Work Text:
Putting this lantern together would be a lot easier if Kaeya stopped bothering him for five seconds. Lumine and Paimon left to meet with the Yuheng a few hours ago, leaving the rest of the party to wander Liyue Harbor’s festivities. After a while, an enterprising sales-child foisted a set of lantern materials on Diluc.
“You write a wish on the lantern, and set it free!” the girl explained. Diluc isn’t sure why the word wish struck him so hard.
As the sun sank in the sky, he found a quiet spot on the dock to assemble the lantern, until like a crystalfly drawn to a flame, Kaeya appeared.
And like a fucking fool, Diluc let him stay.
“You look like you know what you’re doing,” Kaeya says. He’s lying back on the dock now, one foot dangling over the edge, playing with a piece of plaustrite. “You’ve been to Liyue a lot. Have you made one of these before?”
Diluc has only been in Liyue during the Lantern Rite Festival once before. It was the first year after everything fell apart, and it hurt too much to make impossible wishes. He didn’t touch the lanterns that year. “They aren’t difficult.”
“I didn’t ask if they’re difficult.” Kaeya lets go of the plaustrite. It rises into the air, hovering, before he catches between long, gloved fingers. His voice warms dangerously. “I asked if you have any experience.”
Diluc fumbles with the wick and fiber, and snaps, “More than you.”
Kaeya laughs, the sound floating like plaustrite and wishes into the gold and violet sky, and Diluc’s annoyance settles into something sweeter. Something more difficult, like catching light. It was easy, some ways, hating Kaeya. Diluc needed the clarity: if Kaeya wasn’t his brother, he was his enemy.
But the years have blurred those lines again.
They used to sit in the orchard, and Kaeya would lie back and toss grapes, catch them, over and over, just like he plays with the plaustrite. And Diluc would lean over and snatch them from mid-air. Just like he leans over now and plucks away the plaustrite. His gloved fingers brush Kaeya’s, and even through the layers of leather, his blood sings with the contact.
Kaeya sits up and leans closer, suddenly quiet and attentive, as Diluc fixes the plaustrite into place. Somehow, Kaeya’s silence is more distracting than his words. His attention heats along every bare inch of Diluc’s skin.
The sun vanishes under the horizon. All along the harbor, golden lights blink into being. Thousands of hearts aglow in the night.
Diluc lights his lantern with a spark of pyro, and feels it tug against his hands as the plaustrite heats.
“You still need to write something on it.” Kaeya moves even closer, until his left shoulder brushes Diluc’s right. His good eye is nearest Diluc, but in the lantern-lit night, his gaze is unreadable. “What are you going to wish for?”
Diluc’s hands tense on the lantern. Even now, his wish feels impossible. “I don’t know,” he says quietly, and pushes the lantern towards Kaeya. “Write whatever you want instead.”
“Whatever I want?” Kaeya touches Diluc’s chin, turns his head. The touch melts through Diluc’s skin, simmering into his bloodstream. Kaeya’s smile is brighter than any lantern. “I don’t need a wish for that.”
A moment later, Diluc lets go of the lantern. It floats away into the brilliant sky, as light and luminous as Diluc’s heart, while Kaeya’s kiss anchors him in place.