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Kaeya woke up.
His limbs were featherlight, and moved with the grace of a butterfly flitting through a cold summer night. His body was wrapped in silks the colour of milk, loosely hanging over him. The scars he had collected over the years, some like trophies, some like a memorial, were left untouched, decorating his body with their own secret to tell.
His skin no longer burned with the shame of not belonging, for there was no such thing as a sense of belonging for the dead.
There was no choosing between blood of the covenant and water of the womb. No choosing between a father that had been a dad and a father that had been a handler. No choosing between the demons that wept below and the angels that sung above.
He fluttered his eyes open, long lashes framing both eyes beautifully as the gentle breeze of Mondstadt combed through the veil that was his hair. For once in a very long time, both eyes, lilac and gold, scanned the familiar plaza of The City of Wine and Song.
When he opened his eyes, he fell in love. Not with the burly blacksmith that was not one for small talk. Not with the alchemist who stood his vigil at the crafting bench. Not with the owner of Good Hunter that kept forgetting his special requests of fruit in his mushroom skewers, no.
He fell in love with the way a certain blonde alchemist delicately polished his lucky coin and placed it on his now empty desk.
He fell in love with the way the Acting Grandmaster had mounted his sword onto the walls of the headquarters with trembling hands.
He fell in love with the way a nun with steel claws at her fingertips poured two glasses of his favourite liquor, though only ever drinking from one.
He fell in love with the way his brother would drum his fingers on the grey gem nestled in a gold frame with clipped wings, eyes lost and hollow.
He fell in love with the way the Spark Knight had tried to convince herself that Kaeya was still there to break her out of solitary confinement or to bring her fish-blasting, much like how she tried to convince people that the unicorns in her books were real.
The gentle breeze graced him, it almost felt like a hand was ruffling his hair as a gentle tune from a nation that fell 500 years ago was plucked on a lyre.
The earth was cool under his bare feet, greeting him with a gemstone or two hidden between the rocks here and there.
He felt the steady hum of lightning before it struck, dancing in the rain as thunder followed soon after.
The water he ran his hands through was cold and pure, able to clearly see the bottom of the small water body and the fish that called it home.
The foliage tickled his feet as he bent down to gently take a stunning red flower into his hands, bringing it to his nose and relishing in the sweet smell that wafted from it.
The fire that burned bright through the darkness of night kept him and the citizens who roamed the streets under the moon warm.
The fluffy snow on Dragonspine never seemed so docile, so harmless, sitting in his hands like it had not stolen countless lives that had wandered too deep into the mountain.
He watched as a young man stopped by his now empty apartment, leaving a calla lily and a bottle of wine at his doorstep before continuing on his way.
He watched as an adventurer with pink hair dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief as she read over a newspaper article announcing his death. He watched as a man with black hair lugged a bag of wet mora across the room before bringing the adventurer her medication.
His flowy garments flickered with the wind, hair tickling his skin as he watched a little boy scatter wheat onto the rippling surface of Cider Lake, making sure that every single duck was fed and full.
He paid his beloved mare a visit. She was a beautiful black bay with streaks of white on her forehead that coincidentally matched up with the little star in his own eye.
He saw the way her ears flicked up, hope in her eyes each time a knight passed by.
He saw her wilting and letting out a tearful whine when she did not see her owner’s face on that knight.
He saw the sadness in her eyes when she would pick up her brush in anticipation of being groomed, but was met with blank space when she turned around.
He saw the way she grunted with dejection when the hand that reached out bearing sugar cubes and apples were that of a knight she had never seen before and not the familiar half-gloved hands with stars on their backs.
He watched on as children ran through the mourning streets of Mondstadt, carrying little trinkets they thought the Cavalry Captain might have liked in their little hands.
He watched on as these children placed these trinkets down at his doorstep, thanking him for his service, though he was sure those were just words their parents had told them to utter.
His gaze washed over the towering walls of Mondstadt, holding strong as it has for over a millenia. He observed a little seedling in the cracks of the stone fighting for survival, stretching thinly out towards the glowering sun.
His fingers grazed over the polished wood of his coffin, the corpse of a sinner by blood resting in it.
He bent down, telling the man in the box about the Chief Alchemist and the Acting Grandmaster, his brother and his beloved mare. He told him about the intoxicatingly sweet smell of the flowers, and the cold of the rain against his skin.
He pleaded with the man in the box, to have fought harder for his life, to have tried to dodge the bullet that went right through his heart instead of standing there ready for and even pining after death.
He told the man in the box of the tears the Spark Knight shed, the lonely braying of his mare, and his brother who now bore broken windows to his soul.
A wish that he had harboured for a very long time, to have death carve itself into his very bones to escape the pain that had taken root so deep into his soul, he would not know who he was without it.
But now that his wish had finally been granted after many long, agonising years, he could not help but feel… empty.
Now that the burden of a curse running through his blood for centuries was lifted, the beauty of the world shone oh so brightly.
Yes, the world was ugly. Yes, evil still ravaged the lands of Tevyat. But so did love.
Love that a puppy had so much of for its owner, love that friends on the opposite ends of the world shared, love that held entire nations together.
Evil could cut as many stalks of flowers as it wanted, but it would never be able to stop spring from coming.
Looking up at the sky painted with pinks and oranges, Kaeya let out a shaky exhale as the wind gently caressed his face.
Though what has been done cannot be reversed, and it was far too late now to second guess himself, he thought it didn’t hurt to admit a small something to himself.
Living did not seem as scary as it once did anymore.