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“Luc?”
Kaeya’s voice cuts through the lull blanketing Diluc’s thoughts. Right. Christmas shopping. Diluc forgot he asked Kaeya to come along for some last minute decoration purchases, not trusting his own judgment of holiday ornaments.
Fog on windshield glass, and Kaeya’s presence is a warm bed inviting Diluc to sleep in for the day. He wishes he could, and for a moment, imagines that they both do–but the promise to Jean of helping furnish her apartment echoes in the back of Diluc’s mind.
“Diluc, you haven’t gotten dressed yet?” Kaeya asks with a pout. All Diluc needs is some mistletoe, and with a fantasy carefully tucked away in the corner of his thoughts, he could lean in for a kiss.
He can’t explain the state he’s in. It’s not that Diluc hates Christmas–if anything, he romanticizes it. Daydreams floating around his head of coming home, presents neatly wrapped with bows he would feel too bad to throw out (they’re just so pretty), steaming cups of cocoa shared with his father, the soothing ballads of white winter snow; they all help Diluc feel a little less lonely. But that’s all they are: Daydreams. A flurry of snowflakes to lose himself in before one of them catches on his tongue, the cold snapping him back to reality.
Right. Christmas shopping.
“Sorry Kaeya. I’ll get dressed,” Diluc mumbles, mustering up a small smile to make up for the delay.
Diluc stands to head for his closet, mind already set on picking whatever clothes he can spot first. Kaeya stays in place leaning by Diluc’s door, arms crossed, an unreadable look painted across his face.
“Do you need something?” Diluc asks, wondering why his friend hasn’t left to wait in the living room yet.
“Hmm?”
“Kaeya. I need to change.”
At that, Kaeya nods, gently closing the door to grant a wish of privacy. Hearing footsteps move away, Diluc berates himself for zoning out so often. He should’ve gotten ready sooner, never one to delay plans. It must’ve been a nuisance on Kaeya’s end. Kaeya might not even want to go out shopping, only doing so because Diluc asked for the company.
Dressing himself in thick, padded, and all black attire, Diluc sighs at his reflection in the mirror. Could his wardrobe be any duller?
A loud knock at the door startles Diluc, and he considers how Kaeya might be getting impatient. Keeping track of time has been difficult lately, but that’s his own fault, and his friend shouldn’t be dragged into it.
“I’m rea-”
Before Diluc can finish, Kaeya opens the door, puffy maroon jacket in one arm. At first he assumes it’s for Kaeya himself, but then notices his friend already wearing a cream one. What’s the maroon one for, then? Extra padding?
Diluc would ask, but words don’t come to him easily these days. They’re all muddled, a cesspool of sludge waiting to be molded into something dismissable. Others have taken notice of his quietness these days, but never pried further. Perhaps they just assumed he wasn’t feeling talkative, which wouldn’t be unusual given he’s never one to be the loudest (he’ll leave that to Amber).
Between Diluc’s silence and the moment he can form a question, Kaeya manages to step closer. Diluc suddenly finds himself engulfed in a one-armed embrace, the heat of Kaeya’s breath by the crook of his neck, arm around his waist. Instincts tell him to move away, body tensing up for a moment, before memory reminds him that he trusts Kaeya. Welcomes him, in fact.
Without giving the redhead a chance to react, Kaeya pulls away and wordlessly moves behind him. Taking Diluc’s hand, he lifts the man’s arm up to slot it through the sleeve of the maroon jacket and does the same with the other side.
Diluc holds back tears. Ever since that tragic night, he’d find himself overemotional when taken care of. It’s quite inconvenient when he’s got such a stoic face, and the way Kaeya’s touch is so gentle on him as he moves each arm through a sleeve, as if he’s delicate, doesn’t help.
Moving in front of him to adjust the jacket on his frame, Kaeya pats Diluc’s shoulders. Of course he has to have a smile that reaches his eye, always sincere.
“I love you. You know that, right?” Kaeya whispers.
And Diluc thinks to himself: Maybe this is coming home. Maybe this is a present neatly wrapped in a beautiful bow. Maybe this jacket is what drinking a cup of hot cocoa would feel like, washing him in the warmth he always deprives himself of. Maybe Kaeya’s soft voice is a soothing ballad of its own, one meant for only Diluc to hear. Kaeya always helps him feel a little less lonely.