Chapter Text
There was no alcohol left in the house.
All his reserves - gone.
Emergency stash? - He drank it all.
His hidden wine cabinets - poured empty, ransacked. Broken.
Even the most covert alcohol cupboard couldn't escape Jean's wrath when she swiftly disposed of it, wooden splinters flying, letting it go down the drain. All his wine was found and thoroughly destroyed, leaving Kaeya in utter shambles, panicking as he searched his kitchen.
It was all due to Jean. These things usually were her idea of a "solution", as tempting as it was to call it her "fault" or "punishment" instead. The Acting Grand-Master was truly determined to make the Captain suffer this time, all under the pretense to help him - and he couldn't really blame her. Showing up wasted to one of their meetings was his mistake, after all, and she must have eventually noticed...
After a rough mission, he might have gone overboard with the wine, too weak to mask it's effects. Oh well.
He was using his intoxication as a mental crutch to keep doing his job, trying to continue while hungover, drowning in memories he wanted to forget. That patrol was one of the worst he had ever lived through, but he supposes Jean has had enough of his infamous coping mechanisms. Dead bodies will do that to you. Kaeya flinches at the mere thought of all the corpses spread out all over the camp - mothers, children, the elderly - the Treasure Hoarders were only focused on their wallets.
Following the scent of a broken-minded alcoholic, Jean raided his house yesterday evening like an angry lioness. The Anemo user made quite a mess of his home while she broke the bottles and emptied his flasks, their heavenly essence thrown out carelessly as if it was worth nothing. After a lot of arguing, a bit of a wrestle for the last flask of wine and then a painful slap, the Captain was forced to relent. She tried to be kind as she forbade him from visiting the bars, deeming the taverns off-limits until he sobers up completely.
It was her rules that made him suffer now, looking back at all the mess, all the fragments. Trying to find anything of value.
That day, it was as if Varka spoke through her, setting immovable iron rules before him while taking everything he held dear. Her authority wasn't up for discussion - his entire reserve (of his wine, and his hope with it) was utterly ruined with no chance to get more. However, if Kaeya was anything, he was persistent. He will lick the glass if he has to.
"Ah... Gods damn it... No.... --ghhh..." Kaeya sobbed, trying his hardest to not break down while searching for more drinks. He keeps coming up empty, with only a few dried-out drops in each bottle, ending up folded on himself on his floor. He has been cutting his alcohol for a whole day already, and it was already too torturous to handle.
Stupid Jean - her orders weren't just inconvenient, they were downright unfair, with Diluc and Diona agreeing to banning him out from the taverns. To think his boss would entangle other people into his issues, Kaeya almost laughed at the thought. Isn't it bad for their business? What do they get out of it? - They agreed so swiftly, too, and he heard Diona didn't even think twice about it. Every second without wine caused him pain, but nothing could sting quite like the betrayal of his favorite barmen.
If he so much as thought about breaking the rules...
Was this bunch of hypocrites simply making him suffer for fun?! They were probably planning this for months, maybe as revenge for some dumb joke he pulled on them. Kaeya didn't even care why they ganged up against him at this point - was it from pettiness or revenge or annoyance or concern - all he knew was that right now, he was curled up into a ball, writhing on the tiles, clutching at his knees, scorched by detox which caught him tight and squeezed his entire ribcage and insides.
He couldn't stand it. He couldn't.
Stupid Jean. Curse her plan, and curse her collaborators. Kaeya wanted them all to trip over their own self-righteousness, preferably landing face-first. Archons, Diluc and Diona are such awful hypocrites for forbidding him from buying wine in the literal city of wine & freedom. Kaeya wanted to yell at them - throw all the Mora they wanted soooo badly right in their faces. He was... angry... at them..?
"--AGH! Aghhh...." - He felt like he was falling, down into an endless pit. Curling up into a tighter ball, his head throbbed mercilessly behind his eyes. Everything was aching him now, his head, his muscles, his stomach, his bones, everything.
He felt weak, helpless and vulnerable, tired as if he didn't sleep for an entire year. He barely managed to open his eye when the light stabbed him right through it, feeling like a hundred hot needles angrily attacking his skull.
"Ghhhh.... Fuck... Urk..."
Same as his head, his other problem was his stomach. Deprived of alcohol, both his liver and digestive system loudly demanded his usual heavy drinks. Nausea and bloating was his constant reminder of the years he spent adjusting to his alcoholic ways, catching him and releasing him into heavy waves of discomfort. He barely managed to haul himself upright before he had to grab at his belly and mouth, ready to vomit.
Everything seemed to warp around him, and he knew he needed to get up now.
He swayed dangerously on his unsteady feet but caught the wall for support as he dashed towards the kitchen counter, barely not tripping, face over the sink and mouth dripping already. The awful dizziness and discomfort came back quickly as he bent double over the metallic basin, feeling the rough bile coming up his throat.
" Sure! Drink yourself to death why don't you, you pathetic drunkard. Someone will give you alcohol on the streets, I'm certain of it! "
Kaeya abruptly turned around, pulling out his longsword and pointing it straight into the night. The motion caused him to waver, his headache throwing him off balance, but he somehow held his ground. Someone was here. Someone said something - who..?
Where..?
"Who are you?! Show yourself!" - His command was weak, his voice tired and scratchy, but the silent evening allowed his whisper to ring out clearly enough. He looked around, ready to repeat his warning or jump into battle, if only he saw a living soul in his peripherals. His one eye squinted into the darkness, yet there was nobody there.
" No... he can't get even more drunk! Not again! He was doing so well... - he can continue sober! "
Another voice, softer, this time from deeper within his kitchen. Colors started swirling together at the edges when Kaeya turned around to look, again seeing only dark emptiness. He shifted back to his left, looked around, up, down, closer, further away, his sword slipping from his hand within all the confusion. Saturated hues were all around him, surrounding him completely by the time he heard the next echo, the first voice speaking up once more.
" He's weak... He obviously can't do it! He will give up, just like he gave up the day father died! His honor was tarnished forever! "
The first voice was rough. Male, low, callous... full of hatred and distain. Maybe even disgust.
" NO! You cannot drink again, Sir Kaeya! It's your duty as a Captain, for the good of this city... "
The second voice seemed oddly female. It held the same importance as the first one. It was commanding, but underneath it all there was compassion and bravery. Determination, hope...
Archons, he wanted a drink. If only he tasted some wine, everything would be alright. Everything would be okay... No pain, no memories, no weird voices, no hallucinations, only a sweet warm trance without thoughts or suffering. If he only had taken one drink, there would be no trauma lingering at his eyelids, no work that seemed too great for him to complete, no drawbacks, because tiredness and wounds wouldn't hold him back. It takes a lot to get him drunk, but getting even a slight buzz is enough for him. Just a slight bit of ignorance.
Just a tiny bit of peace..!
He cast one last longing look towards his empty cabinets, checking the drawers one more time, opening them with despair eating his mind. They really were completely empty, with even innocent spiderwebs getting torn by Jean's searching hands and her merciless Anemo Gale Blade sending the bottles flying. There was nothing. He held his head in despair, nausea bitter on his tongue and awful thoughts running rampant, like an inner poison.
Out of nowhere, there was a piercing sound, a ringing in his ears. After just one agonizing second, every sound became silent, the pressure dropping low.
The voices shut up, but an uncomfortable feeling settled in Kaeya's skull. It bounced off his temples, like recoil against the back of his eyes. The colors continued to spin together, up until they all merged into one blurry mess. The Captain couldn't endure it for long.
He threw up.
Time was not something tangible, anymore. Minutes were passing through his fingers and turning into hours as he tried to get his bearings, failing miserably. Every meal he had today came back up his throat into the drain, the awful acid burning his insides and dripping down the metal pipes. It was never-ending, Kaeya told himself as only saliva left his mouth.
Throwing up the foul mixture for hours already, his very being became poisoned with vomit, causing him to retch more viciously than last time. He was coughing, his body shuddering and slowly shutting down, as if it was rejecting his very essence. Empty and drained of everything. Every part of his body burned like fire by the time he was done, and tremors were passing through him.
The voices never went away, not really. Chiding him or praising him, he didn't know at this point - all he knew was that he still felt nauseous, even after all that time.
Pitifully he leaned against the sink's edge, gazing deeper into the water that flowed down the rusted tap. He kept his mouth shut in order to calm down his stomach, yet his headache grew with every breath he took through the nose. Eyes closed, his mouth almost reopened at the pang of imbalance he felt, probably caused by all the prolonged standing.
" ...You see? Pathetic. You were always pathetic, Kaeya... " - He heard it right next to his ear, clearer than in ever, and in that moment, he felt the urge to throw up all over again. Harder. More violently.
By now he has realized who's cruel voice was speaking to him. This ghost of the past and future still sounds the same as he remembers, smelling of ash and as sharp as an executioner. He really didn't have the energy to argue with the unreal mirage of his past brother, but there he was, almost as if they were bantering again.
"Shut... up.... You aren't.... him.... He wouldn't come here--Ghh... Ow...ow...."
It took him a few minutes to come back to himself, sharply inhaling through the teeth, shaking from effort. He wanted to lay down somewhere, he really did, uncaring of all this sweat running down his neck and back, down onto his hands. His knuckles turned pink with the strength of his grasp on the sink, with Kaeya holding the metal frame for dear life.
In the instant he finished washing his lips with cold water, all adrenaline seemed to leave him, with his legs completely giving up on holding him upright. Everything seemed to lose its color at the same time, along with him, instantly taking away his stability. His knees hit the tiles faster than he could try to save himself by catching the counter, only resulting in a cut palm.
He didn't manage to keep standing - his form noisily hitting the flooring, his hand leaving a messy blood trail all the way down.
"Ugh... Great."
Clenching his hand, Kaeya hangs his head low, begging for respite from this agony. He not only felt like shit, he will also have to clean this all up.
The voices tell him of toxic wine and sweet lies he tells on the daily, smiling all the while. They tell him to die quietly - like every drunken sinner should.
Without any other choice, he sits there, and listens.
"You deserve to be banned for the entire month, you drunken fools. Begone from the bar! We're closed!"
Diluc found no joy in yelling at his patrons, especially since most of them were far too deep into their drunken stupor to even hear him.
The man was already busy enough getting one lousy lout ripped off the sticky counter, which was covered in spilled wine dried over. The entire wooden top was tacky from the evaporated grape beverage, and frankly, Diluc's patience was running thin tonight. Some absolute geniuses decided to sleep on this sweet glue, but at this point, it wasn't the barman's concern if they all woke up with half of their face red.
"Get up, damn you..." - Diluc grumbled, allowing himself to curse just because of the unconscious patrons. In essence, he was really bothered with ripping these boozehounds away from the sticky counter when he could have been packing up already, either sleeping or patrolling the grounds. - "Up! Now! Get up, it's time for - all of you - to go home!"
Some people mumbled at the back, annoyed. Diluc practically hissed back at them, his cleaning rag sitting threateningly in his hand. - "I don't want to see you until at least the next Sunday... Out!"
Roughly opening the back door so that it flew completely agape, the redhead dragged out one man after another, sometimes two at once, depositing them outside. Some women that got drunk walked out on their own, but they didn't last long, collapsing right at the next corner behind the building.
Diluc sighed at the entire thing, tiredly pinching his brows.
It was routine at this point - Diluc leaving people outside of the bar to wake up and face reality during early morning. As he said, they're closed, and Angel's Share was never an inn for drunkards. The sunlight will be enough punishment, anyway.
Even Venti left hours ago, taking away all of the bar's music with him. Six-fingered Jose also retired early today - and at least the musicians had enough manners to sleep on somebody else's roof tonight. So why not everybody else?
Picking up one other drunkard, this one a bit fluffier than the rest, Diluc had to seriously strain against the weight. He barely dragged them out, finishing up huffing and puffing in effort.
One down, three more to go...
Eventually, after everyone was "out" of the tavern, Diluc could finally start cleaning up - something he actually enjoyed doing. Bringing his inherited establishment to be shiny and respectable brought him peace on some level, especially if Kaeya was around to see the results. The redhead wouldn't call the feeling nostalgic, by any means, but there was a certain proud streak he felt whenever the tavern was neat and silent.
Closing time is restricted to trusted family members, after all...
Diluc shook his head, reaching for his rags. Starting with that disgusting counter, he brought a wet tissue to hopefully tackle the task, doing a few confident strikes across. Usually, he cleaned only once a week during his shift - but cleaning up any sticky and smelly alcohol will never be any less of a hassle.
It was a bit like purging the criminal scum out of this world, Diluc mused after thoroughly soaking up the wood. Like all sins, being washed clean by rain soapy water.
Alcohol was simply too awful. The scent, the texture, the consistency, disgusting...
"--And the drunkards, too... Ugh..." Diluc murmured under his breath, washing off and twisting his moist rag. Next up, he had to get the mop for the floors, with most of the chairs already up on the tables to not hinder his sweeps.
...Now that he thinks about drunkards, someone quite familiar comes to mind. He was just about to mop his usual spot in the shady corner, too, in the exact place he liked to conduct his interrogations in. He stopped in thought for a second, before he continued mopping as usual.
"Did he actually quit drinking..? He was gone for just a few days, but, he wouldn't just..." Diluc thinks aloud, dipping the mop fabrics in the water bucket a bit too harshly. He doesn't think much of the spills, focused on something else entirely, however there is a worried frown slowly appearing on his face the more he mops.
" Archons, I can't believe this is actually happening... "
He shook his head, half dismissive, half disbelieving. It felt like he hasn't seen Kaeya in months, meanwhile he was gone for such a short time. He didn't look forward to their tavern meetings anyway - it was just odd to not see him. It was such a change to his usual schedule.
He would usually see his past confidant around the tavern at least, or at the store, or leading his patrol...
It was simply a bit odd. That's all it was.
"Hm..." - Finally finishing, the entire floor was shiny and free of spills. Diluc leaned against a wall, thinking back to his conversation with Jean this morning. Their deal.
He promised to keep the tavern locked from Kaeya for another two weeks or so, however he didn't actually expect the alcoholic to not break-in during the day. He has seen many desperate drunks begging for wine, always coming back, practically moving-in to live at his tavern's doorstep.
Diluc never allowed it for long, and most of the aggressive addicts eventually got arrested anyway.
Usually they will use any means necessary to get drunk, even theft or murder, which then leads to some serious action taken by the knights. Or Diluc's Pyro Vision. Or both.
Alcoholics get desperate, rain falls, and Diluc beats up the Fatuii. It's just a fact of life.
He didn't know exactly how far gone Kaeya must've been for Jean to intervene, but he imagines the Captain must feel pretty desperate for wine right now...
Wine. The only thing he probably wants. The only thing to not feel the withdrawal pains.
As a barman and as a wine-maker, he saw what it does to people one too many times. His patrons, Diona's father, Crepus - his own father... Their father. He wouldn't want this entire situation to get this bad, he wouldn't have let his sons go down such a dark path.
Diluc gathers up the glasses and mugs from the sink, putting them up to dry. His supplies were pretty much counted, but still, he had a lingering feeling of uncertainty at the back of his mind.
Crepus used to drink excessively. It was his very own tavern where he got to see his father truly fight with his addiction, rejecting alcohol. When Diluc and Kaeya were young, he tried his best to quit, but it was a long and painful fight.
He wasn't himself back then, throwing things around in rage and slurring his aggressive words. Locking himself up in his study, only for Diluc to knock and receive a tired sob in response. He once reached his small hands toward the lock, only to get his father to yell at him before vomiting, holding himself back to not accidentally strike his young son.
Diluc shuddered. The beginnings weren't the best, as much as it pains him to admit.
...Is Kaeya going through the exact same thing..?
"Oh, gods damn you for making me worried..." - The wine tycoon grumbled, locking up the bar. He shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching them hard when the old protectiveness within him decided to take over. He wanted to visit his erstwhile companion, his eccentric past-brother, an absolute alcoholic failure of a man.
" This is pathetic. He's an adult..! " Diluc scream-whispered, frowning. He angrily growled in the general direction of Kaeya's house, getting ready to waste another fifteen minutes checking up on him. Taking out a rolled-up paper scroll, he wrote a quick message to Adelinde to not wait for him tonight.
His eagle swiftly took it out of his hand, decision made before he had a chance to think it through once more.
For the general peace, he had to make sure that the Knights of Favonius didn't end up even more inefficient...