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Adrenaline was not the nectar of the gods, no matter what the elder Knights said. Adrenaline ruined Kaeya's carefully constructed plans and left him with naught but shaking hands and a lack of control that terrified him. Control kept him sane. Over his life, he'd beaten the adrenaline out of himself, ounce by ounce, situation by situation.
But his conditioning no longer worked. Kaeya stared at himself in the mirror, meeting his own terrified gaze. He'd debated wearing his eyepatch for today's celebration, but it was more of a defense mechanism than any sort of ego-driven decision. Gods knew the Winery's staff were more accustomed to seeing the scars slicing through his right eye than they were the eyepatch.
This is stupid, Kaeya snapped, and he turned away from the mirror with a quiet snarl. No one from Mondstadt is here. It's just me, the staff, and-
A knock sounded from the door, startling Kaeya out of his head. He tugged his shirt helplessly (a navy sweater that he'd received from Elzer as a “welcome back” gift months ago), then called, “Come in.”
The bedroom door swung open on silent hinges, and a man with vibrant red hair tied back in a loose messy ponytail stepped inside. He was barely shorter than Kaeya, though they were about the same height due to his rigid posture and Kaeya's slight slouch. He wore a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and loose pants, his feet bare despite the chilly afternoon.
Kaeya raised a silent thanks to the gods for the distraction. “Ah, the dashing Master Diluc,” he drawled aloud.
Diluc rolled his eyes and rested his hip against Kaeya's dresser. “We're home. I can wear whatever I want.”
“Home.” Kaeya tried to stifle a dopey smile, but he didn't quite succeed, judging by the twitch of Diluc's lips. It had been near four months since Kaeya had moved back into the manor. In truth, flopping into a king-sized bed at night and being treated to delicious meals three times a day were still foreign experiences.
“You're no better than me, you know,” Diluc noted, and he waved a hand at Kaeya's outfit: said navy blue sweater, pants identical to Diluc's except for color (black and white, respectively), and his favorite pair of slippers. “What would Mondstadt think if they saw their Cavalry Captain like this?”
“Sarcasm isn't a good look on you, firefly,” Kaeya said archly. Diluc snorted, but the sound was distinctly amused. “Is everything set up? Chasa and Cory were determined to keep me out of the dining room.”
“They've been ready for half an hour. Elzer is far more efficient than you.”
“Oh, and he'd be able to deal with a group of slimes faster than I can? Hmph.”
It was a weak deflection, especially by Kaeya's standards. They both knew why he shifted from foot to foot, sneaking longing glances at his bed and clenching his hands at his side to keep from grabbing his eyepatch. Had Kaeya not lost his coin the previous day, he'd be flipping it nervously.
After so much misery and heartache, Kaeya's brain associated anything involving birthdays with alcohol and overwhelming grief. For six long years, November 30th and April 30th had been days of living hell.
Deep in his heart, Kaeya was still just a scared kid. He still held the fear that one day, everything would come crashing down. Though the staff didn't know the whole story, they knew enough – he was a foreigner who'd been abandoned by his birth father. Kaeya's pessimism assured him that, eventually, the other shoe would drop. Someone would figure out that he was of Khaenri'ahn blood.
It was an irrational fear, admittedly. If it came down to it, Diluc would raise his claymore and go to war.
But it didn't erase the ball lodged in Kaeya's throat.
A warm hand suddenly wrapped around Kaeya's bicep, startling him out of his head. The touch soothed his ragged nerves more than he cared to admit, and he glanced up, meeting Diluc's worried gaze.
“This is for you,” the shorter man said quietly. “If you don't want to celebrate, don't. I'm not going to do anything for my birthday.”
Kaeya huffed a laugh. “Always so protective of me.”
He'd meant it as a joke, a way to alleviate his crippling indecision. But it was so deeply true that Kaeya felt the words reverberate in his very bones. And, if the hesitant but brilliant smile that flashed across Diluc's face was any indication, the other man knew it, too.
How strange it was to look back only a few months and see such stark change. At the start of May, Kaeya had lived in his drafty little room in the Knights' Headquarters. The patrons of Angel's Share had seen him more than his fellow Knights – excluding the ones with as many demons as he, of course. But now?
Now I'm worried about a birthday party hosted by good people, Kaeya thought. He smiled at the memory of Chasa shrieking in horror when he peered into the kitchen and spotted his cake. She'd immediately chased him out, but he'd caught a glimpse – three tiers, decorated with snowflakes and flurries made from slime condensate.
What did his nerves matter? As Kaeya had previously reassured himself, no one from Mondstadt was at the manor. He and Diluc weren't “on;” they didn't have to perform. It was their house, their rules.
He was allowed to have a good birthday.
“Well, I guess this is the best that I'm going to look,” Kaeya mused. “And I want a slice of cake. You paid for it, didn't you?”
Diluc just chuckled in response and tugged Kaeya towards the door (which reminded Kaeya that the shorter man still clutched his forearm). Kaeya nudged his bedroom door shut with his foot, then allowed himself to be dragged down the hallway. If it were anyone else, he would have long since tugged free. But this was Diluc, and Diluc never initiated physical contact.
But a few jabs were still in order. “You shouldn't throw money around, firefly,” Kaeya chided with a lazy grin. “That cake must have cost a few of Elzer's paychecks.”
Diluc glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes glittered dangerously. “If it makes you feel any better, the staff contributed their own Mora to pay for it. I'm sure a paycheck is worth getting out of work for a day.”
“Have you ever considered giving them lunch breaks?”
“Ha. You're guilty, too.”
Kaeya tripped on his own feet because shit, that was right; Diluc had given him half of Dawn Winery just yesterday. The shorter man had cracked a sardonic smile and explained that it was Kaeya's “rightful share.” Neither of them had pointed out the regret tinging Diluc's smile, nor had they addressed the tears in Kaeya's eyes.
They didn't talk about a lot of things. But it always worked out, because Kaeya could read Diluc's physical language like written text, and Diluc always heard what Kaeya didn't say aloud. It worked.
Kaeya stuffed down yet another stupid smile. Then they reached the ground floor and turned to the dining room, and Kaeya's mind came to a grinding halt.
Banners of gold and silver hung from the rafters, and paper snowflakes dangled from the chandelier and rested on the table. Fruit and snacks sat on silver platters, the open windows bathed the dining room in blue sunlight, and at least 30 people milled around, laughing and talking.
“Master Kaeya!”
Kaeya flinched at the call, but once he spotted Elzer weaving through the crowd, his body revitalized. “Afternoon, Elzer,” he called, matching the executive's bright smile. “We've got quite a crowd here.”
“Of course!” Elzer laughed. “We're always happy to celebrate. But, I have to admit, I thought that Master Diluc was going to have to drag you out here.”
“Oh, he did.” Kaeya chuckled at the sharp elbow he received for the jab. Suddenly, a flash of white caught his eye, and he glanced down at Elzer's hands. The executive held a small box, half-hidden by his coat. “What's in the box?” Kaeya asked, jerking his chin at said object. “I told you that I don't want any presents.”
Elzer drummed his fingers on the box for a moment before responding. “I know, but the blacksmith had finished the order long before you told me. It would be a shame to let a custom-made piece collect dust for another year.”
That piqued Kaeya's curiosity. “Custom-made?” he echoed.
Elzer shot Diluc a pointed look, but Kaeya was too fascinated by the little box to question the interaction. He held out a hand, and Elzer placed the gift on his palm. It was pure white with a few silver accents creeping along the sides. But it was light enough to balance on one finger. Only a master craftsman could have assembled such an ornate thing.
More than that, the commissioner must have known that Kaeya appreciated minute details.
“Am I supposed to open this in front of everyone?” he asked as lightly as he could when a lump of emotion clogged his throat.
Elzer shrugged. “It's up to you. Most of us know what it is.”
They do? Kaeya thought, bewildered and even more curious. He hurried into the corner of the room, trailed by Elzer and Diluc – the latter of whom had remained silent since Elzer's approach. As soon as Kaeya was safely hidden by the wall, he hooked a nail underneath the box's lid and tugged it open.
The first thing he saw was the glitter of silver. The second was a flash of red, and Kaeya's jaw dropped open.
Resting on a little white pillow was a dazzling earring. Droplets of smooth silver formed a delicate chain, then solidified to form a cage around a polished gemstone – an agnidus agate. Flames flickered in the stone's depths, and looking at it made Kaeya's fingertips prickle with power.
For a moment, all he could do was stare. Kaeya's brain had shut down, and he operated on base emotions alone.
“This is beautiful,” he breathed eventually, and he fixed Elzer with an incredulous look. “Did you commission this?”
The executive crossed his arms with a pleased smile. “Yes and no. The staff and I pooled our Mora to pay for it. But the concept and design? That wasn't me.”
Kaeya shook his head slightly and turned his attention back to the box, because, gods almighty, the earring was captivating. He ran a reverent thumb over the gemstone and shivered as nonexistent flames licked his skin.
He had to wear it.
“Hold this,” Kaeya ordered, removing his current earring with experienced fingers and passing it off to Diluc. He didn't even wait to see if the shorter man had taken it from him before he picked up the agnidus agate and slipped it into his ear.
A rush of fire flooded his body, chasing away the perpetual chill in his bones and leaving him with embers smoldering in his chest. It was unlike anything Kaeya had ever experienced, but he tucked his awe away for a later date. But the fire was familiar, so familiar, and he had to know why.
“So, Elzer,” Kaeya began, settling the box's lid back into place, “I'm dying to know. Who commissioned this, if not you or another staff member?”
Elzer's grin widened. “Now that you've opened our present, we can have cake!” Elzer turned to the crowd, and suddenly, every single staff member paid rapt attention to him. “It's cake time!”
The room let out a collective cheer, and Kaeya couldn't help a wry chuckle. Two of the few downsides to employing such discerning workers were that they could eavesdrop without being caught and knew when to withhold information. Ah, well. Kaeya wouldn't have been able to escape questions about his new earring, anyway, especially given the elemental power it exuded.
Elemental... power...
Wait a second.
Kaeya turned to Diluc and found that the shorter man had all but sunk into the shadows. “Firefly?” he prompted. Diluc hunched into himself even more, and the ball of fire in Kaeya's chest burned a bit brighter, as if responding to its source. “You commissioned this, didn't you?”
Diluc pressed his lips into a thin line. His silence was proof enough of his involvement, and though Kaeya ached to understand, he reluctantly let it go. Everyone knew not to scrutinize gifts, especially those made with precious gemstones that cost a small fortune.
The door to the kitchen suddenly banged open, and Chasa and Montrose emerged carrying a familiar, three-tiered cake. It looked even more delicious in person, and Kaeya couldn't help but stride up the table and throw his arms wide.
“It's a pleasure to have you all here!” he called. A cheer rose from the assembled staff. “Since you insisted on celebrating me, take your slices first! Everyone gets a piece!”
For the next three hours, Kaeya slipped between the staff, laughing and talking and enjoying the food. Ironically, no one had grabbed any wine from their cellar. Yet, when Elzer dismissed the party due to a brewery emergency, Kaeya was glad for the absence of alcohol. Every moment was clear in his mind, and his heart buzzed with authentic joy and laughter and light.
This couldn't be November 30th. His birthday meant nearly drinking himself to death and crying into his bedsheets, clutching a bottle of Dandelion Wine to his chest. Not... not...
Maybe it was his birthday. Maybe he was allowed to have fun.
Kaeya retreated to the edge of the dining room and cracked a small smile at all the dirty plates scattered around. “That was fun,” he announced to no one in particular.
Chasa poked her head through the kitchen door. “I'll say!” she crowed. “We'll have this place spotless by dinner, Master Kaeya. I mean, the maids will; I'm needed in the brewery.” She chuckled to herself, then waved a hand at the staircase. “Master Diluc went up to his study, by the way. Guess he couldn't stay away from his work too long, eh?”
Kaeya's good mood dimmed. Diluc had spent most of the party in the corner, holding quiet conversations with anyone who approached. Even among friends, Diluc didn't like crowds. Kaeya knew that. Still, something akin to hurt touched his heart as he took the stairs two at a time.
He shouldn't want anything else. Spending time with the people who accepted him with open arms was more than he'd ever expected to receive. But as Kaeya stepped into the study, the accusatory edge to his voice betrayed him.
“When did you sneak off?”
Diluc looked up at Kaeya's entry, a quill in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. “A few minutes ago,” he responded hesitantly. “I didn't feel like cleaning up your mess.”
They both knew that there was no scenario in which Diluc had to do the dishes after a party. The twisting in Kaeya's gut grew stronger, tearing chunks out of his happiness. It was stupid, he knew, but he couldn't shake the feeling of... loss. The party had been fun, yes. But he would have gladly exchanged those few hours for the company of one man.
“Did you have a good time?”
Words tumbled out before Kaeya could stop them. “You couldn't tell?”
Diluc's shoulders rose and fell silently, and through his haze of panic and betrayal, Kaeya smiled grimly. He could blame outside circumstances all he wanted, but, at the end of the day, he was miserable because of his own actions. Taking responsibility was a step in growing up that he'd never learned. Well, what was one more in a long line of terrible November 30ths?
“I'm sorry.”
...what?
“I don't like crowds,” Diluc muttered, carefully setting his quill on the desk. He glanced up at Kaeya, and his eyes shone with regret. “I didn't mean to hurt you. I just didn't want to ruin your party.”
There were many things Kaeya should have done. Acknowledging Diluc's vulnerability would be a good start, or perhaps he should admit that, yes, the behavior had hurt him – the mature, communicative things expected of a conversation between two adults.
“You're lucky I saved you a slice of cake,” is what Kaeya said.
Diluc cracked a small smile, and the tension hanging over the room vanished. So, instead of backtracking and potentially making everything worse, Kaeya collapsed into a chair by the fireplace and waved a beckoning hand. A quiet laugh and a few shuffling footsteps later, Diluc sank into the other chair. Kaeya kicked off his slippers, then rested his feet in Diluc's lap, and a warm hand immediately rested on his foot.
It was a strange habit, all things considered. It certainly hadn't existed before Kaeya's return to the manor. Part of him wanted to ask why Diluc was willing to be used as a footrest when he so adamantly avoided other kinds of physical contact.
The overwhelming majority of Kaeya's brain accepted the affection without complaint and clung to it like a lifeline.
They quickly slipped into peaceful silence. Diluc massaged Kaeya's arch, his gaze fixed on the fire roaring in the hearth, and Kaeya drifted on the edge of the sleep, drowsy and relaxed. But a nagging thought kept him awake. Each time his hair brushed his new earring, questions popped into his mind, demanding to be answered.
So, after a few conflicted minutes, Kaeya reluctantly pried his eyes open. “Well?” he asked. Diluc glanced at him blankly, and Kaeya tapped his earring. “I know you had something to do with this. Care to explain?”
A faint smile touched Diluc's face. “Do you like it?”
“Do I-” Kaeya spluttered, and his tongue tripped over his words before he could even get them out. He took a deep breath, then tried again. “Firefly, it's beautiful. I don't even know a craftsman who could craft this, let alone a merchant or blacksmith who could find a gemstone of this quality. Agnidus agate is priceless, and- no, the better phrase is 'agnidus agate is pricey.' It-”
Kaeya stumbled to a stop as he realized that Diluc watched him silently, his smile a bit warmer. The expression both froze Kaeya in place and made him want to talk more. “Yes. I like it."
Diluc chuckled. It was tantamount to a confession, and Kaeya leaned forward excitedly. Gods, he had so many questions about how Diluc had put the commission together! But before he could say anything, Diluc ran his hands through his hair, sweeping it away from his face. Kaeya's heart stuttered, died, and dropped into a lower orbit.
Diluc wore an earring. It had been hidden by his hair since it was smaller than Kaeya's, but the construction was identical. Brilliant gold pierced Diluc's ear, then dripped downward in smooth droplets before forming a cage around a teal gemstone. Shivada jade.
“Diluc,” Kaeya stammered out. The shorter man shot him a curious look, but the rest of his sentence stuck in Kaeya's throat, clogged by a sudden ball of emotion. Diluc's eyes widened with understanding despite his silence, and the shorter man dropped his hair with a hissed “shit.”
“I- I forgot about it,” Diluc admitted. “I'm not used to wearing it yet.” It seemed more like an attempt to distract from his new accessory than any actual explanation.
“It doesn't have an elemental aura,” Kaeya noted dumbly. It was all he could manage with his brain still short-circuiting.
The faintest hint of an embarrassed scowl creased Diluc's face. “Of course it doesn't. Yours is imbued with the power of a Vision. Mine is just a gemstone.”
“How long have you been wearing that?” Kaeya pressed. His nervous system was slowly coming back online, and the rush in his veins could only be described as fascination.
“This? Since this morning. But I've had a stud in for about a month to make sure the hole didn't heal.”
“A month? And you didn't-” Kaeya shook himself, silently resolved to pester Diluc relentlessly at a later date, then pulled his feet underneath him and waved a hand. “Come here. I want to see it.”
Diluc obediently leaned over, pushing his hair out of the way. Kaeya scooted forward and reached a reverent hand towards the glittering gold. Up close, the shivada jade clearly lacked the luster of his agnidus agate. Come to think of it, Kaeya hadn't even questioned why the warmth from his gemstone had felt so familiar. But if it was imbued with a Vision's power, and Kaeya's body accepted the elemental power without question...
A whisper sounded in his ear, quiet yet insistent. Give him your power.
Well, if Diluc could imbue a gemstone, surely he could, too.
Kaeya rested a finger against the shivada jade, and its potential sparked under his touch. Diluc tensed, but Kaeya held up a placating hand, sending a shard of ice skipping down his finger. It hit the jade and dissolved. The stone's aura flared. So, acting on pure instinct and absolutely no experience, Kaeya commanded a flurry into the earring, urging it to accept his power and contain it. It glowed brighter and brighter until, finally, Kaeya's shards shattered on impact.
The earring hummed with the power of Cryo. It perfectly mirrored the Pyro warming his very bones.
Kaeya nodded to himself, then returned to his slumped position, once again placing his feet in Diluc's lap. “What do you think?” he asked, torn between pride and terror that he'd somehow messed up.
Diluc ran his fingers over his earring, and something like an awestruck smile crept across his face. “It's cooling me down,” he reported. “I'm not overheating anymore.”
Kaeya cracked a dry grin. “Good. Maybe you'll experience cold like the rest of us mortals.”
He expected a rebuttal. He expected pushback, the give-and-take and constantly shifting balance that marked their interactions. Instead, Diluc glanced at him, and for the second time in as many minutes, Kaeya's witty jabs died on his tongue.
It had taken them seven months to rebuild this level of comfort. At first, talking had been enough – Diluc had apologized, and Kaeya had revealed the fragmented pieces of his past, memories of wandering Khaenri'ah with what was left of their people. Then, one day, Kaeya had returned to the Winery. He'd made himself at home, and Diluc had accepted his presence without complaint.
But never in those many months had Kaeya seen Diluc smile with such unfiltered tenderness. The other man looked at him as he had when they were children – adoring, as if Kaeya had built Mondstadt with his own two hands.
It had been years since he'd seen that expression. So, so many years.
“I guess I should tell Elzer that he was right,” Diluc murmured, and his gaze flicked back to the fire, breaking the moment and releasing Kaeya from his startled limbo.
Kaeya tried to ask a question. It came out as a strangled noise. He coughed, swallowed, and tried again. “He thought of this?” Kaeya croaked. He managed to get the words out, but they were stained with unaddressed emotions he desperately tried to repress.
And, thank the gods, Diluc took pity and didn't look over. “No, I had the idea first,” the shorter man corrected, leaning back in his chair. “I couldn't even tell you why I decided to commission these. I thought you'd like them, I guess. I originally planned to make them both shivada jade, but Albedo convinced me otherwise.” Diluc lifted one shoulder awkwardly, and the motion looked so foreign on him that Kaeya couldn't help but chuckle. “And Elzer convinced me to give it to you now. A lot of people have been manipulating me recently.”
“What would have happened without Elzer's interference?”
“These would have gathered dust until I found a good enough reason. Or until I decided it was a stupid idea and returned the order. But it's best that you have yours now. It might adjust how we fight.”
There was an implication hidden in that sentence that Kaeya couldn't quite decipher, and suddenly, the second part of Diluc's explanation registered in his brain. “Why didn't you make them both shivada jade if you planned to give these to me?” he asked slowly. “And what does Albedo have to do with this? Aren't these just accessories?”
Diluc pressed his lips together. “In theory, yes. You're aware that Visions can't be transferred, even if their owners die?”
“In theory, yes.”
Diluc cracked a dry smile, but instead of giving any further explanation, he waved for Kaeya to use his Vision. A rush of apprehension mixed with excitement swept through Kaeya's chest, and he summoned an ice shard to his fingertips. Something instantly tugged it.
For a split second, Kaeya's mind went blank. He watched, dumbstruck, as Diluc pulled the ice out of his control. It was obviously an effort, and the shard lost its form with every inch it lurched in Diluc's direction. But it moved.
“How?” Kaeya breathed.
Diluc maintained his control for a few more seconds, then released the shard with a heavy exhale. “I have no clue,” he said, clearly exhausted from his demonstration. Kaeya promptly crushed the deformed ice. “Albedo showed up when I was giving Majorie the order, and he told me about his theory of power diffusion – elemental gemstones infused with the power of a Vision provide the wearer some of the Vision's strength. He was so sure of himself that I got curious and ordered one made of shivada jade and the other with agnidus agate. I'll have to tell him that he was right.”
Logically, Kaeya knew that several thousand people would kill for the secret that they'd just uncovered – a way for non-Vision users to manipulate the elements. But, for the moment, he flapped an impatient hand and let his ideas run wild because, gods, this had potential. “My turn,” he ordered.
Diluc followed Kaeya's silent command and summoned a flickering flame to his fingertips. Kaeya held out a hand and tried to bend the fire towards him, just as he would a snowbank. Nothing happened. He switched his approach to one he would use to freeze water. Still nothing, and a flare of frustration replaced Kaeya's giddy excitement. He knew the aura of Diluc's Vision by heart, so why wasn't-
Oh.
Because Pyro didn't work the same way that Cryo did. Kaeya had learned from the elemental reactions that they'd learned to create. And if that was the case...
Kaeya turned his gaze inward and examined the fire lying dormant in his chest. It felt different than his Cryo powers, less natural and more invasive. That was to be expected from a foreign source. But it was still familiar. Kaeya knew Diluc's burning power, the fluidity with which the flames could leap between targets. It was ferocity incarnate, the culmination of passion through the elements.
And it echoed every silent conviction that Kaeya had made in recent months. Every promise he'd made during quiet nights in the study or in battles around Mondstadt.
I will not lose my home a second time, Kaeya told the flame in his chest.
It exploded into an inferno, and Kaeya pulled Diluc's flame with everything he had. The tiny flicker dancing above the shorter man's fingertips roared, consuming itself until it became a raging fireball brighter than the fire in the hearth.
Kaeya couldn't control the fire. It raged like a miniature sun, rebuffing his pathetic attempts at containing its power.
But he'd manipulated Pyro. And that was what mattered.
Diluc closed his hands over the flame and instantly extinguished it. “What did you do?” he demanded, breathless and wild-eyed.
What, indeed?
Kaeya glanced at Diluc, inhaling to admit that he'd relived six months of change in three seconds, and that had somehow sparked his newfound power. The shorter man already stared at him, that same adoring smile on his face. Kaeya's triumph grew tenfold. He was still shaking, but the blindingly bright flow of belonging and exaltation and pride coursing through his body had taken over every corner of his mind.
“I don't know,” Kaeya admitted, and he chanced a glance at Diluc's earring. It burned even brighter than before, likely fed by Kaeya's influx of power. “But I think I should explain how my Vision connects to my emotions.”
The joy dropped from Diluc's face. “How your emotions connect to your Vision?” he echoed softly.
A beat.
He held out his hands, and gut-wrenching misery flashed in his eyes. For a single heartbeat, Kaeya saw years of grief written across the shorter man's face, saw rage and hatred carved into the lines of his face.
A haze appeared in Diluc's palms. It solidified – a beautiful, radiant snowflake.
It shattered and melted within seconds. But he'd done it, just like Kaeya had. Diluc, the wielder of a Pyro Vision, had summoned and controlled Cryo.
“You must think I'm miserable,” Kaeya noted. “You certainly didn't look like you were having a good time.”
He'd been going for something light-hearted, a way to fill the uneasy silence between them. But it landed flat and painfully avoidant. Because, just like always, Diluc had seen the truth. He'd torn through Kaeya's defenses, figured out that Kaeya viewed his Vision as a grim reminder that he was never truly free of the history resting on his shoulders. He no longer called upon negative emotions to amplify his Vision, but for weeks after Diluc's departure, Kaeya's conduit had been anger and self-hatred.
So what had Diluc used as his conduit?
Kaeya didn't ask. Diluc didn't offer an explanation as to how he'd figured out the secret of Cryo, and neither of them tried any further experiments. Some things could wait for another day.
After all, come tomorrow, there would be plenty of battles to fight.
Kaeya slumped deeper into his chair, and Diluc immediately held out a navy blue blanket that had been resting on his chair's armrest. Kaeya accepted it and bundled himself away from the chill of the afternoon. All that remained was the whistle of the wind and Diluc's hands resting on his ankles, tracing one of Kaeya's scars with a feather-light touch.
“Happy birthday.”
Once, Kaeya would have laughed the notion off without even looking up. Now, he met the shorter man's gaze. The adoration in Diluc's eyes had been replaced with tired fondness.
And maybe that was better. Maybe it heralded a new start for them, moving forward rather than going backward. It had taken seven years, too many scars to count, and chunks from their hearts than they could never replace. But, somehow... they'd forged something stronger than a childhood bond.
“Thank you, firefly,” Kaeya said softly.
“Is there anything else you want to do today? That was a short party.”
Kaeya considered the offer. “Maybe next year,” he conceded. “It's cold, and I'm still sore from fighting that Hilichurl pack in Windrise.”
Diluc's lips quirked in a teasing smile. “This after you said that a man only turns 26 once? You want to stay home and rest?”
Home.
“Yeah,” Kaeya murmured. “Just stay home.”