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For so many years, we shared the same air, the apples, the path over the hill where the dandelions grew, the fine sheets lifted over our heads when the maids changed them. We shared words, and blotted ink, and paper. A whisper, a note scrawled when nobody was watching. The same wooden swords we kept in our closet. We shared a table. We shared a match. We shared litres of sweat, the searing heat of the same sun. We drank from the same stream, and we heard the dreams dripping from our lips. All of this, yet this is not a blood pact. In fact, no blood is shared at all.
“No, we need to really mean it. Here.”
Diluc pulled out his pocket knife, held it up, then pressed the blade into his thumb. The blood welled up over the cut. The scent hit me before all else, a sharp metal sting, as if it were a knife itself. Then Diluc handed it to me, handle first. “Now you.”
I took it into my hand and stared at it for a moment. The tip was still a kiss of red, lit by the beam of the setting sun. I sniffed, then looked down at my palm. My gloves did not cover my fingertips, as if in invitation. I shut my eyes and nicked my thumb. Faithfully, the blood flowed forth.
Diluc smiled, and I could see the breeze lift a few errant strands of his hair. His face was sunburned. “Press it onto mine.”
So I did. The familiar sting rose, then settled. Our blood mixed.
Diluc looked at me, the sunset in his eyes. “Now we can’t break it.”
Our twin scars were a line that drew me to you, growing more and more taut each day, until we were tangled together. I loved it, and I’m sorry. I didn’t want the taste to grow sour. I was never as eloquent as you, and my penmanship was poor. What benefit was I? My memory is faulty, but I remember that smile, clear as day. As long as you smiled, it was fine.
Sometimes my mind wandered when I was lying there at night. The frost coated me, blanket over blanket, until I was buried alive. How many centuries would it be until somebody finds me? Would they dig me out, sweat dripping from their brow? Or will the sun beat down upon my back, taking the layers for itself?
Not even a season later, I broke Diluc’s finger when we struck swords. I heard his terrible wail, and all I wished was for the pain to be mine.
I had no idea how long I stayed there, fallen to my knees. I knew I had to run away and never be found.
But then I felt the familiar warmth of his father hovering over me, setting his hand on my shoulder. “Kaeya.”
I could not look up, but he reached down and gently lifted my chin with his finger. I finally looked at him.
There was no anger in his eyes, no fiery defense. “Come back home with me.”
I looked down at the sword still in my hand. I knew he saw the tear in my eye.
“It’s okay.” Then he almost laughed. “I knew when I let you use real swords, things like this would happen.”
The warmth draped itself over me. He stood, and I followed. At first I dragged the sword behind me, but then I remembered to tuck it away.
We walked back, his hand guiding my arm.
It’s funny. Flowers cannot grow under layers of ice. But they also cannot grow in flames. The ice takes their souls; the fire takes their bodies.
When he was gone, I tried to feel the grief, but the relief was so intense I could have floated away. It didn’t have to be because of me. My hands were clean. The guilt of feeling so well engulfed me, weaving itself into the relief, mixing into an ugly color. But what good is guilt with no action? The dead no longer hurt. So I banished it. What good is something unless it is useful? I felt all your agony. But what I feel doesn’t matter as long as I can't take away your pain. I couldn’t bear to see you. Somehow, though I escaped hurting him, I was not immune from hurting you.
“Kaeya! Wake up! You’re dreaming again.”
Diluc jostled my shoulder, wild and urgent. “You were screaming! Please wake up.”
I opened my eyes, the darkness gripping me from all sides, ripping into my skin. A surgery wide awake. Everything was spinning. I could feel Diluc wiping the sweat off my face.
“Kaeya, it’s okay.”
I looked at him, trying to catch my breath. His eyes were the stars that could ground me. But then I saw the blooming bruise on his cheek.
“Di….Diluc, I—“
He understood. “No, no. It’s alright. You were thrashing around a little. But it doesn’t hurt at all!”
He was lying. I’d known all his tells for years by now.
Still, the earth carries on. The same sun watches me as I wake, illuminating the empty room. I haven’t been cast away. I’ve been drawn to the center. For a while, I wondered if you’d be gone forever. I wasn’t sure what outcome I hoped for. The hole in my chest was better than if it was in yours. If you were far away, your eyes were not upon me and I could breathe again. But one of these days you returned. I watch you and you pretend not to see. So I try to be some mechanism, some shield, some candle. If you are the sun, you need an opposing force to balance the weight, right? We both are waiting, waiting. For what? I guess for the stars to come rip me away, or kill me, I don't know. I just hope it comes before the day the damage is caused by me.