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Though it was late at night, the land was mourning. Not only the death of reality, but of the metaphysical as well. Thick, dark clouds covered the horizon, releasing their misery onto the general population, as if they didn’t already have enough to deal with. Through the city of wind blew a torrent so violent, it shook the faith of its people almost as much as it rattled the shingled rooftops of home and business alike, trying to encroach upon the little security its people had left. They at least had the mind left to stay inside, allow the Earth to extinguish its own fires as the anguished plead for help. Within the storm, both man and nature were against you. You could seek no shelter, no aid; once the storm swallowed you whole, part of you was gone forever. As the storm continued to take from Kaeya what he valued most, the only thing he could leave in return was the splattering of blood on wet grass, what was supposed to be such a vibrant crimson being dulled to a mute maroon as it lay, thick and viscous, unable to be absorbed into the ground as the rainwater took precedent. Yet hadn’t his blood just proved its importance?
Kaeya allowed himself to be guided by the storm, long since learning that any attempt to fight back against the pouring rain in his current state only left him worse than when he first began his trek. Closing his eyes, he walked in silence, swaying with the wind, praying to the Anemo Archon that he might be led to his death, that he may circle back around to the Winery, and he wouldn’t be spared a second time. Whether the prayers of a sinner would actually be heeded was a shallow afterthought. Kaeya believed he at least deserved this one thing.
It was a long time before the knight stopped walking, coming upon a small cottage on the outskirts of Springvale. It was quaint, made of clay and stone, of a sturdy enough build that the rain only stood to shake the curling billow of smoke that was rising lazily from the brick chimney. Even the rusted metal hinges of the rounded oak door refused to budge. Compared to the knight’s quivering form, it seemed to be protected by the Gods. Without thinking, Kaeya raised his fist and knocked loudly on the door, hoping the thrice over pound on the wood could cut through the howling of the damned. It was only when he heard shuffling that he realized the gravity of what he had done.
A lithe, muscular woman, not but a head shorter than Kaeya, opened the door for him, a hand placed over her eyes to shield herself from the rain. Her honey blonde hair, of which he was so familiar seeing pulled back in a sleek ponytail, was cascading haphazardly down her shoulders, strange bumps and hollows having been molded into the shape by the black ribbon she usually used to keep her hair out of her face. Twin periwinkle eyes stared back at the man, confused, underneath nursing eyebags of a similar color, thick and puffy against the surrounding sharpness of her features. She adorned a wrinkled white blouse, only half of the collar having been folded down neatly to frame her neck, the other half sticking up annoyingly, prodding at her ear. Her breath seemed to stop in her throat as she finally took in what she was seeing.
“Jean…” Kaeya croaked out miserably, his voice sounding strained and abused. He peeked through a slit in his soaked, matted bangs, a single diamond eye peering out from beneath the cover. The woman didn’t think she had ever seen a look so broken and vulnerable.
“I need help.”
That was all the woman needed to hear before she wrapped an arm around the man’s thin waist and ushered him inside her home, disregarding the damp discomfort the rain water had imparted upon her warm, dry house. Kaeya allowed himself to be moved into the foyer, where Jean proceeded to get a better look at the man in the candlelight provided.
Kaeya, a man known for his unyielding confidence, sweet demeanor, and devoted loyalty stood in front of her, hunched over, shaking profusely, arms hanging like lead at his side. His eye stared ahead unknowing, lost in a place Jean could not reach him. He dared not speak, the only sound leaving his mouth being his strained, stuttering breaths, choked back sobs he couldn’t let exist. A seed of horror settled at her core. Shifting her gaze from the man's face to his body, Jean felt as if she were about to vomit.
A sick distinction from the pristine whites of his blouse was the charred black of burns adorning his right side. Half his shirt was completely burnt off, ending in the middle of the fleshy juncture between neck and shoulder. The skin that was exposed was varying shades of pink, red, and black, the discoloration swirling up his right forearm and shoulder, dipping down towards his scapula and chest as it wrapped around his ribs and spread partially down his abdomen before tapering out just above his naval. Jean noticed holes had also been burnt through his right pant leg as well, similar charred skin peeking out on the top of his thigh and side of his calf; the thick, black leather of his pants luckily seemed to have absorbed most of the damage. The hollowed out look of the injury confirmed Jean’s suspicion of burn damage, as there were spots within the affected area where the skin had turned almost completely black, the skin all but peeling off, dry and dead. A pit settled at the bottom of her stomach as she examined his left, completely unblemished cept for a nasty cut running up his elbow and a few bruises. Whoever did this had purposefully been aiming for his right side. For Kaeya’s blind side. As if his situation couldn’t get any stranger for the Dandelion Knight, in his left hand her friend gripped an icy, cerulean vision, his hand pale and bloodless as the cold completely numbed the surrounding area.
Jean didn’t need to be told twice as she motioned for Kaeya to allow himself into the adjoined living room as she scurried off to her bathroom. The burns were far too severe to be treated by her healing; she doubted even Barbara’s own ability to repair some of the damage. As a knight, she was of course trained in first aid, but this was leagues beyond her capabilities. The way Kaeya looked, Jean is impressed he managed to walk all the way here through the storm in one piece. The only thing Jean could do was grab tweezers, a salve, and several rolls of thick bandages, and pray to Barbatos that whatever she did wouldn’t make her friend hurt any worse.
Jean all but flung herself back into the living room, surprised to see the knight standing stiff at the edge of the carpet, statuesque cept for the visible shaking of his hands. Throwing her supplies onto her couch, Jean looked to the man inquisitively, taking the time to lean on the couch and catch her breath for a second. “Kaeya,” if the man heard her, he didn’t make any indication of it as his eyes stayed glued in front of him. “Kaeya, come sit on the couch.”
At this, the man turned his head slowly, his single eye wide as it landed on Jean’s still figure, intense concern and worry wrinkling her features. The only word that could possibly describe his look was: haunted. “Could you…” Kaeya’s voice came out soft, barely a whisper as he tried to annunciate through the spraining of his vocal chords. He swallowed heavily before continuing. “Could you put out the fire?”
Jean looked to the fireplace sat a few feet away from the couch, the controlled flames licking up her chimney, giving off a comforting warmth into the storm. Her heart twisted in her chest, looking back at the man with teary eyes before nodding and moving silently to her kitchen, fetching a bucket and some water, which she then used to douse the pathetic flames. Sitting on the couch, she patted the seat to her left. Slowly, Kaeya dragged himself over and practically fell onto the couch, the ache in his body finally taking over. Wetting a cloth, Jean asked the question that had been clouding her mind since she first saw her friend standing, drenched, at her front door. “Kaeya, what the hell happened?”
Jean got to work dabbing gently at the burnt skin, trying to remove the dirt and grass from the wound, as well as any loose skin that looked completely unsalvageable. Kaeya didn’t so much as flinch as she worked pebbles and soot from the charred areas. Her stomach churned at the thought of even his nerve endings being destroyed. As she worked, she tried catching Kaeya’s eye, silently pleading for an answer, an explanation, anything that could indicate what brutal force had left him this badly injured. She continued talking to fill in the silence.
“Kaeya,” Jean tried to keep her voice soft and level, not wanting to spook the already terrified man, but wanting to adequately express her urgency. “I need you to tell me what happened, so I can figure out the best course of action.” Her voice felt thick and wet in her throat. Jean quickly realized she had begun crying, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her wrist as she focused on the task at hand. Her work didn’t seem to be making a difference. Was it safe to leave Kaeya here overnight? How deep did his wounds go? Should she risk trying to guide the severely injured Kaeya out into the storm, moving from her family home in Springvale to Mond, as trees lost their limbs to the unrelenting wind? She looked again, pleading eyes staring at the man's eyepatch, hoping he’d shift so Jean could catch his working eye. Her heart sank as he simply shifted his head, turning fully away from the blonde. Sighing, she continued on. “Kaeya, I love you, I really do, but why would you force yourself through this storm to get to me here? You could’ve died out there, I mean, surely there was someone closer who could’ve helped you? Even despite today’s events, I’m sure Diluc would’ve-”
Kaeya looked as if he’d been physically slapped, his entire body tensing up at once as he tried to close in on himself, head curling protectively towards his chest. She wasn’t sure if she’d hurt him physically, if maybe she found a rather raw, damaged patch of skin that still managed to have live nerve endings. Was it something else…?
“Surely, it couldn’t have been…” The Dandelion Knight trailed off, not even daring to finish her thought in her head, let alone speak it out loud. She didn’t want to think about who was capable of inflicting this severe of burns, as if the fight was up close and personal, as if it hadn’t been pouring rain for the past few hours, at least since she’d seen the man last. She didn’t want to think of why Kaeya had to trek through the rain to make it to her, when she knew he had retired to the Winery after the incident. She didn’t want to think about what could have inflicted the deep, black and blue bruise blooming across Kaeya’s ribs separate from the burn, the area tender from some sort of blunt force trauma. She didn’t want to think of the fact that whoever had inflicted such a terrible injury had been aware of and thoroughly exploited the handicap of Kaeya’s blindside. Anger burned under her skin, her knuckles turning white where they gripped onto her pant leg, trying to keep her touch on Kaeya soft and caring as she subdued her sudden yearning for violence. She wished she hadn’t understood. Kaeya must have noticed her change in demeanor, because, still facing away from her, he spoke in words almost too soft and vulnerable to hear.
“Please don’t say anything. I’ll tell you just… please. Don’t talk. I-I can’t… I can’t lose anyone else right now.” Jean opened her mouth, wanting to make sure she heard Kaeya right, but thought better of it. His explanation was just so vague . Was Diluc alright? Did it even involve him at all? He was still dealing with the devastating loss of Crepus, is that what this is all about? Despite the hounding of the questions flittering about in her head, Jean kept her mouth shut, diligently working on the expanse of Kaeya’s chest as she allowed him to gather what he wanted to say. She felt the elongated intake of breath, the stuttering, prolonged expansion of his chest from underneath the washcloth. He wasn’t ready. They both knew this. But he never would be, would he?
—----------
Kaeya doesn’t think the manor had ever been this disquieting. Grief hung itself around the rooms like drab curtains, blocking out the sun as it painted the walls with overcast shadows and the carpet with umbral despair, the light shifting the patterns languidly, if at all. The silence encasing the home wasn’t the usual kind of comforting quiet. It wasn’t something you could sit in while you listened to your thoughts, uninterrupted. This was a smothering silence, a kind of noiseless existence that opposed itself as it drowned out every other sound cept for the beating of your own heart, if it even kept beating at all.
Kaeya had dragged himself back to the Winery reluctantly after giving his statement to the knights, fleeing despite the outrage he had heard his brother being put through. Jean guided him out as he listened to his brother’s grieving pleas, the upset of which was caused by the poking and prodding of such a fresh, fresh wound. And now Kaeya sat, virtually alone in the silent manor. Adelinde and Elzer, as well as the majority of the other staff, had been dispatched to aid in the preparations of Crepus’ body, readying the site for the funeral that would surely come in the days following. And so, Kaeya was left alone with his thoughts. It would be an understatement to say he was spiraling. Memories he had worked so hard to repress have since forced themselves back into his consciousness, dusting off the old cobwebs of doubts and insecurities he had once thought to have put behind him, but clearly had always been lurking in the background of his mind. His thoughts of his family. His thoughts of his home. Not the Ragnvindr family, nor his house at Dawn Winery, rather, his first home. Or should he call it his real home?
The history of Khaenri’ah has been considered a myth by all who have heard of it, whereas it is hidden from everyone else. He learned of this truth when his body was released from the protection of the leylines, having taken 500 years for the effects of the curse to be stripped from his body by abyssal magic. It was then that he was thrust by his dying father into the world above. Kaeya was a child of the underground, a child of the abyss. Every time he looked in the mirror he saw it, the diamond pupil he would never be rid of, the one feature giving up his perfect disguise. The only thing his mask couldn’t hide. He spent the entirety of his almost 13 years on the surface trying to convince himself he belonged. That his persona was believable, the act he put on day in and day out making him a trustworthy figure in the eyes of the town instead of the fraud he saw himself as. That he would decide where his loyalties lay when the time came. He always knew, in the back of his head, that it didn’t work like that. He just wished he could’ve held onto his good dream a little longer.
When he watched Diluc drive his claymore into Crepus’ writhing, beaten body, he had expected to fall to tears. He expected to run to the man who acted as his father for the majority of his life, the man who raised him, and sob into his lifeless body, huddled with Diluc as they mourned together. He had expected to feel so many things. It was a surprise when he felt the weight lift off his chest.
It was terrible. He was a horrible person, he knew it. He stood there, paralyzed, and he realized he felt relieved . Happy , even. Crepus died still believing he had two sons. He died in the arms of the one who truly mattered. Kaeya never had to watch the disappointment, the fear, the resentment form on Crepus’ face as he came clean about his origins, about his intentions. He didn’t have to tell Crepus that all the love and care he had put towards Kaeya had been for nothing, because he was nothing more than a tool for revenge. He didn’t learn that he simply couldn’t change Kaeya.
But was that really such a good thing? Kaeya sat on his childhood bed, chin resting on his palm, rain water still falling from the tips of his bangs onto his pant leg, likely soaking through the sheets. He didn’t notice. His father, no, he couldn’t really call him that, could he? He didn’t deserve to call him that. Crepus had died believing a lie. Kaeya was left to live with the guilt that he had deceived that man his entire life. Dread swirled in his gut. Crepus was dead, Diluc put him out of his misery, and Diluc would come home, most likely searching for someone to share in his grief. Kaeya couldn’t let him live on like that. As much as he dreaded the thought of making Diluc lose his father and brother on the same day, he never truly had a brother to begin with. He would simply remove the rose-tinted glasses from his face. He had to. Kaeya didn’t think he could take another second of the incessant gnawing at his brain, the voices suggesting different ways he could end the suffering he was enduring. This was the sanest option he was presented with.
The front door opened with such little force that Kaeya doubted that he didn’t make it up in his head. Standing up, he slowly made his way to his bedroom door, leaning his forehead against it as he listened for footsteps, trying to discern how terrified he should be at the moment. His heart sped up at the heavy sound of wet boots marching across the wood of the first floor. Across the manor, another door creaked open and closed, leaving the house in relative silence once again. The footsteps didn’t return. Kaeya opened his bedroom door, making to follow who he knew must’ve been Diluc. It had to be done. He just needed to rip off the band-aid.
Kaeya exited the back door of the Winery to come upon Diluc, standing stock-still in the rain, long, fiery red hair since extinguished as it lay wet and lank down his back, untied from its usual ponytail. He looked smaller. He looked smaller than Kaeya had ever seen him; smaller than the boy who had towered so high above him growing up, figuratively and literally. The boy who welcomed him, who shared with Kaeya his room, his toys, his favorite places to play around the Winery, his favorite foods of the world above. The same boy who dried his tears when he began crying from joy at the taste and experiences being presented to him, such experiences he couldn’t possibly dream of in the dark Abyss. Kaeya had once been such a crybaby. He still considered himself to be one, really. But he couldn’t cry. Not now.
Kaeya approached Diluc slowly, quietly making his way to the man’s side as he stared out at the hundreds of rows of grapes, still standing vibrant and violet throughout the storm, a stark contrast to the diminutive filter put on everything else. The two of them stood there for a while, before Diluc finally spoke up, taking Kaeya out of the spiraling thoughts in his head as he tried to craft himself a game plan.
“He’s gone.”
The rain took Diluc’s voice, absorbed it into its drops and brought it into the ground, spreading the impact out and around the Winery, seemingly wilting everything the implications made its way to. Kaeya didn’t hear the words being spoken so much as he felt them in his stomach, the sudden lurching that made him almost want to vomit. Despite having seen him die in Diluc’s arms, having heard his brother’s (though he didn’t deserve to call him that) screams of anguish and agony as he clutched his father in his arms, bloody and dying as his claymore dripped a scarlet almost the color of both of their hair, Diluc’s statement made it feel so real . Never again would Diluc and Kaeya run up to the man as he came back after a long day of work, each pulling at one of his pant legs wishing to share with him the wonders they had experienced throughout the day. Never again would he crouch down and listen to them as they took turns recounting every moment of their day, jumping in when the other had to stop to catch their breath after their bout of nonsensical rambling. Never again would he hold Kaeya on his chest as he pet his hair, luring him to sleep when he was sick and weak, which was often, as Kaeya had a notably poor constitution. Never again would he look over to Diluc with compassion in his eyes as he stood with his blanket in hand, watching from the doorway, and signal for him to join them, because he knew his son couldn’t stand not sleeping in the same room when they were little. Never again would Crepus tell Kaeya he loved him. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe he never should’ve.
“I’m sorry.” Kaeya eventually whispered, head still hung low in shame and sadness, peeking up tentatively at the other man. His single eye was large and innocent, still bearing in it the wonderings of a child. Diluc didn’t meet it with his own.
The sound Kaeya received in response was all but a puff of air, a sound coming almost accidentally from the back of the throat. One might consider it almost a laugh. Kaeya didn’t get the joke. “What are you apologizing for?” Diluc finally turned his head, Kaeya now more easily able to make out his whispered words. “He was your father too. You shouldn’t apologize for my mourning when you must be going through something similar as well.” Kaeya almost opened his mouth to respond, to disagree with Diluc, but he shut it just time. That wasn’t what he needed to say.
“He… he isn’t- wasn’t - my father.” He felt Diluc’s eyes boring into the side of his head. He almost wanted to stand on Diluc’s left, so that he had an excuse as to why he couldn’t meet the man's eyes. An excuse other than the fact that he was just a coward.
“What do you mean?” The words almost came out more in egregious disbelief than anger, but Kaeya felt the bile in his question nonetheless. “You may not be related by blood, but he is your father. Just like I’m your brother. You’re allowed to mourn.”
“But I’m not your brother.”
Kaeya barely had time to register the reassurance Diluc was so kindly providing before he spat out his reply, turning his head only to meet a frozen man, bright red eyes piercing into him, looking nothing less than incredulous as he tried to work the meaning from Kaeya’s words. Eventually he just asked the man himself.
“Kae… What? ” His voice had dropped an octave. Kaeya was somehow able to hear him more clearly now, despite the man speaking significantly quieter now.
“I said I’m not your brother.”
“Kae, what the fuck do you mean!?” They were fully facing each other now, up in each other’s faces as they both tried to get their feelings across to the other. Neither of them had ever been very good at that.
“I mean we can’t be family! We can’t ever be brothers, Diluc!” The two stood there quietly for a bit, the only sound coming from either of them being the heavy breathing of their frustrations, their anger. The words sat in the air between them, refusing to dissipate into the world beyond, continuing to echo in both of their ears. Diluc snorted once again, refusing to meet Kaeya’s eyes this time, instead staring at his boots.
“Well, why not?” His teeth were gritted through the words, forcing them out like pus from a wound, like they were even too disgusting to sit on his tongue. Kaeya murmured into the ground.
“Because I’m a spy.”
“What?”
“Because, I’M. A FUCKING. SPY!” He yelled the words into the redhead’s face, decidedly ignoring the look of hurt and disbelief that was settling disgustingly into his features, too high on releasing everything he had bottled up for over a decade, for most of his pathetic life. He yearned to let it all go, to finally be rid of it. “I’m a spy, Diluc. I’m a spy from Khaenri’ah. I was planted here by my father 13 years ago with the purpose to spy on Monstadt for when war is declared between the two. When war is declared, I am to report to Khaenri’ah with all of the information I’ve gathered here. That was the mission I was given as a child. I lied to you. And I lied to Crepus too.” Tears were streaming down his face by the time he finished, breath suspended in his lungs as he waited for Diluc’s reaction, his retaliation. Diluc had lowered his head completely, dark wet maroon hair obscuring any feature Kaeya could use to discern his reaction.
“You were right.” This time, it was Kaeya’s turn to not hear the other man.
“What?” Suddenly, his body was met with hard metal, hitting him right between the ribs as he was thrown to the ground, wheezing and sputtering from the breath being knocked out of him. He landed harshly on his shoulder, kicking up mud and grass as he was flung away from the safety of the Winery’s overhang, left to lie out in the rain.
“I said,” Kaeya looked up, dazed, from his position on the ground, eyes meeting Diluc, head still hanging heavy, red hair somehow brighter than it was before, stalking toward his position. In his right hand, he gripped a solid, black claymore, the weapon cutting a line through the mud as he dragged it across the field. “You were right.” Heaving the weapon on his shoulder with both hands, Diluc stopped over Kaeya, standing with his feet by his head, appearing sideways in his vision. “You’re not my fucking brother!” All Kaeya caught a glimpse of was the piercing glow of ruby eyes as the claymore was brought above the man's head, bringing it down swiftly to his neck.
Summoning his sword, Kaeya quickly rolled to the side, onto his stomach, the thick blade landing loudly and violently right next to his ear. Scrambling backwards, Kaeya gripped his sword, holding his hands up in a mock surrender despite the fact. “Diluc, please, wait-” Before he could finish, he was forced to bring his sword up, guarding against the blow that was once again being aimed at him. The pure force of the swing left Kaeya’s head knocked into the mud, his sword barely holding up as he tried to halt the blade’s descent into his torso. He gripped the hilt of his blade in his right, his left gripping onto the flat of his sword. He could feel his left hand being pierced slowly by his own blade, solely from the force of Diluc’s raw strength being exerted onto the meager weapon.
“You’re. a. TRAITOR!” The redhead drew back a bit, meaning to come back down with more force. Kaeya anticipated it, drawing up his legs and blocking the claymore between his thighs, swiveling his hips sharply to the right, successfully throwing Diluc off balance as he lost his footing in the mud. This gave Kaeya a chance to scurry to his feet, putting distance between himself and the other man.
“Diluc, please it doesn’t have to be like this!” Kaeya threw his weapon to the side, his sword dissipating into thin air in what the knight hoped would be taken as a sign of trust, of mercy. Regaining his footing, Kaeya turned back to where he had left the man fumbling mere seconds ago. However, all he was met with was rows and rows of vibrant, violet grapes. It wasn’t until Kaeya felt a gust of hot wind to his right that he realized: his brother was trying to kill him.
“Burn in hell.”
Time all but froze as Kaeya spun around to try and face Diluc, to face the man who used to be his brother, as he swung his blade in a downwards arch. Red hot flames spilled forth from his claymore, a bird with wings of flames coming forth before Kaeya could even turn the 90 degrees needed to get Diluc out of his blind spot. He stopped, right leg outstretched in a mid turn. Over his shoulder Kaeya caught a glimpse of his childhood role model, the man he looked up to since he first stepped foot into the warm home he was so generously invited into, looking at him with eyes glistening like rubies, hate destroying everything about Diluc that Kaeya called home. He was going to die. He was going to die, and Diluc was going to kill a second person today. Diluc was going to kill him. And, terrifyingly, Kaeya found this all right. For a second, before the bird of flames made contact, before his eventual and foreseen death caught up to him, Kaeya thought he saw tears streaming down the face of the only person he had ever comfortably called family. Or maybe it was just the rain.
Flames made contact with skin in a terrifying symphony of pain that lasted no longer than two seconds, but the sensation was one that would keep Kaeya up at night for years to come. The flames burned through his skin tissue, pain blossoming and bubbling across his arm and chest as skin boiled away. He couldn’t tell how long the pain actually lasted, as he had gone into shock but a second after the first disgusting, terrifying sensation. And then, the heat stopped, and suddenly, it was very, very cold. Despite that, Kaeya was able to faintly recognize the sound of his raw, agonized screaming that was still unknowingly being ripped from his lungs.
Kaeya fell to the ground, lungs burning as he tried to draw in as much air as he possibly could, his body shaking violently, as he wrapped his left arm around himself, around the burned area. He felt nothing as he gripped his right arm to his side, as if he were trying to stop the blood from free-flowing out of a gastly wound. In the distance, he picked up on the sensation of peeling skin. He doubled over further into the grass, heaving bile and spit as his body recovered from the ricochet it had been put through. It took about ten seconds for Kaeya to finally raise his head to once again try and find the man who he used to call his brother. Instead, he was met with a wall of ice.
Kaeya could make out the faint stature of Diluc, still, fractalized behind the ice as he stood, most definitely dumbfounded at the phenomenon, body still bent over from the might of his previous swing. The knight looked back down into his lap, trying to ignore the half of his torso that he could barely recognize as his own now. Sitting between his splayed legs was a round, shiny, Cryo vision. In its crystal exterior, Kaeya saw the faint glow of his reflection, a scared, damaged shell of a man staring back at him. What a sick joke. The Gods couldn’t even gift him the respite of death. Gods gave the visions to those they recognized. He was recognized as a filthy traitor. In his pondering, Kaeya picked up on the sound of footsteps growing faint, realizing Diluc must have given up at the intervention of the Archons. The Tsaritsa was once said to be the Goddess of Love, her heart warm despite her icy image. It would be the last sign of love Kaeya ever received. Yet, he resented it.
—---------
Kaeya barely felt the tears as they slid down the exposed skin of his burned right side, Jean curled up into his chest, washcloth long since discarded. The man was left staring straight ahead, unfeeling, anchored to reality only by the force of his best friend’s shaking body as she shed tears for him. She told him it wasn’t his fault. But what, then, was making her cry?