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Diluc had shoved him away.
It shouldn’t hurt as much as it actually did, Kaeya should have been used to such rough treatment coming from his estranged brother already. All the huffs and puffs, soft scoffs, disapproving glances, furrowed brows and turned backs. But Archons it hurt, it hurt so much, even if the push was surprisingly gentle and lacked any real menace.
He just wanted to give a friendly hug, a mere pat on the shoulders for inviting him and the Traveler with their floating companion for dinner after they had the guts to come to his house to ask for a barrel of all things when the yearly harvest was just around the corner. That was all he wanted, nothing more, nothing less, a playful gesture he does plenty of times while walking through Mondstadt’s lively streets. But it’s different, it’s oh so different, because Diluc is Diluc and Kaeya is Kaeya, and they were supposed to have the time of their lives this evening, bathing in false glamour and hospitality, a thin layer of pretended love warming their hearts as the courses were served by no other than Adelinde.
But no, Kaeya was always a dreamy child who never said no to fool’s paradise. It was truly his domain, a place just big enough to house a buffoon like him with his all too big dreams and hopes and desires, everything he oh so desperately tried to hide in his adult years when daydreaming had to be switched with responsibilities and the reality of old age catching up to him like wildfire.
Kaeya can feel the Traveler’s eyes on his back, their gaze merely burning his skin until it’s all raw and blistered, and Kaeya feels painfully exposed all of a sudden. It’s as if the world had stopped turning around them, if time froze and it was just him and Diluc with tens and thousands of eyes looking at the little scene, judging, scoffing, hating, pitying. If Kaeya didn’t know any better, he would feel rain on his skin, crimson warmth on his face and ice cold in his right hand.
He should chuckle, giggle, shrug, he’s so good at that anyways. He should play it off as if it was nothing like he always does, he should pretend Diluc’s reaction was totally justified after the obvious prank he had just pulled, he should play with the idea that he didn’t crave that hug himself more than anything in this world. But he can’t, not here, not now, not when Diluc is looking at him with that deep fear in his eyes, clutching his shoulder as if Kaeya’s touch had burned him, tainted him, poisoned him. And Kaeya, even if he knows he’s unreasonable and it’s only his sick mind playing tricks on him, glances down at his own hands to check if his limbs are hugged by hungry, angry flames, hot enough to bite through Diluc’s thick coat and dress shirt, deadly enough his pyro vision retreats in fear. But no, nothing, his fingers are still ice cold with a slight constant shake to them, not a peek of orange in sight, only him with tan skin and long fingernails and familiar little scratches and cellulosed fingertips.
Maybe he had finally started to rot away, maybe it’s contagious, maybe Diluc had smelled decay on him and reacted out of instinct.
The air is thick around them, and he catches the worried glances Paimon is sending to the Traveller. He had done it again hadn’t he? He just had to be greedy, asking for a whole arm when only a finger was offered for him to take.
He hears himself chuckle, finally, his body is catching up to his mind with practised ease, all the dirty little habits and survival skills he had mastered at the glorious age of ten.
“It seems I had one too many drinks, I should take my leave now” he says finally, breaking the trace with a voice steady enough to almost fool himself he truly wasn’t fazed by the denial. The lie rolls off his tongue honey coated, and he has to bite down on his own tongue to prevent anything else slipping out. His heart can only shatter so many times before the pieces become too little for him to sweep up and glue back together in the comfort of his own home. “Have a fine evening Traveler, Adelinde, Master Diluc” and he’s out the door already, the heavy spruce wood creaking as he closes it behind himself before bolting, running to Archons know where, and he can only hope his panicked mind is clear enough to take him home when the exhaustion finally catches up to him.
He runs and runs and runs, even when the doors of the winery are blown open and people shout at him to stop and come back, even when he trips on the stairs, even when his clothes get caught on branches and he loses his beloved fur coat. His legs are shaky and his arms are cold and his lung burn so much he sees white. But still, his mind is blank and he doesn’t know what to do and he hates it, hates not being in control, hates being this painfully vulnerable and utterly foolish, hates himself for overstepping the invisible boundary between them, hates being dumb and oh so fucking stupid he almost throws himself on the group to burry himself under the lose soil Mondstadt is all about.
He only stops when the familiar form of Barbatos’s statue is in front of him, and he all but collapses next to it, pulling his knees to his chest as if he was five again and weeps. He doesn’t know why, doesn’t know why the push still stings so much, why his skin where Diluc’s fingers brushed against him burn so much but his soul feels oh so heavy he contemplates ripping open his own chest to take out his damned heart for once and for all. He wants to get rib of it, wants the dull ache out now, wants to shed his own blood in hopes to paint the ground crimson and tainted, so he looks less of a filthy bastard and more of a common fool.
His throat closes and he panics, gripping his sleeves with so much force he’s surprised the stitches don’t come undone from the brute strength. Really, he’s not five, he should act like a real adult, but it just feels so good to finally pour everything out, to cry until his eyes are bloodshot and his face is a sticky mess and his throat is scratchy and used and oh so raw not even Liyue’s best quality tea can do much about it the next morning when his consciousness finally catches up to him after being dormant for so long.
By the time Diluc catches up to him, his cheeks are puffy and red, and he feels like a snotty child after throwing a particularly nasty tantrum. He didn’t do any of that, he knows that, but the dried tears pull on the skin of his face and his eyes sting, a sensitive mess he really is.
Diluc doesn’t know what to say, what to do, and Kaeya doesn’t blame him. He was never good when it was his time to be on the comforting end, not even as a little kid when Kaeya was a bundle of sensitivity and out of control emotions. Diluc was never a mester of emotional needs, not when he could barely regulate his own needs, but he was always by his side to offer silent understanding and a shoulder to lean on when Kaeya felt drained after every crying session. But now they’re bot adults with adult emotions and adult emotion regulations and Kaeya shouldn’t act like a bratty snotty kid who didn’t get his way. They’re not brothers living udert the same roof, not brothers sleeping in the same bed when nasty storm were raging outside, not brothers who baths together and ates together and trains together and breaths the same air with the same rhythm in their chests.
They’re not the same they used to be, and Kaeya shouldn’t expect the same comfort coming from a now estranged brother, but gods it hurts, a nasty pain making itself known from the deepest depths oh his chest, dully aching and popping, cracking his ribs open so his wounded heart can fly out and dance in front of his eyes, teasing and mocking and tormenting him one last time before falling down and bleeding out pathetically.
“I’ve got your coat” Diluc starts, slowly slipping down onto the ground next to him, keeping his distance with calculated steps and Kaeya cant help but feel disappointed from the lack of content. He wants nothing more than a hug, a gesture of love and appreciation, maybe even a peck on his cheek to feel loved and appreciated and needed, Archons, he’d do anything, he’d sell his own soul and rip out his own heart and offer up his own brain for Diluc to say he still needs him as much as he needs Diluc.
He doesn’t ask for his coat and Diluc doesn’t offer it up again, messing with the fur idly, and Kaeya can’t help but snort softly, Diluc’s fidgeting truly didn’t get any better. But it’s good, it’s familiar, it’s grounding, the soft noise the fur makes when it comes in contact with those familiar calloused fingers, the way the fabric shifts and creeks, the way the fur turns silver under the full moon’s gentle gaze.
“I’m… sorry. For reacting so strongly” Diluc mumbles, cheeks red in embarrassment, and the tease on Kaeya’s tongue is almost too heavy, edging, but he holds it in because it’s the first time in years they’re alone and almost civil.
“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I should have known better” Kaeya mumbles, embarrassed as well, and Archons it’s so awkward, the air so heavy and thick and unreasonably static he takes a double take that they’re still in Mondstadt and not on an idle island in Inazuma. They’re both adults, he chants, adults acting like little kids, running away and making up and being unreasonably difficult to handle.
“No I… Kaeya, it wasn’t because you touched me, it’s just that…” Diluc tries and his voice is strangely high and squeaky it makes Kaeya giggle, earning a betrayed frown in return. Diluc’s face is puffy and red with a mixture of embarrassment and the heat of running around Springvale at eleven o’clock in the evening. This is the first time Kaeya had had the opportunity to look up at him this closely, to soak in all the little changes three years of departure can do to a person. The way his hair is longer, or the faint scar running across the bridge of his nose so delicately Kaeya would think it was done intentionally, or the way that despite all of it, all the nights Diluc must had spent outside camping under the endless night sky, all the troubles, all the hardships, all the horror and blood sticking to the palm of his hands, he never managed to lose that baby fat on his face, the slight plumpness of his cheeks still there for all the world to see and tease him about it.
“I don’t deal well with touch” Diluc says so quietly Kaeya almost doesn’t catch it at first, and as if Barbatos was eavesdropping on their conversation, suddenly everything is deadly silent. No gentle breeze of harsh winds, no crickets, just Kaeya’s heart beating in his own ears deafeningly. All he can do is look up at his brother with wide eyes and an open mouth, as if Diluc just told him he can grow a second head on command.
Diluc looks back at him and his face is strangely solemn, and the look in his eyes instantly sobers up Kaeya.
“You don’t… deal well with touch?” Kaeya’s tone is barely above a whisper, soft and gentle and caring, just like he used to speak when they were young and it was way past their bedtime but the two were way too invested in their little conversation to retreat to bed at a reasonable time. Diluc nods, ashamed, head handing low and those crimson curls shielding him from outside matters. Kaeya oh so desperately wants to reach out to tug a strand or two behind his ear to make his face more visible, but he stays deadly still because fuck, Diluc is honest and it pains him that he’s still so unbelievably far from reach but if Kaeya’s touch may cause him to jolt up and walk away, he will fight any demon in his heart to remain put, unmoving, just for Diluc, just for him, just for them to stay like this for even a minute longer, or preferably, forever.
“Mhm, it burns” Diluc explains, as if a few vague words would be enough to explain his situation, but Kaeya will make it work, he will figure something out, he will read all the medical books their Library could offer for him if it means he can directly or indirectly share some of Diluc’s pain with himself.
Diluc used to be a very touchy kid. He used to all but hang on the younger every chance he got, basking in any kind of physical content he could squeeze out of Kaeya before the latter got fed up and walked away in a rush oh huffs and puffs. They were holding hands every chance they’ve got because touch was grounding for the both of them, especially when it was just Diluc and Kaeya and no one else mattered, when they were walking across the busy streets of Mondstadt, cutting through rows and rows of people.
It used to burn him too, Kaeya dwells on a remote memory. Diluc’s touch used to burn him too, almost painfully, the warmth of his palm was so overwhelming and strange on his own skin, foreign, but never unwelcomed. It left him yearning for more, for more idle touches and warm hugs and loving glances, but the idea of him reciprocating anything left him anxiety high, shaky, uneasy. Master Crepus had a weird saying he used to tell him when he got overwhelmed, hiding in the master bedroom under that giant bed, right between a box of old clothes and two old rugs. Touch starved was the saying, a foolish diagnosis at the time, but looking but it fit oh so well, and now the roles are reversed and Diluc got the short end of the stick. Celestia must truly have a wicked sense of humour for messing them up so much.
Diluc doesn’t look at him. If anything, he looks anywhere but him, and while that’s charming on its own way, Kaeya misses those crimson eyes more than anything, more than the air in his lungs or the meal in his stomach or even the grounding weight of his cryo vision on his waist. And so he just humms, understandingly, because he gets it, he truly does, the burning and yearning and isolation, all of it and much more, and suddenly he feels all too embarrassed again, for having such a childish outburst while his brother was out there chasing demons of his own.
They just sit there for a while, silent, unmoving, as the wind finally catches back up, drying Kaeya’s wet cheeks and the sweeping of the droplets of sweat on Diluc’s forehead. They sit there until it gets cold enough for Kaeya to shiver faintly, and Diluc offers his coat back to him again. Kaeya accepts it happily, silently, their fingers brushing against each other during the exchange. Both of them freeze, panicked, pulling away quickly, but if it burns Diluc, he doesn’t show it. Kaeya slips on his coat, sinking into the familiar fur, warmth embracing him oh so lovingly it leaves him drunk on satisfaction.
A familiar warmth circles his fingers again, barely above a brush of skin to skin, but it’s there, oh so intimate and recognisable and he dares to say usual he almost flinches, as if he was the one in pain from the slightest human gesture. But he doesn’t, he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away, he only wraps his pinky around Diluc’s offered little finger, just like the way they used to when they were young and naïve and carefree, just like when they were cutting through rows and rows of people to get to the gates of Mondstadt after a particular fruitful fair, their palms sticky from the amount of candy they had managed to sneak out without Adelinde noticing.
And he holds Diluc’s finger carefully, lovingly, understandingly, even if they’re sitting incredibly far from each other and his new position is already putting more strain on his lower back, even if his arms still ache for the hug he most definitely won’t get anytime soon, even if his skin where Diluc’s fingers accidentally brushed against still burns and pops, blisters, begging for more contact. Maybe he’s touch starved as well, just like Diluc, maybe he’s just as desperate for human contact as his brother is, but gods, he’s also incredibly patient, and he would happily wait weeks and months and even years if it meant he could get one more of Diluc’s signature warm hugs that felt like home and pure adoration.
They sit in the grass, fingers tangled, as if they’re ten again, and for the first time in years they let the walls crumble around them. There’s no need for those now anyways, not when a silent truce was formed in the form of tangled fingers.
And it’s not perfect, it may never be, but neither are them, and maybe two imperfect brothers can mend a broken brotherhood with enough time and patience.
Barbatos’s lyre gently plays in the distance, and Mondstadt had never felt more like home.