Chapter Text
“You know,” Diluc says as he leans back against the counter of the bathroom he shares with his brother, watching Kaeya glare at his reflection, “it’s really not that bad. It suits you.”
He’s trying to school his tone into something light and comforting, but he’s never been good at pretending—not the way Kaeya is, at least. His younger brother is so good at masking his true emotions that sometimes Diluc isn’t sure he gets to see the true depth of Kaeya’s feelings even after nearly nine years spent at his side. Now, though, the disdain on his brother’s face is obvious. He turns to Diluc with his lips curled into a scowl, his stare disbelieving.
“It’s awful,” Kaeya moans, overly dramatic. He’s trying to make light of the situation, Diluc realizes—probably to alleviate his brother’s worry.
Kaeya turns back to the mirror and starts combing his fingers through his too-short hair, sheared awkwardly on the sides and sticking up in multiple places at the top. He spares a cursory glance at the scissors left on the counter in case he needs to trim any more off, but Diluc knows even before his brother does that he won’t cut any more. His signature ponytail is long gone, as are most of the silky, chin-length strands that typically frame his face. If he cuts any more off, he’ll have hardly anything left—even if it would make what remains look more uniform.
Kaeya seems especially concerned about the loss of his bangs, the absence of which puts his eyepatch on full display. He keeps trying to comb the awkwardly short remnants of his hair over the patch, his scowl deepening each time his too-short locks fail to cover it.
Guilt presses heavily upon Diluc as he watches. Despite how well Kaeya hides it in public, he knows how self-conscious his brother is of his appearance—and not just because of the patch. Kaeya’s made off-handed comments more than once about how much he sticks out when he’s with Diluc and Father, his dark skin and hair a sharp contrast to their pale complexions and bright, fiery manes. No attempt to convince Kaeya otherwise—that the opinions of others are meaningless, that he belongs with them— had ever really stuck. Kaeya always shrinks back when the three of them go out together, making himself smaller as though his presence is an intrusion instead of a pleasure.
With his hair in such a state, Diluc knows he’s going to be even more self-conscious than ever, even if he masks it better than most. Kaeya’s always taken great care to make himself presentable, and now—well, it’s hard to deny that it’s a bit unsettling to see him this way. Kaeya’s hairstyle has changed very little since they first met as children. The sudden change is, admittedly, a bit disorienting. Even more so when Diluc knows that it wasn’t Kaeya’s choice to cut his hair—rather, the choice had been made for him by a particularly incensed axe-wielding mitachurl.
“I can hear you worrying from over here, Luc. I was only kidding before; it really isn’t that bad. It’ll grow back before we know it, so stop blaming yourself. It was an accident.”
Kaeya turns to face Diluc and Diluc stares back, scrutinizing him. Kaeya is smiling now, as smooth and charming as ever, and if Diluc didn’t know any better he’s certain the sight would reassure him. But Diluc knows Kaeya too well to be fooled. His brother has made a habit of disguising any discomfort or pain for as long as possible, preferring to suffer in silence rather than admit to any true weakness, especially when he percieves that weakness as a burden to others. There are no cracks in Kaeya’s effortless mask, no signs of his insecurity, but Diluc doesn’t need to see it to know it’s there. He’s had years of practice deciphering Kaeya’s mysterious habits, after all.
“An accident that wouldn’t have happened if I had been paying attention,” Diluc argues. “That mitachurl was coming for me. If you hadn’t pushed me out of the way—”
“Then you would have suffered much worse than an impromptu haircut.” Kaeya interrupts, his smile going thin. “It’s fine, Diluc. Really.”
Diluc’s shoulders sag, a sigh escaping him. It’s clear that Kaeya doesn’t want to discuss this any further, and Diluc doesn’t want to make any trouble for him. It’s just—he can’t help but be reminded of a much younger Kaeya, newly adopted and endlessly skittish. The way his brother would shrink away from the stares of the townspeople when they were on an outing with father, how he would anxiously brush his bangs across his eyepatch and fashion his hair into a makeshift shield against their prying eyes, is forever burned into his memory. Kaeya’s long since grown out of the habit, but Diluc knows without asking that he hasn’t grown out of the insecurities that plagued him as a child. The fear of being noticeably different, of being an outcast within his own family.
Diluc wants to reach out and drag Kaeya into his arms, to hold him and tell him that Father and Diluc are Kaeya’s just as Kaeya is theirs. He wants to say it over and over again, wants to find some irrefutable way to prove it to his brother, but Diluc knows it’s futile. Trying to out-maneuver Kaeya with words is a fruitless endeavor for most, but especially someone like Diluc, who has always found it easier to express himself through his actions.
So, Diluc decides to do the only thing he can think of to reassure his brother. He reaches up and back, gripping the end of his ponytail with one hand while he takes Kaeya’s forgotten scissors in the other. Kaeya blinks uncomprehendingly for a moment as Diluc raises them to his hair, only for a startled yelp to escape him as he realizes what his brother plans to do.
“Diluc, don’t!” Kaeya yelps, lunging forward to snatch his brother’s wrist.
Diluc jerks back to avoid his brother’s grip and makes a quick, jagged cut. Kaeya freezes, a choked cry catching in his throat as a thick clump of bright red hair falls to the floor between them. Diluc quickly shears through the rest of his ponytail, watching as a heap of crimson piles at his feet.
Just for good measure, he raises the scissors to his bangs and cuts at random, snipping away until he’s certain that his hair is just as much of a mess as Kaeya’s.
Kaeya is gaping openly now, his eye widened to the size of a saucer. “Diluc,” he says, and his voice is thick with a cross between exasperation and affection. “You didn’t—you shouldn’t have done that, your hair—”
“—will grow back, just as you said,” assures Diluc with uncharacteristic smoothness as he turns to the mirror. Just as he’d expected, his hair is an absurd mess, the sheared strands sticking up in all directions and giving the impression of a firework as it bursts to life. Unbidden, a smile comes to his face. He looks even more ridiculous than Kaeya now.
Kaeya seems to realize it as well, for a startled laugh tears itself from his lips as he takes in the sight of his brother’s unruly mop. “You’re unbelievable, “ he says, grinning widely.
Diluc beams back and turns away from the mirror to face his brother, sure in the knowledge that he’s managed to quell his brother’s anxiety for the moment. “Now we match.”
Kaeya’s expression softens into something helplessly fond. “You didn’t have to do that for me,” he says anyway, trying to pretend he’s unaffected even with the glossy sheen of wetness in his eye.
“I would do much more than give myself a bad haircut if it could make you understand that you belong with us no matter where you came from.” Diluc replies, speaking a bit more candidly than he means to. Kaeya blinks in surprise and opens his mouth to interject—probably to try and pretend like he doesn’t feel insecure about his origins or appearance—but Diluc presses on, resolving to get the words out before his brother can draw the conversation elsewhere.
“You’re my brother, Kae. Always. And if you ever start to think otherwise, take my hair as a reminder. You’ll have a place by my side until the day I cut it short again. I swear it.” He promises it knowing very well that such a day will never come. The signature Ragnvindr red has been a source of pride for both he and Father as long as he can remember, and Diluc has always admired his father’s long mane. In Diluc’s eyes, Kaeya’s own penchant for growing his hair long was a sign that he was meant to be a part of their family.
“You’d better not cut it again. You look ridiculous.” Kaeya teases around the lump in his throat, swallowing back the emotion threatening to spill over.
“And you don’t?” Diluc retorts.
“Then I suppose I’ll just have to grow mine out as well,” Kaeya grins. “After all, I can’t let you make a promise like that on your own. What was the wording that you used? For as long as my hair remains uncut, I hereby declare that you shall have a place at the honorable Diluc’s side as his sworn brother—”
Red rushes to Diluc’s face and he gives Kaeya a playful shove. “That’s not how I sounded,” he huffs indignantly.
Kaeya stumbles back a step, laughing, before swaying forward to bump his shoulder against Diluc’s in retaliation. When he speaks, his voice is softer than before, sincerity bleeding into his smooth tone. “Alright, alright,” he concedes, laughing softly, “I swear it too, Luc. For as long as my hair remains uncut, you’ll have a place at my side."
Always hangs between them, unspoken, as they link arms and make their way downstairs to join Father for breakfast.