Chapter Text
Diluc doesn’t drink. He’s never had a taste for alcohol; growing up in the industry simply solidified this fact. His father, selling bottles and bottles of wine, never failed to remind him of this…rather unfortunate taste.
“ My boy, when you’re older, you’ll grow a taste for the finer things. Such as pristine bottles of wine and many pints of beer! ’
If you asked Diluc, he’d say that alcohol was disgusting and the fuzzy numb feeling it gave him made him want to hurl. Even the slightest show of unbalance in his walk made him want to personally rid the world of alcohol. He’d seen the way other patrons acted while drunk. Stuttering and stumbling out of the bar, their eyes glossed over and filled with the false happiness of a drug. Diluc would rather not embarrass himself, nor would he want to taste the bitterness of alcohol on his tongue. Just imagining his own body in such a vulgar state was distasteful; though no doubt entertaining to onlookers. (That fact made the thought of being drunk even more revolting)
Of course, being a bartender, he could understand one’s need for a drink; he’d experienced the buzz before, and if he were anyone else he might have become addicted. Luckily for him though, feeling out of control was something he didn’t like. Shaking hands and spinning lights didn’t seem all that appealing to him. Still, it was quite entertaining (albeit annoying) to watch the guests and customers belt out off-tune song lyrics and fall off their chairs. If Diluc hadn’t had to clean up after them, he’d almost call it amusing. (Though, the bard was particularly annoying. He even had the gull to propose the idea of free drinks; pulling his Barbatos card when Diluc refused.)
Diluc doesn’t drink. Something about the taste of wine on his tongue was nostalgic to him; though, in all the wrong ways. It reminded him of his late father, and the way he used to ruffle his hair. The way he used to tell dumb jokes and laugh like he had all the time in the world. A bittersweet memory, if you will. But the more the drops of flavour hit his tongue, the more the memory begins to sour, like blood slowly dripping into a puddle. It pollutes, it takes, and it will never be the same.
A bittersweet memory of his father laughing will slowly fade into his father dying; bleeding out in the rain, in the very arms of his son. Coughing, rasping, and blinking away tears. Looking up at Diluc like he was an angel here to take him to heaven. Soon, there’s no memory left at all, just the hollow feeling of loss and the stinging pain in his chest.
Diluc doesn’t know what the think about the death of his father. Sometimes, as the days drag on and the scent of alcohol thickens in the humid air, he can see the blood on his hands; draining into the puddles and being carried down the pathway. Other times, he can look at people like Bennett and Diona and feel rather fatherly; he can feel good about spreading his father’s influence to other people. He gets to feel good about the way he turned out, the way he practically raises the other children. But at the same time, he hates it.
Diluc doesn’t drink. On the other hand, his brother Kaeya clings to bottles like lifelines. He’s almost constantly hungover; out drinking the night before and spending his earnings on a new bottle of dandelion wine; from Angel’s Share no less. Kaeya remains the same while drunk. He maintains his attitude, sarcastic, flirtatious, and scheming. The only difference is the volume. While sober, the man could keep to himself and keep his remarks witty. His flirting comes out once in a while where he sees necessary, and his schemes are kept on the downlow.
While drunk, everything is multiplied by at least ten. He’s louder, less restrained. He throws insults like rainwater and every other sentence is a flirtatious comment. He keeps a look in his eye like he knows a great deal more than anyone else; which may or may not be true depending on who you ask. There were secrets in those blue depths that nobody else knew; that nobody else would ever know.
Diluc knows why Kaeya drinks. He drinks so he doesn’t have to make choices. He drinks because he’s overrun by guilt and doesn’t understand the feelings he experiences. He drinks because he’s trying to forget memories engraved into his mind. He drinks to prove that he’s undeserving of the vision on his hip. He drinks because he enjoys being drunk; periodically forgetting about both his duties and his feelings. And even though Diluc finds the image of his brother plastered on the floor of the tavern distasteful, sometimes he can’t bring himself to speak up about it. And if he did, he would say the wrong words, use the wrong tone, do something wrong .
Sometimes, Diluc wishes they could rewrite history; even if their father had to die, he wishes Kaeya had been his actual brother. He wishes that he hadn’t attacked his brother so mercilessly. He wishes he had better handled his emotions, that he could move on from his father’s death and continue smiling. But now, years later, none of that seems remotely possible. This is the future they ended up leading, and there’s no changing the past. He’d set footprints to stone in the mud, he'd solidified the future, and there was no going back.
But if there’s one thing Diluc doesn't understand about Kaeya, it’s the sheer amount he drinks. Growing up around the boy, Diluc knew for sure that Kaeya wasn’t exactly a lightweight; he could get through multiple shots before he was influenced. But similarly, Kaeya was surely not a heavyweight; a few shots past tipsy and he was practically ready to pass out. And from watching other patrons enjoy their drinks, Diluc had a good understanding of the ‘feel good’ scale of alcohol. Four shots past tipsy was enough to make you completely numb to your emotions; so it’s logically better to quit ahead before you accidentally poison yourself. Kaeya, on the other hand, prefers to drink until he can’t open his eyes anymore. And even if Diluc liked to drink, liked to remember his father's pleasant smiles, even if he got drunk enough to forget the blood staining his fingertips, he still wouldn’t understand. Kaeya was a mystery, similar to a locked box, wrapped in chains and thrown into the depths of the ocean. Secrets and emotions alike sealed behind walls of metal and a barrier of water pressure. (Diluc understood the feeling; his own box was a few degrees below melting in a pit of lava.)
Diluc had always understood his brother in the past, but Kaeya’s relationship with alcohol was something he’d never understand. And it scared him. And he’s never been the best with emotions, so he always found that fear difficult to express.
Kaeya drinks. He’s always had a taste for alcohol; growing up, he enjoyed the pleasant buzz that passed through his body. Even as the flavour hadn’t quiet perked his interest yet, it was the feeling of letting go that got him hooked. His father only encouraged this behaviour, stating that an understanding of a good drink would help him run the industry in the future. (Words that went to waste the night he died.)
Kaeya drinks. He often drinks himself stupid; many shots past tipsy. He feels woozy and disgusting, but not sad. Never sad, he doesn’t get sad when he drinks. Though, there are times he’d had to drink even more to stay on the high. Even though he could feel the hum of content under his skin, every time he catches sight of red hair, he’s overcome by guilt. Even when he’s drunk and laughing; the look Diluc gives him is enough to bring back the thoughts of his sober self. Red eyes and red hair, red blood and red in the rain, too much to handle and too much to bear.
And of course, the bard is a whole nother matter. Dancing and skipping, drunk off his ass, singing and strumming his lyre like a fairy tale creature. His songs are cheery and his voice never cracks, but something about it is so painful that Kaeya can’t listen to it sober. Azure and emerald eyes, diluted and shaking, held so many memories that it was best to look away; to drink until the turquoise and the red escaped him.
In theory, he could drink at a different establishment; bring his mora pouch across the street to The Cat’s Tail, and drink himself stupid. But there was something different about Angel’s Share in comparison to every other bar. He might not be able to place the feeling (wooden chairs, dim lights, candles, happy smiles, the smell of dandelion wine, dawn winery, growing up with Crepus, red hair, red eyes, red cheeks, red blood- ) but something draws him towards his brother’s bar. Which was rather odd considering that his brother was one of the things he was trying to distance himself from. Distance that he believed was needed, distance that he craved, even if it was unhealthy.
Alcohol is a form of escape to him. It puts off decisions he has to make, staves off the memories that haunt his dreams, and allows him to open up and have a good time. Alcohol is a release of sorts, something he drinks almost on a daily basis. The clouds could be dark and leaky, and he'd be wasted and happy; as happy as one could be while on the run from their own feelings.
Most of the time, being drunk meant a fun time; laughter, corny jokes, and cheering among peers. Not a care in the world; the only feeling being the burn in the back of his throat as he downed hard liquor. The sensation of making others happy, the feeling that he belonged somewhere. The feeling that disappeared the moment he was sober.
The opposite of that feeling would be despair; a sense of longing he could never satisfy. This feeling, this craving, a hollow lump in his chest, was something he experienced on bad days. Days when the alcohol didn’t take the pain away; instead multiplying it by thousands. There are days when he catches flashes of red hair behind the counter, days where memories begin to pile up and replay before his eyes. Those days, he hides his tears behind more alcohol. He drinks until his face is flush and pink, until the tears can be seen as beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and onto his cheeks. He finds that he’s not only a great drinker, but a great actor as well. Nobody even notices the difference between happy drunk Kaeya and emotionally unstable drunk Kaeya. Except for the bartender, of course.
On those days, the bartender is Diluc.
Today, the sky bleeds gray. Though bright and sunny, the air felt cold and rigid. There might not have been a cloud in the sky, but the blue seems to bleed with undertones of darkness.
Today, Diluc stares out the window, staring off into space. Willing the sky to cry tears of pure water, an excuse to stay indoors for the remainder of the day. His servants know better than to bother him on this particular day, instead fretting and worrying just outside his bedroom door. He can hear shuffling and the sound of the large front doors opening and closing. He can hear the people of Mondstadt greeting Elzer, leaving large gifts and hand-written notes, all adorned with sentiments of joy. How he wished he had the strength to leave his quarters and make it known that today held no celebrations; it wasn’t supposed to be a joyous day. Even if it was the day of his birth.
Beside him, on the bedside table, was a single shot glass and an unopened bottle of dandelion wine. An unopened bottle brought up from Diluc’s own treasured stash; he didn’t care for wine, but kept all of the old bottles. Bottles from before the recipe was changed, from before he took over the winery. He cherished the ones crafted by his father’s own hands, the remaining forty or so there were left.
Diluc didn’t drink. Drinking was an experience entirely unpleasant for him; both the lack of control and the blurry memories were reasons not to consume the beverage. But today, he made the only exception. Today was the day he put his worries aside and downed a single shot of wine. (Yes, he was aware that wine wasn’t typically consumed in shot glasses; but he wanted to drink as little of the substance as possible. If you asked why he didn’t just take a singular sip, he wouldn’t respond. Take it as a sort of personal connection of his, perhaps linking to his childhood)
He pulled the gloves off of his hands, laying them neatly on the desk. He tore his gaze away from the gray-ish skies and towards the bottle of wine. It was time. The time the sun was high in the sky; bright and beating, glaring at him. His legs felt stiff as he sat up from his chair, taking small steps towards the nightstand. His movements felt automatic; as if he were robotic. Outside, he could hear the muffled conversations of the maids; chatting away mindlessly. He couldn’t care less for their conversations, especially at this time. He picked up the wine bottle.
“It’s been years since you’ve been here” He said aloud as he opened the bottle. “It feels like an eternity” He blinked and bit his lip. “Things were easier when you were alive. The business was easier to manage, and everything felt more…carefree. But now that you’ve passed on and left me your legacy…and even after all these years, I still feel unworthy of your name” He watched the clear liquid fill up the small glass, the tip of the bottle clinking with the rim of the cup.
“I…I’m afraid I’m driving Kaeya away in a way that’s…irreversible. And…I’m unsure on how to fix things between us. I wish I’d have reacted differently back when he’d told me his most protected secret. I wish…I hadn’t made an attempt on his life. But most of all, I wish he wasn’t bearing such horrible knowledge on his shoulders. I see his bad days, I see the way he covers them up with more and more drinks. I see them, and yet…I do nothing to stop them” He raised the glass towards his lips. “I’m unsure how to engage in such a conversation. We’ve been distant to each other for years now, inquiring about his health now of all times would be most suspicious…but still, I wonder if there’s a way to get him help in a more discreet way” He sipped the drink, testing the flavour. It sat bitterly in his mouth like a foul thought. He choked it down. “If only you’d stuck around but a year longer…you’d know exactly what to do” He closed his eyes in what could be considered a slow blink; though it didn’t feel so slow to him. Behind his eyelids were flashes of memories; blurry and unfocused, but there. He downed the rest of the shot in one go.
/\-/(0c0\-/\
Kaeya drinks. Kaeya drinks a lot; most of the time he struggles to stay away from the bottles and bottles of booze he could consume. But today, all desire to get drunk faded away, to be seen again tomorrow. Today, he would stay painfully sober. Staring at the ceiling, his eyes locked onto the boring beige tones. He wished his bed would sink lower and swallow him up into a pit. A pit straight into the abyss, where he belonged. He felt a strange smile begin to twist on his lips, a smile that felt wrong; a smile that wasn’t his. He felt disgusted by this smile.
“You know,” he started, speaking to no one in particular. “Even after all this time…I still can’t quite figure it out why I was relieved” he blinked. “He raised me after I was abandoned. He took me in and gave me warmth and family” briefly, Diluc flashed in his mind. He blinked again, and the image was gone. He sighed.
“And yet, when I saw him, dead in my own brother’s arms…All I could feel was relief. Was it perhaps because it spared me the pain of rejection? The pain of being cast out of my family when he found out?” he groaned. “I shouldn’t have told Diluc on that particular night either. His world had already been shattered in his hands, he needed me more than ever and I just…made him unable to trust me. Archons, what was I thinking?” Kaeya sucked in a breath, a hand stretching towards the ceiling in a grabbing motion. Briefly, flashes of memories appeared at his fingertips; things he longed to keep safe in his grip, but were long gone. His hand fell, lifeless, directly on his face. The small amount of stinging pain that shot up from his lips made him groan.
Being sober sucked. Being sober on a day where all he could think about was death and his own horrible choices was even worse. But, staying sober was the least he could do out of respect for his father. Briefly, he wondered what Diluc was doing today; probably as sober as he always is. Either wallowing in despair, or just…staring out the window in that stoic silence. The same stoic silence that the entirety of Mondstadt took one look at and left alone in the dark. The disconnecting aura he gave off, the disconnection that was Kaeya ’s fault. He frowned, remembering Klee.
‘ Mister Diluc is one of the weird grownups. Why doesn’t he ever smile? Does he not feel happy? ’
‘ Klee, my girl, Master Diluc isn’t weird. Everybody is different, and everybody experiences emotions differently. Master Diluc just…isn’t as capable of showing his feelings as most people are. As you and Dodoco are, Spark Knight! Speaking of Dodoco, weren’t you showing me something?’
‘Oh yeah! Thank you for reminding me, big brother Kaeya! ’
/\-/(0c0\-/\
“The day Crepus died was the day Diluc and Kaeya split apart” Lisa placed her hand on Jean’s shoulder, rubbing it gently. “There was nothing you could have done to keep him alive, to keep them together”
“Yes, but I could have done something to console them and-” her voice shook, Lisa cutting her off before she could finish her sentence. She could already sense the incoming mental breakdown.
“You talked to Kaeya that night. You said you told him to speak to Diluc” Beneath her hand, she felt the blonde shaking. Her heart twisted in sympathy.
“But I only talked to one half of the pair, and-” Lisa frowned.
“Something that Kaeya told Diluc sent them off the deep end-”
“So it’s my fault?”
“Archons no!”
For a second there was complete silence. The kind of silence that ends an argument, the kind that had the possibility of severing a bond.
“So who’s fault was it?” it was a whisper, but it seemed louder than the rain outside, louder than the crackling of thunder.
There were a few more moments of complete silence, Lisa rubbing Jean’s back, and Jean shaking like a leaf in the wind. Lisa calmed herself and sighed.
“It was no one’s fault. No one. You did your best. Diluc took a hard hit, Kaeya told him something he didn’t want to hear. That’s it. There was nothing else you could have done for them. Alright? Nothing . Don’t blame yourself for this one, dear, it was never your fault.”