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Kaeya had cried the first time he caught a crystalfly.
He’d only meant to hold it, to grasp its shimmering light in his hands so he could admire it up close. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before, and the land around the winery was positively teeming with them. He hadn’t known that as soon as his palms closed around it, the light would fade out of existence and leave a cold, empty core, lifeless and dull.
It had felt like foreshadowing back then.
Looking at how things turned out since, perhaps it was.
Diluc had laughed at first, until he had realised just how distressed Kaeya really was, at which point he’d shown him how to catch one without snuffing out its elemental energy – how to hold it more gently, opening his hand up just enough to give the creature space, releasing it after a few seconds and watching the lights dance away into the atmosphere.
Crystalflies don’t live very long, Kae. They’re not like people. At least you got to see it while it was still alive, right?
His words had certainly been comforting at the time, but little Diluc was wrong about one thing – in that sense, crystalflies were, unfortunately, very much like people indeed.
They’re fluttering around him now as he walks up to the winery, the flap of their wings soft and whispering in his ears, their transient light illuminating the path ahead of him. He lifts a finger up into the air, smiling as one of them lands on it delicately before flitting away not a moment later.
“Kae, what are you waiting for? Get over here already.”
He rolls his eye, glancing at the doorway of the winery where Diluc is standing now, arms folded as he leans against the door to hold it open, the warm light from within spilling out.
“Coming, brother,” he calls in a sing-song voice, laughing quietly to himself at the annoyed huff that’s audible all the way from here.
Diluc all but pulls him inside as soon as Kaeya crosses the threshold of the entrance, his patience clearly wearing thin. Maybe Kaeya should’ve been annoyed by that, but Diluc is still so hesitant around him, like he’s afraid of shattering whatever this fragile thing they have between them now is, that any show of initiative on his part is hard to complain about.
“How were you not freezing out there? I can’t even remember the last time I saw you wearing a coat.”
“This is the price of fashion, Luc. Besides, it’s really not that cold, you’re just sensitive.”
“There are fashionable coats out there, if only you cared to look. Hell, I’ll buy you one if you–”
“No need. Not with your fashion sense. You wear that coat enough for the both of us anyway. Seriously, do you realise how insane you look walking around in that thing in the middle of summer?”
Diluc sighs. He must know as well as Kaeya does that this is an argument he can’t win.
“Master Kaeya,” a warm voice interrupts them, “it is good to see you again. Welcome home.”
He turns to the source of the voice, and Adelinde is standing there, smiling and steady as she always is. She nods politely at him, and Kaeya nods back, ignoring the slight tremor in his lips as he attempts to smile. Somehow Adelinde never seems to change no matter how much time passes. It’s comforting, but Kaeya has no idea how she does it. Or how much longer it’ll stay that way. The thought unnerves him a little bit.
“It’s good to be home,” he says quietly, his voice shaking mysteriously on the last word. Adelinde’s smile grows ever so slightly wider.
“Come on then,” Diluc says, pulling him further inside, Adelinde following just behind them. “Don’t want the food to get cold, after all. Adelinde worked hard on it for you.”
Birthdays had never been a big deal in their family, really. A small gathering with a few close friends, a trip to the city or somewhere scenic, nothing extravagant like most noble families liked to indulge in. The two of them had always liked it better that way.
This birthday is the same, fundamentally, but somehow it feels much grander, much more important than it used to. He glances over at Diluc, at the slight tension in his shoulders as he looks upon the dinner set out for them, and realises that maybe he’s not alone in this feeling.
The table is covered in a veritable feast, the fancy blue porcelain plates having been brought out for the occasion, and he can already smell all his favourites from here – sticky honey roast, chicken-mushroom skewers, even Diluc’s special Pile ’Em Up… it seems like too much for the three of them, honestly, but he knows Adelinde will find a way to make them eat it all anyway. There’s a vase of calla lilies in the centre of the table too. Nothing about any of this is over-the-top or flashy in the slightest. It’s a relatively modest celebration, just the way he likes it.
He walks closer to admire the cake at the end of the table, a pretty blue and white thing with a generous amount of piping and marzipan all around it for decoration, a big candle in the centre. The piping seems a little shaky, the marzipan somewhat clumsily moulded, but he can tell how much care went into it.
“Did you make this, Diluc?”
“What– how could you tell?”
“I did say your piping needed work, Master Diluc– Master Kaeya, please. You know better than to stick your fingers in the frosting,” Adelinde says with a sigh.
“Just admiring my brother’s hard work,” Kaeya says, grinning cheekily at Adelinde. “It’s really not bad at all, Luc. Maybe you should consider pivoting from wine to baking.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Truthfully, a part of him had been worried that today would end up being an overly formal and stiff affair, that it might only highlight the distance between all of them now. But seeing how much love Adelinde and Diluc had poured into preparing all of this… well. He supposes he never had any reason to worry at all.
“Happy birthday, Master Kaeya,” Adelinde says at last as she gives him a polite bow. “Elzer sends his regards as well. He wanted to be here, but unfortunately he had to travel away for business with the wine guild.” She gestures to a bottle of vintage wine on the table. “He did leave this for you though.”
Kaeya raises an eyebrow at Diluc, who sighs softly.
“It’s your birthday. You can have a glass if you’d like. Drinking with family is better than alone, at least.”
Kaeya smiles gratefully at that, leaning into his brother’s side.
“Happy birthday, Kae,” Diluc says, smiling warmly down at him, one hand coming up to pat his back. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Glad to be here,” he says. “But I’m starving. Enough talk, I want to try all these things you’ve worked so hard on.”
As they sit down, one chair is left conspicuously empty – the head of the table. Their father’s chair. Or well, it was their father’s chair, but Diluc is the master of the house now, so it should be occupied by him. But his brother deftly steps around to sit at the seat next to it instead. A past Kaeya would’ve thrown out a snarky comment about that, but he is not that past Kaeya, and he really doesn’t want to disturb the delicate balance that has gotten them this far, so he sits down next to his brother without comment.
They dig into the food quickly, and Kaeya doesn’t think he’s ever had such a delicious dinner before. Diluc and Adelinde ask about his day, and he takes the opportunity to launch into a dramatic retelling of the day’s adventure with Klee, bolstered by the smiles on their faces as he recounts all the mishaps and near-extinctions that had occurred along the way.
Of course, every story has its end, and they fall into a comfortable lull, eating quietly, only speaking up every now and then to praise the food. Diluc’s smile seems to be shrinking gradually, but Kaeya puts that down to the general exhaustion that comes with hanging around people for too long, even people you love. He’s always been the introverted type, even back when he seemed like the most outgoing kid in the world.
“It’s been a long time since the three of us sat here to eat together like this, hasn’t it?” Adelinde muses after a while, sipping her wine thoughtfully with muted sadness behind her smile.
“That it has,” Kaeya says, hushed.
He glances over at Diluc, who is staring blankly at the empty head of the table. His gaze has been jumping over to it all night. Kaeya reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, when Diluc suddenly stands up, cutlery clattering loudly as he does.
“Excuse me for a moment,” he says briskly, before all but running off towards the kitchen.
Adelinde and Kaeya sit in a troubled silence for a few seconds, looking back and forth between each other and the direction Diluc’s just gone off in, before Adelinde sighs and puts her glass down.
“I should–”
“It’s alright, Adelinde. I’ll go talk to him,” Kaeya says, quickly pushing himself out of his chair.
“You’re sure?”
“It’s my birthday,” he says lightly. “He has to listen to me.”
Adelinde makes a face that looks suspiciously like rolling her eyes, but he would never dare to accuse her of such a thing.
“We won’t keep you waiting too long.”
Diluc is curled up against one of the kitchen counters, hugging his knees to his chest, head bowed and face hidden from view when Kaeya finds him. His head snaps up when the door opens, though it takes him a fraction of a second longer than it should.
“Kae, why–”
“How am I supposed to enjoy my birthday dinner while my brother’s crying in the kitchen?”
Diluc wipes at his eyes. “I’m not–”
“It’s alright, Luc.” Kaeya sits down next to him, draping one arm across Diluc’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “You know it’s just me and Adelinde here. You don’t need to hide from us.”
“Didn’t want to bring the mood down,” Diluc mumbles, burying his face in Kaeya’s shoulder.
Kaeya could scream right about now. He swallows a frustrated sigh instead.
It seems like no matter what he says, Diluc refuses to understand the very simple idea that perhaps other people might care to know how he’s feeling so that they can help him.
Instead he seems to think of himself like he’s trapped on the wrong side of a two-way mirror – that he must bear witness to the pain and suffering of others, and take it upon himself to fix all of it, but that no one should ever be able to look back and see what he’s going through in return.
Kaeya tries. He really does. But he can only push so much without breaking the glass entirely. Without hurting Diluc more than he hurts himself already.
“Running off to cry on your own did that anyway.”
“Sorry– I didn’t–”
“I know,” Kaeya says, resigned. “You want to tell me what’s going on then? Surely having to sit down for dinner with me isn’t that upsetting, right?”
“Of course not,” Diluc says, weakly pushing against Kaeya. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Then?”
Diluc breathes out slowly, clutching the fabric of Kaeya’s shirt a little tighter. “I just wish Father could be here to see this. He’d want to see you growing up. He’d be proud of you.”
Father, hm?
Kaeya usually tries not to think about him too much. He only allows it in his moments of weakness, when the present is so painful that those distant, lost memories hurt less in comparison. There are pleasant memories, of course, but those hurt too, just in a different way.
Though thinking about him was unavoidable, really, if he was going to be at the winery, the place where they had all spent many a summer together, the product of his life’s work. If he was going to be with Diluc, who only grows more and more similar to him with each passing day, his face taking on all the same lines and shadows that they are both intimately familiar with, that everyone still recognises clear as day even if they don’t say it aloud.
He doesn’t know if he really wants their father to see what he’s become. If he would ever want to face his judgement, or pride, or whatever combination of the two he might feel when he looks upon his youngest son and sees the lie he had lived for years, the half-truth he lives now.
There was a reason he’d felt that sickening sense of relief back then, after all.
“Father might not be here, but you are. That’s more than enough for me.”
“What– that’s not even remotely the same, Kae–”
“But it’s enough. You know what he wouldn’t want to see,” Kaeya says, looking down at Diluc with a light smirk, “is you crying all by yourself in here when you could be enjoying a long-awaited family dinner out there.”
Diluc sighs. “Sorry–”
“Stop. No more apologising. The birthday boy commands it.” Kaeya pushes himself to his feet, stretching one hand out to Diluc, who takes it a little reluctantly as he lets himself be pulled up to stand. “Adelinde’s waiting for us. Let’s not keep her waiting too long, hm?”
Diluc holds on to his hand longer than usual. But he does let go with a quiet exhale eventually and follows Kaeya out of the kitchen, his steps hesitant and soft.
“I really am trying,” Diluc says feebly, almost too quiet to be heard, guilt all too apparent in his voice. Kaeya tries not to sigh at that.
“I know. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”
The rest of their dinner passes peacefully. They don’t talk much, but they don’t need to – the warmth of their presence is enough. And it’s nice, for once, to be around people who don’t expect him to carry them through endless conversation, who are content to let him exist in the comfortable silence. Not that he blames other people for it – he presents himself as a charming conversationalist on purpose. But that’s all it is in the end: a presentation. These quiet moments with the people he cares about mean much more than any long conversation ever could.
It feels like it’s over all too soon, when he looks at the plates and finds them all empty, when they’ve all had their slices of cake and he’s finished the single glass of wine he’d been allowed.
“Come,” Diluc says, lightly tugging him away from the table. “Your gifts are upstairs.”
“Gifts, plural? I’m so lucky,” he says, chuckling. “But shouldn’t we–”
“I couldn’t possibly ask you to help clean on your birthday,” Adelinde says. She places her hands on their shoulders and lightly pushes them in the direction of the stairs. “Go on then. He’s been very eager to–”
“Adelinde–”
“Alright, alright, let’s go,” Kaeya laughs as Diluc pulls him forward with more urgency this time, the tips of his ears ever so slightly red.
They stop in front of a door to the room they’re both very familiar with – the bedroom they would share whenever they were at the winery, back when they were young. Diluc’s hand hovers on the doorknob for a long moment before he turns to look at Kaeya.
“I– honestly, this is hardly anything, it’s quite small to be considered a gift, really, and most of it is things you should’ve had all along so to call them gifts is rather–”
“Diluc,” he says, placing his hand over his brother’s, “stop stressing so much. I’m sure whatever it is, I’m going to love it.”
Diluc looks at him like he doesn’t believe it. But he opens the door anyway.
The room looks different to what he remembers. At least, to what he remembers of the winery. No, what it does resemble is his room back at the mansion. His breath catches in his throat.
His fingers trail along the wall, a calming navy colour, freshly painted by the looks of it. The window is framed by a unique set of starry blue curtains – unmistakably the ones from his old room, that pattern is too distinctive. Moonlight filters through them, illuminating the room in a soft silvery glow and making the stars shine even brighter. On the floor is the dark blue rug he’d insisted on keeping even when his allergies would worsen due to the dust, simply because the fluffy texture of it brought him so much joy.
There are old pictures hanging high up on the walls, slices of their childhood in gilded frames, the images faded and yellowing but the smiles within still as bright as ever, watching over them. Below those photos, the walls are lined with shelves holding objects Kaeya had never expected to see again. All the books he had devoured as a child, statuettes and figurines and little trinkets that he used to hoard incessantly, souvenirs from all the trips they would go on together.
And of course–
“Our seashells,” Kaeya says with a quiet gasp, reaching for the jar of shells that he’d collected with Diluc over years and years, a carefully curated collection that was the result of many seaside trips.
“That’s the first thing you notice?” Diluc says. He’s leaning against the door with a smile as he watches Kaeya.
He pulls out the shell on top, a large coral pink clamshell, and holds it up to Diluc. “I remember I thought I lost this one. And I dragged you around all over the beach until we found it again.”
“And it had just slipped under the beach towel. We spent an hour running in circles for nothing. You were miserable the whole time.”
Kaeya laughs quietly. He really had been quite the troublesome little brother back then, hadn’t he? But Diluc had always gone along with his whims, even if he grumbled about it afterwards.
Some things really haven’t changed much at all.
He hugs the jar tightly. “This is… this is really nice, Luc. All of this, I mean. I didn’t think all my things would still be here. Or that they’d be in a room like this again.”
“You have Adelinde to thank for that,” Diluc says, glancing around at her handiwork. “She was careful to make sure nothing that belonged to you was given away. She’s been waiting all this time for you to reclaim them.”
I didn’t think you would’ve allowed her to hold on to any of it, back then.
“Thank you–”
“Don’t thank me yet. There’s still more,” Diluc says as he walks over to the dressing table. He retrieves a small box, wrapped in black with a silver bow on top, and presses it into Kaeya’s hands once he puts the seashells down.
He holds his breath as he unwraps it delicately, letting the ribbon and paper fall to the floor, to find a small velvet case, and upon opening it he can’t help but gasp again.
Inside is a single earring, a stylised peacock feather design in shades of purple and blue and silver, with a small, round cut turquoise gem at the centre. He lifts it up to the moonlight, admiring its elegant gleam, and wastes no time in replacing the earring he’s already wearing.
When he looks in the mirror, he sees that it matches his eye perfectly.
“It’s beautiful,” he whispers, a small laugh escaping him, his fingers brushing against it almost reverently as it dangles and dances in the air. “It’s perfect. I didn’t think you had an eye for this sort of thing. Just… wow,” he says, still in awe of how well it matches him.
“Well, the earring itself was Rosaria’s idea–”
“Rosaria came up with this?” If there were anyone less concerned with jewellery and fashion than his brother, it would be Rosaria. “I don’t believe you.”
“She knew what you would like,” Diluc says simply. “Though the initial design she had in mind was much more… let’s just say it suited her rather well.”
Kaeya can imagine it vividly enough. It must have been all spikes and jagged edges and jet black, if he knows her at all. This carefully chosen design right now must have been Diluc’s doing, then. Perhaps he has a more artistic eye than Kaeya gives him credit for.
“I’m never going to take this off,” Kaeya says, not bothering to hide the wide grin spreading across his face. Really, how could he, when it looked like it was just made to be worn by him? “I love it.” He turns to look at Diluc, only to see him kneeling by the bed and pulling out a box from underneath. “Don’t tell me there’s more.”
“I’ve missed your birthday for three years. Of course there’s more.”
“You don’t have to–”
“This is the most important part,” Diluc says, resolute, gesturing for Kaeya to sit on the bed as he places the box next to him and starts opening it.
Kaeya really hadn’t been prepared for what was inside.
Four paintings. Three of them on small square canvases, miniature but impossibly intricate paintings of beaches they’d visited with birds flying across them, while the last one was a larger landscape piece of the view of Mondstadt City from Starsnatch Cliff. He picks that one up and lays it across his lap, fingers trailing along the hardened ridges and valleys of paint, savouring every inch of the artwork.
Father’s artwork.
He’d watched Father paint this one himself, right up there on the cliff on an unusually sunny day, all those years ago. His hand had moved with such practised ease, capturing every feature of the view in front of them with care and mastery that neither Diluc nor Kaeya have ever been able to grasp since. Kaeya in particular hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away from the sight of him working, amazed at how the painting evolved from formless flats of colour to richly detailed layers of paint.
His focus drifts to the upper right corner where– yes, there it is, a small rounded sun with two vaguely bird-shaped blobs just underneath it. Father had noticed his intense interest in the painting, and subsequently lifted Kaeya up in his arms to let him add his own marks in the corner. Looking at it now, the brushwork is clumsy and amateurish, standing out drastically from the rest of the piece, but at the time Father had simply smiled and thanked Kaeya for the contribution. He’d felt immensely proud of himself back then.
“Oh, Kae– don’t cry,” Diluc says, his hands suddenly wiping tears away from Kaeya’s eye. A small choked laugh escapes Kaeya then, as he puts the painting aside and blinks away the tears. “Are you–”
“I’m fine,” Kaeya says, and he means it for once. “These are happy tears. This is– I love this. I really do. It’s perfect.”
“I thought they might look nice in your house,” Diluc says, joining Kaeya on the bed next to him. “Really, you can take whichever paintings you want, I just figured these would be a nice start– oof!”
Kaeya laughs at the sound that leaves his brother when he hugs him tight, as tight as he can, smiling so hard it hurts.
“You’re not going to spring anything else on me, are you? I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.”
“No,” Diluc says, laughing quietly against his ear as he returns the hug. “That’s all for now.”
“Thank you,” Kaeya says, but it doesn’t feel like nearly enough to express the depth of gratitude he feels. “Thank you so much, Diluc. This is– it’s all perfect, really.”
“Looks like I’ve made my job for next year more difficult, then.”
Next year.
It sounds normal enough, light and casual, but it feels very much like a promise, a prayer, and he thinks Diluc must sense it too by the way his arms tighten around Kaeya.
“You certainly have,” Kaeya says, swallowing the lump that forms in the back of his throat. “Good luck with that.”
They sit like that for a while, in the quiet of this new bedroom, bathed in moonlight, and Kaeya can’t remember the last time his mind felt so peaceful. There are probably a multitude of things he should be worried about, but he can’t seem to recall any of them right now, enveloped in his brother’s arms, in their old and new memories.
“August is going to destroy these,” Kaeya says with a small laugh when he pulls away at last.
“She would never. You’re the only one who thinks she’s capable of mass destruction. I think you’ve just been spending too much time around Klee.”
“Have you seen my windows? She’ll scratch these up too the second I hang them on the wall. You just like to turn a blind eye to her crimes.”
“Hm. I can’t deny that.”
Kaeya laughs again, and gods, when was the last time he’d genuinely laughed this much, or smiled this much at all? It feels very strange. But Diluc is smiling back at him too, his face all warm and bright and not cast in shadow for a change, and that feels right.
This is how they should always be.
“You’re really sure you want me to have these?”
“Of course,” Diluc says, nodding seriously. “You should’ve had them all along, really. You always cared about his art more than I ever could. And Father wouldn’t have wanted them collecting dust, not when they could be on display somewhere that matters.”
Father might’ve wanted that, but what do you want, Diluc?
“I’ll take good care of them. I promise.”
“I know you will.”
“Master Diluc, isn’t it past your bedtime?”
The way they’re sitting, Diluc’s back is turned to Adelinde as she stands in the doorway, which is probably the only reason he has the courage to roll his eyes as indulgently as he does.
“I’m a grown man, Adelinde, I don’t have a bedtime–”
“I seem to recall you promising to sleep earlier tonight, on account of you waking up so early this morning, Master Ragnvindr.”
Diluc freezes up, then throws a pleading look towards Kaeya that screams Help me out here, Kae.
Kaeya smiles and pats his brother on the shoulder. “Go on, get some sleep. You do look quite tired.”
Diluc’s face falls so fast it’s comical. “I thought you loved me.”
“I love you more when you’re well-rested.” One of us has to stay on her good side, dummy. Are you trying to get both of us killed?
“Fine,” he says, getting up with a long-suffering sigh, and Kaeya doesn’t miss the ghost of a smirk that appears on Adelinde’s face behind him as he does. “I’ll see you in the morning then. Goodnight, Kae. Sleep well.”
“Night, Luc,” Kaeya says, waving lightly as he walks out. Adelinde steps aside to make way for him, and both she and Kaeya have to suppress their laughter at the petulant little grumbles that escape Diluc as he leaves.
“Is he doing alright?” Kaeya asks, once he’s sure Diluc has walked out of earshot.
Adelinde sighs, her face growing serious again. “He’s been having more nightmares lately. He usually refuses to sleep afterwards, and he won’t take medicine for it either. I try to have him sleep earlier to compensate, at least on the nights when he doesn’t insist on going out…” She sighs again, and Kaeya notices her subtle fidgeting with her skirt.
Adelinde never fidgets.
“He doesn’t talk to you about them?”
“Not at all. I do try, but… I don’t know what to do with him, when he gets like this,” she admits.
For Adelinde to be confessing these struggles so openly… she must be more stressed about it than he thought.
Kaeya frowns, putting the paintings back in their box. “I’ll try and get something out of him,” he says, though he has not the slightest idea how he’ll accomplish that.
“Don’t blame yourself if you can’t,” she says softly. “You have enough to worry about on your own, and you being here is plenty already. He… usually, after he’s seen you, he sleeps better.”
So the nightmares might have something to do with me, then.
“My apologies. It wasn’t my intention to give you more to worry about on your birthday, Master Kaeya.”
“It’s no trouble. Thank you for telling me. And thank you for all this,” he says, gesturing around the room. “Diluc told me you were behind it. It means a lot, truly.”
“I was simply doing as Master Diluc asked,” she says, smiling. “He was very determined to make it special.”
“Well, he definitely succeeded. Thank you for helping him.” With everything, not just this.
She seems to grasp the weight behind his words as she nods. “You are very welcome. It was my pleasure. I should go and check on your brother now, but if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Of course. Goodnight, Adelinde.”
“Goodnight, Master Kaeya,” she says, shutting the door behind her silently.
Kaeya stares up at the ceiling. He can see the sparkle of his new earring reflected on it. The sight of it eases his mind a little bit, after that bittersweet conversation. It seems he’ll have a lot to think about tomorrow, once the pleasant buzz of his birthday has faded, and the real world comes for him once more.
He really had been intending to rest after all that, but when he’d gone downstairs to grab a glass of water before sleeping, something far more interesting had caught his eye instead.
His hands wander over the cold ivory keys, their weight underneath his fingers nostalgic and comforting, and though he hasn’t touched a piano in years, his hands seem to know exactly what to do without being told.
He starts tentatively at first, letting his right hand meander in the higher octaves, a gentle and clear melody coming to mind easily, though he can’t for the life of him remember when or where he learned it. His left hand follows soon enough in harmonious counterpoint, his foot finding the pedal instinctively, the melodies blending together and washing over him. It’s easy to get lost in the sound as it echoes pleasantly throughout the large room.
“You still play beautifully, Master Kaeya.”
He would like to pretend that he didn’t jump at Adelinde’s sudden appearance, but the cacophonous sounds as his hands slip betray him.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she says, approaching quietly from the shadows, setting herself down on the piano stool next to him.
“It’s alright. I was just distracted.” He lets his hands come to rest on the keys. “I didn’t think you would’ve moved the piano from the mansion, too. It must have been a great deal of effort.”
“I couldn’t let it go so easily. Master Crepus had it custom-made for you, after all.”
“He… he did what?” His voice is small all of a sudden.
Adelinde looks over at him with a subdued smile. “You were quite young back then. I don’t expect you to remember. But when your father saw how well you were taking to piano lessons, he decided that you deserved a nicer piano than that old one that had been barely maintained. So he had this one specially made for you,” she says, running her hand lovingly over the surface of it.
Kaeya pulls his hands back from the keys quickly. “He– I never knew that. Father never said anything about it.” He remembers the day the piano had shown up out of the blue, but he hadn’t thought– he never would’ve expected Father to do something like that. For him. He’d barely been with the family for a year at that point. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
“You used to turn down anything we tried to give you back then. As if you believed you didn’t deserve any of it,” Adelinde says, her smile growing sad, eyebrows knitting together slightly. “I imagine he was worried you would run from your new interest if you learned that the piano was especially for you.”
Oh. That… makes sense. Something in his heart twists painfully.
“I caused you all quite a bit of grief growing up, didn’t I?” he says, laughing sardonically, averting his eye from Adelinde’s intent gaze in their reflections.
“Not more than any other child would. And you’ve grown out of thoughts like that now, haven’t you?” She gives him a knowing look.
He laughs again, but doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want to think about that right now. Adelinde seems to accept it anyway, and reaches over to adjust his hands over the keys again, carefully fixing his posture with a firm, guiding hand.
“Remember to relax your fingers, and keep them curved, not flat. And straighten your back as well,” she says, humming in satisfaction as he follows her instruction.
“How do you know so much, Adelinde? It seems like you’re good at everything under the sun. Are you sure you’re even human?”
“I only know what I need to know to carry out my duties effectively,” she says, but her head is tilted upwards slightly in what some might interpret as pride. She has a lot to be proud of, Kaeya thinks, but of course she would never say it out loud, or let anyone else praise her for it.
Maybe she is a bad influence on Diluc sometimes.
“Seriously, how much do you get paid? Whatever it is, it’s nowhere near enough.”
“Don’t let Master Diluc hear you say that,” she says, half-scolding, “or he might actually force me to accept a ridiculous salary. You know what he’s like.”
“After everything you’ve done for him– for us–”
“Everything I’ve done has simply been a part of my job.”
Kaeya can’t help himself. He turns and hugs Adelinde tightly, in a way he hasn’t done since he was much younger, since the days when he didn’t tower over her. Normally she wouldn’t allow such a bold, open display of intimacy and affection, but perhaps she’s being lenient because it’s still technically his birthday. She pats him gently on the shoulder and doesn’t pull away.
“I left for so long– I didn’t write or visit or say a word to you all these years, even though I was nearby, but you’re still here– you still do so much for me, for both of us,” Kaeya says, shaking a little as he holds her.
“Of course, Master Kaeya. No length of separation could stop you from being family. And I will always look after this family to the best of my ability. That is what I promised your father.”
Maybe he cries. He tries not to think about it as he buries his face in the crook of Adelinde’s neck. He’s done enough crying for a whole year already.
“Don’t stay up too late, now,” she says when she pulls away, delicately not commenting on the dampness at her shoulder. “I would rather not have to deal with two sleep-deprived young men in the morning.”
“I wouldn’t dare, Adelinde,” he says, smiling faintly. She nods with a smile of her own, and disappears back up the stairs as quietly as she’d arrived.
He turns back to the piano, watching his motionless reflection in the smooth, polished wood.
The clock strikes twelve.
Crystalflies are still shining outside, glittering in the moonlight.
Another year has passed.
For a long while now, the thought of the years flying by so quickly had brought him relief. Each birthday was just one year closer to the day when he’d finally be free from all of this.
For the first time in a long while, he wishes the years would pass a little bit slower.
He wishes he had more time.