Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This morning, Kaeya woke with the peculiar feeling of frost biting at the edge of his bones. It was a cold that settled too deeply into his skin to be explained by mere weather. It had been months since he’d last felt this kind of chill, the kind that didn’t come from outside.

The warmth of blankets, quilt, even his clothes, did nothing. The bare skin of his shoulder prickled as he shifted on the pillow, the side of his face meeting the cold air.

He shivered and tugged the duvet higher.

Outside, the sky was pale and sunless. Overcast. Grey pressed against the glass, and not even the drawn curtains could change that.

Kaeya let his eyes slip shut again.

When he finally stirred an hour later, it was still cloudy. Still dim. Warmer, maybe, but the cold hadn't left him. Not really.

Moving on autopilot, he dressed, tied his hair back, fixed his collar just so. He made coffee, adding far too much sugar and a splash of cream, the way he always did. It tasted a little like burnt syrup, but he liked it that way.

It wasn’t really about the taste.

He drank half the cup. It didn’t help much. Still cold. Still a little foggy around the edges. But warm enough to step outside.

The first stop was Knights Headquarters.

He was early. Much too early. The halls echoed in his steps. They were empty.

He made a quiet round: checked the doors, peeked into the lounge. Nothing. No one. The air inside felt untouched, like even the building itself was still asleep.

Jean’s office was empty too. Her desk, as always, covered with papers in her own form of ‘organisation.’

He moved on to the library.

There were two reasons he came here. One, it was his turn to tidy up; it rotated monthly, and the calendar never forgot. The other reason was that Lisa liked to nap here on Mondays.

Her favorite couch was empty. The air still smelled like her perfume, faint and floral, but she wasn’t there.

He didn’t call out. He wasn’t in the mood to interrupt a moment of peace, if she was somewhere in the stacks.

But on the way down the stairs, he almost bumped into her.

“Oh, Lisa,” he said, startled. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Kaeya,” she smiled, smooth and slow. “Were you looking for me?”

He shrugged, hands lifted in mock surrender. “You caught me.”

She laughed lightly, brushing past him. “You’re sweet. A little nosy, but sweet.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” she said. “But really, darling, I’m fine. You don’t need to check up on me.”

“Force of habit.”

Lisa tilted her head at him, reading too much as always, but let it go. “I appreciate the concern. Now, go play knight elsewhere.”

He offered her a wink and made his exit.

Mondstadt’s streets were unusually quiet. Patrol was uneventful, with two slimes and three Treasure Hoarders who looked like they regretted their life choices immediately. Kaeya let them go with a smirk and a warning.

By noon, the sun still hadn’t shown its face.

Back at the headquarters, the smell of food greeted him. Jean was already at the long table, lunch in front of her, papers spread everywhere like they’d multiplied while her back was turned.

Kaeya slid into the seat beside her, setting down his tray.

“Working through lunch again?” he asked.

Jean looked up briefly. “Only a little. I’m almost done.”

“I sincerely hope you’re not about to ask me for help.”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They ate in silence, the kind that came from years of shared exhaustion.

Jean was halfway through stacking her papers again when she paused. “Kaeya,” she said, her tone suddenly thoughtful. “Do you know if something’s… happened with Diluc?”

Kaeya blinked. “Why?”

Jean hesitated, then reached into her folder and pulled out a slip of paper. “I found this on my desk this morning. No signature, but I know his handwriting.”

He took it. Just a few words. Thank you.

That was all.

Jean continued, “It’s strange, right? We haven’t really talked. Not properly. Not in years.”

Kaeya’s gaze lingered on the note.

“What’s he thanking you for?” he asked, voice too even.

“I don’t know,” Jean admitted. “It’s… I don’t want to assume the worst, but it feels like the kind of message someone leaves when they’re-” she caught herself, shook her head. “I’m probably being silly.”

“No,” Kaeya said quickly, too quickly. “No, you’re not. It’s just… odd.”

Jean studied him. “You don’t think something’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just folded the paper and handed it back.

“I think Diluc does everything with intention,” he said eventually. “If he left this, there’s a reason. But maybe it’s not ours to know.”

Jean nodded slowly. “I suppose. It just unsettled me.”

Kaeya forced a smile. “Don’t let it ruin your day, Acting Grand Master.”

She gave him a tired smile back. “Thanks, Kaeya.”

When he left the dining hall, the note still clung to the back of his mind.

Diluc had never been the type to say thank you without meaning it. And he’d certainly never done it unprompted.

Maybe Kaeya would stop by the bar later.

Just to be sure.

—

The sun had set by the time Kaeya reached the Angel’s Share. The chill had deepened, sharp now, biting at the edges of his gloves and collar. The wind stung like a warning.

He pushed open the door. The bar was quiet, the usual evening warmth replaced by a heavy stillness. A few patrons lingered, hunched over their drinks like shadows.

Behind the counter stood Diluc, back straight, hands methodically drying a glass.

He looked-

Kaeya hesitated.

He looked like he hadn’t slept. Pale under the soft lamplight, hair a little disheveled, movements too precise, too controlled.

“You’re late,” Diluc said, not looking up.

Kaeya shrugged off the tension in his shoulders and forced a grin. “Well, excuse me. Some of us actually have a job, Master Diluc.”

“You still call that work?”

Kaeya smirked and slid onto the nearest barstool. “You look absolutely terrible, by the way.”

Diluc didn’t rise to the bait. Just glanced at him, brief and unreadable, then returned to polishing the glass.

“What can I get you?”

“Whatever’s on special tonight.”

Diluc poured something amber from a decanter, set it in front of him without ceremony.

Kaeya took a sip. It burned going down.

“Strong,” he muttered. “Trying to kill me?”

“Wouldn’t that be poetic,” Diluc said, voice flat.

Kaeya laughed softly, but it didn’t quite land.

They didn’t speak after that.

Kaeya watched him instead. The way Diluc’s hands moved, quiet, practiced. The way he avoided eye contact. The faint tremor in his fingers when he thought Kaeya wasn’t looking.

“You always this chatty with your customers?” Kaeya asked lightly.

Diluc didn’t answer.

Kaeya’s smile faltered. He glanced down at his drink, then back up. “I ran into Jean earlier.”

Diluc froze. Just for a heartbeat.

“She said she found something on her desk. A note.”

Still no reply.

Kaeya leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “It was yours, wasn’t it?”

Diluc’s jaw tightened.

“She said it wasn’t signed, but she knew your handwriting. Just two words.”

Finally, Diluc looked up. His eyes were darker than usual. Quiet. Resigned.

“You’ve been watching me,” he said. Not a question.

Kaeya held his gaze. “Not exactly. You’re just… hard to ignore when you’re being this strange.”

Diluc exhaled slowly, and for a second, Kaeya thought he might actually say something real.

But then he looked away.

“You came here for a drink. Not an explanation.”

“I came here for you.”

The words were out before Kaeya could pull them back.

Diluc’s eyes flicked toward him again, startled, but only barely.

“I mean,” Kaeya said, trying to cover, “you’ve been weird. You look like you haven’t slept. You’re writing cryptic thank-you notes to people you haven’t properly spoken to in a year. Forgive me for thinking something’s off.”

Diluc turned away, setting the glass down with too much care. “Go home, Kaeya.”

Kaeya stood, suddenly restless. The cold had followed him in, lingering at his back like a shadow and crawling down his spine.

“You’re not fine,” he said. “Don’t lie to me.”

Diluc didn’t reply.

The silence stretched between them like a drawn bowstring.

Kaeya grabbed his coat. “If you’re planning something, anything, you don’t get to just disappear. Not without telling someone. Not without telling me.”

Still nothing.

Kaeya paused at the door. He didn’t look back.

“Don’t make me regret not dragging it out of you.”

He left. The door shut behind him with a low thud.

Outside, the wind howled through the plains.

Kaeya didn’t go home. He went looking.

He didn’t go far at first. He started with simple steps, like peeling back the edge of a bandage.

The wind had picked up outside Angel’s Share, cold enough to sting. It slipped under his collar, sharp as a blade, but Kaeya barely noticed. He headed back into Mondstadt proper, the streets mostly empty now, save for the occasional flicker of lamplight in a window or the low murmur of a closing vendor.

His first stop was Good Hunter.

Sara was packing up the last of the outdoor tables. She looked surprised to see him.

“Captain Kaeya,” she greeted. “You’re out late.”

“Duty never rests,” Kaeya said, giving her a lazy salute. “Have a moment?”

She glanced at the stack of dishes in her arms. “If it’s quick.”

“Did Diluc come by here recently?”

Sara frowned. “Diluc? No, not today. He doesn’t usually show unless there’s a delivery or he’s being dragged for a walk nearby by someone out of the tavern.”

Kaeya’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Not even to eat?”

“Not in weeks,” she said. “He used to stop by once in a while for lunch, but…” She trailed off. “He looked worse last time, though. Tired. Really tired.”

Kaeya nodded, though something sharp settled in his chest.

“Thanks, Sara.”

She gave him a curious look as he turned away, but didn’t call after him.

Next was Flora’s flower stand, just in case. She often saw people others didn’t.

But Flora just shook her head. “Master Diluc hasn’t passed by all day. I did give him some Calla Lilies two days ago, though. He looked... sad. But he smiled.”

He smiled.

Kaeya hated that. The idea of Diluc smiling like that, like it was a lie he was telling only himself.

He kept moving. Swift steps. Eyes sharp. But now, the knot in his chest had started to harden. Calla Lilies were used for weddings, true, but also funerals. For graves. It was a stretch, but the pit in his stomach grew.

His last stop was Elzer, the butler.

The winery grounds were already blanketed in deep blue dusk by the time Kaeya arrived. The stars hadn’t broken through the clouds, and the sky hung low and heavy. It was silent. Unnaturally so.

Elzer met him at the front steps, surprised but not alarmed.

“Sir Kaeya,” he said, bowing. “May I help you?”

“I was wondering if Master Diluc is home,” Kaeya said, trying to sound casual.

Elzer’s expression faltered. “He left earlier. Not long after sundown.”

“Left?” Kaeya repeated. “Where?”

“I assumed he was taking a walk. He’s been… reflective lately.”

Kaeya’s stomach twisted. “Did he say where?”

“No. Only that he’d be gone before the moon rose. I… didn’t think to ask.”

Kaeya was already moving. Past the front steps, past the hedges, into the open fields that stretched beyond the winery like a breath held too long. The grass whipped at his legs. The wind had turned to ice.

Gone before the moon rose.

It sounded too much like a goodbye.

He didn’t know where he was going, not exactly. Only that his feet carried him toward the place Diluc always disappeared to when things got too quiet, too hard. The cliffs just past the winery’s outer fields. The spot where the wind always howled, even on still days.

Kaeya’s breath came harder now. The cold caught in his lungs, but he didn’t stop.

A sick certainty was blooming in his chest.

Diluc didn’t say goodbye. Not to him.

Not this time.

Chapter Text

The fields stretched endlessly in front of him. The wind whipped across the land, biting and relentless. It wasn’t just cold anymore; it felt like the air itself was choking, constricting with each step Kaeya took toward the cliffs.

He didn’t know what he was looking for, he hadn’t let himself think about it too clearly. But something in his gut told him he wasn’t wrong. That feeling, distant, cold, had been sitting in him since the morning, clawing at the edges of his thoughts.

The cliffs loomed ahead, jagged and sharp against the darkening sky. Kaeya’s heart was a constant thrum in his chest, too loud, too fast. He could feel the tension in his limbs, the unease growing with every step. His breath came out in thin clouds, swallowed immediately by the wind.

Diluc had to be here. He had to be.

The cold bit his fingers, but he didn’t feel it. His body moved without thought, legs dragging him across the field, lungs burning, heart slamming too hard in his chest. He could see him, Diluc, small against the trees, red against the pale world. Alone.

Kaeya nearly tripped.

No, no, no-

The shape of him was wrong. Stiff. Still. His hands were up, doing something deliberate. Something precise.

Rope.

Kaeya’s stomach lurched. He stopped thinking.

“Diluc!”

It tore from him, rough and startled and too loud in the quiet.

Diluc’s hands faltered, but didn’t drop.

Kaeya ran.

He didn’t remember how he closed the distance, just the sound of his boots crushing frozen grass and the scream of wind in his ears. He grabbed Diluc by the shoulder and spun him around.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Diluc didn’t fight him. He didn’t even meet his eyes.

“I told you not to follow me,” he said. His voice was hoarse. Distant.

Kaeya stared at the rope, then at the branch, then back at him.

“You- you wrote goodbye letters. You left giving no one any explanation. You-”

“I didn’t mean for you to find me.”

“Oh, that makes it better?”

“I didn’t want it to be your problem.”

Kaeya shoved him. Not hard, not really. But it was enough that Diluc stumbled back a step.

“You’re not allowed to do this to me,” Kaeya hissed. “You don’t get to disappear while I’m still trying to hate you.”

Diluc blinked.

“I thought you did.”

“Well, you’re wrong. I’m angry, Diluc. I’m furious. I have been for years. But I would rather you scream at me every day of my life than vanish and leave me with nothing.”

Something twitched in Diluc’s expression, guilt or grief or disbelief, Kaeya didn’t know.

“You don’t understand-”

“I do,” Kaeya cut in, voice breaking. “I know what it’s like to wake up and wonder what the point is. I know what it’s like to hold yourself together for everyone else’s sake until one day there’s nothing left inside. Don’t you dare think I don’t understand.”

The wind howled through the trees.

Diluc looked away.

“It was never about you.”

“It’s always been about me. And you. And us. And everything we never fixed.”

Silence.

Kaeya was breathing hard. His hands were trembling.

“I hate you sometimes,” he said, more quietly now. “But I never wanted to lose you.”

Diluc didn’t say anything for a long time.

He stayed there, curled slightly in on himself, forehead pressed against Kaeya’s shoulder like he might disappear if he let go. His body was trembling, barely, but enough that Kaeya could feel it through his coat. A shudder, like something finally giving way after years of standing too tall.

Kaeya didn’t move, didn’t speak. He let the silence stretch thin between them, held only by breath and cold and the sound of frost shifting under their boots.

Eventually, Diluc whispered, “You should have let me go.”

Kaeya almost laughed, sharp and humorless. “I did. Remember?”

Diluc flinched.

“Three years,” Kaeya said, voice soft but brittle. “You left. You didn’t tell anyone. Just vanished in the night and came back full of ghosts.”

“I had to-”

“No, you didn’t.” Kaeya stepped back, just enough to look him in the eyes. “You chose to. And you didn’t trust me with the why.”

Diluc’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t trust myself.”

Kaeya swallowed hard. “You could’ve said something.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

Kaeya’s hands curled into fists. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Diluc opened his mouth. Closed it again. He shook his head slowly, like he couldn’t quite understand. “I don’t get it. Why are you doing this?”

Kaeya’s breath fogged in the air. “Because I know what it looks like when someone’s about to disappear.”

He didn’t look at Diluc as he said it. Instead, he glanced out over the frost-laced fields, over the bare trees and the greying sky, like something was tugging at the edge of memory.

“You remember,” Kaeya added, voice low, “when you left.”

Diluc’s posture stiffened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“You left your Vision behind. Just tossed it away like it meant nothing. I found it.” He gave a soft, humorless laugh. “You didn’t even try to hide it.”

Diluc blinked. “I… didn’t know anyone kept it.”

“Well.” Kaeya turned, gaze sharp and unreadable. “Why do you think it didn’t end up buried in some drawer in Jean’s office?”

Silence.

“I kept it,” Kaeya said. “Every single day you were gone. I kept it. I don’t know why. Maybe I hated you, maybe I didn’t. But I couldn’t let anyone else touch it.”

Diluc didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But his hands, his hands were clenched tight enough to shake.

“You got it back eventually,” Kaeya said, like he was brushing dust off the past. “Never asked what happened to it. Never asked who had it. And I didn’t say anything.”

The wind had gone still.

Kaeya looked at him fully now. Something raw in his voice.

“But you’re not allowed to say you don’t matter.”

Diluc’s mouth opened slightly, like he was going to say something. Apologise. Deny it. Rage. Anything.

But nothing came.

Because how could he respond to that?

To being kept, when he hadn’t even thought he was worth holding on to?

“You’re not allowed to say you don’t matter,” Kaeya said again, his voice low, steady, too steady.

Diluc swallowed, barely audible. His eyes were fixed on the grass, on the rope, on anything but Kaeya. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“Oh, don’t I?” Kaeya laughed, but it was a broken sound, splintering through the cold. “You think you’re the only one who’s been slowly drowning all this time?”

He took a step closer. Diluc didn’t move.

“You think I didn’t wonder if you were ever coming back? If you even cared what you left behind?”

“That’s not fair-”

“You left me,” Kaeya said, flatly. “You left everyone. And we still waited for you.”

His voice caught, but he kept going.

“I waited. And I kept that stupid Vision because I didn’t want anyone else to look at it and realise how easily you let it go.”

The wind moved through the field again, soft and cold. The rope hung limply from the tree branch, swaying just slightly.

Kaeya stared at it, then back at Diluc.

“You think this fixes anything?” he asked. “What, you leave again, and this time I get to find your body instead of just your damn abandoned Vision?”

“That’s not-” Diluc began, but it faltered on his tongue. “It’s not about you.”

Kaeya laughed again, sharper this time. “Of course it’s not. It never is. You never let it be.”

He stepped even closer, close enough that the heat of Diluc’s Vision was faintly perceptible in the space between them.

“But here I am anyway,” Kaeya whispered, gaze steady and searing. “Because even when you shut me out, even when you hate me, I still care.”

Diluc finally met his eyes. It was like looking into the heart of a storm.

Kaeya didn’t look away.

“I’m not letting you disappear,” he said. “Even after it all, you’re still my brother.”

Diluc stared at him.

Not with anger. Not with the cold indifference Kaeya had gotten used to. Just... silence. Bare, hollow silence. Like something inside him had finally gone still.

“I never meant for you to find me,” he said, voice hoarse. “Not like this.”

Kaeya didn’t respond. Didn’t need to. The silence wrapped around them both, heavy and brittle.

“I thought…” Diluc’s hands flexed at his sides. “If I did it right- if I made it quiet- no one would notice. No one would care.”

“I would.”

The words landed like a blade between them.

Diluc flinched. “You shouldn’t.”

Kaeya’s breath left him all at once, sharp, tired, bitter.

“Well, I do,” he said. “And I hate that I do. But I do.”

Diluc looked away, and Kaeya saw it, really saw it, the exhaustion carved into every line of his face. Not physical tiredness. Soul-deep weariness. The kind that doesn’t sleep away.

He looked like someone who had long since decided he was already dead.

Kaeya stepped forward, slower now, deliberate.

“If you wanted someone to talk you down, you picked the wrong person,” he said. “I’m angry. I’m furious. You think I’ve forgiven you? I haven’t.”

That caught Diluc’s attention. His eyes snapped back, something startled behind the red.

Kaeya kept going. “I still hate you for leaving. For hurting me. For staying gone. For coming back and pretending nothing happened.”

He was close now. Close enough to touch. But he didn’t.

“I’m not here because I forgive you,” Kaeya said. “I’m here because I still-”

He stopped. Took a breath. Looked at the rope.

“Because I’d rather scream at you every day for the rest of my life than have to bury you tomorrow.”

The wind passed through the trees.

Diluc didn’t speak.

But something changed in his eyes. Something shattered.

And he sank.

Not collapsed. Not dramatically. Just… his knees gave out, and he crumpled into the cold grass like his body couldn’t carry the weight anymore.

Kaeya moved without thinking.

He was on the ground beside him in a heartbeat, catching him with arms that had no business being that steady.

Diluc didn’t sob.

He just breathed, ragged, quiet, gasping like someone who’d forgotten how.

Kaeya held him. And for the first time in years, Diluc let himself be held.

—

They walked in silence.

The kind of silence that said everything they couldn’t.

Kaeya didn’t look back, but he could hear Diluc’s uneven footsteps behind him. Hesitating. Dragging. But still moving. Still here.

“You didn’t have to come,” Diluc said eventually.

Kaeya let out a breath, sharp and cold in the air. “Yeah. I did.”

“Why?”

He stopped. Turned. Looked at him.

“You’re my brother.”

The words felt strange in his mouth. Not because they were untrue, but because they were too true. Because they carried years of memories and wounds and things they never said when they still had time.

“I don’t know what you thought this would fix,” Kaeya went on, voice low. “But it wouldn’t have. It would’ve ruined everything left.”

He didn’t say ruined me. He didn’t have to.

Diluc looked away. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

Kaeya laughed, quiet, tired, disbelieving. “You’re an idiot.”

A pause.

“I really did hate you, you know,” Kaeya said. “For a long time. For leaving. For not writing. For pretending you were the only one who lost something. Because Crepus was my father too.”

Diluc flinched. But he didn’t deny it.

Kaeya stepped closer.

“But I never stopped caring,” he said. “And I never stopped wondering if I’d get the chance to tell you that. Yell it at you, if I had to.”

Diluc looked up.

There was something fragile in his face. Something that hadn’t cracked fully until now.

“I didn’t know you kept my Vision,” he said.

Kaeya raised an eyebrow. “Why did you think I still had it?”

“I didn’t think you’d want it. After everything.”

Kaeya sighed. “Yeah. Well. I didn’t want the responsibility either. But it was yours. So I kept it. Just in case.”

Silence.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” Kaeya added, softer now. “Not really.”

“I almost didn’t.”

Another silence.

Then Kaeya said, “Come stay with me tonight.”

Diluc blinked. “What?”

“Just for the night,” Kaeya said, already turning away again. “Don’t go back to that big empty house like nothing happened. And forgive me if I don’t trust you to be alone just right now.”

Diluc didn’t answer right away.

Then, quietly: “Okay.”

And they walked together, still stiff, still jagged at the edges, but at least they walked side by side.