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Kaeya doesn’t mean to forget about agreed-upon arrangements.
No, really.
Though Master Diluc might certainly take the cake for always being punctual because he, in his own words, “does not have time to waste,” Kaeya actually does do a decent job of juggling his various… commitments. It’s crucial to keep up pretences after all, especially with the sorts of people he entertains, works tirelessly to maintain a pristine relationship with in the hope that it’ll pay off eventually.
It always does, of course. There’s a reason it’s worked out for him so far.
It’s just that sometimes after a particularly gruelling day, battles hard-fought or paperwork hard-fought, he’ll find himself trudging the familiar path into Angel’s Share.
It’s only one drink, he’ll tell Charles, I have something going on tonight. Charles always humours him, polite but never prying, which Kaeya can most certainly appreciate.
Then, one drink deep into his idle chatter with a few of the other patrons, Kaeya will finally start to feel looser, the coils of tension wound up all over his body will gradually begin to unwind, leaving a pleasant warmth in their wake.
He sighs, rolling out his shoulders. Somehow the initial buzz never gets old.
It’s only one more drink, he reasons. Kaeya has fought a group of hillichurls after two drinks before and won quite easily. Surely there mustn’t be anything too drastic about a couple of drinks in that case.
Two drinks become three as the sun lowers still, shades of oranges spilling out over the horizon. He feels relaxed in a way he seldom does sober, edged on by the pleasant hum that travels throughout his body. At this stage he needn't concern himself much with any small slips in his carefully maintained facade, not when the only people accompanying him in this tavern are far drunker than he is.
His thoughts slow right down, his smiles come a little easier, sit a little more naturally on his face. His attention shifts inward, eyes fixating on the napkin that sits on the table before him. His hands come up of their own accord, unfolding it with care and smoothing out the creases as much as possible.
It’s been a hard day today.
Nothing he can’t handle, of course.
He begins to fold the napkin, just a little clumsy. It’s almost soothing, the fact that he’s allowed to be a little clumsy. That it’s even expected after a couple drinks. He’s allowed to laugh freely, allowed to not be at his absolute sharpest. He’s allowed to let his thoughts wander.
He remembers Diluc’s face upon seeing him this morning at the Winery.
“I trust you have a good reason for being here, Captain Kaeya.”
The crossed arms, the cautious eyes. Always on the defensive. Always anticipating some unsavoury turn of events.
“Who, me? Why, I was just wandering through. Though, perhaps if you’d care for a chat somewhere more private, I could let you in on a thing or two.”
Even as Kaeya had talked, as he’d informed him of an Abyss lead in the vicinity of the winery in his own roundabout way, Diluc’s face had remained unreadable, set in stone. Maybe it shouldn’t have frustration bubbling up inside Kaeya’s chest, that one of the only people he should know well in Mondstat is as good as an indecipherable wall at times. He wants to provoke him somehow, he wants a glimmer of anything that isn’t suspicion, defense, he wants something.
“I trust you understand that am I not currently acting in my capacity as a knight, Master Diluc.”
He trusts the knights. Well — he trusts Jean. Perhaps that deserves some differentiation. But something about this particular lead had bothered him. He knows, after all, that some operations are better left to the shadows.
Which is where his ever-affectionate brother comes into the picture, naturally.
Diluc huffs. “I am well aware. I shall see to it myself.”
And maybe there’s some trust there, deep down. Maybe Diluc doesn’t trust him, but he does trust that Kaeya wouldn’t lead him astray when it comes to matters of his nature.
Kaeya continues to fold the napkin, a heaviness settling deep inside his chest. It’s inevitable, sometimes, that the isolation should set in, the sense that though he may be chatting with the usual evening crowd, he’s really far removed from it all, plagued by decisions that leave him tossing restlessly into the early morning.
He catches a glimpse of a particularly nasty cut along his arm as his sleeve rides up, caught on the edge of the table. Some treasure hoarders had gotten the jump on him today. What should’ve been a swift affair resulted in a myriad of cuts and bruises. Kaeya had simply treated the worst of them himself and gone on his merry way. He knows Jean would’ve insisted upon healing them, but Kaeya didn’t need that kind of fuss.
There are flare-ups in pain, however, and this particular cut is in a very inconvenient location indeed.
He sucks in a harsh breath, but continues folding until the pain ebbs away. It’s temporary, after all. It’s disadvantageous to be blinded by it in battle, so Kaeya has made ignoring it into somewhat of an art form.
Eventually, he sets his final creation on the table. A boar folded from a napkin. Not bad, considering his less-than-ideal coordination.
Kaeya sends a glance up at the clock and very nearly gasps out in surprise. He’d been due to meet Albedo in Dragonspine about ten minutes ago, and here he is folding napkin boars. He stands abruptly from his chair, the harsh scrape of it along the floor garnering him a bit of attention from nearby patrons. He offers them a smile.
“I suppose I’ll be seeing you all around, hm?”
There are a few murmurs of assent, a clap on the back here and a wave there.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own, Captain Kaeya?” Charles inquires, and something flutters inside of Kaeya’s stomach at all of the implications that his mind hastily jumps to. He exhales slowly. Not now.
“I’ve gotten myself home just fine under more…intoxicated circumstances. I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” He flashes a smile for good measure, and although Charles appears slightly hesitant, he relents with a small nod.
Kaeya steps out into the brisk evening air and comes to a halt.
Alright.
Dragonspine, Dragonspine…
If he sets off now, he could make it. Albeit a little later than initially intended. He knows that Albedo has been itching for a test subject, however, and Kaeya had assured him he’d be there after he got off work. He’s certainly not going to bail now. Albedo is a knight, after all, and a very useful acquaintance, but those aren’t necessarily the most important factors at play here. He’s a friend, first and foremost, which is a rare occurrence for Kaeya indeed.
Plus, there’s…
No. At the moment, it’s entirely unnecessary to dwell on that particular tidbit.
So, he sets off.
He’s not actually all that unsteady on his feet, alcohol considered. He’s still buzzed, sure, and he’s struggling to remember whether three drinks had actually become five at some point or another, but the path to Albedo’s lab is a familiar one with only a couple of the usual suspects — hillichurls, hillichurl shooters, samachurls — scattered along the way. He manages not to disturb them.
Kaeya tries hard to keep his focus outward, on the bitter cold that presses at his skin, the snow that crunches beneath his boots, the fading sky and its rapidly diminishing colors. The pinecones scattered along his path, the occasional scurrying of small animals. But the further he ascends the mountain, the more his thoughts wander, pesky things that they are.
The alcohol still thrums in his veins, despite being significantly dulled now. The clumsy feeling lingers, however, no matter how he tries to shake it off. In fact, the more agitated he becomes about trying to rid himself of it, the more it grows, the more it makes the surrounding landscape seem so endlessly vast around him.
Kaeya inhales through his nose then exhales. If he can just keep it together for this experiment, he’ll be in the clear.
His trek continues, and so too do his efforts to keep his thoughts in line. He thinks about work, about that lead from earlier today, whether Diluc had followed up on it, just about anything that seems adult-enough. The cold has never really affected him all too much, but somehow he has the urge to fold his arms anyway, to curl up in any possible way he can. He keeps his arms firmly by his side, but it takes conscious effort to keep them there.
The thing is, he really — really hates being an adult, sometimes. Hates managing all of these pressing matters alone, hates having so many secrets held close to his chest.
It won’t do to dwell.
But…
“Captain Kaeya.”
Kaeya blinks, his focus snapping back outward. He’s managed to wander his way up to Albedo’s lab. The warm glow of the fires, the shadows that dance along stone, it’s all painstakingly familiar and somehow even more comforting at this time of night when their surroundings appear so dark and desolate.
“I was beginning to think you’d perhaps forgotten about our agreement,” Albedo continues, as if Kaeya had spoken, “I started to make a few preparations for another experiment.”
“My sincerest apologies,” says Kaeya, as he approaches one of the fires, “I’m afraid I got caught up in a couple of other…affairs. Work has been quite busy, after all.”
Albedo nods, attention now flitting between Kaeya and his lab equipment. “The Acting Grand Master informed me recently that there has been a spike of activity around Mondstadt. If you’re here now, I assume that you are still willing to help me with this experiment? Otherwise, I might not be able to entertain you, I’m afraid.”
Kaeya opens his arms. “How do you want me, Chief Alchemist?”
A small smile flickers on Albedo’s face as he gestures toward a wooden chair. “Right over there, if you please. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Kaeya does as he’s told, taking a seat on the chair. His gaze wanders toward the sparse trees, the dark clouds that blanket the night sky. He’s never been the guinea pig to one of Albedo’s experiments at this time of night. Normally, the sun would be out and there’d be some semblance of life in the surrounding area. Everything seems remarkably secluded now with no Timeaus scribbling down results or the occasional passing Adventurer.
He directs his focus toward Albedo, who’s still shuffling through his notes and checking the contents of a potion. Occasionally, he’ll mumble something to himself, some technical alchemical jargon that goes right over Kaeya’s head, and. And archons , does it make him feel like retreating into himself.
It’s quiet, Albedo expects him to do nothing but sit there as he takes care of the more complicated aspects of the experiment, beyond simply drinking the potion and anticipating its effects. Kaeya folds his arms over his chest.
This is…not ideal.
It’s not ideal that he can’t stop tapping his foot against the ground, that he has the sudden urge to curl back into the chair and forget he’s an adult at all. It’s even less ideal that he’s in the company of Albedo of all people, because he’s seen it before, he knows. He just doesn’t know that it happens more frequently than Kaeya cares to admit.
As far as Albedo is concerned, this feeling only crops up very occasionally and passes very quickly. He’s seen Kaeya start to slip once or twice, but that’s all he ever sees before Kaeya is making his hurried leave, seeking out someplace secluded. He’s been curious, sure, he’s inquired about it a decidedly scientific manner with nothing but genuine interest prevalent in his tone, but Kaeya always deflects, diverts, so his line of questioning never gets very far.
Albedo transfers some supplies to the bench by Kaeya’s chair, setting his notes down before taking the potion in hand.
“You look as though you have reservations,” says Albedo, eyes scrutinising, “please let me know at any time if this is something you no longer wish to participate in.”
“Why, Mister Kreideprinz, come all this way just to let you down in such a fashion? I would never.”
“Very well. This should be a swift process. If all goes according to plan, this potion will…”
It’s nothing that Kaeya hasn’t heard before — Albedo had extensively explained this particular potion and the possible implications of being resistant to all forms of elemental energy or damage. But the more that Albedo speaks, the more his words seem to escape Kaeya’s normally sharp comprehension, increasingly difficult to string together without some added effort. His focus is elsewhere — trying to keep himself sitting upright, trying to keep a hold of himself — which isn’t exactly making things any easier.
“If I am correct, discomfort or nausea may prove to be possible side effects, as well as — Captain Kaeya, you appear uncomfortable. Is any of this a source of hesitation for you? I can explain the side effects further if that may bring you some comfort, or if you wish to—“
“It’s alright,” Kaeya says hastily, “I’m no stranger to discomfort. I, ah. I had a few drinks, that’s all.”
Albedo frowns. “Alcohol, you mean?”
“Well, let’s just say it wasn’t grape juice.”
Albedo considers this. “I have not determined whether this potion could interact with alcohol in any capacity. Perhaps…” he turns back to his notes, scrawling a few things down. He reviews some of his other notes, mumbling once again, and Kaeya. Kaeya just really wants to stop being an adult for a while. He’s sitting in a chair but he still feels clumsy somehow, his thoughts are a confusing jumble that he doesn’t want to try and unravel. He swings his legs once and sighs, propping his head up on his hand. Time seems to be dragging.
There’s no denying it now — he feels small, even smaller whenever Albedo goes on about things he doesn’t understand.
“Perhaps I will have to make a few adjustments,” Albedo says, as he finally turns back toward Kaeya. “I may — oh. Tired, Captain?”
“A little,” Kaeya says, heart jumping in his chest at how it sounds, all mumbled and quiet. “But, um. It’s fine. The noble pursuit of scientific inquiry never sleeps, or so they say.”
Albedo pauses, eyes settling unflinchingly on Kaeya, who immediately lifts his head again and forces a smile. For a long moment, he simply observes.
“I see. Perhaps this is not an ideal time for this experiment.”
Kaeya balks at the softer quality in his voice. Surely he hasn’t been that obvious.
“This is as good a time as any,” he says, a little weakly.
“You’re embarrassed,” Albedo says, matter-of-fact, “I apologise. I’m not trying to make you feel that way. I simply think, given your current state, that it might be inappropriate for me to continue this experiment.”
“Albedo, it’s not what you — I’ve just had a few too many drinks, really.”
“Still embarrassed,” Albedo murmurs, to himself more than anything, but it somehow only serves to make Kaeya feel smaller. He can feel a humiliated warmth beginning to spread across his face.
“Perhaps I was asking too much of you, calling you to Dragonspine after a day of work. We can schedule this particular experiment for another time, perhaps one where no alcohol is present in your system. Less unknown variables are generally preferred, particularly with potions that have not been tested so rigorously yet.”
Kaeya can’t bring himself to respond. He’s given up on the pretence of not feeling little, at least subconsciously — his arms are folded over his chest, he’s curled back into the chair with his legs swinging a little, but the embarrassment is keeping him tethered to his more adult perception of the world.
“We can discuss scheduling at a later point,” Albedo decides, “for the time being — I can offer you some privacy? Or if you’d like to return home, I could accompany you. You are, however, more than welcome to spend the night. There is not too much in the way of entertainment here…” he trails off, looking about at the lab, “except perhaps my sketchbook.”
Albedo’s voice is an almost perfect mixture of calm and caring, one that Kaeya can’t help but sink into. He should tell him that he wants privacy, that he wants to go home alone, but…
“You had another experiment…”
His voice sounds soft even to his own ears.
“Indeed,” Albedo agrees, “merely some…preparations. You would not be interrupting anything of immediate importance, I assure you.”
Kaeya hesitates, eyeing the lab around him. Albedo picks his sketchbook up from his easel, bringing a chair close to the campfire and flicking through some of its pages.
Kaeya could simply leave, fend off the encroaching headspace until he returns home. There’s nothing stopping him from doing so. But the warmth here in this lab, the privacy, the soft cadence to Albedo’s voice, it all has him pulling his own chair closer to the fire, peering over at Albedo’s sketchbook curiously.
Albedo offers him a small smile. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to see?”
Kaeya is somewhat afraid of what will come out of his mouth if he speaks. He thinks for a moment, before pulling his napkin boar from his pocket and placing it gently on the page. Albedo picks it up with care, turning it over for examination.
“Did you make this?” he asks.
Kaeya nods. He likes to fold things out of paper when he’s little. Still, he can’t help but flush under the genuine interest that Albedo displays as he examines the boar. It seems frivolous, compared to all the things that he can create using alchemy.
“It’s a fine specimen,” Albedo notes, “proportional, neatly folded. I have a sketch of some wild boars on Dragonspine. Perhaps you’d like to see it?”
Kaeya nods again, scooting his chair just a little closer. If he thinks too much about it all, how young he’s behaving, how much Albedo is clearly attempting to indulge him, he’ll most certainly flee. He’s never allowed himself anything like this, no matter how inquisitive or even caring Albedo has been about the concept, he’s always found himself on the defensive in response. Albedo is so calm, after all, so rational, surely he wouldn’t entertain such a headspace when there are more pressing matters to attend to — his alchemical research and his knightly obligations.
Kaeya turns away once more, bringing his hands up to his face. There’s a reason he doesn’t let other people see him like this, it’s just…it’s all just...
And oh, there are tears stinging at his eyes now. How lovely.
“Kaeya?” comes Albedo’s voice, hesitant, “are you alright? Have I done something?”
Kaeya shakes his head, hands still covering his face.
“Hm…? So I, haven’t done something? Then, perhaps you’re still feeling embarrassed?”
His cheeks burn, even in the bitter cold.
“I don’t have to stay,” he mumbles, voice muffled by his hands. He doesn’t try to make it sound any less childish than it is.
“You don’t have to stay,” Albedo agrees, which has Kaeya drawing his hands away from his face, tears shining in his eyes. The confirmation shouldn’t sting, but it does.
“But I would like you to, if you’re comfortable,” Albedo continues evenly, “I have yet to show you my sketch, after all.”
Kaeya considers this, sniffling slightly as he wipes at his eyes. Albedo smiles — a real, assuring, smile, not one of those aloof half-smiles, and something inside of him melts completely. The tightness accumulated in his chest from a lengthy day finally starts to dissolve as he shuffles in closer once more.
Albedo leafs through the pages until he finds the one he’s after. It’s a landscape filled to the brim with impressive details, ice that reflects the fading sun and pristine snow. Kaeya’s eyes find the wild boars immediately, and he lets out a little gasp without meaning to.
“I know this place,” he says hurriedly, “there’s a, um. There’s a boar king there. Diluc told me about it…”
If Albedo is taken aback, he does an impeccable job of concealing it. He smiles serenely. “Oh? Did he encounter this boar king?”
Kaeya shakes his head but doesn’t elaborate further, feeling a little timid about his outburst. He keeps his gaze on the sketch, namely the stripes along the boars’ fur.
“I have heard similar rumours of the great snowboar king. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to sketch it, if I ever come across it. It would certainly be an interesting specimen to study.”
“If you do…could I see it?”
“Certainly.”
He smiles and averts his gaze. He can feel himself starting to relax a little more, spurred on by the warmth of the fire and the fond sparkle in Albedo’s eye. He hikes his legs further up the chair and wraps his arms around them.
Albedo’s gaze flits down to the chair for a moment. “Perhaps you’d like something more comfortable to sit on?”
Kaeya glances about at the lab before looking back at Albedo, confused.
Albedo chuckles quietly. “Can I trust you not to turn around while I get us something more comfortable? It will only be a moment.”
Kaeya nods hesitantly, gladly accepting the sketchbook that Albedo hands him.
“This one, too,” he says, offering Kaeya his folded boar.
Kaeya hesitates. “You can keep it,” he offers.
“Oh? Are you sure?”
He nods in confirmation, averting his gaze once more.
There’s a smile in Albedo’s voice as he says, “well, thank you. I’ll be certain to ensure it’s safety.”
Kaeya hears him move toward his lab equipment, so he returns his attention to the sketchbook in his lap. He flicks through the pages, smiling slightly to himself. He’s seen glimpses of this sketchbook here and there, but only ever in passing. It certainly has Albedo written all over it, little notes scrawled throughout detailing interesting aspects of seemingly mundane scenery.
He’s unsure exactly how much time passes before Albedo is tapping his shoulder, prompting him to turn around.
Not only are there two beds now where there was only empty space before, there’s a fluffy-looking couch too, seemingly fit for about three people. A gasp tumbles from his lips.
“Magic?”
Albedo huffs, amused. “Something along those lines, yes.”
Kaeya barely notices the alchemy notes that Albedo sets on the arm of the couch as he wanders forth, still flabbergasted. He takes a seat while Albedo organises a few things, eyeing the beds curiously.
“Shall I make you something to drink?” Albedo asks. “We have apple juice, milk…”
“Ah. Apple juice, please.”
Albedo’s small smile practically radiates amusement. “Such nice manners. Give me one more moment while I go and get some.”
As he retreats to get the apple juice, Kaeya laments to himself, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyelids for a moment.
He’d sounded so…little. Not at all like a big boy.
His troubles are soon swept away by Albedo’s swift return with a frosted mug of apple juice in his hand.
“I’m afraid I do not have anything more…age-appropriate,” he says, “can I trust you not to spill your drink or shall I seek one out?”
“‘S okay,” Kaeya says hurriedly, flushing as he holds his hands out, “thanks.”
“Of course.”
He takes a seat on the couch beside Kaeya, a book in hand that Kaeya hadn’t even noticed.
“Klee is particularly fond of this book. Perhaps you’ll enjoy it too?”
Kaeya eyes the book for several moments before nodding and taking a sip of his apple juice, making sure not to spill it. He still feels clumsy, so it takes a good deal of concentration.
“What’s it about?” he asks, peering over his mug.
“It’s a story about a bird who wishes to fly. According to Klee, Amber has read her this particular book on several occasions.”
“Oh.” Kaeya thinks for a moment, swinging his legs a little. “Sounds…um…”
“Familiar?” Albedo suggests.
Kaeya nods, but he decides not to elaborate, lest his words get all muddled. Albedo doesn’t seem to mind, however, he simply opens up the book to the first page.
He hums. “These illustrations, they’re…”
“Green?” Kaeya guesses, pointing toward the picture.
“I—“ Albedo pauses, considering. “Yes, indeed. Green does appear to be the dominant colour here.” He studies the picture for a beat or so before looking over at Kaeya. “Shall we begin?”
“M’kay,” Kaeya agrees, shuffling in close.
Albedo’s reading voice isn’t dissimilar to his regular speaking voice — it’s calm, even and endlessly comforting. There’s a certain softness wound through it, too, one that Kaeya has never been on the receiving end of, and it warms him from the inside out. He can feel his adult mindset slipping away with each second that passes, but instead of frantically snatching at whatever remnant of it he can, instead of secluding himself, he shifts in closer and focuses on the story, until he can feel the warmth that Albedo radiates pressed all along his side.
The exhaustion of a long day seems to descend upon him all at once, only spurred by the melodic quality of Albedo’s voice. He sinks further into the couch, eyelashes fluttering.
“What you lacked was not wind, but courage,” Albedo says, “it is courage that has allowed you to become the first flying birds of this world.”
Kaeya blinks slowly, grip loosening on his empty mug. Albedo puts the book aside and carefully takes it from his hands, setting it atop a nearby workbench.
“You appear tired. Perhaps we should get you into bed, hm?”
He rubs at his eyes, half-tempted to protest, but the idea of laying down to sleep seems almost impossible to resist.
“Bed,” he agrees, with a stifled yawn.
Albedo stands up from the couch and offers him a hand, which Kaeya gladly takes. Even so, he stumbles a little, which prompts Albedo to hover a hand behind his back.
“Steady now,” he murmurs.
With some guidance, Kaeya reaches the bed without stumbling or falling asleep standing, which is certainly a feat considering just how exhausted he suddenly feels.
Albedo raises the blanket so that Kaeya can slip underneath and carefully tucks him in, smoothing out any creases. He performs a quick check to ensure it’s not too tight before nodding to himself, satisfied. Kaeya watches as he crouches down beside the bed, smiling gently.
“Please don’t hesitate to call if you need me. I’ll remain close by.” When Kaeya nods, his smile widens a fraction. “Sleep well, Kaeya.”
“G’night, ‘Bedo,” Kaeya mumbles, barely coherent.
He hears a quiet chuckle as Albedo straightens, heading back over toward the couch. Kaeya cracks his eye open just a fraction to find that he has already returned to his notes. Perhaps the sight of it shouldn’t be as comforting as it is.
He sighs contentedly and snuggles into the blanket, letting his eyes fall shut once more.