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On one of his rare off days, Diluc joins the Traveller for a day of exploration and commissions. She had hinted, with no shortage of mirth in her golden eyes, that some time outside of his office would do the ghostly pale of his skin good. Diluc ignores the quip at his complexion and agrees regardless, because it's a known fact throughout Mondstadt that Lumine is impossible to deny.
That fact, of course, comes to bite him in the back much sooner than he'd expected it to.
"Calla lilies," Diluc repeats slowly, arching an eyebrow at his companion. "You want my help... picking calla lilies?"
Lumine shoves a single blossom into his hands in lieu of explaining, accompanied by a curt nod. "Fifty-nine more, please. Pass them onto Kaeya for me when you're done!"
She and her floating companion are gone before Diluc can tell her that he'd really, really rather not.
...
..
.
By the night's end, it isn't uncommon for Kaeya Alberich to be one of the last patrons at the Angel's Share. Tonight is no exception.
The five dozen calla lilies Lumine had asked Diluc to pass onto him sit in an unceremonious heap in the storeroom, and their presence lingers at the back of Diluc's mind the entire time Kaeya is here.
As the last drunk stumbles their way out the door, Kaeya makes a show of stretching in his seat, a flashy yawn tumbling past his lips.
"Well, I suppose that's my cue to head out as well." He fishes a handful of coins out of his pockets, pushing them across the bar toward where Diluc stands, polishing the last of the night's cleaned glasses. "Wouldn't want to overstay my welcome, after all."
As he begins to push himself out of his seat, the thought of those calla lilies springs back to Diluc's mind. In the wake of Kaeya's imminent departure, his mouth outruns him.
"Wait," Diluc blurts. For some reason, they both seem surprised when Kaeya pauses, halfway out of his seat at the bar.
A beat of silence separates them, charged with the mutual expectation for either of them to take things back — for Diluc to rescind his request, for Kaeya to pretend he hadn't heard it, for the world to continue moving as it did before, with Diluc and Kaeya ever at odds. The silence stretches, and then:
"Alright," Kaeya says. He lowers himself back into his seat, but there is an icy wariness evident in the narrowed slant of his eyes.
The fact that he stayed at all is already more than expected, and Diluc comes to the sinking realization that he actually has to follow through on Lumine's request. Biting back a long-suffering sigh, he trudges to the storeroom, sparing the lonely bouquet of lilies a withering glare as he makes to grab them. By the time he returns, Kaeya is miraculously still there, and the wariness gives way to a wide-eyed bemusement as Diluc stumbles into view.
One lilac eye flits between Diluc and the cream-orange flowers bundled haphazardly in his arms. Five dozen is no small number, and Diluc's arms begin to ache from the effort of holding them together, the petals of a few errant blooms shoved directly into his face. His view of the world is half obscured by flowers, and the other half of it: by Kaeya.
Clearing his throat, Kaeya wills himself not to stare too hard at the blooms, gaze flickering up to meet Diluc's.
"And these are...?"
"They're... a token."
Kaeya blinks at him, considering.
"Quite the collection of tokens, I'd say," he comments mildly. "I know you've never been one for mediocrity, but come now, Master Diluc. Asking me to help deliver a whole field's worth of flowers is a bit much when it comes to winning someone's affections."
Diluc grimaces, a vibrant flush blooming across his cheeks. It almost blends in with the rich colour of his hair, but the gentle cream of the calla lilies framing his features stands in brilliant contrast against the blush.
"They're not— They are not a romantic gesture, Sir Kaeya. They're for you," he corrects snidely, like that answer is any less incriminating. He doesn't realize that, of course, until Kaeya pauses long enough for a rare flicker of surprise to flit across his features. Diluc tenses.
Oh.
"From the Traveller —" he blurts, acutely aware of how heat radiates from his cheeks and crawls lower, spreading uncomfortably beneath his high collar. Kaeya won't stop looking at him, expression so uncharacteristically devoid of the mischievous glint that so often accompanies it, and Diluc can't stand it. He can't stand looking back at Kaeya, unable to muster the bubbling irritation that always helps to buffer the overwhelming everything else that always floods his chest at the sight of cerulean hair and a lilac, lightning-bright eye. Diluc averts his gaze, boring holes into the bloom nearest to his face with his stare. His heartbeat, loud as it is in his ears, inadvertently sets the clumsy cadence of his every remaining word.
"Lumine demanded that I pick these, and. Well. Oh, Archons forfend— Just take the damned flowers, Kaeya! If I hold onto them for any longer, I'm liable to set them on fire."
Kaeya exclaims as Diluc shoves the huge bundle over the bar, a mess of leaves and limbs as he attempts to keep all the flowers carefully balanced in his arms. For a moment, the only sound that fills the tavern is the rustle of flowers and cloth, the occasional murmured swear at a stem caught in his hair punctuating the uneasy quiet that settles between them. Diluc levels a glance at him; the soft orange of the calla lilies is veined with rivulets of cerulean hair, but Kaeya is too busy gawking at them to untangle himself, staring at the bouquet like it might actually burst into flame if he looks away.
"If they're a token," Kaeya ventures amidst the thick silence, "what do they mean?"
"What do they mean?" Diluc echoes dumbly. "Kaeya, they're just flowers."
"Tokens have meanings, dear Diluc." Kaeya shrugs, lowering his arms to spread his enormous bouquet across the empty bar. The fresh floral scent of it billows with his sweeping movement, swallowing up even the sharp scent of alcohol that lives in the tavern's walls. He spreads them out gently, fingers ghosting over each one, as if he means to count them stem by stem. "So do flowers."
Diluc has never been one for poetry and gilded words, the language of flowers included, but being aware of them has always been part of his duty as the Dawn Winery's heir. He was taught the extensive meanings of every possible bloom at a young age. Despite being able to recite the words of his childhood tutor from memory, facts given will always come second to facts learned, and if Diluc had learned one thing before his tutor told him what calla lilies were meant to represent, it was this:
"They're your favourite."
Kaeya lifts his gaze abruptly, latching onto Diluc's so suddenly that he feels his heart leap inexplicably up into his throat. It sits there, thudding like a drum, measuring out the long-drawn seconds that he spends staring back at Kaeya, unable to look away.
Kaeya swallows, eyes drifting down to the flowers as he twists his lips behind a half-formed reply.
"And... the Traveller knew this?" he asks hoarsely.
If he's being honest, Diluc never has so much as a clue about what goes on in their mysterious outlander's mind. Lumine works in ways that never make sense until the deed is already done. Refusing to admit this clueless truth, Diluc stumbles directly into a poorly kept other.
"I knew this."
Kaeya's gaze flies upward to find him, wide-eyed and waylaid by the confession, and the sight sends Diluc's heart stumbling over itself as it sees him, lodged in the back of his throat. He grits his teeth, forcing a huff past his own thundering pulse.
"Don't look at me like that, Kaeya. Who else would know it? If your intent was to erase the years we spent together as children, then that was yours alone." Diluc clenches his jaw, arms crossed. If he had meant to use those arms as a barricade, they only seem to succeed in keeping Kaeya out. They do little to keep Diluc's thoughts in; words tumble past his walls with reckless abandon, through the cracks too small for a person, but perfectly sized to free one simple truth: "Everything I knew to be true of you then, I know still.
"Diluc, you..." Kaeya raises a hand to knead at his temples, enough to obscure the rise of his cheekbones, but not the sardonic smile that underlies them. "Ah, but of course you do," he laughs, humourless and dry. Tilting his head, his eye glows in the low barlight as he catches Diluc's gaze. "Nothing ever escapes that steel cage of a mind, does it? Who would've thought that I could be one of those things, too."
"You act as if I keep you trapped in there. I never stopped you from leaving, Kaeya."
That single eye flashes, so sudden that Diluc can't quite tell if it was a flicker of the candlelight reflected in them or something else entirely.
"Well maybe you should've, Diluc."
Diluc startles at the sudden bite behind his words, drawn like a dagger in a way only Kaeya can manage. Perhaps the most telling measure of his trust in Kaeya is the fact that his icy words are still cold enough to make Diluc flinch.
Even Kaeya seems surprised by his admission, lips pressed tight around the beginnings of a scowl. He groans, shooting Diluc a look surely meant to be accusatory, but the haggard tilt to his brow makes him look nothing short of exhausted — helpless, Diluc thinks to himself, suffocated by everything they'd left unspoken during their years' long separation.
"You always make it so hard to keep the past in the past, you know that? You'd think five years would be enough to rid me of all this silly sentimentality, but here I am, maudlin as a drunkard in a tavern!" Kaeya makes a show of sighing, elbow propped up on the bar as he leans his head atop his palm, peering up at Diluc through the slanted curtain of his lashes. "All these pointless what-ifs... Don't you think life would be so much simpler if I never said anything about my origins? I could've just been the poor Mondstadt orphan you thought I was if you hadn't gone and made me think I could be honest."
It's the closest thing Diluc will ever get to an admission of regret from him. Even phrased like an accusation, the meaning is there. If I could undo what tore us apart, I would. Despite that, Diluc can't bring himself to offer the same sentiment in kind.
"I never thought about it," he admits, studying the fleeting flicker of emotions across Kaeya's face — confusion stumbles into disbelief as the words register, only for the emotion to be quickly shuttered behind narrow eyes and tight lips, the air around him coalescing with a tangible, distrustful chill. It's every bit Kaeya as Diluc remembers him and Kaeya as Diluc had left him behind: expressive to a fault, but twice as iced over to hide it away.
"Is that so, Master Diluc? The life where we remain at each other's throats is the one that better suits you?"
Diluc's eyes flash as he scowls, arms crossed against Kaeya's accusation.
"You said simpler," he growls, "not better. Still, if you wish to compare the two, then I would choose neither." Kaeya opens his mouth to argue, but Diluc cuts him off with a stern look. "I won't deny what happened between us, Kaeya. But if I were to choose again between your honesty and your lies, I would ask the same of you every time, regardless of how difficult it makes our lives."
"That's the Diluc I know," Kaeya sighs, unable to help the bitter tinge his amusement adopts. "Always making things harder for himself. If I knew being honest would be so tiresome, maybe I would've reconsidered," he grumbles, eye downcast toward the five dozen flowers that separate them. He plays with the scattered stems, willowy fingers picking at the outstretched petals and leaves.
"The truth comes at a price," Diluc tells him, "and you can't tell me five years too late that you weren't ready to pay it."
Kaeya's graceless snort undercuts the tension left in the wake of Diluc's severe tone. Diluc doesn't realize how deeply he is still frowning until Kaeya lifts an eye to gaze up at him through loosely parted bangs, the beginnings of a rueful half-smile tugging up his lips.
Were those five years not payment enough? his face seems to ask.
The unspoken question catches Diluc off guard. In his years away, he had all the time imaginable to come to terms with the revelations that had prompted him to leave. It only occurs to him now — face to face with one who had felt his departure the most — that leaving everything behind only worked when there was something to be left. Not for the first time in his life, the abandoned one turned out to be Kaeya.
Diluc lets the realization sink in, lips pressed tight as the thought tugs at a long-forgotten knot in his chest. Selfishness, no matter how justified, is still to the benefit of a single person. Realizing that, Diluc allows himself to loosen the harsh set of his brows. Like a concession, he unfolds his arms, stiffened shoulders deflating as he sighs. Kaeya, to his credit, quickly recognizes the wordless gesture for what it is. His wry smile grows into something lopsided and notably lighter, quickly obscured behind the curve of his fingers. Diluc's eyes latch onto the curl of his lips regardless, something warm and wanting blossoming in his chest at the half-hidden sight. Unbidden, the hazy memory of halcyon summers springs to mind — when childish, beaming grins were given as freely as sunlight from the cloudless afternoon sky. The past, in all its fondness and its flaws, never manifests itself as often as it does whenever Diluc looks too long at Kaeya.
He remembers thinking the words, filling the hollow of his chest with the staccato of his pulse and the steady thrum of one plea: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
What comes out instead is much simpler.
"It's enough," Diluc tells him. "That you were honest then. Perhaps I am the one who is five years late. Thank you, Kaeya, for trusting me with the truth."
"Well, I suppose five years too late is better than never," Kaeya chuckles. Plucking one singular flower from his veritable garden, his half-smile grows into a full smirk, mirth sparkling in the lively lilac of his eyes. Offering the lily to Diluc, he grins. "What's done is done. I can only hope that our tab has been settled."
Diluc allows himself a short laugh, amusement threading through the corners of his lips and tugging them upward.
"Bribing the bartender?" he drawls. "I ought to escort you out, Sir Kaeya."
"No need to be so cruel, Master Diluc! I have it on good authority that the bartender is quite fond of me." He twirls the flower in his hand, peering at Diluc past its cream-orange crown. "Why, you should've seen how many flowers he gave me."
"Hmph. And you're telling me this because?"
"Well now, I was hoping for a more interesting reaction than that," Kaeya pouts. Diluc's half-hidden smile twitches in amusement at his exaggerated lilt. "But, perhaps I just wanted you to be the first to know."
"To know what, Kaeya?"
"Hm? What else, dear Diluc? I want the one who gave me these flowers to know that I accept his gesture wholeheartedly. They're my favourite, after all."
Kaeya shakes the proffered flower at him, smirk unfading as he pushes Diluc to take it. Diluc rolls his eyes at his insistence, but even that feigned annoyance can't hide his growing smile.
"How could I forget?" he sighs, helplessly fond.
When Kaeya next holds out the bloom, all that's left to do is accept.