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“Did you know, ‘Luc? They say that if you put a seashell to your ear, you can hear weird things.”
“Apparently what you hear depends on the person! So, tell me… what do you hear?”
A pause.
“I hear the wind. And air.”
“‘Luc! That’s boring.”
“Seashell sounds are boring.”
“Well, how about you keep it for now? Then we’ll come back when we’re all big. And we’ll see what you can hear then!”
“Yeah, okay… I guess.”
He jolts awake, eyes snapping open. It takes a while before he’s able to gather his bearings, looking around himself. The room is dark with shadows, curtains drawn shut against the sunlight spilling through gaps that they’ve been unable to cover.
Diluc rolls over and stares at the mantelpiece on the other side of the room. It hurts to look at what sits in the middle of it, and normally, he tries his best not to even catch sight of it. But today, it’s harder not to.
He wants to go back to sleep.
Diluc attempts to count sheep. He stuffs his head in his pillow and makes one-sided conversation with it. He takes a comb from his bedside table and fails to untangle his hair, uncared for after days of mistreatment. He even pulls out a sheaf of blank paper and tries to draw, which is harder than it looks. But even as he does his best to stop himself, Diluc’s heart is thudding against his chest, beating out an insistent, pounding rhythm that he can’t ignore.
Finally, Diluc groans and rolls off the bed, only barely keeping himself off the floor with the help of his desk and walks over to the mantelpiece. He picks up the soft pink conch shell and turns it over in his hands, feeling the pearly ridge, rubbing a thumb over the outer lip and tracing the patterns on the body whorl. He pictures Kaeya that day, with a smile lighting up his features, holding out the beautiful shell.
“Remember, you have to do it! Otherwise there’s no point!”
“I will, okay? Stop badgering me!”
Diluc grits his teeth, hand clenching around the cold surface. He can’t. He wants it away, and now . He imagines hurling it across the room, watching it hit the wall and shatter into jagged pieces. Then he would simply throw it away, and he would never see it again. But as he prepares to do so, something catches him, stopping him in his tracks. He doesn’t think it would be very good if he did that. So he holds back, and silently slips it into his pocket.
(For a moment, he fancies that it would rip the pocket, weighed down with guilt and sadness.)
Diluc exits his room, dodges Adelinde, and leaves the winery.
(He walks into her at the stairs. He ignores how her expression seems… off, very much unlike her, and saddens as she catches sight of him. He turns away.)
His feet carry him to Falcon Coast. He knows every rock, every tree and every cliff. (He remembers, with a stab of sadness, the time he convinced Kaeya to follow him up one of the taller ones and stamp on the twigs so they would fall on Father’s head. Even though all the branches missed their target, it was fun.) He finds he barely needs to keep his eyes on the road, and allows his mind to drift to his family. He thinks, first, about Father, his expectations, his proud smile—
“Diluc Ragnvindr. Get down that tree right now. No, don’t climb higher! Diluc! Do not poke that bird! No, it’s not funny at all. Stop that right this second and come down here. Diluc, I am warning you. Don’t torture those ants. How would you feel if someone started prodding you with a stick and trying to smother you with leaves? Are you listening to me at all?”
“Diluc, Kaeya’s crying in the kitchen. Apologize to him now! His eye isn’t weird. No, Diluc, you have no right to sulk— look at how hurt Kaeya is by your words. You don’t have to mean it to be mean to somebody. …yes. That’s my boy. Now, no more fighting, alright?”
“Diluc, why is there an injured bird in your cupboard? No, don’t tell me Kaeya slingshotted it. What’s that? He did ? And how’s that? …so you goaded him into making such an atrocious choice. Hmm? You wanted to keep him out of trouble so you hid it away? Diluc, I know all you want is to protect your brother, but you should be honest. I’m not angry. Just don’t do it again, alright?”
“Diluc, did you put peppercorns in the goat feed? They destroyed the fence. What do you mean, you wanted to see if they walked funny? Archons. Did you know Kaeya tried to cover up for you? He told me he did it. You two… you’re always causing so much trouble.” A tired smile, gentle scolding. But whatever happened, he and Kaeya were always forgiven.
He was quite a menace as a child, Diluc reasons, and smiles in spite of himself. An absolute gremlin. He looks up and is surprised to find himself at the top of the cliff, the cliff that he’d always wanted to climb when he was young (mostly to show off. He attempted to, once, but Crepus caught him). He looks down and jolts. There’s a figure standing on the sand, dressed in dark blue.
Diluc thinks they waved at him.
He blinks, and the figure is gone. There is no trace left of their existence, yet Diluc can’t stop himself from rushing down the path he took up the cliff. Hope, panic and fear have engulfed him by the time he reaches the beach, and there is only one thing on his mind— Kaeya.
He calms himself, walking step by step into the ocean, until the water which had only been at his ankles now laps gently at his knees. Adelinde would probably get mad at him later, but for now Diluc simply enjoys the pleasant feeling swallowing his legs. He begins to take his jacket off, but pauses. There is something heavy in the pocket, and only then does he remember the seashell. Pulling it out, he admires it for a minute, then recalls the promise he made to Kaeya.
“Well, how about you keep it for now? Then we’ll come back when we’re all big. And we’ll see what you can hear then!”
Grimacing, he places it next to his ear. For a second, he hears nothing.
Then—
“‘Luc .” A soft voice says, and he jumps. “Wh-what’s happening—”
“‘Luc, it’s me .” “Who,” Diluc starts to say, before faltering, lost for words. He knows very well who it is, and stays quiet as Kaeya says, “Who else could it be? Archons, Diluc… I thought you knew me better.” There’s a soft chuckle, a huff of laughter. “How are you? ”
Diluc swallows. “Good.” He answers, and his hand grips the smooth shell a little tighter. He wonders what the wetness running down his cheek is, and why there’s a choked sort of noise coming out when he speaks.
“You’re a terrible liar.” Kaeya says flatly, and honestly… Diluc should have expected this sort of answer. Kaeya has always been able to read him like an open book, and it hasn’t changed even now.
“So, what’s wrong?” His brother asks, and… is that concern in his tone? Diluc shakes his head, dismissing the thought. It can’t be. Why is Kaeya here now , anyway? He shouldn’t be.
(Why, indeed? On this day of all days, when his life went permanently to hell.)
“Why are you here, ‘Kae?” He asks, unable to resist. Kaeya’s silent. Then he snorts, a soft noise that’s both heartwarmingly familiar and painfully impossible. Unreal. Diluc tries not to think about that part.
“Oh, ‘Luc… why wouldn’t I not? Of course I have to take time to visit my dear brother.”
The answer is smooth, quick… and so very wrong . And though he should be content with it, Diluc cannot find it in himself to accept it.
“You know why I’m asking.” At this his voice cracks, and he sucks in a breath, staring down at the lapping waves by his knees. Grief overcomes, and he finally flings the shell as far away from himself as hard as he can. It sails into the ocean, landing with an echoing splash. Diluc stands there, watching as its dark shape sinks beneath the waves. Gone, never to be seen again. Good riddance, he thinks.
“You’re not supposed to be here.” He whispers, half to himself.
The rain is loud. Deafeningly so, but still fails to drown out the sound of clashing blades, echoing amidst the storm.
Blood soaks the ground, but ignoring the pain, or perhaps too blinded by rage to feel it, the pair continue to fight. One attacks relentlessly, the other fruitlessly defending, both exhausted though the attacks have yet to cease. The redhead’s eyes are poisoned with tears, his brother’s with remorse. It all comes down to timing— if the admission of his true identity had come later, it might not have come to this. But here they are, two siblings once inseparable, now drawing their blades against one another.
Flames coat a greatsword, burning bright despite the torrential rain, and he slices the weapon through the air in an arc. The onslaught is merciless, unforgiving, barely giving the other a chance to react as he watches in horror, eyes widening. They have sparred before, but he would never have thought they would ever fight in this way.
He deserves it, doesn’t he? He’s a spy, a traitor… even his brother acknowledged it. It was out of his guilt that he came to the latter in the first place, and now he’s only getting his due penance for his actions. He doesn’t blame him. It’s only reasonable, after all. He closes his eyes, spreading open his arms even as his brother rushes him, screaming for retribution.
He accepts his fate.
It is only when the body collapses on the ground, drenched to the skin, does the murderer shed tears, hoping it isn’t true, that it was all his imagination. But reality is cruel, no? For there lies his brother, cooling amid bloodied grass, and it is his doing.
The rain is loud, but if one listens hard enough they might hear something that shouldn’t be — the anguished scream that sounded, and the hurried, stumbling steps of a brother turned killer, fleeing into the night.