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On the peak of dawn, first day after Monstadt was blessed with a fresh layer of snow, Diluc Ragnvindr collapsed.
It was unexpected, really, since the man was never known for his sickly nature.
He wasn’t discovered until Adelinde practically flew through the door of his study with Ernest on her tail, clutching the spare key in his sweaty palms. The young master was lying on the ground, a crumbled mess, sweaty and cold and incoherent, delirium long since overwritten his once sharp senses. His hair rimmed his pale face like a sick halo, a wild, crimson sea of heat and warmth now bitter and raw. The winery was promptly disturbed by a faint scream echoing through the crème walls, as the head maid of Dawn Winery crumbled next to the unresponsive body.
No one knew when or how it happened, but based on the now cold quinxin tea sitting peacefully on top of the cluttered desk, untouched, he’s been like this since the early hours of the morning, or even worse, since the previous night. Adelinde didn’t want to think about the latter option, the first one was devastating enough. What was she doing, being so distracted she didn’t even notice the young master’s absence until now, so late into the evening. What would master Kaeya, no, what would old master Crepus think? Such a disappointment, she was.
She felt sick, but quicky collected herself after the initial shock and dread, her self-destructive thoughts can wait, now’s not the time. She ordered Ernest to collect the young master off the floor, being careful and slow as to not spook him, the man who was still dancing on the fair line between consciousness and the utter bliss of darkness. When he was touched by rough fingers, he subconsciously started to squirm, whining and whimpering, his weakened, sluggish arms trying to fight off whatever threat was lurking close to him. He put up a fight, although futile and pointless, as the man above him was stronger and a lot more alert in their current state. By the time his body was in the air, he was out cold, and wouldn’t wake even after he was placed on the nearby couch, when Adelinde bought some lukewarm water and a washcloth to freshen up his damp skin, nor when the first healers from the city started to flow in.
He fell into a deep slumber.
Adelinde was desperate, pacing back and forth next to his bed, glancing at his face every minute or so. It’s been four days, four painstakingly long days since he was discovered, and she started to lose hope. His vision was glowing weakly, pulsating and beaming, lethargic. Its owner wasn’t any better, utterly exhausted and mind elsewhere. His body was in pain, brows furrowed, muscles stiff and joints locked, his fingers stubbornly grabbing onto the sheets beneath him, the fabric crimpled and damp under calloused fingertips. But no matter who they called, what they tried, his condition only worsened by each day.
No healer knew what the strange turns of events meant, or how they occurred in the first place. Based on their tales, all they could do was wait and hope for the best. He was a vision holder, they tend to fall ill sometimes, only to bounce back from death’s doorsteps as if nothing happened.
Celestia will guide him back home, they said.
And Adelinde waited, waited oh so patiently. Gave him supplements, medicine, water, changed his clothes, washed his skin, brushed his hair over and over again. He looked at him lovingly, caressed his cheeks in her hands as she whispered sweet nothings into his ears, reassuring words falling out of her mouth softly, how in no time he will be up and running off to work like he always does. Because what would Dawn Winery be without a tycoon to guide it towards success, what would Dawn Winery be without a Ragnvindr?
By the fifth day, they weren’t so optimistic. It’s been days since Adelinde saw those crimson eyes, days since he greeted him in the mornings and called out for her before he retreated into his own room for the night, trying to sneak in a stash of paper without the maid noticing. It never really worked, Adelinde’s eyes were like a hawk’s, but she found it charming in a way, how him, despite his childish nativity and charm long gone, still acted like a snotty kid sometimes, trying to hide work of all things from her.
The healers advised they say their goodbyes. While their healing magic could scrape the bottom of his consciousness on the first couple of days, it seemed the man was sinking deeper and deeper into whatever he had fallen ill to. The cool hands gripping the edge of his soul were giving him ugly frostbites, growling and scratching and tearing everything that dared to come closer, including the very soul itself. It was a curse, a terrible one, the kind that left its victims screaming in agony, crawling on the floor begging for the sweet release from this living hell, wanting nothing more than a bullet in the head to find utter peace. As harsh as it may sound, they don’t want him to suffer anymore, he had fought, fought oh so well and oh so hard, and he ultimately lost the battle. Keeping him alive would be nothing but a sick punishment.
They should let his body what it was supposed to do, slowly shut down and waste away.
So Adelinde, biting back the urge to scream and cry into the man’s chest, called for a worker to hop on the fastest horse and get master Kaeya from the city as soon as they can. Even if he wasn’t technically part of the Ragnvindr family, he had a brother to say farewell to.
When the man finally arrived, only roughly an hour after he was called for, he was in shambles, poorly covered worry peeking through his perfectly crafted porcelain mask. He probably wasn’t expecting to get such a letter, and Adelinde felt guilty for waiting so long. But she just wanted to shield him for a bit longer, to protect him to the best of her abilities.
When she looked at him, her face softened, carrying eyes hardened from the hardships of life. She knew that look all too well, desperation and raw vulnerability, a man completely and utterly caught off guard in a strange turn of events out of his control. And if Kaeya loved anything, it was control.
“How is he?” he asked, his clothes dusted in sand and dirt, reflecting on his past activity of training the newbies, yet to be called knights, future protectors of the nation. Adelinde could say nothing but pull him into a warm hug, tight and comforting, an action that spoke way more than a few futile words. She was already grieving a man who’s yet to drop dead, only hanging on by a thread. “Why didn’t you call earlier?” he couldn’t help but ask, his voice low and muffled as he pressed his face into the woman’s shoulder. He was trembling.
“The healers said he will wake up…” she replied, defeated. “He wouldn’t have wanted you to worry.” They left it at that, neither pulling away. They both needed the comfort, if only for a minute or two. Kaeya had a bitter taste in his mouth, Adelinde’s last comment making his heart flutter hopelessly. What a weak man he is, for feeling hopeful at times like this.
He barely registered Adelinde pulling away, gently leading him to the room he knew all to well. It was Master Crepus’s old bedroom, in all of its glory, although last time he was here there were significantly less work-related documents piling up on every possible horizontal surface.
Diluc had never looked so small before. Spread out on the pillow-filled bed like a ragdoll, in his nightgown, hair damp from sweat and tears. Oh, he was crying, a silent beg of comfort, like a kid waiting for his mom to pull him into a warm hug after a nasty nightmare. And Kaeya could do nothing but slowly walk up to him, silently, wearily, taking the man’s hand in his own to squeeze it with love and care. Because what can he do, a mere knight, cavalry captain, brought up with violence, when the healers’ skilled fingers and gentle magic could only do so much? He felt weak, oh so weak, his vision uselessly hanging from his belt.
He's a selfish bastard, for taking advantage of the man’s weakened state, but archons, he missed holding the other’s hand, he missed the warmth and calloused fingertips, even the small, jagged scars littering the fair skin. But there was no warmth, no comfort, only damp skin and silently flowing tears. Oh, both of them were crying now.
“Don’t you dare die on me.” He curses, bitterly laughing. “We just started to get along again.”
Kaeya talks, he’s not sure about what, various topics just flowing out of his mouth like a waterfall. And as the words formed longer and longer sentences, Diluc’s tears were slowly drying up, if only for a minute or two. Maybe he was lonely, wherever he was now. If Kaeya wouldn’t be so stubborn, he’d toy with the idea that maybe, just maybe, Diluc was missing him as much as he miss Diluc.
Seconds turned into minutes, then hours, and Kaeya’s chill evening was warmed up in the form of a bowl of soup brought in by Adelinde herself. The woman said nothing but smiled, turning and slowly walking out the door before coming back with a washbasin filled halfway up with warm water. She kneeled in front of the bed, gently caressing Diluc’s skin with the washcloth, washing away all the grim and dirt that definitely wasn’t there. But she did it anyway, the same way she did when they were younger, when they felt too tired to take a proper bath but the woman insisted of cleaning them up before sending them off to bed. Maybe this was her way of coping, following the old routine one last time. And Kaeya watched, watched as she worked her way from his face to his neck to his chest to his arms and legs, slow and gentle and of so loving, motherly. The soup tasted familiar on his tongue, warm and comforting, and Kaeya fought to keep down the tears that were undoubtingly gathering in his eyes. Oh, he missed the taste, he’d wanted to taste it again for so long. But this, this was not the way he wanted to relive these old dreams, when the lingering sweet flower aroma felt like poison on his tongue.
When Adelinde reluctantly pulled away, washcloth in hand, she didn’t say a world. She just stepped in front of Kaeya with the half-eaten bowl of soup, now cold, and gave him a hug. Kaeya could do nothing but pull her closer, to give her a few seconds of momentary comfort she oh so desperately needed. Her shoulders were trembling.
Then as quietly as she came, she gathered her stuff and left the room, closing the thick wooden door behind him. The hinges screeched in protest, he should oil them later, Kaeya thought.
His appetite was completely gone by the time he lifted the spoon up to his mouth again.
So he just held that familiar hand again, pulling it up so his forehead was touching the pale skin. He talked and talked and talked, bittersweet, but he was always a chatterbox when he was alone with Diluc. Because, after all, Diluc was the best audience Kaye had ever had.
His words were slurred and slow, and before he had realised, he fell asleep next to the bed, sitting on that uncomfortable wooden chair he oh so despised ever since he was a small child.
He woke up to birds chirping and the familiar winds of Mondstadt guiding him forward. When did he leave the winery? Regardless, he walked through rows and rows of grapevines, the fruit yet to ripe.
At the end of the row, he saw him, saw Diluc, but this Diluc was not his Diluc. This Diluc was small, a mere kid, not more that five. He was playing in the tall grass, wooden toys scattered around him. Small Diluc looked up at him when he heard Kaeya approaching, but his face was blank, maybe a bit of surprise mingled into the stoic exterior.
Kaeya never knew what kind of kid Diluc was before he was adopted into the Ragnvindr family. His first impression of him was that he was warm as the sun with the kindest soul and friendliest smile, warm hands guiding him through the rough first weeks when he was too scared to be alone. This Diluc, younger Diluc was no match to his ray of sunshine of an older brother though, he was cold and distant, untrusting, like a burned-out star. Although the winery was right next to them, there was no one to look after him it seemed, and Kaeya frowned upon the idea that not even the maids would be here to entertain such a young child.
“Why are you here?” young Diluc asked, face puzzled. Kaeya didn’t know how to reply.
“Here?” he asked, looking left to right to confirm he was still at the winery. “We’re at the winery, are we not?”
“No, you’re in my head. Why are you in my head?” young Diluc asks again, and Kaeya was at a lost for words. “If you’re looking for grumpy Diluc he’s not here. Do you want me to guide you to him?” young Diluc asked, and Kaeya could do nothing but hum. Young Diluc reached for his hand, and when Kaeya took the offered hand, his arms were a lot shorter and plumper than he’d remembered, like a small kid’s. Diluc’s skin was warm against his.
Now standing up, Diluc was taller than him. The vineyard looked so huge all of a sudden, and the only thing keeping him grounded was the sight of young Diluc’s back as he pulled him forward, the two stumbling on the uneven patchy ground.
Young Diluc didn’t talk, he was awfully silent for a little kid, and it made Kaeya nervous. Even if he himself was a chatterbox around Diluc, Diluc himself was always social and vocal around other people. Or was he? Was he really? Kaeya had his doubts.
Young Diluc, sensing his nerves, stopped abruptly, glancing down at Kaeya with those unnervingly calculated eyes. They didn’t match such a young, round face. Then, gently, he asked him to stay there as he ran back to his toys, picking up a wooden horse painted bright blue. He gave it to Kaeya, maybe to ease his nerves, and even if Kaeya will never admit it out loud, the toy did warm his heart, easing his nerve wrecked mind. The toy looked familiar, maybe he’d seen in once or twice at the attic when he and Diluc were playing hide and seek in the old mansion. They were off again, young Diluc pulling him forward, his short red hair bouncing with every step. They left row after row, vine after vine.
Young Diluc’s steps came to a halt when they reached a strange door in the middle of nowhere. The boy just looked at him with an unreadable expression, opening the door then pushing Kaeya in with the power of a five years old. It sent Kaeya stumbling forward, not yet used to his short limbs and lack of balance. He glanced back at young Diluc as the door closed behind him. Young Diluc was smiling at him slightly, exhaustion seeping through the cracks of his façade.
“Thank you, for caring” he whispered, the gentle winds of Mondstadt carrying his voice further and further away.
And with a bolt, Kaeya wakes to cold, damp skin and the strangest dream he had seen in years. At first, he thinks it was a dream. Adelinde brings him breakfast, toast with marmalade, a couple of grapes, cheese and butter with a glass of milk. He gulps down the food quickly, faintly registering Adelinde’s soft chuckles as she closes the door behind him. What can he say, he always had a great appetite. She will come back for the tray later. But as he’s about to taste those grapes, from the edge of his vision, he sees something strange and out of place on the floor, next to the foot of the bed. A wooden horse painted bright blue. He chokes on his food, coughing and trashing in his seat.
But even if he doesn’t understand what’s happening, he can’t seem to scrape off the smile from his face.
Now fuelled with just the slightest bit of hope, he talks again, tells the strange dream to his Diluc, tells the strange tales he’s heard in the tavern recently, ridiculous rumours of the Darknight Hero and drunk confessions falling to deaf ears in the middle of the night. Because he had heard it all, collecting the tales like a sponge, seemingly for no reason but now, just as it’s only the two of them, he gladly shares these bits of nothings to his best audience.
Adelinde comes and goes, her touches lingering on the young master’s skin just a bit longer than usual, and if she sees just a bit more colour on Diluc’s face, she doesn’t comment on it. Perhaps it would be too painful to flutter her heart with the false sense of hope.
When the evening comes, Kaeya’s mouth is dry like sandpaper. For the vast majority of the day, he’d told recent events with the knights’ headquarter in focus, talked about Jean and Lisa, Klee and her brother Albedo, Outrider Amber, Noelle… But he doesn’t mind the dryness, not one bit, because if he focuses on his brother’s hand long enough, the beginning of warmth was present in those calloused fingertips. He doesn’t fight fatigue as it overtakes his body, and he drifts off to sleep.
He wakes on a familiar beach. The golden sand filled with starconches ready to be swept up by snotty kid hands, moonlight reflected on crystal clear water, and in the middle of it all, knee deep in the azure water, stood kid Diluc. He was not older than ten, yet his demeanour was a drastic change from younger Diluc he’d met yesterday. He was so full of life, almost bouncing up and down as he took notice of Kaeya, running out of the water to embrace him in a warm hug. Kaeya hugged back, burying his face into the fabric of his shirt. Kid Diluc laughed as he rocked the two of them back and forth, the cold water splashing onto Kaeya’s skin with every movement. He didn’t mind though, not one bit, after yesterday’s younger Diluc, Kid Diluc was nothing but a delight to be around.
This is the version of Diluc that had greeted Kaeya into their family all those years ago. His face is round, his cheeks are red and his eyes sparkle in the moonlight, a big smile screeched across his face.
“Hey, hey, Kaeya, do you wanna collect starconches?” he asks, then squeaks in delight when Kaeya nods eagerly. He runs off, dragging Kaeya behind him, and his hand is oh so warm against Kaeya’s colder skin. They collect the blue gems for a while, a blissful silence draped over them like a fuzzy blanket. Kid Diluc doesn’t ask why he’s here, doesn’t ask what he wants, just enjoys his company in silence. Kaeya missed this, missed the way they were glued at the hips, how they used to finish each other’s sentences, how they seemed to know what the other wanted seemingly all the time. He missed Diluc with his stupid dorky smile and sticky fingers and touchy love language, missed the way he would curl up next to him on the bed or pull him into a warm hug when he wanted to sleep in for a bit longer.
Kaeya doesn’t know how much time has passed, but by the time he looks up again, the sky wasn’t so dark, and the beach was beginning to clear out of starconches. Diluc, sensing his realisation, toddles up to him in the knee-deep water, his shirt pulled up to his chest, starconches sitting contently in the fabric. He thinks for a bit, scanning his loot proudly before picking up a shell with a hum of approval. He gives it to Kaeya, the present landing in his outstretched palms softly. Kaeya scans the little blue thing, looking at the deep blue, purplish colour, little white details, the tiny little star that seemed to glister under the faint moonlight.
“You know, you’re not my Kaeya, but you’re still pretty cool to hang around with!” Kid Diluc smiles, clinging to his shoulder. Kaeya lets him, basks in the warmth and love, hungrily devouring it all like a starving man who hasn’t eaten in days. And that he was, nothing but a touch starved idiot, but the comforting weight felt so good on his skin, familiar and warm, deeply missed.
“I think you should go now.” Kid Diluc said, and before Kaeya could reply he was pushed into the water with such a force he could do nothing but sink to the bottom and even a bit deeper, the salty water scratching his throat and burning his eyes. His looked up to see a patch of bright red above him, blurred and out of focus. He opens his mouth to scream but no sound came out, and in a blink of an eye he was back in that old bedroom, clutching onto his Diluc’s hand like his life depended on it. Maybe it did.
He let go of the hand apologetically, giving it a faint kiss, a hushed apology leaving his lips. He had a starconch on his lap, deep blue with a hint of purple and a tiny white star, just like in the dream. He puts it on the nightstand next to the wooden horse.
He doesn’t know what to say now. He had talked so much yesterday that now he had ran out of interesting topics to tell. So, when Adelinde comes in with his breakfast, he asks her to bring in some books to read. The woman happily nods, running off to find some old fantasy books Kaeya was so fond of when he was little.
And so, Kaeya starts to read. He reads out loud, making sure to emphasise every word, giving every character a unique voice and sticking to it till the end, even if, as the story progressed, some voices seemed awfully mismatched to the characters. By lunchtime, he had read a few hundred pages, and his voice was stained, throat scratchy, his eyes burning. But Diluc’s body was finally relaxed, his burrowed eyebrows eased. If it wasn’t for his dark eyebags, one would think he was peacefully dreaming.
Adelinde comes into the room with a tray of food, still steaming, a towel and change of clothes, but strangely, not for Diluc.
“You should take a break, Master Kaeya.” She says gently, taking the book out of his hands. “I will entertain the young master till you come back, go take a warm bath.” She smiles, hushing him out of the door as if Kaeya was a stray cat. He hears her continue the story at the exact same place he had stopped, and his ears burn with embarrassment when her choice of voice for the characters match up perfectly with his.
He takes a warm bath, the water almost burning his skin, but this is just the way he likes it. He could never take a bath with Diluc, not even when they were younger. Diluc got his vision when he was ten, just before Kaeya got adopted into the family. And even then, his Diluc was always very dependent, and preferred to do things they way he saw fit the best to his liking. One of these things was sitting in lukewarm bathwater and slowly warming it up with the help of his pyro vision. Kaeya had tried it once, because, honestly, he would try anything Diluc would do, at least once. But by the time the water had reached the desired temperature, Kaeya was bored, and sat in the cold water for way too long he had caught a cold, coming down with a fever and a sore throat the next day. He smiled at the memory, remembering how Diluc would shower him with apologies and shared his secret stash of candy with him to get better sooner. If Kaeya got that cavity because he didn’t brush his teeth that day, he would never tell it to Diluc. It was a baby tooth anyway.
Reluctantly, he leaves the bathroom after properly washing up. He had really neglected his personal hygiene in the past two days, but now his skin was soft and clean clothes hung on his frame. Water was dripping from his hair to the carpet as he walked back to the room, quietly opening the bedroom door just to stand in the doorway, frozen. Adelinde, their sweet, sweet Adelinde was peacefully sleeping on the uncomfortable wooden chair, the book sitting on her lap, unfinished. Kaeya smiles warmly, quietly approaching the tired woman. He doesn’t want to wake her, but knows from experience how uncomfortable it is to sleep at a place like that, so he lifts her up into his arms to take her to the nearby couch just a few steps away. She stirs but doesn’t wake up, not even when Kaeya tucks her in with a fuzzy blanket that was mostly there for decoration.
Kaeya walks up to the bed, contemplating if he should sit on that god awful chair or on the bed next to Diluc. Figuring he wouldn’t mind, he sits on the bed, pulling his tray of lunch into his lap, quietly eating in silence. The food had gone cold by that time, but it still tasted just as sweet.
He doesn’t say anything when Adelinde wakes, a few hours into afternoon. He had already gone back to the book, reading out loud, although a lot more softly than before as to not disturb the tired woman. She smiles at him apologetically but he just waves her off, smiling back. She gives him a quick hug, warm and familiar, and squeezes his shoulder before she leaves to fetch his dinner.
Kaeya wakes in the city of Mondstadt, surrounded by those sturdy stone walls and familiar windmills creaking in the afternoon wind. He’s at the small training area in the heart of the city, surrounded by training dummies. Almost as muscle memory, Kaeya looks around, searching for Ellie, the wannabe knight, who’s been hanging around this place a lot lately. Jean inspired her, or so was he told.
But there’s no Ellie, only Diluc, small teenager Diluc, around fourteen. His cavalry captain uniform is just a tad big on him, hanging off his body like a potato bag, awkward. Now, looking back at it, he looks ridiculous. Their father, Master Crepus was oh so proud of him for becoming captain at such a young age, long before Diluc had even begun to worry about facial hair and whatnot.
This Diluc is familiar, but a little different. This Diluc had to carry the world on his small shoulders, had to pretend he knows everything at the age of fourteen, had to ignore the pang in his heart when kids his age got to experience normal teenage problems, like puppy love or sneaking out of the house at ungodly hours of the night. Kaeya was the kids his age, Kaeya had all the freedom.
“You’re in the way.” Teenage Diluc joked, shoving him out of the way with a playful giggle to get to the weapon rack behind Kaeya. He didn’t even realise Diluc had noticed him. He’s taller, Kaeya giggles, if only by a few inches. Soon Kaeya will have his growth spurt, leaving Diluc in the dust. Kaeya still remembers the betrayed face Diluc had made that day, the day Kaeya woke up and the world was suddenly smaller than he’d remembered.
Teenage Diluc looks at him funnily when he doesn’t return the banter immediately. His eyebags are huge, and his hair is a mess of wild curls and tangles. He never learned how to take care of it, never had the time to do so. Master Crepus had the same hair, red and wild and curly, crimson waves pooling down his broad back like a waterfall. But his hair was always nice, tied up and clean, no tangle in sight. He taught Kaeya how to take care of his, when to brush it, when to wash it, how to die it, and it never made sense to him why he was the one receiving these tips when his brother wore the tangled mess on his head, not him. Kaeya might have had slightly long hair at the time, but it was easy to look after, unlike a certain someone’s.
Kaeya ended up passing down this hairy knowledge to Diluc, not Master Crepus. He remembers seeing that thankful expression, that relieved look when Diluc’s hair was squeaky clean and tangle free after a bath.
“Are you okay?” teenage Diluc asks, frowning. He had picked up this bad habit around this time, Kaeya laughs breathlessly.
“Perfectly okay!” he grins. He’s not okay, he feels like crying. Here, in front of him, Diluc looks deadly tired, a sense of exhaustion that only lingers around apathetic adults whose spirit got fractured by the weight of life.
“Wanna spare?” Diluc asks, tossing a sword to the general direction of Kaeya. Now to think of it, Kaeya had picked up the world around this time, when he was twelve. Master Crepus had presented him with the weapon options, and the sword seemed like the best option in twelve year old Kaeya’s eyes, who clung to hero and knight fairy tales.
They spared. Didn’t take it too seriously, their bodies were carried by Barbatos’ gentle wind. It almost felt like dancing.
Kaeya was getting hot and bothered. His hair was down, it seemed younger him was not fond of hairties. As if Diluc could hear his thoughts, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a silk ribbon. It wasn’t the best option, but it’s all they had. He put down his weapon of choice, a Favonius Greatsword, and pulled Kaeya’s hair back, tying it carefully.
“I think you should go home.” teenager Diluc whispered from behind him. But no, Kaeya wanted to stay! He wanted to tell this Diluc how it’s unfair he got to experience all the fun this life could offer while Diluc was stuck training here. Swinging his claymore and using his vision till his palms were rough and burnt. But teenager Diluc gently pushed him towards those sturdy stone walls, and archons, they disappeared in front of Kaeya’s very eyes, and he was falling, falling towards the bottom of the abyss.
Thank you for visiting, the wind whispered gently.
Kaeya wakes with a startle. Diluc should really stop pushing him around, it was getting progressively more and more annoying. His hair was tied back with that very same ribbon, and Kaeya couldn’t help but run his finger through his own hair in wonder. He winces as his fingers get caught in a knot, sighing at the realisation that he managed to fall asleep while his hair was still wet.
His Diluc was still sound asleep, his chest going up and down rhythmically. It was soothing, and Kaeya couldn’t help but press his ears to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It was faint, but there. Diluc was there.
The doctors had visited today. They took one look at Diluc, turned away then turned back again comically quick, eyes wide. They said it’s too early to draw a conclusion, but maybe, just maybe, he could pull through.
Kaeya’s heart blooms with pride, looking at the bedside drawer. The blue wooden horse, starconch and ribbon sat on the polished surface, unbothered.
Kaeya sits in the rain, clothes drenched, face burning. He’s bleeding.
Diluc, barely eighteen-year-old Diluc looks at him from the other end of the winery’s building, unmoving.
Then, he breaks down. His legs give up under his weight and he falls into the mud, covering his face with his hands, pulling on those fiery locks with so much force Kaeya barely masks a wince. He screams and screams and screams until his throat is raw and bruised, cries so hard his face is red and puffy and sticky.
He doesn’t say a word to Kaeya. He just cries and begs and screams, mutters feverish apologies, apologies to Kaeya, to Barbatos, to every damn person on this god forsaken earth. And Kaeya, as much as he hates it, every bone in his body screaming at him to walk over and comfort him, stays put, listening to every heart drenching scream of agony.
Diluc is in pain, pain he was never allowed to properly process.
And so, Kaeya lets him. He lets him scream and cry, lets him tug on his own hair, lets him slowly melt into the mud and cry some more for good measure. The rain conveniently covers his own tears rushing down his tanned face.
When Diluc calms, there’s no noise anymore. No screaming, no hiccupping, no tearing flesh and heated up fire-kissed blade sizzling under the rain. It’s just Diluc and him, and the winery is long gone. Kaeya wipes his face roughly, blinking back hot salty tears. He doesn’t come closer, just stares at Diluc, barely eighteen grieving Diluc, and gives him a sad smile.
“Even though everything that had happened, I hope you know I never stopped loving you, brother.” He says, and a fat teardrop glides down Diluc’s round cheeks, shattering on the floor like the most delicate glass sculpture.
Kaeya gets pulled out of the dream, as if someone is purposefully sucking him out of this false sense of reality, and he lets himself get carried. He looks into those broken crimson eyes, smiling warmly one last time. He hopes it’s enough.
Kaeya wakes abruptly, falling face first onto the hard floor. He groans but doesn’t have the energy to get up just yet. Out of all the dreams he had, this was the worse, and his heart aches when Diluc’s screaming figure reappears in front of his eyes. The picture had burned into his memory, engraved deep within his brain to never forget. His ears ring and he feels nauseous.
He just about has enough energy to pick himself up of the floor, stumbling out the room and partially falling into the bathroom before his stomach turns and last night’s dinner greets him again from the sink, now half-digested and a lot less appealing. Great, just absolutely wonderful.
When hot sweat runs down his face he frantically catches it with a hand that’s not gripping the edge of the porcelain sink, pulling it in front of his eyes with trembling eyes, then visibly deflates. It’s not blood, just sweat, not blood, just sweat. Not blood just sweat, not blood just sweat, not blood just sweat…
Archons, he’s an absolute mess…
It takes some time till he stumbles back into that familiar bedroom again. Looking at Diluc, he seems more weathered than anything, and Kaeya can’t blame him. He’s shaken up as well.
Despite his rough morning, he goes through his day like usual. He reads out loud, sipping on the sweet flower tea with extra honey Adelinde brings him every two hours or so. His throat is raw from the amount of speaking, but the honey coats it gently, the sweet flower tea nurturing him lovingly, making him feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Sometimes, when she has a spare hour or two, Adelinde joins him. She sits on the couch with a half-done knitted scarf, and just listens to the protagonist’s dialogues as Kaeya melts into the story wholeheartedly. Her knitting needles clank against each other gently, and she hums a familiar tune from their childhood. It’s almost domestic, if not for the lack of reaction from Diluc when Kaeya stumbles through some difficult words in the book.
Kaeya never missed those furrowed brows and deep huffs more.
The tiny tear shaped glass figure sits right between the wooden horse and starconch, because Kaeya is awfully sentimental, and can only hope the sweet memories of innocent childhood will heal the crack running through the transparent ornament.
Kaeya sees nothing but white. White that burns his eyes, chilling wind biting at his tan skin, as if it’s sizing him up. Kaeya stumbles forward, his legs sinking into deep snow. He’s cold, incredibly cold, so cold it’s almost painful. His teeth clatter, his body trembles and the wind makes him deaf to both ears.
Then, as if it was waiting for him, he sees burning red, and Kaeya runs.
Here, right in front of him, Diluc is laying in the snow, his thick coat abandoned next to him. His lips are purple and his skin is so white it almost melts into the snow beneath his body. He does not tremble, if anything, he looks hot and bothered.
Hypothermia, Kaeya realises, running to fetch the coat before the wind can take it away, putting it on Diluc with trembling arms. Diluc struggles, trying to fight him off but his arms are weak and sluggish, so incredible stiff from the biting cold Kaeya wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d accidentally snapped it in half trying to get that damn coat on.
“Kaeya?” Diluc asks, voice low and soft.
“I’m here, I’m here.” He reassures him, and Kaeya’s not sure if the him in question is himself or Diluc. Maybe both, maybe neither.
“What are you doing in Snezhnaya?” he asks, brows furrowed. Even at times like this, his cheeks are red and round. He never lost the baby fat from his face, did he?
Kaeya doesn’t know how to reply, so he simply doesn’t. Diluc shuffles next to him, pulling down one of is gloves, handing it to Kaeya.
“Put it on, your hands are red.” He says, matter of factly. And because Kaeya is an obedient child, he puts it on, but not before a teasing comment leaves his lips.
“But Diluc, my other hand is still cold.” he jokes, wines, expecting a frown or maybe a huff in reply. What he doesn’t expect is a hand coming up to his, pulling him closer, skin to skin. He lets it happen, lets himself get pulled onto his back, next to Diluc, hand in hand. They stay like that for a while, looking at the snowflakes falling from the sky.
Snowflakes are the Tsaritsa’s tears, Master Crepus used to say.
“You shouldn’t stay here for long.” Diluc in Snezhnaya says, voice hoarse and tired. But at least, at the very least, he’s trembling again. That’s a good sign. Wordlessly, he pulls the remaining glove off his hand, pulling it on Kaeya’s hand, softly, carefully, lovingly.
At first, Kaeya doesn’t even realise he’s not in the dream anymore.
He lays on the couch for a bit longer, just thinking. Diluc at Snezhnaya was awfully kind, not the kind that’s in your face, more subtle, anonymous, just like how he is nowadays. Always caring, always neutering, the kind of concern that leaves you all warm and fuzzy inside.
He pulls the gloves off his hands, looking at the roughed-up leather closely. It’s burned and teared, basically falling apart, poorly patched up after years of use. The seams are weakened, and the insides are rubbed out and rough, the once fuzzy material now aged and caked with layers of dirt, ash and blood.
He doesn’t put it next to the other items, he keeps this one close. It’s special. He fidgets with the fabric all day long, during breakfast, during the third book that day, during lunch, during the time he wanders back to the bedroom from the bathroom, fresh out of the tub, still hot from the burning water.
At first, he doesn’t see the little pocket blending inro the rest of the glove seamlessly. He only notices it because his fingernail gets caught in a loose thread, and the small pocked comes slightly undone. Now curious, he pushes a finger into the pocket, trying to see if there’s anything hiding between the two layers of fabric. His fingertip touches paper, and he wiggles around a bit until the paper is at the mouth of the pocket, now easily accessible.
It's a small paper folded in fourths, yellowed from age, the edges teared and burned. Kaeya gently opens it up, and oh, he’s crying again, fat tears gliding down his face like a never-ending waterfall. It’s an old drawing he had gifted to Diluc not long after he had joined the family. It’s him, Diluc, Master Crepus, Jean and her baby brother Barbara and Adelinde, six stick figures on a lovely meadow, holding hands and smiling.
When Kaeya awakes, he’s probably near Springvale. The air is crisp, it’s nighttime. The aroma of Calla Lilies is heavy in the air, they must be in season. It’s quiet as he walks, one leg after the other. He just takes it all in, all the constellations on the clear sky, the rushing leaves, the faint sound of water, the gentle wind. He’s home.
His legs take him to the statue of the seven. There Diluc is, laying at the foot of the statue, unmoving. He’s surrounded by Small Lamp Grass and Calla Lillies, their childhood favourite flowers. To untrained eyes, he looks peaceful. On top of his chest, a tiny figure sits, holding his soul hostage with freezing fingertips that leaves you with ugly frostbites. When her eyes lock with Kaeya’s, her smirk darkens, pulling the strings more tightly, pulling Diluc closer and closer to herself hungrily. Diluc allows it to happen, unmoving, paralysed, dead.
Kaeya looks at the scene sadly. He takes a step back, thinking. He could shove that tiny figure off Diluc’s chest, but the strings around her fingers are tangled, and Kaeya was never good with knots.
The tiny paper in his pocket burns a hole into his skin, so he takes it out to examine it. He opens it up, and a tiny fire bird flies out, its wings flapping happily, chirping and singing and dancing in the air, feral from the taste of freedom. It glides through the air, then lands on Kaeya’s shoulder, nuzzling into him.
Kaeya should be confused, yet he’d never felt so sure of anything in his life. He gently cups the little bird in his hands, careful to not crush it. By the time he looks back at Diluc, the tiny creature is long gone, leaving nothing but mist in the air.
He brings the little bird to Diluc’s body, watching closely as his chest starts to rise and fall again, slowly, steadily.
Kaeya has so much to say, so much to dream.
“I’m sorry it took so long.” He whispers instead, placing the tiny bird down onto his chest. It chirps happily, looking back at Kaeya one last time before disappearing into Diluc’s ribcage. The aroma of Calla Lillies is strong in the air, and Kaeya just let’s his mind wander, patient, warm, loving. “Welcome home.”
He smiles as the world shifts.