He'd claimed to have no interest in convincing people of a false reality – his job was to gather information, come to a conclusion, and proceed in the most straightforward way possible. But that had changed. Diluc had lied to himself for years, and slowly but surely, he'd learned patterns of human behavior, traced his own logic when trying to escape the blame that his mind placed on him.
Lying was easy. Lying avoided trouble.
Telling the truth had cost Diluc something he could never get back.
Eventually, lying had become as easy as any other social norm. When he bartended for Angel's Share, he declined any offered drinks and claimed he had other engagements after his shift. When Donna approached him with awkward affection shining in her eyes, Diluc informed her that, unfortunately, he was interested in someone else. When one of the brewery masters asked how the new wine tasted, Diluc scanned the drink for elemental energy and based his initial assumptions off of that.
When he spotted a tall figure with a bright smile and long, teal hair, Diluc put his head down and told himself that he wanted nothing to do with the other man.
The floorboards creaked again, startling Diluc out of his head. The creak was followed by the squeak of a door opening, then soft footfalls tapping down the hallway.
Diluc knew that he should leave well enough alone and stay in bed. With any luck, he'd eventually fall asleep, and even if he didn't, at least he would avoid a fight.
But he wasn't as strong as many believed him to be.
Diluc slipped from the bed, stepped into his boots, and left the room. Only half an hour had passed since his arrival, but the mansion was already dark as hell. The moonlight streaming through the windows was Diluc's only saving grace. He trotted down the stairs and slipped through the front doors, shuddering as he was greeted by a chilly breeze.
What am I doing? Diluc thought tiredly, hunching into his thin shirt and trying not to shiver. Nothing good is going to come of this. I should go back inside and-
A faint tune drifted to his ears, and Diluc froze. The humming came from his right, and when he turned, he spotted a tall, lean figure standing at the very edge of the- island?
Oh. The pocket realm was comprised of floating islands in the sky. Good to know.
Later, Diluc told himself firmly, shaking off his bewilderment. The humming had stopped, but the figure hadn't moved. It stared ponderously off into the clouds, hands shoved in its pockets.
Diluc started towards the figure.
One: Diluc had many, many regrets. He still didn't understand his father's motives, but his anger had slowly drained away. Three years spent in a world that didn't give a shit about his issues had stripped him of his self-righteous anger pretty damn fast.
Two: Diluc treasured his Vision to the point of irrationality. He'd insisted that he'd reclaimed only to increase his combat prowess, and yes, that was true. But, in reality, he prized it for a much simpler reason. On the day of his return, the ugliest vase ever seen by Mondstadt had arrived at his door, his Vision sitting within. The note that had come with it simply read: This belongs to you.
Three: Diluc Ragnvindr was damn good at convincing himself of things he knew weren't truthful. But he'd never been able to convince himself that he hated Kaeya.
Diluc stopped a few paces behind the figure. He fixed his gaze on the sky, but he couldn't quite keep himself from glancing at the other man's back. After a few minutes of silence, Kaeya drawled,
“Do I have something in my hair? Or are you just admiring the view like I was before you disturbed me?”
Turning and heading back to the mansion suddenly seemed highly appealing. But that defeated the purpose of following Kaeya out of the house in the first place, and besides... Diluc felt more unsettled than usual. He wouldn't be able to sleep even if he went back.
“Your hair is fine,” Diluc muttered, advancing until he stood even with Kaeya. The other man was a hair taller than him, made of smooth edges and lean muscle. From his position on Kaeya's right, Diluc couldn't see his eye – which bothered him more than it should have.
“So?” Kaeya prompted.
“So what?”
Kaeya's shoulders rose and fell in a silent sigh, and he swiveled to face Diluc head-on. Gaining Kaeya's full attention was enough to startle Diluc out of his momentary annoyance, and if Kaeya's flinch was anything to go by, he hadn't been planning to react, either.
But the surprise instantly disappeared beneath a cool smile. “So, Master Diluc,” Kaeya said, subtly angling himself backward, “what's so important that you don't want the Traveler hearing us?”
“I have nothing to say,” Diluc muttered.
“Oh? So you just wanted to harass me, then?”
Always on the attack. Granted, Diluc had earned it. He didn't have the right to converse with Kaeya on level ground, and if his gods-damned heart just let the past go, he would be on level ground. The only reason Kaeya could destabilize him so easily was- was-
Well. Diluc had spent a long time pretending that he had his shit together and that he'd returned to Mondstadt stronger than ever. That facade had no place for a scared little kid who locked himself in his room every time his birthday came around.
“Diluc?”
Shit, Diluc thought, and he guiltily snapped back to attention. Kaeya examined him with a narrowed eye.
“You were ignoring me,” the taller man accused, but he didn't sound as confident as usual.
“I wasn't ignoring you,” Diluc mumbled. It came out weak, uncertain. It just figured, didn't it? Diluc knew Kaeya's footsteps by heart, and Kaeya could read him like an open book. He'd really gotten the short stick in this nonexistent trade. “I'm just tired. Er- what did you say?”
Now Kaeya looked well and truly befuddled. “You, tired?” he drawled. The mocking tone was completely at odds with the subtleties of his expression. “Never thought I'd see the day. Well, Master Diluc, I asked if you'd be kind enough to leave me to my peaceful introspection. I was having a very nice moment.”
Vaguely, Diluc realized that he was the only person in Mondstadt who would notice the worry shining in Kaeya's eye. But they'd picked their roles long ago, so he muttered,
“I can't sleep. So, no, I won't leave you to your peaceful introspection.”
A smirk twitched the corners of Kaeya's mouth. “Not luxurious enough for your tastes?”
“No,” Diluc said wearily. “I have insomnia.”
As soon as the words were out, he considered throwing himself off of the edge of the island. That was one of Diluc's most carefully guarded secrets, and he'd spilled it to Kaeya like he'd been talking about his day. This was the most cordial conversation they'd had in months – maybe years! – and Diluc had to complicate it. Kaeya was still Kaeya; he'd probably use this lovely little tidbit to-
“Oh. So do I.”
Diluc's brain stumbled, regained its bearings, then picked apart those four words until he was sure that they had no other meaning. “I'm surprised,” he said dumbly.
Kaeya still hadn't turned away, and some dark, little part of Diluc's heart reveled in the attention. His foundation of self-built lies squashed the thought as soon as it sparked.
“I wouldn't expect any disorders from you, either,” Kaeya said archly. He leaned back on his heels, but his eye still flicked back and forth across Diluc's face, searching. “But we don't exactly choose our afflictions, do we?"
And with that, something in Diluc broke.
“Cut it out, Kaeya,” he muttered.
A beat. Kaeya's facade slipped just long enough for Diluc to see genuine confusion written across his face.
“Cut what out?” Kaeya echoed eventually.
Diluc closed his eyes and raised a prayer to the Seven (who were hopefully more capable than Venti by his lonesome). “You're trying to provoke me into reacting,” Diluc grumbled. “I'm not- listen, I don't want anything from you. I followed you out here because I couldn't sleep. It was stifling in there.”
Another beat.
“I'm not trying to provoke you,” Kaeya griped.
And there it was. The first lie of the night. They might have spent the past four years in an unstable orbit, but, at his core, Kaeya hadn't changed. And so, Diluc knew things. He knew that Kaeya's left hand was currently fisted inside his pants pocket to keep from fiddling with something. He knew that Kaeya's coin was probably clenched in his right hand. A decade of companionship had taught him so much-
-and yet, they were enemies.
“Yes, you are,” Diluc countered. Kaeya's face instantly twisted into a scowl, but Diluc held up a pacifying hand. “You try to provoke everyone; I know I'm not special. But you're-” Diluc exhaled sharply, frustrated, then met Kaeya's curious gaze. “Can I just sit down and not think about the fact that it's past midnight?” he asked, a little harsher than he'd meant to.
Kaeya stared at him for a moment. Then the taller man let out an incredulous laugh and sank to the ground, sprawling his legs out before him. Diluc took that as an unspoken invitation and did the same – though he wasn't as lax with his body.
“It's been a while since we last talked,” Kaeya noted breezily, though Diluc saw the tension cording through his limbs. “Usually, we'd be throwing punches by now.”
Their last physical fight had been seven years ago. Diluc didn't mention it.
“It seems like you've been in Mondstadt more often,” Kaeya continued. He paused, pulling his coin out of his right pocket and tossing it into the air. “I didn't think you liked to be seen in broad daylight. Or were you talking business with some new clients?”
Yes and no. Diluc had been sealing new contracts with an association of wheat farmers, but he'd also been struggling with a case of cabin fever. The Dawn Winery had become unbearably confining, which was partially why Diluc had accepted the Traveler's request for back-up on this scouting party.
“For a few days, I thought that you were surveilling me on behalf of the Knights. But then, you disappeared again. Can't tell you how relieved I was.”
Even a tone-deaf bard could hear the strain in Kaeya's voice.
Diluc let out a weary sigh and collapsed onto his back, examining the foreign constellations wheeling overhead. He and Kaeya had danced around each other for years, and for some reason, this was the night when they'd finally collided. It sounded like a myth formulated to explain the placement of the stars.
One: Diluc no longer hated the Knights of Favonius. They were ineffective and slow, yes, but most of them were good people. He couldn't blame those doing their best to serve Mondstadt for the deep chip on his shoulder.
Two: Diluc knew he was not a good person. He'd figured that out during the third year of his continental journey, somewhere between his realization that his father would have frowned at his neglect of Mondstadt and the horrific dawning of the fact that he'd committed terrible acts in the name of... what? Honor? Valor? The truth?
Three: Diluc Ragnvindr missed Kaeya Alberich with his entire fucking being.
And so, when Diluc opened his mouth again, something painfully close to the truth came tumbling out.
“You're good with your Vision.”
Kaeya flinched. Diluc knew he'd struck a nerve, as any topic in the same field as their past would. But watching Kaeya command sharpened shards of ice with pinpoint precision had been... mesmerizing.
“I've had a lot of time to learn what it can do,” Kaeya admitted after a long, tense moment. “It works well with other Visions. Ice elemental combinations are stronger than you might expect."
An idea exploded to life in Diluc's mind, blazing so wildly out of control that he couldn't stop himself from sitting up and ordering, “Freeze that plant.”
“That plant” was an innocent fern sitting next to Kaeya's hand. Kaeya cocked an eyebrow, but he did as Diluc demanded wordlessly. Ice burst from his fingertips and circled the fern, freezing it from the roots up. Diluc barely waited for Kaeya to finish his work before summoning fire to his palm, flicking the mini fireball at the fern. It instantly wilted into a charred heap.
Diluc glanced back up at Kaeya, and a thrill of pride ran through him at the grin spreading across the taller man's face.
“Imagine that with a slime,” Kaeya mused slowly. A dangerous glitter sparkled in his eye, and damn it all, Diluc had missed that. “Or, perhaps, a whole pack of slimes. Since they're organic life forms, they would react the same way this plant does.”
They stared at each other for a few more seconds. Kaeya's wild grin was so painfully familiar, and though Diluc had more he wanted to say, that selfish little part of his heart refused to break the moment. It desperately clung to Kaeya's joy, begging for-
An iron wall dropped over Kaeya's face. He turned away abruptly, resolutely staring out into the clouds.
The cracks in Diluc's soul deepened until he felt like he was made of shattered glass.
One: Diluc was selfish.
Two: Diluc was lonely.
Three: Diluc Ragnvindr was – and always would be – a coward.
The truth had broken his faith. The truth had torn his life apart, and he'd responded with anger, torching all of his bridges with reckless abandon. Eventually, he'd been left on a desolate island, shivering and cold, without anyone to reach out to.
How fitting that the truth was the only thing that could build new bridges.
“Kaeya,” Diluc began softly, though he made sure to lay back down before speaking. He couldn't look at Kaeya for this one. “I'm... worried. Insomnia isn't healthy.”
Diluc heard the affronted inhale. It was followed by a confused exhale, then a sharp breath as Kaeya caught on to what Diluc wasn't saying. I'm worried about you.
“You do a lot in Mondstadt's name,” Diluc continued, desperately trying to finish this stupid speech before he lost his nerve, “and you're going to run yourself into the ground. You- ugh. I don't need to tell you this. Just-” His mind suddenly went blank, and for a moment, Diluc panicked. Then he resigned himself to the fact that he couldn't get the words out and finished with a pathetic, “Why do you wear that eyepatch?"
He expected laughter or mockery. Instead, Kaeya lifted a hand towards his face. Slowly, carefully, he slid the eyepatch over his head, and Diluc's heart shot into his throat.
“Because it hides my eye,” Kaeya murmured. His smile was bitter. Melancholy. “Jean is the only one that knows. Everyone else thinks I wear it because I like the way it looks.”
Kaeya's right iris was completely white. The eye itself moved in unison with his left, but it was clear that Kaeya couldn't see through it. Scars wrapped down Kaeya's face and cut through his eyebrow, reaching far beyond the confines of the eyepatch. Faintly, Diluc wondered if Kaeya had changed his hairstyle to better hide the scars. Aloud, he rasped,
“When?”
Kaeya's smile became even more brittle. “While you were off exploring Teyvat. I was still getting used to my Vision, but I thought, 'Surely I'm strong enough to take on a pack of Hilichurls by myself.' Not the best idea I've had.” Kaeya tapped a patch of unmarred skin on his right cheek. “It healed up nicely, all things considered. I decided to wear an eyepatch so people wouldn't stare at me.”
For a split second, an inferno scorched Diluc's heart. He wanted nothing more than to go back seven years and punch his younger self in the nose. Gods, how could he let this happen? Kaeya was- he couldn't-
A bloody collage flashed through Diluc's head, reminding him of everything he'd done. He'd killed people and monsters alike, and he would carry his claymore to his grave. That was his role. He protected Mondstadt in his father's stead and tried to keep his broken pieces bundled together in the body he called his own.
Because Diluc was broken. His convictions were the only things keeping him from falling apart entirely. He'd grown up with two fundamental lies planted deep within him, and continuing the walk of life after learning the truth was like walking with knives pressed against his heart. Every time he tried to lay down, he bled. Every time he stumbled, he bled. The only option was to keep moving.
Diluc was tired. So, so tired.
“Kaeya,” he murmured.
The other man didn't look down, and his eyepatch was back in place. He gave no indication that he'd even heard Diluc, let alone was listening to him.
Nothing except for the slight twitch of his fingers.
Diluc hadn't earned this. But he had to say it anyway.
“I was wrong to think that you would turn on us.”
We were just kids, Diluc added miserably, and his chest tightened until he could barely breathe. I thought that we would always walk together. I thought that we would become Mondstadt's strongest cavalry captains, and no one would dare challenge us. Your timing was gods-awful, but... I'm the one that broke things. And then I left you behind.
But Diluc wasn't strong enough to say any of that aloud. He never would be.
“Us.”
The single word jolted Diluc out of his reverie, and he realized Kaeya was staring at him. He couldn't quite tell if the taller man was glaring, but he sat up regardless.
“I'm still not one of you, eh?” Kaeya continued, his voice frigid. “Everything I've done, and I'm not part of Mondstadt. I was here a hell of a lot more than you were, you know. I don't think you have any right to decide whether or not I'm part of the city that I've been protecting. Gods. 'Us.'”
Diluc could let things fall apart. Or he could try.
One: he-
One-
No.
“Me,” Diluc corrected quietly. “I was wrong to think that you would turn on me.”
Under any other circumstances, Kaeya's startled flinch would have made Diluc laugh. As it was, he was barely keeping himself seated, so his amusement felt like an outsider's observation. For a few painfully long seconds, Kaeya just stared at him. His lips formed silent words, and Diluc prayed – yes, even to Venti – that he hadn't scorched his bridges beyond repair.
“You?” Kaeya spluttered, suddenly reanimating. “What the hell does this have to do with you? I just said- gods, you never listen. I couldn't care less about what you think of-”
“That's not what I meant, and you know it,” Diluc cut in sharply. “Listen. If you don't care anymore, that's fine. I know it's been years. Stand up and walk away, and I'll make sure that we never see each other again."
Kaeya faltered. Relief flooded Diluc's chest, and he barely kept himself from deflating. That had been a reckless ultimatum, but... maybe it had served its purpose.
Finally, a crooked smile touched Kaeya's face.
“So, what?” the taller man asked. Gone was the amused drawl that usually accompanied Kaeya's smiles – his fake ones, at any rate. “You're telling me that the great Master Diluc regrets what he said seven years ago?”
Oh, if only you knew.
“Yes,” Diluc murmured. Kaeya's eye widened, and it was so out of character that Diluc couldn't help a quiet laugh. “I regret a lot of things,” he added, shooting the taller man a weary smile, “and I never apologized. For... anything. I'm sorry, Kaeya.”
Deep in his heart, Diluc knew that he wasn't going to get a response. So, when Kaeya looked away and leaned back on his hands, Diluc didn't mind. He'd said this part, and, in truth, he'd never even expected to get a chance to do so.
When the sun rose six hours later, Kaeya and Diluc still sat at the island's edge. They'd spent the time in silence, but, occasionally, Kaeya had lifted his fingers and summoned a few shards of ice. Every time, Diluc had carefully melted it and watched the water droplets fall into Kaeya's palm.
The Traveler was much more perceptive than many thought – in Diluc's experience, at least. But they said nothing when Kaeya and Diluc entered the mansion side by side.
And, to Diluc's great relief, Paimon didn't show her face until they left the teapot.
——————
“Diluc.”
The voice startled Diluc more than he wanted to admit, and unfortunately, the woman he was brokering with noticed.
“Something wrong, Master Diluc?” she asked innocently. “That signature isn't very legible.”
Had she been one of his people, Diluc would have glared at her. As it was, Diluc merely muttered, “I'm fine,” and sped through the process as fast as humanly possible. A few times, he noticed that she skimmed over details that he would usually haggle for. But, just this once, Diluc decided that Elzer could handle the minutia. Within a few moments, he scrawled his signature on the last page and turned.
Kaeya watched him from a few paces away. “Did I interrupt something important?” he asked, the corner of his eye crinkling.
“Yes,” Diluc said archly, and his heart warmed at Kaeya's chuckle. “What do you need?”
Kaeya hesitated. It was a minuscule motion that would have been imperceptible to anyone except for Diluc, and it vanished in a heartbeat. “Come on,” Kaeya urged. He extended a hand with a playful smile. “My treat.”
Diluc moved before his brain had time to debate the pros and cons of walking into this conversation. Kaeya's smile stabilized at his tacit acceptance, and the taller man rested a hand on Diluc's back, gently guiding him forward. It was a far cry from the level of comfort they'd once shared. But it was a start.
Five minutes later, they were situated at one of Good Hunter's tables. Kaeya absently ran his fingers around the rim of his glass, and Diluc mentally cataloged the motion as a nervous habit.
“I won't take up too much of your time,” Kaeya said eventually. He flashed Diluc a smile that didn't quite reach his eye. “I just- well, I-”
Sara chose that moment to appear, and Kaeya instantly changed course, graciously thanking her for her service. Diluc didn't pay too much attention, though, since he was focused on the oh-so-familiar aroma of their meal. Sara stepped back from the table, and sure enough, Diluc found himself staring down at a platter of fruity meat skewers.
Kaeya's specialty. He'd perfected the recipe a few days before Diluc's 18th birthday.
“What's this?” Diluc asked once Sara had left. His voice was hoarser than he wanted to admit.
Kaeya began flipping his coin – another nervous habit. “Lunch,” he said evasively. “Sara made-”
“No, she didn't. You're the only one who can make these.”
Kaeya's coin slipped through his fingers and pinwheeled towards the table. Diluc snatched it from the air, running the coin along his knuckles as he waited for an answer. It was all he could do, given the idiotic nervousness running rampant through his body. At least Kaeya looked just as nervous, if not more so.
Eventually, Kaeya mumbled, “You remember these?”
Diluc nodded once, carefully.
A beat. Then:
“I don't want to avoid you when you come into town,” Kaeya murmured. His hands dropped to the table, and he finally met Diluc's gaze. “It's harder than you'd think to stay out of your way,” he added absently. “I always seem to find my way to wherever you are. So, Master Diluc. Might you be willing to spare some time for this cavalry captain now and then?”
The words were spoken in Kaeya's usual tones, flowery and mocking with just a hint of amusement. But they carried an undertone of thinly-veiled, desperate hope.
And Diluc couldn't help but let out a weak laugh. “Isn't that what I'm doing right now?”
For the first time in seven years, Diluc made Kaeya smile.
——————
“Your formula is all wrong,” Kaeya protested. Diluc shot a warning glare at the taller man, who held his hands up defensively. “This is what you called me here for, is it not? I'm telling the truth! This tastes awful!”
The brewer frowned, then looked down at the barrel sitting between the three of them. “I admit that I'm surprised by your opinion, Captain Kaeya,” he said, nudging the barrel with his foot. “I asked Master Diluc what he thought of this brew months ago, and he said it was good.”
Kaeya stared at the brewer. “What on earth are you talking about? Diluc never drinks alcohol.”
Diluc saw the exact moment that the penny dropped, and dread coiled around his stomach. Slowly, Kaeya turned towards him, a delighted smile spreading across his face.
“Oh,” Kaeya chuckled, radiating smugness, “I see. You never told them.”
The brewer glanced between them. “Tell us what, Master Diluc?” he asked hesitantly.
“It's nothing,” Diluc snapped at the same time that Kaeya crowed, “I just said it, didn't I? Diluc doesn't drink.” Diluc kept his gaze as ferocious as possible, but eventually, Kaeya turned back towards the brewer with a triumphant smirk. And Diluc couldn't stop him.
“I'm afraid he's been lying about the taste of your products for years,” Kaeya said lightly, resting his fingers on Diluc's arm. Diluc greeted the touch with a snarl. “I'm amazed that you produced anything of quality. Lucky for you, master brewer, I actually know my wine. In my humble opinion, it's too bitter. A little condensed sugar should be enough to offset the taste.”
The brewer looked to Kaeya, then to Diluc, then back to Kaeya. He nodded several too many times and picked up the barrel, hurrying towards the manor's back door. Diluc waited until the man completely disappeared from sight before rounding on Kaeya.
“Why would you tell him that?” he demanded.
Kaeya's eyebrows lifted. “My apologies, Master Diluc,” he drawled, and Diluc couldn't decide if he wanted to growl or laugh at the familiar mockery. “I was under the impression that you actually told your staff what you thought of their creations.”
“I do,” Diluc ground out. “Just- not by taste.”
“Oh? Then how do you judge it?”
It was a lose-lose situation for Diluc no matter how he spun it, and he decided that admitting his process would make it even worse. He turned and striding into the vineyard, trying (and failing) to ignore Kaeya's bright laughter. And, when Kaeya gently knocked his shoulder, Diluc couldn't find it in himself to complain.
After two more consultations with two other brewers (both of whom were quickly informed of Diluc's deception), Diluc retreated into his office. Kaeya came with him, of course, but Diluc had more or less become accustomed to the other man's presence.
“Are you heading back to Mondstadt tonight?” Diluc asked, half an hour before sunset. Kaeya didn't look up from his book, and Diluc sighed. “Kaeya.”
“Heard you the first time, firefly,” Kaeya drawled. He dropped his book against his chest and shot Diluc a lazy grin. “Relax, Jean told me to take the weekend off. I don't plan to follow her mandate, but I can spend a few more hours here.”
Diluc examined the dark circle under Kaeya's eye and the way that the taller man's hands trembled. “The guest bedroom is still made the way you like,” Diluc muttered, returning his attention to his paperwork. “You might as well make it your bedroom.”
When Kaeya spoke again, Diluc could hear his beaming smile. “Such hospitality. I'm flattered, truly.”
Come sunrise, Kaeya was still sound asleep. Diluc made a bowl of pancake mix, wrapped it in foil, and headed off for Mondstadt. As he walked, he resolved to take a day off sometime soon and make pancakes for Kaeya himself.
——————
“Diluc? May I speak to you?”
Diluc glanced up, frowning as the Acting Grand Master stepped into the bar and carefully shut the door behind her. “Jean,” he greeted, trying not to sound as suspicious as he felt, “what brings you to Angel's Share this late at night?”
Jean sat on a stool and folded her hands on the bar, fiddling with her gloves. Concern pricked Diluc's stomach.
“I'm looking for Kaeya,” Jean confessed after a long moment, her gaze still fixed on her hands. “I haven't seen him all this week. He disappears every so often, but he's not usually gone for more than a day or two. I know you don't like working the Knights, but-”
A sigh of relief bubbled out before Diluc could stop it. Jean shot him a bewildered look, and Diluc realized that he'd accidentally backed himself into a corner. “Kaeya's fine,” he said, hurriedly picking up the nearest glass and wiping it with his cloth. It was already blatantly clean. “Well, he probably wouldn't say that he's fine. He woke up with a fever a few days ago, and it turned into the flu, so he's on bedrest until the fever breaks.”
Jean's confusion visibly increased. “I checked his room at the headquarters. He's not there.”
Oh. Right. Shit.
“He's, er-” Diluc couldn't talk himself out of this one, could he? “He's at the manor.”
A pause.
“By the manor, you mean Dawn Winery?”
“Yes.”
“Then... he's staying with you?”
“Yes.”
Jean stared at him a moment longer. Then she stood, muttered something that Diluc couldn't make out, and left. When Diluc returned home several hours later, he relayed the interaction to Kaeya, who was, in fact, bedridden with the flu. The taller man laughed for a good five minutes before finally getting his hysterics under control.
——————
The Traveler approached Diluc with another request three months after that first fateful request. As luck had it, Kaeya was at the Winery that day, so the Traveler requested both of their services. If they were surprised to see Kaeya and Diluc willfully together in the same room, they didn't show it.
After a day of beating up slimes and Hilichurls, the Traveler again offered a room within their teapot. Again, Diluc accepted, and again, come midnight, he was still wide awake.
Kaeya's footsteps creaked down the stairs. Diluc didn't hesitate before slipping out of bed and heading into the chilly night.
“You're always so persistent,” Kaeya chuckled once Diluc had joined him at the island's edge. “I would have thought that you'd ignore me this time.”
Diluc shrugged. “I've got nothing else to do. I left all my paperwork at home.”
“Mm. You never plan ahead.”
Over the past three months, Diluc's insomnia had lessened. He could fall asleep and stay asleep, but there were still nights when Diluc's mind refused to shut off. Kaeya was sleeping better, too. Diluc could tell by the warm glow of the other man's skin and the lack of a dark bag beneath his eye.
“Really, you should have known that this would happen,” Kaeya chided. He shot Diluc a smile that looked painfully close to fond. “Here we are again, eh? Anything else you wanna say?”
Diluc thought about it for a moment. He and Kaeya had never really talked. They'd had a few touch-and-go conversations, but never had he fully revealed his thoughts.
“I suppose that depends on what you ask,” Diluc admitted, and he sat on the grass. Kaeya followed, settling close enough that their knees knocked whenever one of them moved. “I think the better question is if you have anything to say.”
Kaeya laughed softly. He pulled his eyepatch over his head, and Diluc felt a strange thrill of joy at the sight of scarred skin and a pure white iris. Whenever Kaeya was at the manor, he took off his eyepatch and tucked it away in his pocket. Kaeya claimed that he wanted to even out the tan he'd developed after years of wearing it, and it was a reasonable excuse. That didn't stop Diluc from recognizing it as an act of immense trust.
“Those slimes didn't stand a chance against us,” Kaeya said eventually. Diluc snorted, and the taller man shot him a bright grin. “What? You don't think we did well?”
Diluc tried to stifle a smile and only half-succeeded. “I think the Traveler did most of the work.”
“Come on, firefly. Give us a little credit.”
Diluc did. Using Kaeya's elemental power as a catalyst for reactions came as naturally as walking. They hadn't even singed the trees around the slimes.
Their synchronization was precious beyond measure to Diluc. The first time they'd sparred together after that night in the teapot, Diluc had nearly tripped over his feet at how familiar Kaeya's fighting style was. Then they'd moved on to fighting together against a few eager knights, and Diluc had gone breathless.
He'd spent a few days after that match questioning how lonely he was, but the fact remained that he and Kaeya once again moved as one on the battlefield.
“Diluc.”
Diluc looked up. Kaeya gazed back at him, and this time, the smile that he wore could only be classified as fond.
“You've apologized seven times over the past few months,” Kaeya said, ticking them off on his fingers. “I don't think I ever thanked you. So, thank you.”
Diluc frowned. “Why would you thank me? You deserved it.”
“It's not an easy thing to do. Especially when pride gets in the way.”
“I don't think you-”
“I'm sorry.”
Diluc froze. His protests caught in his throat, and all he could do was stare as Kaeya leaned back on his hands and gazed up at the sky.
“I believe that blame never rests solely on one person,” Kaeya admitted quietly. “Maybe that's because I don't like taking responsibility for things. But, in this case, I know that the blame falls on me just as it does on you.” Kaeya glanced at Diluc, and his eye seemed to glow in the moonlight. “I'm sorry, Diluc. That I couldn't save Father. That I lied to you.”
In that moment, Diluc felt weightless. Unburdened. Never had he experienced such... freedom.
Freedom. Venti's greatest wish for the city of Mondstadt.
Then Kaeya clapped his hands against his knees. “Alright, that's all you'll get from me,” the taller man said cheerfully. “I'm never going to talk about that again.”
Diluc huffed a breathless laugh. He was still spinning, dizzy with relief.
How long had he written it off reconciliation as a child's fantasy? How long had he steadfastly ignored the emptiness of the manor, only to have it now filled with laughter? How long had he told himself that he'd burnt his bridges beyond repair and resigned himself to the terrible ache in his chest?
“Who would have thought that Captain Kaeya Alberich would ever stoop to apologizing?” Diluc muttered, unable to lace it with his usual teasing derision.
Kaeya grinned, bright and giddy and genuine. “Never say never, firefly. I've always got a few tricks up my sleeve.”
Diluc shook his head, and for once, he didn't disguise his smile.
When sunrise rose over the pocket realm, Diluc realized that he'd drifted off. He was on his back, staring up at a dazzling, blue sky. Kaeya laid to his left, still sound asleep, his arms tucked behind his head.
That was when Diluc realized that Kaeya trusted him again. He trusted Diluc so much that he'd fallen asleep without putting his eyepatch back on, one of his ankles pressed against Diluc's.
And Diluc beamed.
——————
One: Diluc hated alcohol. He left all tastings up to Kaeya, and somehow, the Dawn Winery's products became even more beloved by the city. Merchants from other nations flooded their gates, lured by the praises lauded by the Mondstadt people. Kaeya smugly accepted his share of the profits for each case they sold.
Two: Diluc was no longer an insomniac. He had restless nights, but they were far and few between. This was primarily due to the fact that Kaeya often slept a few rooms away.
Three: Diluc Ragnvindr could not be his best self without Kaeya Alberich by his side.