Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The knife in Kaeya’s hands is heavy. Its handle is wet and slippery from the sweat on his hands. His breath is loud in his ears; he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. His hands shake as he aims the knife, raising it high — high enough that it looks like the tip will strike true against the golden star mark on the man’s neck, despite said man, even hunched over with someone else’s body draped over half of him, being that much taller than Kaeya. 

He swallows. “How do you want to die?” 

The man with the Blue Eyes frowns, only slightly. “I do not want to die?” That’s not the answer.

That’s not the answer. The man with the blue eyes and a golden star and golden hair doesn’t know the answer. The man with the star ( the Star, the star that he sees every time he looks in the mirror, the star that connects them all ) on his neck doesn’t know the answer. HE DOESN’T KNOW THE ANSWER. 

why doesn’t he know the answer despite being so obviously connected?

“Kaeya?” Hearing that fear in Diluc’s voice doesn’t sound right. But Diluc doesn’t know what they’re dealing with right now. Diluc just wanted to go run around in the forest around Dawn Winery, having free time from their studies. Diluc didn’t expect to run into anyone, let alone them . 

“How do you want to die?!” Kaeya asks once more and his voice echoes through the trees. Birds scatter at his yells. 

The man — not the blue eyed one, but the one leaning on him, the one looking worse for wear, the one that looks like he’s on death’s door, the one with the eyepatch that Kaeya can just barely make out from underneath long dark hair — tilts his head and through blooded teeth says; “Underneath the stars.”

And that’s the answer .

And that’s the answer that makes Kaeya’s blood freeze. 

His eyes slide to Diluc, who stands there, unarmed, his face a mixture of confusion and fear. Diluc, who doesn’t understand what is happening. Diluc, who — just shy of thirteen — could be killed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Diluc, who — just shy of thirteen — is going to die because he knows Kaeya; because Kaeya and him are close and Kaeya wasn’t supposed to make any connections that wouldn’t lead to him succeeding in his mission — a childhood friend ( a brother, a brother, a brother ) was not one of those things.

Diluc is too young to die.

Kaeya’s feet drag through the mud and sticks and dying leaves as he heaves his body in front of his (“It’s only slightly! I’m probably only a few months younger!” Kaeya had once said, when Diluc had claimed he was the older brother, when Crepus had told Diluc that Kaeya had accepted being adopted into the family, when two became three and Kaeya felt like Dawn Winery — and he supposes Mondstadt as well — was finally home ) older brother. It feels as if his joints have been locked up as he shuffles in front of Diluc. 

Kaeya is scared. Diluc doesn't know what they're up against. Even with that Pyro vision of his, the two men in front of them probably have that much more power than them. They're two twelve year olds. What can two twelve year olds do against grown men? Even when one of them looks like he's on the brink of death?

The one with one foot in the grave mumbles something — Kaeya can see his bloodied mouth moving. Blue Eyes glances down at him before snapping back to Kaeya.

“We're not,” his eyes flicker to Diluc, and then to the man in his arms, and then back to Kaeya, “with them .”

“And how am I supposed to believe that?” Kaeya asks, voice loud in the quiet forest. It only shakes slightly. He's always been good at hiding his emotions from his voice, even if the shaking of his hands betrays him. “You know the words!”

“The words?” Diluc echoes behind him.

Blue Eyes mouths the same words Diluc said. His head shakes. “I cannot pass that off as a coincidence, as my partner here knows them, but I myself have no knowledge of what these words mean to the two of you. However, I can prove that what I say is true.” He manoeuvres the man in his arms slightly, freeing up one of his arms. He raises his palm to the sky. A flower as golden as he is blooms in his hand, it doesn't look like a normal flower — more like something that's carved to look like a flower. It crumbles into dust when Blue Eyes goes back to supporting his partner with both arms. “I crafted that using my Geo vision.”

And those words take Kaeya's breath away.

To say that, unphased, with that star on his neck, it's unthinkable. Kaeya can't think of anyone he used to know that would do that. They were more likely to curse the existence than to allow any help from them. 

There's one dangling from the hip of the dying man as well, in the same shape as Diluc's but Cryo instead of Pyro. It glows a soft light blue in his shadow. 

The knife loosens in Kaeya’s hands, blade slipping downward and nearly tumbling out of his fingers. He doesn’t allow it to do so, letting his arms fall instead. 

“Kaeya?” He flinches when Diluc’s hand lands on his shoulder, nearly jumping away (from both groups, thankfully, further into the woods and not onto the path). Diluc’s face is a mix of worry as his red eyes fill up with fear. “Do you know these people?” And Kaeya’s eyes flicker to Diluc’s own vision, resting on the side of his waist, painting his palm red. Diluc only just got it, he doesn’t know how to properly use it other than for setting things on fire on accident. If he were to use his Vision, it’s likely that the whole forest would be set ablaze. 

“No.” Blue Eyes answers for him. There’s a small shake of his head as he adjusts the man dying in his arms. “He doesn’t. It just so happens that I probably remind him of someone he does not wish to see.” And doesn’t that strike the nail on its head — and sound like a perfect excuse coming only from the man himself. It even makes Diluc narrow his eyes at him.

“I wasn’t asking you .” 

“He’s right,” Kaeya says softly. Diluc looks at him with wide eyes. “I don’t know them, either of them. They seemed like people…my birth father,” he falters on saying it like that because that man is no longer his father and Kaeya has not thought of him as such for so long, “would associate with.” Kaeya shakes his head. “But, they aren’t. He…he would never allow someone with a Vision to be in his presence.” 

Diluc’s hand hovers over his own Vision, painting his palm in a red glow. “Who are they then? Why do they know these… words of yours that scared you, Kaeya?” 

“We are…simply travellers.” The man with blue eyes explains, although even he seems unsure of that answer; nearly as if he had come up with it on the spot. “My partner…I must admit that he may have been a part of that group, long before I met him, but he is not anymore. I swear to you, Kaeya.” The blue-eyed man adjusts the way he holds onto the man in his arms. “Please, allow us somewhere to stay for the time being, until my partner is well enough to travel again.” 

“Kaeya? Diluc?” That’s their father’s voice, yelling out for them from the path. It must be getting late, if he has come out this way to find them. Just how long have they been in the forest, talking to these people? How long was Kaeya standing there, frightened beyond belief?

Crepus seems to know exactly where they are in the forest, for it’s not long before he peeks his head past the bush and to where they are. He doesn’t seem all that worried about his children until he sets eyes on the travellers. Crepus’ eyes narrow. 

“He’s injured,” Kaeya says first, before Crepus can open his mouth and ask who they are. Kaeya may not like his biological father (he left him, told him to spy and to not get attached, his own son who was barely old enough to comprehend what he was meant to do) but he still feels like he owns his people — even if these are not his people — something . “Can we help them?”

Crepus softens, shoulders slumping, as he peers over at the man with his injured companion. “Come along, we’ll see what we can do.” Because, if there’s anything Crepus is, is weak to his children. That is something Kaeya has learned, something he has now exploited; for something that wasn’t as innocent as wanting to stay up longer or play outside more. It makes Kaeya’s stomach do flips.

Crepus goes to assist the blue-eyed man, who hesitates before allowing Crepus to lift up one side of his companion. Crepus has to crouch to match the blue-eyed man’s height, and the injured man’s legs still drag on the ground, but the blue-eyed man seems reluctant to let Crepus do all the work. The way they have the injured man positioned gives Kaeya a better picture of him. 

The injured man looks worse, now that Kaeya can see him clearer. His skin is clearly not the shade it should be when he’s healthy, and his cheeks are a red that Kaeya has only seen when Diluc was ill. The one eye that Kaeya can see has a dark circle around it, the other is covered by an eye patch that Kaeya doesn’t know if it was there before the man was sick or not. He wears a captain’s pin on the label of his jacket — a Mondstadt captain’s pin. 

Kaeya has never seen this captain before. He would know if he had. 

Because this man looks oh so similar to the faint memories he has of his birth father. 

Chapter Text

The injured man has been tucked away in a guest bedroom, tended to as much as he can be for the time being. All there is now is to wait for him to get better. 

That is why, all together despite it being well past time they would be sent to bed, the four of them sit at the dining room table. The lanterns give off a dim light. It makes everything seem more ominous than they are; at least, that is what Kaeya thinks.

The blue-eyed man sits at the head of the table, where Crepus usually sits, with Crepus to the left of him. Kaeya sits closest to the blue-eyed man, on the right, while Diluc is seated as close to Kaeya as he can. Diluc even moved the chair over to be closer, even if they’re not technically supposed to do that.

The blue-eyed man has a bowl of soup in front of him, no longer steaming as it was when it was brought over. He has not yet touched it. Instead, his eyes keep wandering from Kaeya, to Diluc, to Crepus, and then back to Kaeya. Though, he seems to linger on Kaeya and Crepus the longest, almost as if giving Diluc only the barest of glances; just enough to fulfil some sort of quota he must have. The blue-eyed man doesn’t seem to fidget, barely even breathes — and Kaeya can’t help how strange that seems for his companion being upstairs terribly ill and injured. He seems too calm for someone whose friend is in that situation. 

“So,” Crepus starts, finally deciding to break the silence that sat between the four of them; the man’s eyes instantly flicker over to him, having been on Kaeya for far too long, “mind telling us your name, stranger?”

“Oh,” the man softly exclaims, as if he had just simply forgotten. “My name is Albedo, Chief Alchemist of- ah! Just Chief Alchemist.” 

“A chief alchemist? What’s that?” Diluc asks, sitting straighter in his chair. He’s interested in learning about whatever that means. Kaeya’s heard the word before, used to describe another — he can’t remember what the first word was, however. It’s been far too long — had he truly only heard the word alchemist back then?

“I create potions, substances, and the like out of other things in an attempt to better the world. I can create medicines, or figure out what happened to make a plant go extinct in a certain area but not in another,” Albedo explains. Kaeya can’t help but notice he glossed over the fact that Diluc asked what a chief alchemist does, not just a normal alchemist. Chief sounds like a position, not a job. 

“That’s so cool.” Diluc breathes the words out. 

“And your friend,” Crepus begins again, “what about him? What’s his name?” 

Albedo doesn’t answer for a moment. “Kae.” 

“Albedo and Kae, hm?” Crepus hums, leaning back in his seat. “What brings the two of you to Mondstadt? What made Kae so injured? If there’s something in the forest that did it we’ll need to tell the Knights of Favonius.”  

Kaeya understands now. Crepus may have allowed Albedo and Kae (and doesn’t that set off bells and whistles inside Kaeya’s mind, that that man’s name is so close to his own) into his house but he does not trust them. This is not just a friendly chat. This is an interrogation.

Albedo doesn’t seem frightened at the idea of the Knights knowing of him and Kae. He shakes his head in response. “It was nothing from the forest, no. Kae…he is sick. All that has happened to him, all those injuries he has, is from this illness he has. It is not contagious, do not worry. He has been around both myself, my little sister, Je- our boss and the librarian and none of us have gotten sick. I brought him here because it is home for him. I figured he would much rather be somewhere he considers safe whilst I figure out how to make medicine for him.” 

Crepus frowns. “Is this illness of his not known? It must not be, if it does not have a medicine for him to take.” 

“It is known to a select few.” Albedo does not meet Crepus’ eyes as he speaks — instead, he stares directly at Kaeya. “No one has been able to study someone for long enough to make a medicine for it. The sick have always passed along before any discoveries could be made.” 

And it occurs to Kaeya just what “illness” Albedo is talking about. That’s why Albedo is staring at him so intently — because they both know that Kaeya knows what it is. They both know just what will happen to Kae in due time.

Albedo just brought a walking bomb into the house.

Kaeya knows that a single hilichurl is easy to take out, especially one that is so disoriented that it’s basically a drunken man. Yes, a hilichurl loose in the winery would cause chaos, but it would be easily dealt with. It is the aftermath that would cause the bomb. The fact that, without knowing that the man is Khaenri’ahn, one would think that everyone could become a hilichurl thanks to a mysterious illness. 

And then the thought hits him.

From what he recalls, back when the history of Khaenri’ah was drilled into him, those that were born of nobility — and those that the Gods claimed were pureblooded Khaenri’ahns — were cursed with immortality. Those that weren’t were cursed to become hilichurls, and some lost themselves in the pain of doing so. There hasn’t been anyone who became a hilichurl in decades, centuries even, due to the fact that those that were immortal refused to procreate with anyone. Either due to the fact that they did not wish the curse — be it hilichurl or immortality — on anyone, or because they refused to interact with those not from Khaenri’ah. 

If Kae was a noble, Kaeya would have heard of him. And if Kae wasn’t, and had been born not too long ago according to his appearance, Kaeya still would have heard about him. Surely the first “half-blooded” Khaenri’ahn born after centuries would be big news, even if it was to condemn the child and their parents. 

Kaeya himself is the only known child born in the last century. Even if there were any more after him, surely they would be younger than him, not older. Once again, he would have known about them otherwise. 

So, who was Kae?

“Does that mean,” Diluc says slowly, a frown deeply etched into his face; Diluc was ever the sympathetic, “that he’s going to die soon?” 

Albedo seems to stiffen. “Not if I can help it.” He turns to Crepus, determination in his eyes. “Please, Sir Crepus, allow me to use your mansion to house Kaeya for the time being until I manage to come up with a cure.” 

And Kaeya does a double take. Because that was his name. That wasn’t Kae, it was Kaeya . Kae is very close to Kaeya, but there’s a whole syllable between the two names. And one would not mistake the name of their friend that they have known longer than the child with a similar name that they have just met. Kaeya’s not even sure that his name has been said out loud at this point.

Crepus does not answer in time.

A door slams open so hard that it shakes the chandelier above them. It jingles softly as everyone settles after being startled. Their eyes are all brought towards the door that had opened, the night sky able to be seen behind the man that stands there with an angry frown etched into his face.

“ This is where you ran off to?” He questions aloud. He storms past, clearly missing the way one of the maid’s attempts to stop him. Kaeya can’t help but notice the vibrant red hair that runs down the man’s shoulders and behind his back into what he believes is a loose ponytail. “Where is he?”

And it takes a moment for Kaeya to realise that the man is talking to Albedo — and it takes a moment for the man to ignore everyone else at the table, stomp right up to Albedo and push against the chair he sits in. Albedo does not answer right away.

“ Where is he? ” The man repeats, hissing through his teeth. 

Crepus pushes his chair away with a loud screech — Kaeya half wonders how he’s able to, since he has never been able to make the chairs make a sound. “ I would like to ask why you come barreling into my home like this, Sir.” 

And the man backs away as if burned. He nearly runs into Diluc as he does, who lets out a little oomph at the fact that the table slightly moves into them. The red haired man — whose hair reminds Kaeya of Diluc, sitting beside him with wide red eyes, and Crepus, whose eyes are narrowed at this stranger — stares up at Crepus with his own wide eyes. He doesn’t say any words, only reaching out for the table. His hands land on the table loudly, but not as if he had slapped it; almost as if he had fallen. With wet eyes, the man turns to face Albedo once more.

“What did you do, Albedo?” The man seems to shake, shoulders quivering. “Where are we?” 

“You are in the Dawn Winery, just outside of Mondstadt proper,” Crepus answers, despite the absurdity of the question; it has changed from he to we, Kaeya notes. “Now, perhaps you would mind answering my question. Who are you and what are you doing here?” 

Albedo clears his throat, standing up from his seat. “This man is another one of my associates,” he explains, reaching up to lay a hand on the man’s shoulder — the man shrugs it off. “I may have run off unexpectedly with Kae,” and Kaeya notices the way the red haired man mouths the name, “without telling anyone.” 

“You ran off?” Crepus repeats the words slowly — and it’s the same tone he uses when Kaeya’s caught in a fib. “Without telling anyone? And yet this man here knows just where you ran off to, despite being helped by someone in the area?” He shakes his head. “I would like to know the truth. Now, please. Before I throw you all out.” 

“Don’t use the delusion!” Comes out of the red haired man’s mouth fast. So fast that Kaeya barely catches the words. Kaeya isn’t even sure what a delusion is.

That doesn’t seem to help Crepus’ mood. “How would you know about that? Are you Fatui?” 

The red haired man’s face crumbles up in disgust. “Never,” he spits out.

“Then who are you?” 

They both remain silent, staring at each other for a moment.

Kaeya is also silent in this conversation. He’s barely spoken a word. But he’s been listening.

Clearly Kae, at the very least, is Khaenri’ahn. It’s the curse that’s getting to him more than likely, and he’s slowly dying upstairs as far as anyone truly is aware; even those that know the extent of the curse. Albedo, despite having that damned mark on his neck, does not seem to understand that there is no cure for the curse so Kaeya does not believe he is of Khaenri’ahn descent. Or, if he is and does know that there is no cure, he does not seem to care and wants to find one anyway. The red haired man is the most confusing to Kaeya. That and the fact that Albedo had accidentally called Kae by Kaeya’s name whilst talking.

A flicker of a red glow catches in the edge of Kaeya’s vision. And it’s just that, a vision. Bright red and pyro, a Mondstadt casing covering it just like Kae’s — and one would believe Albedo’s as well. It hangs from the edge of the red haired man’s waist, just like Diluc’s does.

And, isn’t it silly, that it’s just that simple fact, that Kaeya pieces together the truth. Just that one simple thing that helps add up everything no matter how illogical it seems. But it can only be that. Kaeya can’t think of any other option there could be. Even if it seems as though he is now living a fictional novel.

But that would mean-

No wonder he never heard of-

“Oh,” he exclaims softly. That catches the attention of everyone. And it makes Kaeya uncomfortable, with that many eyes on him, waiting for what else he has to say. He realises he has to say more now, he can’t just keep this all to himself. But that would mean- 

“Kaeya?” Crepus asks, his voice softer with his adoptive son (and that’s what Kaeya is, that’s who he is to this man; and this man is Kaeya’s adoptive father, his true father he would argue — he would not betray this man for the world, nor for the boy he has come to consider a brother). “Is everything alright?” 

“It’s,” and the words fall like sandpaper from his lips, rough and hard and scrapping everything they come by as they fall through, “the curse, isn’t it?”

“The curse?” Diluc — his older brother beside him, sitting in the chair just as he is — repeats. “What curse?” And Kaeya pretends that he doesn’t hear an echo from the taller man.

“Yes, what curse, Kaeya?” Crepus also asks.

“The curse,” Kaeya continues, as he watches the way Albedo’s and the Red-Haired Man’s (because it’s easier to call him that) eyes watch his every move — but not in a bad way, more in a curious way, “that slowly turns a Khaenri’ahn into a hilichurl. So painful that they never remember who they are by the end of it, they very much may be dead to everyone who once knew them.” And, to his surprise, everyone seems surprised at that.

The red haired man seems to fall. His knees wobble, and he must hold onto the table once more to stop himself from falling — and that’s what had happened before, when his eyes had landed on Crepus for the first time, he had nearly fallen and had held onto the table for support. 

“Khaenri’ahn curse?” Diluc, ever the curious echo, repeats. “What’s Khaenri’ahn?”

Crepus clears his throat, drawing attention from Kaeya onto himself. Kaeya appreciates it, even if it is only for a brief moment before he knows that it will land back on him. “It is a group of people long gone, Diluc. I am surprised Kaeya even knows about it, let alone this curse that they seem to have.” And isn’t that surprising, that Crepus knows about Khaenri’ah. Kaeya hadn’t expected that. Crepus hums. “Although, that fits some pieces of the puzzle together.” That seems to be more to himself than anything, as he strokes his chin like he does when he talks to himself. 

“Kaeya?” Diluc turns to his brother. 

And all eyes fall onto him once more. Two sets of red, a set of blue, and a set of brown. Kaeya has to laugh to himself because wouldn’t it be funny if there were also his own eyes staring back at him.

“I know about it,” he mutters to himself, not having the courage to speak up louder — with how quiet it is, it is not hard to hear him however, “because I am Khaenri’ahn.” 

And he waits for the explosion. What he had thought would happen the moment he opened his mouth about this subject. He would be cast out, or sent to the Knights and put in jail or worse. Kaeya would be alone once more. There would be screaming about traitors and betrayals, there would be injuries and pain. This is what he had been told would ever happen; this is what he has thought for all of these years.

The only thing that happens is silence. 

“Does that mean,” Diluc starts, and Kaeya notices that the red haired man stiffens, forming a fist and moving towards Diluc and Kaeya, “that…that you will get this curse, eventually? If it’s the Khaenri’ahn’s Curse, and you’re Khaenri’ahn,” Diluc drags off. “Does that mean you're going to die, Kaeya?”

And Kaeya is left speechless. Both because he had not been expecting that answer, and because he hadn’t thought of that despite Kae being upstairs- despite Kae being-

“Diluc,” Kaeya starts, not glancing at anyone and instead staring at the table; let this be his answer, “how old are you?”

Diluc, beside him, is clearly confused. “Kaeya? You know how old I am.”

Kaeya shakes his head. “Not you,” he says, peeling his head away from the table to look up at the red haired man. “Him. This Diluc.”

“Ever the smart one,” Albedo laughs gently with the shake of his head.

But then the sombre mood sets in. Because so many things have been revealed just now. One of them being Kaeya’s untimely death, just sitting upstairs in that spare bedroom. 

It takes a moment, but, eventually, the taller Diluc — the older one, the one Kaeya keeps referring to as Red Haired Man but he feels like Luc might be a better fit now that he thinks about it — lets out a sound that sounds halfway to a sigh but not quite. It's shaky and a little watery, as if water is caught in his lungs. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Are you saying,” Crepus starts, sounding just in disbelief as he was before, “that these two have time travelled?” 

“Do you have any cousins?” Kaeya asks. “Because I can’t think of any other way that this man has such red hair. It was the pyro vision that gave it away though.” He pauses for a moment. “And there’s three of them, remember? Kae’s upstairs. That’s another reason I figured it out, Albedo called him Kaeya earlier.” 

“Why don’t you sound more bothered?” Diluc, beside him, asks. He sounds almost angry at the fact. “You just learned that you’re going to die, Kaeya!” 

“I think it’s because I’m still freaking out about the fact that I told everyone I was from Khaenri’ah.” Kaeya laughs, and it doesn’t sound normal. It sounds like he’s holding back, but it’s not his laughter that he’s holding back. It’s tears and he doesn’t know why he’s holding them back. He doesn’t know why. “I thought, ha, that I would mess it up, and everyone would- no one would want,” and the dams break and he can feel the tears fall down his cheeks, hot against his cool skin. “I thought that once I came out that everyone would hate me! That you would all think that I betrayed you! That was why I was sent here after all! But that’s why I was so afraid when we ran into them in the forest! I thought that they had come to take over and I wasn’t ready but not because I was going to betray you guys but because I wasn’t able to help protect you guys because I didn’t want to betray you guys because you guys are- are-,” and Kaeya brings in deep breaths, all the oxygen escaping his lungs nearly as fast as he can refill them. 

Chairs scrape against the floor, and Kaeya himself is yanked back. Warm arms wrap around him, and he’s pulled from the chair onto the ground. The warmth engulfs him, burying him. His hands reach up and they wrap around, pushing his head into the chest of whoever has him — from how far his arms wrap around it is Crepus who holds him tight, not letting go even to allow him to move. It grounds him, lets him know that he’s safe. Crepus would do this when he had nightmares, of where he was before; before then, he had never been held like he is now. And then another, smaller pair of hands wraps around Kaeya. He lets himself breathe. Because he’s safe.

“I didn’t,” Kaeya tries again, the words watery and slow and full of so many hiccups that it’s surprising that they’re even understandable, “want to betray you because you guys are my father, and my brother, and I love you.” He nuzzles as hard as he can, burying himself in their embrace. Even if it’s a bit awkward with Diluc reaching over, trying his hardest to wrap himself around both Crepus and Kaeya. “I thought,” he stops to hiccup, “that if I told anyone I…I would die, that I would be killed.” 

Kaeya peeks his eyes open for just a second, needing to blink away stray tears that refuse to fall. Out of the small gap between Crepus’ and Diluc’s arm, he can spot Luc, fallen to the ground, eyes wide and full of tears himself. And it makes Kaeya wonder if his older self ever told Diluc anything about himself. Did Diluc know that he was from Khaenri’ah? Did Diluc know about the history of how so many people fell victim to a curse and that Kaeya himself might very well be susceptible to it? Or is he just hearing this all now, from his brother’s younger self while his brother is on his deathbed? 

And so, with a shaky hand that tries its best to reach through Crepus and Diluc, Kaeya waves over Luc. He may not be able to hug his brother right now, but, perhaps, his brother’s younger self will do for now. Luc doesn’t move. 

So, Kaeya pries himself away from the warmth and waddles over. It's awkward, standing taller than the man who stares up to him with fat tears in his eyes that refuse to fall, yet Kaeya still pulls Luc’s hands apart from where they lay in his lap. Kaeya kneels gently, barely stepping on Luc’s own legs, as he wraps his arms around Luc’s middle, under his arms in case he wishes to hug back. And for a moment, it doesn’t seem as if he is going to.

Then Kaeya is being squeezed so tightly he feels as though he will die from lack of oxygen at any moment. Fingers dig into the clothes on his back so hard, he can almost feel the skin of Luc’s fingertips, ripping through the fabric. Luc buries his head in between the crook of Kaeya’s shoulder, staining that area with the tears that now fall as Luc gasps for breath. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Luc repeats over and over again, clutching onto Kaeya like a lifeline. 

It hurts only slightly, to be crushed as he is now. Yet Kaeya still finds it in him to reach up as far as he can, tangling his fingers in Luc's hair — just like Diluc likes. Luc's grip softens but is still tight.

“I don’t know what it is,” Kaeya whispers, and he doesn't know if he succeeds or not in only allowing Diluc to hear, “but I forgive you. And you should tell my older self that.” Kaeya leaves out the fact that Luc should do so before he dies.

“You shouldn't.” Luc's voice is muffled, head tucked so hard into Kaeya's shoulder, but Kaeya can still hear some anger in it. Luc's head shakes, and with Kaeya's fingers in his hair his ponytail comes undone, spreading his red hair across his back. 

Kaeya shakes his head. “You're my brother,” he says, “of course I’ll forgive you.” 

That doesn’t seem to be the right thing to say, for Luc says nothing more, only clutching onto Kaeya as if he were to disappear if let go.

Chapter Text

Albedo is surprised that the Ragnvindr family believed their situation so easily. Truly, believing that someone has time travelled (or travelled through universes, whichever one has happened, Albedo is unsure at the moment) is such an out there explanation. If Albedo had not been the one to time travel, he is not sure he would believe it himself. It is handy, however, that it seems his time’s Diluc has followed through the domain’s entrance and ended up in the same time. Albedo is not sure how he would have explained the situation if Diluc had not been here — Albedo is not aware of all of the events that happened whilst Kaeya was a child, only the ones he has told him. That would not have been enough for anyone to believe the truth.

Yet here he is. In the past, with Master Crepus believing the story and allowing the future version of his son to rest in his childhood home whilst Albedo attempts to craft a cure.

Master Crepus seems keen on watching Albedo, as he crafts this cure however. For as long as Albedo stays in Kaeya’s room, Master Crepus sits in a chair out in the corner; far enough away not to bother Albedo’s experiments but close enough to keep an eye on both him and the sleeping Kaeya. Since being given the opportunity to use the room after everyone had calmed down from learning, and the younger versions of Albedo’s companions had been sent to bed (the older Diluc excusing himself elsewhere, to a place that Albedo is not privy of), Albedo has not left Kaeya’s room — neither has Crepus, despite the bags under his eyes that consistently grow. 

“How long,” Crepus begins, speaking up for the first time in hours, “has Kaeya been like this?” The words sound tough on his throat, as if they’re grating at his vocal cords.

“Too long,” is Albedo’s first answer, as he adds something to the beaker he has been given — how handy, that the Dawn Winery just so happened to have all the necessary tools, Albedo bringing all he needed besides that. “Approximately two weeks. I had been stalling it for as long as I could, in our time. From what he has told me when this first came about, normally the curse would transform the recipient within days, if not a week. With how far it has progressed, I did not believe I could stall it for very much longer. Perhaps being in the past will stop the transformation, since the gods that have cursed him do not have eyes on him any longer.” That was his reasoning. That was why he had taken the gamble and snuck away with Kaeya in the middle of the night upon learning that the Adventurer’s Guild had found a domain that transported one into the past. Normally Albedo thinks things through before doing something so reckless, or at the very least thinks of ways things could go wrong. He hadn’t even left a note for Klee.

Crepus hums. “Indeed, too long.” There’s a stint of silence. “Diluc followed without you being aware, did he not?”

“Yes.” There’s a puff of smoke, a reaction that Albedo had been looking for. Nothing has gone wrong so far with this version of the cure. He just has to hope that this will be the last version of the cure. 

“Do you believe he would have told me where he was going? Surely despite my sons being adults I would still worry for them, especially as Kaeya has been sick for weeks as you have said.” 

Albedo pauses the tube of liquid he was about to pour on his concoction. He was aware Master Crepus was no longer among the living in the present, but he had never imagined that he would have to be the one to tell him of his fate. That Albedo, for all he has known Kaeya, has never met Master Crepus — he had been dead for roughly a year before Albedo stepped foot as Alice’s nephew. How does one inform someone of their untimely fate? Albedo is sure he will do it wrong no matter the answer. He cannot tell him to go ask Diluc about it — both for the reason that neither of them know where Diluc is and the fact that Albedo does not wish to make Diluc relive his father’s death.

“In the years I have known Kaeya,” Albedo begins, deciding to ease him into somewhat slowly; perhaps let the man come to the conclusion himself instead of outright telling him that he’s dead, “I have never met you. He speaks of you greatly. He’s told me, how he wishes he would have been able to tell you his origins, of how he wishes he knew how you would have reacted.” 

“But he wasn’t able to,” Crepus says with shaky breaths. It is not a question but a statement. “I’m not just away on a business trip, am I? I’ve died between then and now.” 

Albedo pulls away from the table, his current concoction complete; it had already been somewhat complete when he had taken Kaeya and left for the past, but he felt as though he did not have enough time to finish it in the present. “Yes,” he says grimly, frowning. “I do not know the specifics of it, but you have been dead longer than I have been in Mondstadt.” 

“I see.” There’s a beat, as Albedo moves from the desk in the corner to the bed where Kaeya lays. “Is that the cure?” 

Albedo stares at the strange fluid inside the glass that he has made — made from everything that had stalled the curse in the first place and more. “I dearly hope so, Master Crepus.” 

The concoction is thick, too thick to drip down Kaeya’s throat without him being awake for it. Albedo deeply wishes that he did not need to but he is going to have to wake Kaeya for him to be able to take it. Recently Kaeya had been in and out of consciousness so often that he was unaware of where he was, and what had been true or not — unable to distinguish dream from reality and reality from dream. Albedo hated seeing him like this. He did not want to make Master Crepus see him like this.

“I’m going to have to wake him for him to take it,” Albedo announces, turning to Crepus who still sits in that chair in the corner. “It may not be a nice interaction.” 

Master Crepus only nods. “I will help if needed. He is my son, after all. I may not be there for him in the future, but I can be here for him now.” 

Albedo gives a stiff nod himself and gets to work in waking Kaeya the way he has before — the way that has worked before. With Kaeya being a cryo user, he has always run cold, and the curse makes him feel even that much colder — the fever he near constantly has being the culprit. So, Albedo puts the glass down for the time being, and pushes Kaeya up into a sitting position slowly. He doesn’t wake from this action. There is no way for Albedo to leave him sitting up and still remove his shirt, not with the way he currently is, but he has found a way around that since the first time he had attempted to wake Kaeya this way. Holding him up the best he can, Albedo climbs into the bed, situating himself behind Kaeya. Slowly, he wraps his arms around to Kaeya’s front, and messes with the buttons of his jacket. 

“He’ll wake up,” Albedo explains as he peels off Kaeya’s jacket, the only thing stopping his bare skin from fresh air. There’s a sheen to it from sweat — his fever has started again no doubt, especially with the way he’s burning up in Albedo’s arms, feeling as though he might just melt from it, “to complain about how cold he is. Even if it’s just slightly, it’ll be enough to get him to drink what I’ve made.” 

Kaeya sinks in his arms, trying to seek out heat. “‘Bedo.” His voice is weak, more breath than whisper. Albedo cannot give any heat to him, he does not give off any himself. Yet Kaeya still desperately attempts to gain some from him. “Cold.” 

Albedo reaches behind him for the concoction, leaning back until his back hits the edge of the bed. He still can’t reach, his arms too short for how far away the side table is from where he sits on the bed. Master Crepus is staring — and it’s because of the scars that mark Kaeya’s body, Albedo realises, because he clearly does not have them at this time. Preferably, now that Kaeya’s secret is out — and Albedo is proud of him for doing so, at this age, when he knows telling anybody is scary enough as it is as an adult let alone as a child — these scars will never happen.

Albedo clears his throat. “Do you mind grabbing that for me, Master Crepus?” 

Master Crepus jolts but does so without a word. 

Albedo tilts the glass up to Kaeya’s lips, stained red from blood that has long since been wiped away but still leaves a shadow. Kaeya’s eye opens ever so slightly, enough that Albedo can see the star-shaped pupil and the blue colouring that he oh so desperately yearns for each and every day. A shaky hand sneaks out from under the blanket, and Kaeya’s burning hand covers up Albedo’s on the glass. Albedo can tell by the way Kaeya scrunches up his face that the concoction doesn’t taste nice, but Kaeya drinks it without a fuss. He has long since gotten past the taste, with how often Albedo was creating these, adding ingredients together to make it work better each and every time. 

Albedo hands the glass back to Master Crepus once it's empty. It lands back on the bed side table with a soft clink. Albedo doesn’t move from where he sits behind Kaeya, staring down at the man in his arms. 

“Mister Albedo,” Crepus starts, directing Albedo’s attention to him — and doesn’t that feel strange, being called Mister Albedo, “may I ask what you are to my son?” 

Albedo’s fingers link together with Kaeya’s, worming their hands underneath the blanket and pulling it up so it rests just below Kaeya’s chin. “Truthfully, I do not know the exact words for it. I care for Kaeya greatly. More often than not I am with him in some capacity. He helps me to take care of my younger sister. We are coworkers.” Albedo lists out, thinking of words to describe whatever relationship this is between him and Kaeya. “I cannot imagine my life without him in it.” 

“Does he feel the same?” 

Albedo is left to think of past moments he’s shared with Kaeya and no one else. The shy smiles they would share when it was but only the two of them. The soft kisses that Kaeya would lay upon him whenever he got a moment to. Kaeya traded the Angel’s Share for Albedo’s house — only going back to the tavern when he wished to see Diluc and with Albedo in tow. Kaeya, who had seemed more interested in helping Klee create mischief at first but then slowly seemed to warm up to Albedo until he was trying every excuse in the book to bother him. Kaeya, who he shared hair braiding sessions with since Klee had decided that she wanted to play hairdresser for the evening. Kaeya, who had broke down to him about his origins, claiming that Albedo should out him and get him gone and that clearly he wasn’t a good spy because he had taken too much of a liking to one of his targets; no matter the fact that Kaeya had been placed in Mondstadt as a child and Albedo had only appeared well into his adulthood. Kaeya, who — whilst staring up at the night sky, up at the stars that make their constellations — claimed to have fallen in love with Albedo.

And is that what their relationship is? One of love? Albedo has no other things to compare it to — but he feels as though he does not need any. The word feels right enough for him.

“I believe so,” Albedo answers. Because, despite all of that, he will never speak for Kaeya. Kaeya is as much his own person as Albedo is, and Kaeya can speak for himself when he wakes up. 

“You have done the impossible,” Master Crepus begins, “and travelled through time in order to attempt to save him from this curse. You may not need it, for it’s an even older fashion than I am, but I believe that it very well allows you to have my blessing. You are good for him, Albedo.” 

Albedo frowns at the words, not quite understanding what they mean. “Thank you?” He says, just to be polite. He does not voice his confusion. Now is not the time for it; now is the time for making sure Kaeya survives this curse.

Master Crepus pats him on the shoulder. “I should take my leave now. Be sure to get some rest, Albedo.” 

“Thank you,” Albedo says more confidently this time, “but I do not need rest.” 

Crepus gives him an interesting look before leaving through the door.

Chapter Text

Kaeya cannot sleep. That much is normal for him. For too long nightmares of the time before he came to Mondstadt plagued his mind, so much to the point that Kaeya had found himself waking up before he could fall deep enough asleep for him to have dreams. Right now may not be one of those times, but Kaeya feels as though the anxiety that is still coursing through him counts all the same. 

Everything may have panned out well in the end but Kaeya still does not have all the answers that his brain is providing nightmarish scenarios for. There is no way for them to go away unless Kaeya proceeds to ask the right questions to the right people. His mind is hazy, his emotions too wild, for him to truly remember word by word what he said when he came out to his family, but he knows that they know that he’s from Khaenri’ah now. He knows that there were tears. He knows that Luc cried as well. Kaeya doesn’t remember how he escaped from Luc’s grasp, only that he did eventually, and ended up in his room, in his bed. 

Diluc must be in his room as well. Kaeya wonders if he’s as awake as Kaeya is now. 

There is only one way to truly check.

Sliding out of his bed without a sound takes no effort at all, having done it many times before. He’s snuck into Diluc’s room many times before, be it because he couldn’t sleep or for other reasons (Kaeya and Diluc would try to stay up all night on their birthdays, they would try to stay up all night on their father’s birthday, they would try to stay up all night just for fun). It was usually only Kaeya sneaking out because they learned early on that Diluc could not sneak for the life of him. 

Kaeya has long since learned how to open his door silently and close it just as quietly. He knows where to step not to creak any floorboards, and where all of the furniture is even in the dark so he doesn’t bump into it. It’s not far from his room to Diluc’s, only a few doors away; their father’s and a restroom sit in between the two of them. 

Which is why Kaeya is both surprised and not when he runs into his father in the hallway — the lanterns are still lit, he realises, indicating that not everyone had gone to bed just yet. 

“Kaeya?” Crepus tilts his head slightly as he walks up to him — Kaeya has frozen in place. “What are you still doing up?” 

Kaeya refuses to meet his eyes. This is the first time he has been caught sneaking around at night, and, of course, it happens the same night that he tells everyone his deep dark secret. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles even though he knows he’s not supposed to. 

Crepus hums. “And were you on your way to Diluc’s room, or the room Albedo is in?” 

Kaeya has to think for a moment, strictly because he hadn’t even thought of going into the room Albedo and Kae are in. “Diluc’s,” he answers. “I don’t think- I don’t want to see Kae.” Because that’s him. That’s his future self, and he doesn’t know what he would do if he saw himself dying in that bed. His future lies in front of him and he does not wish to see, let him bask in his childhood for just a moment longer. 

Crepus holds out his hand. “Come along then, we’ll head to my room. I just checked in on Diluc, he’s out like a light, and you know your brother. Once he’s asleep, there’s no waking him unless someone’s in danger.” Crepus lets out a soft laugh. “And even then it’s nearly impossible.” 

Kaeya stares at Crepus’ outstretched hand for a moment, before softly placing his into it. “Okay.” 

It’s not like Kaeya is going to go to bed any time soon.

Crepus leads the way into his dimly lit room, only a few candles are still lit. The king sized bed is made and lies in the middle of the room — and Kaeya can’t help but feel as though it is far too big for Crepus by himself, and he has always thought so. Crepus helps Kaeya onto the bed, allowing him to get comfortable before joining him on the other side.

“Now,” Crepus starts, sitting cross legged across from Kaeya who does the same, “how about you tell your father just what’s keeping you up tonight?” 

And isn’t that the answer right there. “That.” Kaeya says without thinking too much.

Kaeya hates the frown that saying that puts on Crepus’ face. “I…apologise, Kaeya.” 

“No!” Kaeya exclaims quickly with the shake of his head. Crepus has misunderstood what he said, he needs to fix this. “I want you to be my father. I'm just- I figured you wouldn't want me to be your son after you learned the truth.”

“Oh, Kaeya.” Crepus holds his arms out , unfolding his legs ever so slightly. Kaeya takes it for what it means to be, Crepus offering himself up for a hug. He crawls into Crepus’ lap like he used to when he was younger; he hasn’t done this for years by now. Kaeya doesn’t fit as well into Crepus’ lap as he used to — he can’t cross his legs as well, so he spreads them out in front of him, knees slightly bent. Crepus’ arms wrap around him, and he leans down to rest his head on Kaeya’s shoulder, just like they would do when he was younger and had had a nightmare; one of the ones that Crepus knew about. “I chose you, all those years ago, not caring where you were from. You’re a child, Kaeya, a child that was — apparently — given a task that shouldn’t even be given to an adult. Infiltrating a family and not wanting to become a part of it. I could never imagine trying not to get attached. You said it yourself, earlier, that you were scared that you wouldn’t be able to protect us from those that sent you here. I think,” and Crepus squeezes tighter around Kaeya, “that that proves that you still want to be a part of this family. So, for as long as you wish to be, you will.”

Kaeya shifts around, and it’s a mess of elbows and knees and a grunt of pain here and there, to face Crepus — to look the man in the eyes. He buries himself in Crepus’ chest, holding onto his shirt tightly. “I don’t want to leave,” he whispers, and he can feel the tears begin to leave marks on Crepus’ shirt. “I-I want to be with you guys forever.” 

Crepus fingers tangle themselves in Kaeya’s hair as he presses a soft kiss to the crown of his head. “Then you will be.” 

Kaeya brings in a shaky breath. “They wanted me to get into Mondstadt, be well known and liked enough that no one would doubt me,” he explains — because he might as well just let all of his secrets go. There is no point in keeping them hidden anymore. He doesn’t want to do it anyway, it would be best to warn of what would have happened had he. “Let them in secretly, keep them hidden until they were ready to strike. Then, they would take Mondstadt for themselves.” Kaeya may be missing some details, it has been ages since he has been told the plan other than it just living inside of his head. He can’t remember all of what they wanted to do — nor does he wish to — but he does remember one thing. “I was young when I left, and they knew that a child’s memory of faces isn’t the best. So we had a code for when they came so I would know it was them. One of us would ask how the other would like to die,” and Crepus takes an intake of breath at that; Kaeya doesn’t understand why, “and the answer was underneath the stars.”

“Why-why are the stars so significant?” Crepus asks, pulling Kaeya in closer. Kaeya can tell — because he was taught to see, he was taught to be able to tell — that Crepus is holding something back. Kaeya, however, is unable to tell what.

“They,” and Kaeya notes that he says they not we when explaining — he notes that he does not put himself in that group any longer, and he is left to wonder just exactly when that happened, “live mostly underground, in Sumeru. I think. I remember not seeing the night sky very often, but it was very bright.” He shakes his head, he barely remembers back then and it was bright when he woke up in Mondstadt as well, so perhaps it was just his eyes needing to adjust to light and not anything else. “There’s a saying,” he begins, “that the sky is a lie. That beyond it is another world, better than this one, and that through the stars we’re able to see glimmers of it. That if we die underneath the stars we’ll be brought there in death. Most Khaenri’ahns can’t die, so it’s a dream that will never come true. But we can wish.” 

“Kaeya,” Crepus begins, his voice soft, “do you…often think of death? Do you often wish for it?” 

Kaeya shakes his head. “I don’t wish for it. It’s just…a thing that I always knew would happen eventually. I…I never thought I would live to be very old. I figured someone would figure out why I was here sooner or later and kill me for it, or the curse would get to me. I guess- I guess I learned how long-”

“No,” Crepus says sharply, cutting Kaeya off. “Mister Albedo is going to figure out a cure, and he’s going to cure that older version of you. With that, we’ll know how to help you when it comes and get rid of it faster, or maybe make it so it never comes for you at all. You will not die from that curse, Kaeya. I will see to it that you live a long and happy life.” 

Kaeya frowns — but at the same time, he feels happy for what Crepus has just said. “It sounds like…like you don’t live very long. That older Diluc said something about a delusion? What is that?”

Crepus lets out a shaky laugh. “You truly are too smart for your age.” He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll deal with it in the morning.”

“Okay,” Kaeya says, his voice soft as he tucks his head into Crepus’ chest. “Okay.” Kaeya breathes out. His voice is shaky from tears that still continue to fall, albeit silently now, and he says — and he’s never said this before but heard it many times from Diluc — something that makes Crepus freeze. “I love you.” 

It occurs to Kaeya that he’s never said it properly, just to Crepus before. 

Crepus doesn’t hesitate. “I love you too, Kaeya.”

And they sit there, on the bed; not quite in silence, for Kaeya can’t help but sniff every so often. He believes that this is the most he’s cried in years. There was no crying in front of his biological father, not unless one wanted to be yelled at. When he got to the Ragnvindr’s, he found himself hiding what he truly was feeling — that’s what a good spy would do. It’s only in recent years that he’s really allowed himself to express his emotions; and they all seemed to come out today.

That’s why Kaeya falls asleep in Crepus’ laps, feeling safe with his father’s arms. His dreams contain no nightmares that night.

Chapter Text

The front door of the Dawn Winery had never been intimidating to Diluc before. Why would it be, for as long as he has been alive it has been his home. It may be true that, for a period of time, Diluc did not wish to return back to the Winery, but not once did he ever not consider it home. Yet, here he stands, scared to even walk into his own home. He supposes that it is not truly his home at the moment. His name is not yet on the deed. Diluc Ragnvindr was still just a boy whose father was alive at this time. 

Somehow, because of that damned domain Albedo had stolen Kaeya through, Diluc had ended up in the past. And isn’t that surreal. 

Honestly, Diluc’s life after the Traveller entered it had been extremely surreal. Yet, he feels, finding himself in the past is what takes the cake. Everything else can be explained, somehow; especially since it all seems to be connected to Barbatos — his damned bard, Venti. Diluc half wonders what Venti would think of all this. 

And so, Diluc sits there, just right outside the door — not entering — thinking about how Venti would act in this situation. It’s always a toss up whether the bard will take this seriously or make a joke out of them. Sometimes it will even be both. Especially if Venti decides to deflect something and pretend it’s a lot less of a big deal than it actually is. 

Diluc half wonders if, after learning he followed Albedo through the domain, if Venti would also wander in through the domain after them. 

“What are you doing?” A voice asks, and it’s not one that Diluc ever remembers hearing as a child — so clearly it’s not his father’s, Kaeya’s, or one of the maids. Diluc has to look down to see who is speaking, although, not by much. And then it occurs to him that the whole reason he doesn’t seem to realise who’s talking is because it’s him who is talking. His younger self, that is. 

His younger self stands in the doorway, the front door pulled wide open. He’s got shorts on, a thin jacket thrown over his shoulders. Right, when Diluc was not busy with anything, he and Kaeya would go out to explore the forest — to an extent, they only ever went so far but pretended that it was a new area each time. His younger self must be running out to do just that. Although, where is the younger version of Kaeya trailing behind him?

“Have you seen Kaeya?” Young Diluc peeks his head around the corner of the doorways — seemingly having forgotten about his last question as Diluc hadn’t answered it just yet. “I went to check his rooms but he wasn’t there. I figured he might already be outside.” There’s a look that Young Diluc sends into the house, a sad one that Diluc realises that he has not seen on his own face in years. “I don’t think he would want to be in the house any longer than he would have to. I couldn’t imagine staying in the same house your older self is…dying…in.” Young Diluc seems to realise his mistake — that’s he’s talking about Diluc’s Kaeya, lying in a bed in a spare room, a curse slowly killing him as Diluc has now learned. “Sorry!” Young Diluc says quickly. Diluc can’t remember himself ever acting like he is now — perhaps it is just the passing of time that makes it so.

Diluc can’t find it in him to be mad at his younger self — for he is having the exact same thoughts. He…he is not quite sure where he stands with Kaeya as it is now, but knowing that he is upstairs slowly withering away hurts. So, Diluc only shakes his head. “No need.” His words are soft. 

This, however, makes Young Diluc frown. “Aren’t you worried? That’s Kaeya. He’s our brother.” 

And Diluc freezes. Because how is he supposed to explain that yes, he does care, but he and Kaeya are no longer on speaking terms — or on such a thin one that one wrong step and they will go back to how they were before. The before, when Diluc had cast Kaeya out because he had revealed to Diluc exactly what Young Kaeya did last night — he had done the exact opposite of what Young Diluc and their father had done. Back then, with their father’s death still clouding his mind — and the fact that the Fatui had given Crepus the very tool that got him to the point where it was better for everyone involved if he were put out of his misery — hearing that Kaeya had been sent as a spy had sent Diluc into a blind rage. It hadn’t mattered that Kaeya had never been a part of the Fatui, at that moment, he was the very same as they were to Diluc.

And now, after hearing what Young Kaeya had said, Diluc is left wondering if that is exactly what Kaeya had expected him to do; had been exactly what Kaeya had hoped for him to do. It makes his chest ache, his heart hurt. Because, if what Diluc is thinking is true, then Kaeya had attempted to use him-

“Diluc!” And there’s that voice that Diluc had thought that he would never hear again — that he had sworn he had forgotten the sound of, only for it all to come rushing back at him oh so fast last night when he was least expecting it. 

Coming up towards the door is Crepus, a sleepy looking young version of Kaeya trailing after him. Crepus looks younger than the last time Diluc had seen him, but still exactly like the photos he still had hidden away in the winery. Crepus’ long hair hasn’t been pulled into his classic low ponytail just yet, covering his entire back and a little ratty from having just woken up. 

Crepus lets out a sigh as he comes up to the two Diluc’s. “There you are,” he says with a smile, peering down at Young Diluc. Crepus does, however, turn to face Diluc as well. “Both of you. I was looking for you.” He takes Young Diluc’s hand into his, despite the boy complaining about it. “Come, let’s go eat breakfast before you go out and about.” 

“Yeah Diluc,” Kaeya says with a slight snicker, hiding his mouth under his hand, “we gotta eat breakfast first. You know the rules.” He sneaks past Crepus, reaching out with his hand. 

And then, with barely any warning, Diluc’s hand is pulled forward, yanking him into the winery. Diluc nearly trips over the tiny lip of the doorway but he manages to catch himself before he crashes into Crepus. Kaeya leads him further into the winery, a smile on his face as he does so. Young Diluc is pulled along by Crepus beside them — and although Young Diluc seems annoyed at it, Diluc knows that he’s not truly, because he’s him just younger. 

Breakfast is a quiet affair. Diluc can’t decide if it’s because it usually is, or because everyone else can feel the awkwardness that’s emitted from him. It is strange, sitting at the table once again — as Diluc usually took his meals in his office nowadays. It is extremely strange that he is sitting at the table with his younger self, the younger version of Kaeya, and his dead father. Crepus also looks young, in Diluc’s eyes. Then again, his father had always looked old when Diluc was young so that is probably the reason. 

Young Diluc seems to scarf down his food, finishing quicker than anyone else. He seems eager for something, but Diluc can’t figure out what — he can’t think of anything that would have made him excited when he was twelve (thirteen? Just when were they? Diluc hasn’t figured that out yet). Young Diluc barely waits until Kaeya puts his fork down before dragging him off. Leaving Diluc and Crepus sitting at the table. 

And Diluc realises that he cannot do this alone. He cannot talk to his father alone. Not when he no doubt has questions about how Diluc’s life is nearly thirteen years in the future. How is he supposed to explain that his father is dead? That the man that raised him is dead and seeing him now makes Diluc believe he is staring at a corpse. Diluc cannot do this alone. And Kaeya cannot help — for he is next in the line of family members that die an early death it would seem. 

“Diluc,” Crepus begins, his voice soft and slow. 

Diluc shakes his head before Crepus gets much further. “Before you begin,” he starts, his mouth feeling dry, “I need to do something. I-I am terribly sorry, but I don’t think I could have whatever conversation will happen between us alone.” It hurts, talking to his father this formally, but he does not think he would be able to manage any other way without feeling as though he is about to cry. 

Crepus frowns, but Diluc can sense a sort of understanding in his eyes. “Of course. I…already know some of it, it would seem. Do what you must, Diluc. I will not fault you for it.” 

Diluc nods. “Thank you,” he breathes out. And then he whistles a harsh, sharp tune. “I need help,” he whispers, and lets the wind carry his words. 

He was told that if he sang (“I don’t sing.” “Then whistle it or something!”) a certain tune, the wind would carry his message. He was only supposed to use it in emergencies, or if it was important enough to need help right away. Diluc supposes now would be as good as ever to use it. He needs help, just not the physical kind. Venti will understand —  and besides, he was given that song before…whatever they have going on between them had truly formed, only just a sprout peeking its head past the dirt. 

And, perhaps, it won’t even work. Diluc had entered a domain after all. Venti would not be awake at this time, and even if he did hear the tune it could very well be one that his older self had given Diluc only. There is no saying that anything will come of this. Yet whistling to the wind and asking for help makes Diluc feel less alone. Although, for some strange reason, he does crave the bard beside him as he tells this story.

The doors burst open, all of them, all at once. Wind rushes into the house like a tornado in a field. Items not bolted to the floor go flying. The paintings on the wall bang harshly against it. Diluc’s hair whips around his face, untying itself from its ponytail; Crepus’, however, does not do the same. Diluc half wonders if it’s because Venti prefers him with his hair down. The other half wonders what Diluc had done truly worked and that Venti would come to help — even if it wasn’t Diluc’s Venti. 

Not a moment after Diluc has a thought does the wind die down, thick white wisps surrounding the area around the door for just a moment before dissipating with a crack. And there, brows furrowed and a bow ready to fire in his hands, is Venti. Diluc has never seen him so serious — not in the way he is now, not in a seemingly murderous way. Venti looks like he’s ready to fight. 

And then Venti’s eyes fall on Diluc — perfectly fine, just sitting at a dining table. There is no danger; save for the emotions that will likely run through this room like a stampede soon enough. Venti’s eyes soften as he appears to come to that conclusion. He lowers his bow, and the whipping wind settles down into a soft breeze. The door closes by itself softly.

“You’re okay.” Venti’s voice, despite being so far away from where Diluc sits at the table, is soft and quiet — barely above a whisper. Venti is across the table near instantly, wrapping his arms around Diluc’s shoulders and hanging from his neck. Venti buries his face into the crook of Diluc’s neck. “I-I thought- I couldn’t sense you, Diluc. I could and then you were just gone . I searched everywhere in Mondstadt for you.” Venti pulls his head back, and Diluc can see the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes. Diluc wipes them away with a gloved hand. “You asshole.” 

And, at the very least, it is Diluc’s Venti that had come bursting through that door — he had no clue how he would explain this to a Venti that didn’t know him. “I…apologise.” He shakes his head. “Albedo had taken Kaeya from the church and I followed them without thinking.” 

Venti adjusts himself so that he’s sitting on Diluc’s lap, his legs hung over the arm of the chair. “Well, next time don’t wait until I’ve gone searching for you to use that. Do you know how worried I was?”

Crepus clears his throat. “I believe introductions might be in order?”

Diluc can feel the way his face goes red — and normally he wouldn’t be embarrassed about Venti, because everyone knows that this is just how Venti is. But, this is Crepus, who has never met Venti. Crepus, who sees this young man (unknowing that he is the very god that nearly everyone in Mondstadt worships) hanging off his son — who just so happens to have come from the future via a strange domain.

Venti seems to notice Crepus for the first time. He straightens up, but still sits in Diluc’s lap. “Oh! Hello!” He then turns to Diluc, an eyebrow raised. “This domain is weird , there’s double of you!” He even adds a little giggle at the end, clearly pointing out that he does know that it’s not actually a second Diluc — although Venti still wouldn’t be wrong. The other Diluc just isn’t in the room at the moment. 

Diluc knows that this is Venti’s way of dealing with the strangeness of all this, so he chuckles softly into Venti’s neck — it’s an attempt to hide his ever burning face. “It would seem,” Diluc starts slowly, speaking softly — only enough so Venti can hear because Crepus has already heard; at least, Diluc believes he has been told. Albedo probably had told him what had happened, “that this domain shows us the past, and changes things in it to match whatever actions we may take.”

“Oh,” Venti exclaims softly. “So, this would be Master Crepus then?” As if Venti hadn’t already guessed it the moment he laid eyes on him. “Well! It’s nice to meet you then, Sir! I’m Venti, a bard!” 

Crepus nods slowly, humming. “I see. And you know my son how?” That just makes the fact that Diluc’s face is incredibly red even more apparent.

“We stopped Dvalin from destroying Mondstadt together,” Venti says, instead of the obvious, with a shrug of his shoulders. He holds a finger underneath his mouth as if he were thinking. “I'm also a regular at the Angel’s Share! Although I like my wine, I gotta say, I do mostly go for Diluc.” Perhaps leaving it to Venti to explain was a mistake.

Diluc groans into Venti's shoulder — and perhaps he is displaying a bit too much comfort for the first (and only) time Venti is meeting his father but Diluc needs this at the moment. He needs that grounding presence, the one he knows won't go away. Not unless Diluc wants him to.

“Father,” Diluc starts, lifting his face up so it is no longer buried behind Venti, “this is Venti. My-” and Diluc pauses, because he truly does not know what to call Venti — he certainly can't say that Venti is his god, however right that may be, it certainly wouldn't display a good relationship. Diluc may have been the one to confess first, what with Venti thinking of the quite obvious power imbalance there technically is between them, but one would never know that unless they asked. They had talked plenty about that little problem. Yet, they never stopped to talk about what they were to each other. They were just Diluc and Venti; Venti and Diluc. “My other half.”

Crepus seems to need a moment to register what that truly means. Venti, in Diluc's lap, basically glows in the human sort of way — because Venti can quite literally glow. He seems happy at Diluc's choice of words.

“Oh!” Crepus exclaims as soon as he seems to release what Diluc means by that. His expression softens. “I am glad to see that you have someone special, Diluc.” He chuckles slightly, but something about it seems off to Diluc. “I take it Venti has never met me?” 

And that's when Diluc clues in that Crepus knows that he is dead in the future; it makes him frown. “No.”

“But I've heard many stories! I even sing some of them when the mood arises!” Venti chimes in. There's a bright smile on his face, but — after nearly a year of seeing each other for more than a few hours a day — Diluc has come to read Venti quite well, and knows that it is a touch too fake. Venti might truly be happy, but he's pushing it too far for a show. He's trying to make a grim conversation better.

Diluc gives Venti's arm a squeeze in appreciation. 

“I see. So, you sing at the Angel's Share every night then?” 

“Of course!” Venti only slightly drags it out — he seems to be trying to tame his usual self. Diluc doesn't like it. “I have to see Diluc at work after all. Even if he cuts me off too early.” Venti pouts. It's a joke between the two of them — and, at one point, Venti had thought it true, but he had stopped drinking himself to unconsciousness ages ago now.

“Work?” Crepus echoes.

Diluc is left in the moment with the thought that although Albedo had likely told Crepus that he was dead, he did not tell Crepus that Diluc was no longer a knight. At the current moment, in this time in the past, Diluc had likely not even started to train to be a knight just yet. That hadn't started until a month after his thirteenth birthday, and hadn't even been talked about until two months prior. Diluc, of course, had said yes at the time; the idea of being a knight was an amazing concept to a thirteen year old. Thinking back on it, however, there had been that tiniest bit of pressure from Crepus to become a knight. Becoming a knight is what his father wanted Diluc to be, so being a knight is what Diluc would be.

Diluc clears his throat. “I…took over the winery.” 

Crepus, to nobody's surprise, is taken aback by that. “You did not join the Knights?” 

And a wave of disappointment rolls through Diluc. Because he did, he did join the Knights. He made it all the way to Captain! But he left because- 

Because-

“Hey,” Venti's voice is soft as he presses a hand to Diluc's cheek. He leans into it, “stay with me in the present, okay? Well, you know what I mean.”

Diluc nods. “I did.” The words force themselves out of his voice harshly. “I left when I was eighteen.” 

Crepus frowns. “If you had become a knight, I would have left Kaeya the Winery. There would have been no need to leave.” And, Archons, does it hurt that that was Crepus’ plan even now — even after only having Kaeya for a handful of years. Because he had put Kaeya down to inherit the Winery. But Diluc burned it, just like he did every other bridge leading him to a good relationship with Kaeya.

Diluc doesn't say that. “They wanted to cover up the way you died,” he says instead. “Make it seem like the Knights weren’t incompetent in their job.”

Crepus seems taken aback by that. “Diluc,” he starts, his voice soft as he shakes his head, “I hate to ask this but…how do I die ?”

And Diluc is sent into the past (future, whatever it is — that night). All he sees is shades of red. The bright of his and his father's hair, cascading as Diluc cradles Crepus in his arms. The deep, gut-wrenching red that covers Crepus entirely — blood, soaking into Diluc's very bones. The glowing red that was the delusion, wrapped tightly on Crepus’ hand and taunting Diluc. He can hear his heart beating in his chest, pounding against his rib cage. The sword in his hand is heavy.

But it’s a better alternative than letting him slowly suffer.

“Diluc.” Venti’s hand is cool on the backside of his neck. There’s a slight breeze blowing into his face. “Here and now, remember?”

“Ursa the Drake,” Diluc starts slowly — because he needs to explain, he can’t just let it go unsaid, “attacks us on our way back from a party. You use the delusion to scare it off, but…the delusion- it ruins your body.” 

“And it kills me in the end,” Crepus finishes. That’s not the true ending. That’s not what truly happened. Because-

Because-

BECAUSE DILUC IS THE ONE WHO KILLED HIM.

“I’ll just need to train with it starting now then,” Crepus says with such a determination that makes Diluc feel sick, “so that that doesn’t happen then.”

“No!” Diluc yells out, so loud that it startles Venti off of his lap. “You don’t use it at all! That’s how you’ll stay alive.” 

And when Diluc looks at him, he sees a face of defiance — as if Crepus has already thought ahead of doing it without Diluc knowing. Diluc knows that face, because he would constantly make it himself when he was younger. Let it be known that Venti was not wrong when he said that there was double Diluc in the room — Diluc gets his looks from his father after all. 

It’s all so his father stays alive . Even if that doesn’t truly change anything in the future since this is a domain and not the actual past. Even if that only means that Diluc will never see what outcome Crepus being alive will bring. Diluc has thought about it plenty of times himself. 

So, with shaky hands and breathing so hard that he feels like he weighs twice his own weight, Diluc pulls off his glove.

“This,” Diluc’s hand is shaky as he holds it out in front of him. Burned scar tissue, layered upon itself, climbs from the back of his hand and up towards his fingers, the tips of them blunt and seemingly forever burnt. The scars lick their way up his arm, even further beyond that of his sleeve, “is what happened to me after using it. I had six years of owning a vision, and five years of training to be a knight, when I wielded it.” Forgo the part where Diluc used it near daily, where he used it for four whole years. That, Diluc feels, would have the opposite effect. Diluc knew how to limit the amount of power something could give off at that point — knew how much would be safe for him to use without hurting himself — and it still managed to harm him over the years. And Diluc had let it.

The damn delusion had still managed to make his father nearly bleed to death in Diluc’s arms. Perhaps Ursa had had a hand in it, but the delusion had been the one to deal the second to last blow. Even with training in how to wield it, Crepus would soon nearly die. If it could damage a Pyro vision holder when they have a resistance to flames, it could easily kill someone without a vision.

Diluc brings his hand closer to him. “Just-just get rid of the damn thing. Don’t try to use it.”

Venti pulls Diluc’s ungloved hand over to him, and presses a light kiss to the scars. It takes the bard no time at all to climb back into Diluc’s lap, tangling their fingers together. Diluc itches to put his glove back on, to hide the evidence of the consequences of his actions, but he does not. Venti’s hand in his is soothing, even if he can only slightly feel it because of the scars — he would not feel this at all if there was the material of the glove in the way.

“Okay,” Crepus says slowly, his eyes downcast. “I’ll get rid of it. Later, tonight.”

And, knowing how hard of a hold that thing can have, Diluc feels the need to add; “I’ll help.”

Chapter Text

Kaeya knows what’s happening to him.

He knows, because he had once seen this happen to someone else. He knows, because it has been drilled into his head that this was a thing that happened to his people. He knows, because everything that has happened so far points to this being the direction his life would go in.

He knows, because he knew that Kaeya Alberich would not live to see old age. Kaeya Alberich would die young. No matter the outcome of his life.

Kaeya knows this. That is why he is not incredibly worried about it. Death has finally come to knock on his door. He knew this day would come sooner than later. 

Perhaps he is a bit upset that it happens now of all times. At a point in his life where he could perhaps claim that he is happy once more. At a point in his life where things have begun to start to look upwards, towards the stars. At a point in his life where he has people he cares about — and they care about him in turn, and would be terribly upset if he were to die.

So, perhaps Kaeya Alberich had always known that he would die young, but — in Khaenri’ahn terms — nearly a hundred is quite young. Kaeya had hoped that he would have, at least, gotten to that point by now (let us pretend that he had not thought it to be early before this moment).

Kaeya does not want to die now. 

He does not want to die at a time where Klee would only have Albedo left — Alice off who knows where. He does not want to die while Albedo seems so much more sociable with him around — Kaeya’s death would only lead to Albedo locking himself away once again, backtracking all of the progress Kaeya had made at getting the alchemist to open up. Kaeya does not want to die when he teeters on the edge of rekindling whatever relationship he had with Diluc; perhaps it will never be what they had back when they were kids, but even just being able to be in the same room with the man and not throwing insults (proper, mean ones, and not the teasing ones that they have recently come up with) at each other is good enough for Kaeya.

So, Kaeya tries. He tries to live. 

He struggles with his breaths, with keeping his eyes open. But he does. He tries to keep himself awake for longer than five minutes when he’s coherent. Though, he knows that, now of all times, he is no longer coherent enough to form proper conversations. He tries. 

Kaeya can tell what Albedo is trying to do. He can see him, hunched over a table with beakers and flames and ingredients that Kaeya can’t quite make out. What with everything Albedo has crammed down Kaeya’s throat it is hard not to know. Albedo is trying to craft up a cure, even with one not having been found in over five hundred years. 

But Kaeya knows. He knows that if anyone could find a cure, it would be his Albedo. 

Albedo has managed to make Kaeya hold out this long after all. No one in the church had any clue on how to help him. Perhaps that is why Albedo moved his location.

It’s all hazy, his memories of the movement, but Kaeya swears they ran into someone from Khaenri’ah. They had asked how Kaeya would like to die, after all. Although he hadn’t thought that he would ever be the one saying the password — he had always thought that he would have been the one asking for it. He can’t remember what had happened afterwards. 

All he knows now, is that he lies in a comfortable bed — although the sweat that sticks to his body makes it slightly less comfortable than he would like. The room is bright against his closed eyes — but that has been the case for a while now so that says nothing about the actual brightness of the room. So, to see for himself, Kaeya opens his eyes. 

The light is blinding, obviously. It takes a moment for Kaeya to adjust to it and not blink away the tears at the corner of his eyes. It hurts, but he forces them open because he is so sick of having them closed. He wants to know where he is, and what his surroundings are. Kaeya trusts Albedo with his life, but that doesn’t mean he wants to stay in the dark about his location. 

The room he’s in is a dark brown, probably mostly wood. It reminds him of the rooms back at the Winery. He saw those walls often enough that they have been ingrained in his head. In fact, if Kaeya didn’t know that there would be a slim chance of Diluc letting him rest here, he would think that he actually was in the Winery. 

Kaeya spots Albedo, hunched over a table with his back to Kaeya and fiddling with something that’s in front of him. He seems too occupied to notice that Kaeya’s awake — which is fine, Kaeya can surprise him this way. Should Kaeya be surprising Albedo when he’s this sick? Probably not. But he wouldn’t be Kaeya if he didn’t.

Kaeya pushes himself up slowly with stiff limbs, stifling a groan as to not to alert Albedo. 

Kaeya, somehow, alerts another person in the room.

Kaeya has to blink to truly understand what he’s seeing. “Did you…do something with your hair, Diluc?” 

There’s a clink, and Kaeya swears he hears Albedo swear, before the alchemist is spinning around and rushing to Kaeya’s side. Albedo’s hand is cool on the side of Kaeya’s face, and he shakily reaches up to cover it with his own hand. Albedo wiggles it off to move his hand to Kaeya’s forehead. 

“No fever,” he mutters as he pulls away. 

“Good morning to you too, love.” Kaeya shakes his head with a laugh. He pulls Albedo’s hand back, pressing a kiss to the back of it. Kaeya can’t help but notice how quiet Diluc is being; oh well, let him see how cute Kaeya can be with Albedo, he can suffer through that for a few minutes. “We’re at the Winery, I take it? I’m surprised you’re letting us be here, in all honesty.” 

“Why would you be surprised about that?”

And Kaeya blanks. Because that is not Diluc’s voice. It’s too deep to be Diluc’s voice, and not the right tone. It sounds more confused and concerned than condescending. It feels like the whole world spins on a point that Kaeya is not attached to — though, to be fair, it feels as if his whole world is spinning often now.

But, now that Kaeya looks closely and his eyes have adjusted to the light more, he can see that it is not Diluc who sits in the chair across from the bed. 

“Am I hallucinating, Albedo?” Kaeya finds himself asking, staring directly at the dead man sitting in the chair across from him. He holds onto Albedo tightly. Kaeya knows the symptoms of the curse — he knows them like the back of his hand, they were drilled into him at a young age because if he ever saw them in himself he was supposed to dispose of himself as fast as he could, for an Alberich could not succumb to the curse — but, at this moment, he can’t remember if hallucinations truly were a part of it or not.

Albedo shakes his head. “It would seem,” he starts, sounding a bit too analytical at the moment for Kaeya’s liking — but he can understand why, because Kaeya seems to feel better than he has in days, “that being in the past seems to be negating the effects of the curse.” 

“Being in the past?” Kaeya echoes back, the words falling from his lips like a whisper. 

He still can’t take his eyes off the dead man in the chair across from him. His eyes are frowning in concern, his lips drawn in a line. He seems younger than the last time Kaeya remembers seeing him, but perhaps that is because now Kaeya is an adult and not just barely one. Perhaps it is now that Kaeya sees adults that would be the dead man’s age regularly now. Perhaps it is because Kaeya himself is getting older, and could very well be close to the man’s age at this moment. Albedo had only said the past, he did not specify when.

“Hello, Kaeya,” the dead man says, a soft smile stealing that frown line from his face. “My son,” and Kaeya’s breath hitches, “you sure have grown up nicely. A good looker, just like your old man.” He ends it with a laugh. 

Crepus smiles at Kaeya. He smiles like Kaeya has not done anything wrong. He smiles because he does not know the truth. Crepus never lived long enough to know — and perhaps he never would have, for Kaeya’s not too sure if he would have told anyone had the man not died. 

“I am a spy for Khaenri’ahn,” Kaeya blurts out, the words tumbling out faster than he can think of them. It's just like back then, saying it with little to no thought of the future. The words just needed to come out, he couldn't hide them anymore — he couldn't lie to the people he had found becoming his family anymore.

(And, perhaps, Kaeya had felt so much despair for how he had reacted to the man he had called father’s death. Had felt that, perhaps, he should have been the one in the grave instead. Because what kind of son finds his father’s death interesting instead of mournful? So, he had told Diluc he had been a spy — nothing more, let him come to his own conclusions about who Kaeya was a spy for.

But then, the gods had cursed Kaeya — more so than they already had. Diluc had stopped, had left, and then didn’t return for years.

Telling Diluc the full truth is one of the first things Kaeya did — even if the man would barely listen to him back then. He had managed to make it work.)

Instead of rain falling onto his skin, it is leftover sweat clinging to it. Kaeya's eyes are still just as wide, still just as waiting, as they had been back then for whatever the answer would be. Albedo, however, is beside him this time — comforting him with gentle squeezes.

“I know.” 

And the world feels like it crumbles down around him. Because Crepus knows.

How long had he known? Did Crepus take Kaeya all those years ago because he had known? Had he been in on this plot from the very beginning? 

No. Kaeya shakes his head mutely. Crepus hadn’t known from the beginning; Kaeya would have been told. Probably. Maybe. He had been a child back then so perhaps they wouldn't have told him about another spy. But Kaeya doesn’t think Crepus would have been one — the Ragnvindr line goes back too far in Mondstadt's past.

“You told me,” Crepus expands, seemingly seeing Kaeya's confusion — although that only heightens it because Kaeya just now told him. “Well, younger you, anyhow. He told me, not long after we found you and Mister Albedo out in the forest.” 

Right. They're in the past, somehow. Because that makes sense as to why there is a dead man sitting in the chair across from Kaeya and why Kaeya feels better than he has in ages.

Kaeya slumps, whatever power he felt he had leaving him. He knows it's not from the curse slowly taking over his body however. It is fully from the emotions that he feels.

“And,” the word feels like sand falling from Kaeya's lips, “you haven't done anything about it?”

Crepus shakes his head. “Your past does not mean you are any less my son now. I found you when you were likely six or seven years old, Kaeya. At this point, you've spent, at least, equal amounts of time with me as you did with your biological family. You are as much my son as you are theirs.”

A wet laugh falls from Kaeya's mouth. “I spent more time living as your son than I did his,” he explains further, because Kaeya had been Crepus’ son for over ten years by the time he had died. “I-I had stopped calling that man — the man who left me here and orchestrated the whole thing — my father by the time I was around ten.” Kaeya remembers the days leading up to that conclusion vividly, because he had been feeling all out of sorts. He had enjoyed his life with Crepus and Diluc, and Crepus had talked about adopting him already by then but hadn't gone through with it just yet. Kaeya had wanted desperately to say yes immediately, but he hadn’t wanted to betray the man that had raised him — only to realise that Crepus had done a much better job in the three years he had had Kaeya than the man he had once called his father had in six.

“The man who sired you was the one to send you here?” Crepus frowns harshly, but Kaeya knows that it is not at him.

Albedo also seems interested now. It occurs to Kaeya that he had only ever called Alberich by his name or as the man who left him — he had lost the title of father by that point. Which makes the next sentence that comes out of Kaeya's mouth seem that much worse.

“From what I remember, it was the only reason he had me.”

"What a bastard," Albedo, one to rarely ever cuss, mutters under his breath as he moves slightly away from Kaeya. Only slightly, for Kaeya can still stretch out and reach for him if he wanted, but Albedo still moves to work on whatever he had been on the table; the cure for Kaeya, more than likely.

Kaeya barks out a laugh, shaking his head. "Indeed." He has long come to terms that the man who sired him was not the best — had never been the best. Crepus had been so much better than he had. The only reason Kaeya ever called the man his "father" was because he had been too young to remember the man's first name; Alberich is all he has of him.

And, truthfully, Kaeya doesn't even want that. If it were up to him, he would forgo the last name once more. He wonders, if, now that he and Diluc are on decent enough terms, if Diluc would allow him to use the last name again; or a directive of it, at the very least. Maybe Kaeya will come up with his own last name, he feels like something starting with the letter r would roll off the tongue well. Or perhaps Albedo will permit him to take his — if Kaeya could ever muster up the courage to pop the oh so important question first.

Crepus stares at him with wide eyes and a frown. It makes Kaeya pause in his thoughts, turning to stare at the man in turn. Crepus moves slightly forward, standing up from the chair.

"Kaeya," Crepus says his name softly, moving until he's just a hand’s reach from the bed — closer than Albedo at the moment, "can I- would you allow me to give you a hug?"

Oh. That's right. Crepus had been a very touchy man — not in the gross, bad way, but as in he would show his love with little touches here and there and lots of hugs that crushed your bones. Kaeya had melted under every single touch when he had been a child; looking back on it, living with Crepus had probably provided more nice touches than living with Alberich ever had.

So, knowing that, Kaeya nods his head. He doesn't think he can give a verbal response to that, not at the moment. Kaeya's pretty sure that if he says anymore, he's going to cry. Just being here with Crepus makes him feel like that. Both because of the unending guilt of not mourning like Diluc had when the man had died and also from just missing Crepus.

Kaeya holds his arms out, as another way of giving Crepus the go ahead. It's a bit awkward, with Kaeya still sitting on the bed and Crepus leaning over it, but Crepus still seems to make it work. Crepus' arms are cool as they wrap around Kaeya — a nice change from the heat that constantly seems to be radiating from Kaeya's body lately. Crepus still gives the best hugs ever, in Kaeya's opinion — although Klee's do come second best, and then Albedo's (he can't remember Diluc's).

"I miss you," Kaeya mumbles into Crepus' shirt, trying his best to pull him closer. "I'm sorry I didn't mourn for you correctly."

Crepus shakes his head, running his fingers through Kaeya’s sweat soaked hair. “There is no way to mourn correctly . Everyone has their own way.” 

“I laughed,” Kaeya points out. He expects Crepus to pull away at that, and pulls away gently to ready himself for it.

Crepus doesn’t. “And I know, from having raised you for the past few years, that you are more likely to laugh at something you're sad about than cry.” 

And, to prove Crepus’ point right, Kaeya laughs. “I miss you,” Kaeya repeats again.

“And I’m sorry I left you so early. I’ll try to change things now, so that, perhaps, your younger self does not have to go through the same things you have.” 

Kaeya pulls Crepus closer before he all but falls asleep lying his head on the man’s chest.