Chapter Text
Working at a design firm, Kaeya has come to find, is about as uneventful as one could imagine.
To speak the truth, when he was younger, he would have guessed he would end up working somewhere a bit more dangerous, a bit more thrilling, a bit more alive. Although, if he stopped to think about it fairly for a moment, they did have their alive, energetic moments. Whenever there was a brainstorming session, for example, Jean would insist everyone offered their ideas, only for Lisa to turn down everything that came from their employees during the second stage of the process, the one in which they are required not to judge, and drive Jean into being forced to end the session right then and there. She could, of course, reprimand Lisa in order for her not to deliberately finish off everyone at the office, but her orders towards Lisa lacked the bite she had to spare for the rest of their crew.
The firm was great for people with the passion for it, though. Noelle, one of their newest hires, for one, would brightly accept suggestions from people around the office all day, redo her entire work every afternoon and hand it in, bright-new and squeaky-clean, by evening. There were other dedicated ones, although the enthusiasm came, mostly, from the younger ones, such as Bennett, Fischl or Amber. The rest of them spent their peaceful days doing peaceful tasks and avoiding unpeaceful brainstorming sessions for as long as they could.
That is precisely why it comes as a surprise when, in the middle of yet another uneventful afternoon, Barbara bursts into the meeting room, interrupting Lisa’s explanation regarding their project for a joint marketing campaign they would set up for a start-up. Kaeya can’t help but have his interest peaked. That feeling becomes even more evident when Barbara, undisturbed by Lisa’s eyes on her, lifts a paper-sheet in front of her face and announces:
“A millionaire company just hired us!”
The room erupts. Even the ones faintly wishing they could pack up earlier and go home stand from their spots, and not even Lisa herself is able to stop them from forming a crowd around Barbara, eager to hear more about it. Although the Knights of Favonius—a silly name for a design firm, Kaeya pointed out, completely out of place—have their own steady routine, not once has a millionaire company required their services. In fact, Kaeya doubts they were ever good enough for rich people, let alone crazy rich people.
With his arms crossed and a trademark lazy smirk on his lips, Kaeya walks up to Lisa and mildly registers her frustration. She keeps her calm expression on, though, and waits for them to slowly calm down. The truth is, even if Lisa wanted to be as ruthless to Barbara as she is to other people, she could not. That was the main perk in being their founder’s little sister.
“Prototyping starts next week,” Lisa tells Kaeya, swiftly placing the pen she was using to write on the board between his fingers. She winks at him. “I will leave the rest to your care.”
Before Kaeya has the slightest chance to protest, Lisa has already used the opportunity to slip away from the crowd and out of the room. He sighs, but the well-humored look on his face doesn’t waver. He leans back against the board, smiling at the enthusiasm of his colleagues, and patiently waits for his opportunity to hear everything about their newest client.
“So,” He finally begins asking, when Amber removes herself from the mess and turns to look at him, “Who might these charitable souls be?”
“You have no faith in us whatsoever. How could you not trust we would score a company like this?” She asks, the ever-so-confident aura she emanates suddenly growing two times stronger. Dripping pride, she crosses her arms and says, “I’ll have you know, the company hiring us is one of the biggest names in the wine industry.”
There is a pause. Not because Kaeya has any trouble hearing her words over the uproar, or because he had to process the fact that such a rich industry would actually need a specific strategy coming from a design firm like theirs. The reason he suddenly becomes speechless is that he finds himself overcome with fear that he will recognize the exact company they are talking about.
“What company is it?”
Amber’s smug expression becomes even smugger; if that is even possible. “You do believe us now, huh? In the end, our effort has—”
“Amber,” He cuts in, and she seems to notice the severity in his tone, the heavy lines in his features showing up all of sudden, “What company is it?”
“It’s the Dawn Winery.”
Shit. Oh, shit.
Kaeya brings two fingers up against his temple, the well-humored countenance he was bearing earlier no longer anywhere to be seen. Although the life at the firm has always been quiet and comfortable, Kaeya never lacked any sense of humor. He would always laugh and joke around even a bit too much; he was sure, if it were not so evident he could do it without jeopardizing his work, Jean would have his head for it. This time, though, he becomes sour so easily it makes it simple for everyone around him to notice it.
“What’s wrong?” Amber asks, and her crossed arms come to rest on her sides. “Kaeya, is everything okay?”
“Hey, it’s a big company, but we can totally do this,” Bennett offers, confident enough that no one would ever suspect he was still in his first year of experience, “If we work hard enough, it won’t. . .”
“Can we decline it?”
The room, moments ago so filled with chatter and laughter, suddenly turns quiet. It becomes uncomfortable, just how fast that once sentence manages to change the entire mood. Kaeya doesn’t seem, however, any more affected than he was before—in fact, they can tell with one single glance that he means that question and more.
“Can we. . .” Barbara starts, eyes a little widened, “decline it? Why—”
“No, that makes no sense,” Fischl chimes in. “Why should we decline it? If we were to figure out how to work with a wine company, how to draw their clients, how to speak to their audience—we could definitely pull this off. Why should we not?”
Kaeya suddenly realizes, if he is to talk about this, it can’t be with his coworkers, the ones he is equal to. If he wants the Dawn Winery to back off—whatever reason they may have to approach their firm in the first place—then he needs to take it up with someone that can actually fix the problem.
“I’m going to speak to Jean.”
Physically, they could stop him if they tried hard enough; however, all the rest of his colleagues do is stand there, a little dazed for a few moments, still trying to grasp the sudden change in Kaeya’s personality, and that gives him time enough to reach Jean’s office—it really isn’t a big building—and knock on her glass door carefully. Razor, one of the interns, once knocked a bit too hard, and he learned the hard way Jean was also very capable of chewing somebody up.
“Come in,” She says. Kaeya does, slipping into the room like he knows he is about to face his very-dedicated boss and tell her she should waste an incredible opportunity to make money. Oh, well. “Do you need anything? I thought you’d all be out there celebrating.”
“Were you not going to celebrate?”
Jean sighs. “I wish, but I have way too many things to go through. If we want this enormous company to take us seriously and appreciate our work, we need to free up space, and that means we need to put some of our ongoing projects into action as soon as possible—”
“What if we don’t?” Kaeya interrupts, slowly registering the way she raises her eyes from her papers, frowning at him. “You know. Want the company to take us seriously and whatnot.”
There is a moment of silence, and then Jean drops her pen, intertwining her fingers over the desk and looking up at him. “Spit it out, Kaeya.”
“I need you to turn down that million-dollar client.”
Jean inhales sharply. “And why on earth would I do that?”
“Because. . .” Kaeya starts, pulling one of his usual charming smiles and hoping it will work at least to soften the blow, “I promised the CEO I would never show my face in front of him again.”
Kaeya met Lisa over five years ago. He was fresh out of college—that is, if dropping out of college even counts as being fresh out of it—and looking for a simple job to occupy his time with. He still had some money on him—a little something he inherited before quitting on his family—but he had no intention of sitting idle and watching life go by. He met Lisa first. She was a librarian, and he had some silly joke ready for her, like ‘what is someone younger than fifty-five years old working as a librarian, anyway?’ by the time he looked down the library’s counter and found the job opportunity being offered as a graphic designer. He might have only been in college for two years, but that was enough for him to fulfil the required experience pointed out in the flyer. By the time she noticed his interest, Lisa showed him a dangerous smile and promised she would get in touch with the founder of that newborn firm for him if he were willing to make up for his little comment from before. He bought her dinner—which she made clear she would eat by herself—and got an interview with Jean.
Ever since then, they became somewhat close. Not best buddies kind of close, but definitely I can annoy my boss and still not get fired at any given moment kind of close. Therefore, Jean managed to get to know him quite a bit, which could only be the most probable explanation for her not to curse at him right in that moment.
“Sit,” She tells him instead, propping her chin on her fist, “Tell me what you did.”
With a sigh and a somewhat heavy heart, he does.
(Kaeya was five years old, nothing but a silly child, when he met Diluc Ragnvindr.
Kaeya’s family was, for all accounts and purposes, rich. He was born basking in wealth, not differing at all from Diluc at the time. The main difference between them, however, was never in their money, but in the means each of their families had used to acquire it. Diluc’s father, raising a wine company from the ground with his passion for the art as his sole motivation, versus Kaeya’s father, heir to an empire in the real estate area, backed up by the shady things his ancestors had done before him. At the time, Kaeya had no idea what that meant. All he knew was that he had a lot of money, and he could play with kids that also had a lot of money, as long as he did not play too much or grew too attached to any of them.
Therefore, when his father took him to meet Diluc, claiming there was a child he could play with all he wanted and get as close to as he could, Kaeya was overjoyed.
And grow close to Diluc he did. They were inseparable for the better part of five years. It came to a point where Kaeya would proudly announce, whatever he went, that he had a friend twice as cool as everyone else he could ever meet. He knew Diluc cared about him as well, although it was difficult for children to properly understand not caring about someone. His father’s business prospered—and the influence of Diluc’s father and his company spread. For all he knew, at that time, there was no way life could be any better.
Until Diluc began fully trusting him, meaning Diluc’s father also fully trusted him. When that moment came, Kaeya’s father claimed he was being pressured by the people working next to him. He said he needed a win; he needed a partnership with new businessmen willing to help him get back on his feet. Kaeya had no idea what that meant, but he knew he would help if it ever came to the point where he could. Finally, one of the wine companies jeopardized by the Dawn Winery and its sudden fame came to the rescue—the owner said, if Kaeya’s father were to use his proximity with the family to sabotage them, they would sponsor him for the greater part of his life.
Kaeya’s father, without a second of hesitation, took that opportunity. And he did it through his son.
Kaeya became, for all means, a spy. He would sneak into the office, into the library, into every part of the house where he could find something, a little piece of paper, the shreds of a file, that would help his father. He felt bad—he knew he was doing something behind Diluc’s back, and he knew there was a chance Diluc would be furious at him, but he was also reassured: his father was sure they would not hurt Diluc’s father in any way. As long as it all ended well for the both of them, it was good enough for Kaeya.
The first flock of snow was a single bill Diluc’s father missed, in the midst of his finances, which he insisted on dealing with himself. Kaeya’s father had his eyes sparkling when he looked at that piece of paper; he crouched down, ruffled his son’s hair, and ran off to call the businessman he was dealing with. Apparently, that little detail was enough for a small-scale investigation to open. Of course, it was not enough for them to investigate that man, considering how honest he was. That took Kaeya to the second stage of his mission: planting evidence. And there went the snowball.
He had no idea what he was doing, but, when he heard the police sirens and saw Diluc’s father being dragged out of the house by uniformed men the next day, he knew he had ruined everything. The avalanche was finally there.
There was not a lot he remembered from that day after that. His father ended up being found out—the businessman he dealt with turned on him, claiming he had proof he had planted evidence, in exchange for Diluc’s father to sell him the bigger part of his shares in the Dawn Winery and force a merge—and Kaeya was raised by his mother until he was sixteen, when he cut ties with all of his relatives. He can still remember, however, one little detail: the look on Diluc’s face when he found out who the responsible for all of that was. That look, of disgust mingled with disappointment, of sadness and devastation, he is never going to forget.)
“As you must know, Diluc succeeded after that. His father fell into a pit, but he rose up. He bought the shares back with money he made by being twice the businessman that dude was, and he dissolved the merge. He recovered the Dawn Winery. . . three years ago, I think? His father became the chairman, and he became CEO, and no one dared call it nepotism. And now they are the biggest name in the wine industry. The end.”
The look of sheer speechlessness in Jean’s expression would be completely worth it if Kaeya’s heart were not so heavy from the memories. She purses her lips, hesitant, as she asks, “Did he tell you that when you were both ten? Never to show your face in front of him again?”
“No, no. I don’t think he would’ve managed something like that at that age.” Kaeya lets out a bitter laugh. “I called him a few years later. You know, to apologize.”
“Oh, Kaeya.”
“That’s precisely it, Jean,” He points out, but she does not seem to find any humor in his exclamation. “Surprisingly, all he did was tell me to get lost. I told him I would, as soon as I managed to apologize, and he then told me to make that promise. He said it was the only apology he needed.”
Clearly conflicted, Jean nods, taking in his story. Somehow, Kaeya can tell he is being selfish by asking her to waste such a great opportunity because of his mistakes, but he is not about to suggest he quits in order for them to get a new client either. They are a good firm—if a single millionaire company drops out, it does not mean no other companies will ever want them again.
“First of all, I’m sorry, Kaeya. No one should have to go through any of that, especially not as a child,” Jean clarifies, and her tone is so dreadful Kaeya is sure he could predict every next word she is about to say. “Unfortunately, knowing all of that and caring so much about you, I still can’t simply turn down this offer.”
Kaeya’s lips purse.
“Look, Kaeya. We’re not such a new firm anymore. We’ve already surpassed the stage of being satisfied with small fish all the time. It’s fine if it’s most of them, but it’s bad when it’s all of them. This is the first big company that looks for us. We can’t say no because of a personal grievance.”
“He’s going to flip out when he sees me here, Jean.”
“Don’t join the project, then. I’ll have you on the side projects, and you can give us suggestions under the rug, never having to show your face in meetings or such.” She sighs, once again, and rubs her forehead. “Again, I’m sorry. I don’t want to have to do this, but it’s not a simple decision for me either. If he finds out you work here and drops out by himself, that’s one thing. I can’t prevent him from using his money wherever he’d like. But we can’t deliberately say no to his offer.”
Kaeya lets out a defeated sigh. Gladly, he can understand Jean—even if he did expect her to ponder a little longer, he can fully understand her reasons. It still sucks a little, though. The idea of having to hide from Diluc in his own firm because he needs to fulfil the one thing he was asked after he screwed up is not any more comfortable than the idea of having to quit would have been.
“In that case,” He starts, “I want a raise.”
Jean’s eyes glisten at his attempt of bringing back their usual good mood. She dismisses him with a flick of her wrist. “Go do your job.”
“You should make it up to me.”
“I’ll call a bodyguard. Even better, I’ll call Lisa.”
“I’m going, I’m going.”
***
Although Kaeya gets along pretty well with most of his colleagues, there is one particular UX designer he finds even more infuriating than himself. Real name unknown, self-proclaimed name Tartaglia, codename Childe—who even needs a codename unless they are working for a criminal group is beyond Kaeya. Childe joined the firm one year ago, part-time, while he spends the rest of his time spending the ridiculous fortune he owns somehow. According to Kaeya’s research, he is neither the son of a crime family nor the heir to a billionaire empire, but there is no real trace of where Childe’s money actually comes from.
“I hear you have history with the CEO of the month.”
Kaeya looks up from his computer, fingers hovering above the keyboard as he begins considering throwing it at Childe’s smug grin. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“Most certainly was.” Childe flops down on the rolling chair next to him, his signature shit-eating grin taking over his freckled features. If he were not so annoying all the time, Kaeya would definitely find him one of the most attractive people he has ever met. “But hey, you were a kid. I doubt he even feels that terribly about you nowadays.”
Kaeya scoffs. “Comforting, Childe.”
“Look. They’re having a meeting to set up the stages for the project tonight. Since you and I aren’t in on it, let’s go out for drinks.”
Normally, he would say no. Not because he doesn’t appreciate a night out, drinking and everything, but because it was difficult to trust Childe could do something nice for him without some kind of bonus. It does, however, sound tempting. Kaeya runs his finger through the keyboard for a moment, pondering. He has already technically finished his work for today. He could go ahead, be a good employee and start getting ready for the next week of projects.
“Alright,” Kaeya says, cocking his head towards him, “If you pay for the whole bill.”
Childe’s grin widens. “Every drink you can manage.”
“Fine. Hey, Amber?” Kaeya calls out, and the girl stops in her tracks, arms heavy with paperwork and files that are most certainly part of their initial research for the Dawn Winery and its new website. “I’m going out for drinks with Tartaglia tonight, so, if I don’t show up to work tomorrow—”
“He poisoned you,” Amber finishes for him, nodding, “Don’t worry, I’ll let Jean know.”
Three hours later, Kaeya finished shutting off his computer and got up from his desk, stretching out his limbs, not quite regretting his decision to go out for drinks but slightly dreading the thought of having only Childe as his companion for that little adventure. He grabs his phone and waits by the elevator, scrolling through Instagram while at it. His fingers twitch at the idea that, if he were to look up Diluc Ragnvindr, he might not find a personal account, but he would definitely run into at least some pictures. Some recent ones, that is.
For the last couple of years, he convinced himself it was for the best not to think about Diluc at all. As long as he kept that distance from his past, he would be fine. Now, though, most of his plan has already gone downhill, and there is not much for him to lose. Without thinking, he types Diluc’s name and begins his research.
An eligible bachelor and an extremely handsome wealthy man—only two of Diluc’s features, but definitely the ones that resonate the most with the media. Unsurprisingly, when Kaeya sees the first recent picture of Diluc’s ever-so-handsome face, he regrets his decision to look him up a little. It was taken by a big magazine; apparently, their theme was ‘how to invest well-enough that you become half as good as Diluc Ragnvindr himself’. In Kaeya’s opinion, regardless of the tips they gave, there was absolutely no way.
He swipes to the side and finds Diluc had a photoshoot with another businessman—Zhongli, a foreign investor that ended up meeting Diluc halfway along his journey in looking for companies he believed in. Apparently, their partnership has been going on for over one year and a half now, and it was part of the reason why the Dawn Winery became so intensively evident in the market.
“I see you’ve met my husband,” sing-songs Childe’s annoying voice from behind him, right next to his ear. Kaeya nearly jumps at the sudden proximity and the fact that he was so engaged in his own little world he failed to notice his colleague sneaking up on him. “He looks great, doesn’t he?”
Kaeya narrows his eyes at him. “I’m sorry?”
“That one right there.” Childe pointed at Diluc’s investor colleague.
“Oh, woah. If someone asked me one thing I could never see you having, that would be a celebrity crush,” Kaeya says, moving to press the elevator button and crossing his arms. “Guess life really is full of surprises.”
“He’s not a celebrity crush,” Childe argues, a wide mischievous smile decorating his features. “Like I said, he’s my husband.”
“Yours, and everyone else’s, apparently. What do people even see in these guys?”
“Are we just going to ignore the fact that you were stalking your childhood friend for the last ten minutes before I got here?”
“Don’t undermine yourself like that. You barely kept me waiting for five minutes.” Kaeya nods at one of the guys leaving the elevator, a colleague of theirs, and turns back to look at Childe. “And I wasn’t stalking him.”
“Definitely wasn’t.”
“I really wasn’t.”
“I just agreed with you.”
Kaeya rolls his eyes. Thankfully, he did not waste all of the money he brought with him when he left his family—he bought a decent car, a cheap apartment, and an excellent wardrobe. Claiming Kaeya cared about his figure would be an understatement, and he guesses that confidence is one of the reasons why he somewhat gets along with Childe—because it takes one to know one, and it takes an even stronger one to bear with one.
They drive all the way to the Cat’s Tail, an elegant little pub Childe uncovered not too long ago. Kaeya orders a round of drinks and leans to the side, supporting his elbow on the counter and looking at Childe as he attempts to figure him out.
“Alright, I’ll just ask. When did you become interested in investors?”
Childe swirls a glass of whiskey between his fingers, smirking. “Are you still trying to figure out whether I belong to a crime family or not?”
“Do you?”
“I don’t.”
“I don’t buy it.”
“Don’t ask, then,” Childe says, sticking out his tongue. “I’m not really interested in investors. I’d say it fits you much better to like the guy who owns a wine empire when all you do is drink wine, but we came all the way here to help you forget about that little situation, didn’t we?”
Kaeya sighs, watching the small ice cubes colliding with each other in his cup. “No, that’s fine. If anything, I came here to help me uncover all these weird ass feelings that I got all of a sudden. I don’t know if you’ve ever read that in an interview or whatever, since you seem to be interested in that whole rich-people world, but Diluc doesn’t even drink wine. He likes grape juice better.”
“How would you know? Didn’t you cut ties when you were, like, toddlers?”
“When we were ten,” Kaeya corrects him, “I don’t know because he told me personally, I know because I looked him up a lot a few years ago. I only stopped recently.”
“It got really depressing the hotter he got, huh.”
“Oh, shut up, Childe.”
Gladly, as they continue to drink and chat about the most worthless topics, Kaeya finds himself not quite considering the consequences of breaking his promise that deeply. Even if nothing else comes out of it, at least he will not have to deal with the fact that he was the one who cost Jean a million-dollar client and such a great opportunity for the firm.
By the time he finishes a glass of whiskey and faintly registers two little details—one, his tolerance became even better with time, and he can still think and act pretty clearly; and two, Childe’s tolerance is not as good as his, and he has already begun to switch between chattering annoying jokester and his mysterious personality that refuses to let anything show—Kaeya realizes it might be time for them to get a cab and go home. Since he knows the Cat Tail’s owner, he might be able to ask for permission for his car to rest in one of their stops in the nearby garage overnight.
Before he has a chance to speak to the owner, though, Kaeya’s phone chimes. Twice in a row. He sighs, supposing it might be his dearest boss, and reaches for it. Instead of Jean’s name, he sees a random number on his screen, and frowns at the texts.
Hello.
Is this Kaeya Alberich’s phone?
“Hey, Childe?” He quirks up an eyebrow, surpassing the numerous teasing remarks caught in his throat at the sight of Childe’s flushed cheeks. “Did you give out my number? Like, to one of your assassin friends?”
“I wouldn’t call Scaramouche a friend.”
Kaeya pauses. He inhales, exhales, and asks, “Is that the name of an actual assassin or are you shitting me?”
Childe chuckles. “Who knows?”
Deciding asking Childe is pointless, Kaeya texts back his response.
yeah, it is. who is this? did childe give you my number?
Surprisingly, his response arrives almost immediately. This time, when he reads it, the glass between his fingers slips and falls over the counter. It spills the few drops left in his cup over the counter, and some of drips on the floor. Gladly, everyone else around him is either too intoxicated to notice or too unbothered to care. Regardless, Kaeya doubts he would be able to acknowledge it even if someone said anything.
The next text reads:
It’s been a while, Kaeya. This is Diluc.
“Shit,” Kaeya mutters under his breath, rubbing his forehead underneath his longish blue bangs, “Shit, shit, shit.”
how
how did you get my number?
It only occurs to him moments after he has sent that stupid text exactly how rude and sudden it is. He could have done it any other way—from asking Diluc whether something had happened for him to get in touch, to simply going, “hello, Diluc, how have you been?”. Of course, however, he would do it the wrong way.
I’m not sure you’ve been told about this yet, but my company hired the firm you work at for an upcoming project. One of your colleagues was requested to send us a personal phone number through which we could speak to the one in charge, but I believe there has been a mistake. Instead of Jean Gunnhildr’s number, they sent yours.
Typical of Diluc, typing such a paragraph within three seconds it took Kaeya to realize he should have been more polite. He frowns, though. The one taking care of that should not be any employee—if anything, it should have been. . . Lisa.
Well, that explains it a little.
guess you could talk to me if you want to
“You did not just text him that.”
Kaeya hisses, suddenly getting up from the chair in order to move away from Childe, sneaking up on him once again. The drunken appearance Tartaglia had on before seems less evident now; instead, there is a lazy smile dancing on his lips, and an extremely teasing glisten to his eyes.
“What exactly was I supposed to text him?”
“Dude.” Childe laughs. “All he wanted was Jean’s number.”
Kaeya freezes. “No, he didn’t.”
“Look, he texted back.”
That is very generous of you, but I don’t think it will be necessary. As long as you can give Jean my number and request that she gets in touch as soon as possible, you will have done plenty.
Thank you.
“I’m going to quit, and move overseas, and—”
“You could do all that,” Childe sing-songs, clearly amused at the horrified expression on Kaeya’s face, “Or you could use this opportunity. You know, if he texted you himself, that probably means he doesn’t hate you that much anymore. I mean, either that or he’s just one of those guys that are really polite. I mean, either way, take this as a chance. You have his number now.”
“I’m deleting this conversation as we speak.”
“Give me that phone, Kaeya.”
“Get it from me if you can, Childe.”
***
There are not enough cups of coffee in the café for Kaeya to feel any more motivated to get to work after last night, but he convinces himself to make do with three of them. He downed a few more glasses after the disastrous episode with Diluc’s number, convinced Childe not to pester him any further, and took a cab home—where he fell face-first on the bed and stayed there for at least a whole hour. Later, he forced himself to take a cold shower, changed into clean clothes, and struggled to get a single drop of sleep for the next eight hours.
With the caffeine pumping his blood and oxygen and the hope of a less-stressful day, Kaeya walks to work. The building isn’t far from his place, but, above it all, he needs the extra breath of fresh air. He might have been down from the moment he got up, but he still bothered to put on good clothing—a satin blue coat over a white tank top and plain grey pants. Although he feels like his fashion sense would not be appreciated by many people, it still fits him disturbingly well.
Unfortunately, while the coffee helps him get up and running, it also worsens some of the worst aspects of a hangover, like the splitting headache he woke up with and his sensitiveness to loud noises. Because the building’s location had to be extremely accessible, it ended up in a crowded, noisy avenue. Kaeya has two fingers pressed heavily against his temple when the elevator doors finally close before him, the empty third cup of coffee cold between his fingers.
“You look awful,” Amber says as soon as he leaves the elevator. Kaeya throws her a displeased look, and she offers him a sympathetic smile. “I feel so bad now. Jean told me to get you in her office as soon as you got here, which was supposed to be over twenty minutes ago, but now I can tell you had a rough night.”
“Thanks, Amber. Very considerate of you.” Kaeya sighs. “Do you have any idea what Jean wants?”
“Something to do with the Dawn Winery.”
Of. Course. It. Is.
Kaeya sighs, crumpling the cup between his fingers and throwing it skillfully into the trash bin a few meters away. Amber watches him march into the direction of Jean’s office, not before quickly reminding him “coffee isn’t the best medicine for a hangover”. For all Kaeya knows, although Childe had more to drink than he did, he might look around and find his colleague naturally doing his job, not missing his posture for a bit, and that incentives him not to look for him.
Jean’s office is a little crowded. Aside from her, there is also Lisa, Eula—a skilled PR employee who convinced Jean into hiring her despite her annoyance attitude thanks to the resumé she brought along—and Albedo—their prime I.T. guy, mostly responsible for making sure the computers they live off are always in check and no data is stolen due to weak security. While most of their employees focused on developing websites and overall design features, Albedo became responsible for keeping the system up and running.
“It feels a bit like going into the teachers’ office back in High School,” are the first words out of Kaeya’s mouth, right after he delivers three soft knocks to Jean’s glass doors. When she looks up from the three people sitting in front of her and meets his eyes, there are flames in her expression.
“Where. . .” She begins, inhaling cautiously, “Were you?”
“I walked here today,” Kaeya says, attempting to seem more casual about the threatening aura he’s receiving than he actually is.
“You walked,” Jean echoes, “Today, of all days.”
“Okay, this is officially getting creepy. What happened?”
“The Dawn Winery’s CEO called,” Lisa says, and, while most of the people in there would have their heads handed to Jean on a silver plate the moment they dared interrupt her, Lisa suffers no consequences. “He’s coming here this morning to meet up with the team that’s going to develop his new site. We’re here to receive him and properly explain how things work like around here, especially if he wants to make any changes.”
Kaeya frowns. “Okay? What does that have to do with me?”
Jean sighs. This time, she retrieves her irritated expression for a moment, crossing her arms. “I sent him a spreadsheet of our initial plans and designers on the job. He was. . . unsatisfied, Kaeya, with the fact that your name wasn’t a part of it. And he said his only demand was that you joined the team.”
For a moment, Kaeya freezes. He can suddenly feel the rush of adrenaline spiked by the caffeine in every part of his head, and the headache he felt before only becomes more evident. For one, he understands Jean would never willingly play with his feelings like that, especially not in a professional environment. On the other hand, it would prove itself much more pleasant if it were only a distasteful joke, because, otherwise, he might have to consider the possibility of Diluc only showing up back in his life to pay him back for his acts as a child.
“Meaning,” Kaeya begins, slowly, “I can’t say no.”
“Of course you can say no, Kaeya. I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do,” Jean says, frowning slightly.
“But you do have to do it while taking into consideration that he might fire us for it,” Eula adds, and all eyes turn to her for a moment. Unbothered, she shrugs. “It’s the truth.”
“He’s going to kill me,” Kaeya says, looking at Jean, “In fact, no, he might not. He might do worse. He’s like, super rich. I’m pretty sure he’s creative.”
“I highly doubt this well-known, well-though of CEO is planning on committing a crime, Kaeya. And even if he were, I doubt he would choose hiring you as his method,” Jean says, clearly trying her best not to flip a table on his throbbing head. “Like I said, it’s your choice. Unfortunately, there isn’t a lot of time for you to choose, considering he’s going to be here any minute.”
On one hand, Kaeya is well-aware he should say no and quickly get Jean to explain to Diluc that he is either currently out of town or in the middle of a life crisis that cannot be postponed for their project. On the other hand, there is nothing he would like more than to have at least a single chance to speak to Diluc normally again.
“Okay,” He blurts out, pressing two fingers against his temple, “Okay, I’ll do it. What do I have to know?”
Within an hour, the four of them attempt to settle Kaeya into the project, letting him know the basics and adapt to some of the early ideas they’ve had. It’s not much, considering how recent their contact with the Dawn Winery is, but they did run a bit of a background check on the company’s history already, and they are already starting to set up a briefing. Kaeya listens to all of it, but he doesn’t quite absorb all of it. Instead, he tries to imagine the reasoning behind Diluc’s sudden demand.
Last night, he made a fool out of himself. Perhaps Diluc realized just how desperate he was and decided to play with him for a bit, just to let him know the feeling, as if he didn’t know already. Perhaps there is some cruel plan behind all this in which Diluc is going to reveal to the rest of his colleagues all of the bad stuff he has done and get him rightfully fired for staining their reputation. Perhaps he has the right to do that.
Kaeya realizes, with the unsettlement twirling in his stomach, that he doesn’t actually believe Diluc would be capable of any of that. Because Diluc has always been so much better than him, and, if anything, those thoughts say more about the kind of person he is than about the kind of person his former best friend is.
He is in the kitchen, downing his fifth glass of water, when Amber rushes in there, grabs him by the sleeve and pulls him back to the lobby. He doesn’t even get a chance to ask what’s the rush by the time he sees the rest of the employees lined up, the elevator doors opening, and President Diluc of the Dawn Winery emerging.
The last time they met in person, Diluc was but a child, a small thing with rounds cheeks constantly flushed enough to match his vividly red hair, walking around either in comfy expensive hoodies or children-tailed fancy outfits for events with his father. He would smile all the time, and, at the sight of Kaeya, he would throw himself in his arms and immediately drag him into the house for them to play all day long. The memories were always suffocating—whenever Kaeya pictured Diluc’s last look at him, that betrayed glare that cut through his soul, he would invoke back the best friend he used to play with, and he would find that picturing a smiling, happy Diluc hurt him far more than any of the anger directed at him that cold night.
Time passed. He continued on following Diluc’s development, his ascension through the ranks, the way he took the Dawn Winery back from the hands of that dirty businessman with all the power he was bound to have. He watched some of Diluc’s interviews, and his stomach sank at the polite yet completely empty smiles he saw, the clear eyes that used to have stars in them suddenly void of any light. Perhaps Diluc hated being in front of the cameras. Perhaps his life was just that dull.
It wasn’t until a while ago that Kaeya quit watching the interviews and etcetera. He supposes, it was during that time interval, that Diluc suddenly became the man he sees standing before him now.
He is wearing a black three-piece suit with a white waistcoat, wine-colored cufflinks adorning his wrists. His red hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, the few strands falling over the sides of his face only contributing to punctuate his sharp features. He grew taller—at this point, he might one or two centimeters taller than Kaeya. He has a peaceful expression on his face, and his devastatingly handsome countenance freezes everyone at the firm for a second or two—with some general exceptions, such as Jean and Lisa.
“Welcome, Mr. Ragnvindr,” Jean offers, a polite smile lighting up her face.
Diluc responds with a smile of his own, adding, “Just ‘Diluc’ will be fine, Mrs. Gunnhildr.”
“Well, in that case, just ‘Jean’ will be fine.” She says, easing the tense atmosphere around them at least a little. She turns to her employees and quickly asks them to introduce themselves, as they will be the ones working on Diluc’s project. Kaeya faintly registers the bodyguard standing a few meters away from Diluc. By the time it’s his turn to introduce himself, Kaeya positively freezes, because he looks back at Diluc and finds those clear eyes fixed on him.
His lack of flair doesn’t seem to get to Diluc. When he realizes Kaeya’s frozen state, he offers him a smile that can only be described as gentle and says, “You’ve grown up.”
Kaeya now fully believes Diluc is set on murdering him. Brutally. Mercilessly.
“You’re one to talk,” He manages to make out. Part of him wants to say something stupid, such as so much for not ever showing my face in front of you again, but he would rather not have Diluc reminded of all the reasons he has to hate him just yet. “Congratulations on making CEO, Diluc. Always knew you had it in you.”
Diluc nods. “Thank you, Kaeya.”
And that’s it. The next second, he turns back to talk to Jean, and she sends Kaeya one last concerned glance before asking Diluc to accompany her and Lisa into the conference room, where she will be displaying their early ideas before him while the rest of the group prepares a quick presentation.
It seems most of the guys chosen to work on the project have scratched the surface on Kaeya’s dilemma with Diluc. Amber purses her lips, unsure of what to say, and Kaeya nearly believes she is going to find the courage to somehow comfort him when Albedo’s voice interrupts his thoughts.
“Whatever it is that happened between the two of you is in the past, Kaeya,” He starts, in a matter-of-fact tone, “It seems he has fully gotten over it. Maybe you should as well.”
Kaeya’s lips contort into a bitter, bitter smile.
“You’re probably right.”
***
Time blurs into work, and, by the time Kaeya stops to take a deep breath, a week has passed.
Diluc’s meeting with the firm was short—he had a lot to do, and he assured Jean he was absolutely certain the project would be a success as long as a firm as competent as theirs was on it. He bid them goodbye, never met Kaeya’s eyes one last time, and walked out of the building as if he hadn’t, hours before, demanded that Kaeya was on the project for some unknown reason.
Childe bothers him about quite a lot. At first, he makes snarky remarks about Kaeya’s eloquence when speaking to Diluc—somehow, he is such a gossiper he has even managed to learn about Kaeya’s frozen moment—and then he starts pondering the reasons why Diluc made that demand. Kaeya has never taken Childe seriously enough to get hurt by anything he says, and he is at least half-aware Childe knows that. The pitiful looks he receives from the rest of his colleagues, however, constantly turn his mood sour in a heartbeat.
It’s past five in the afternoon when Lisa goes cubicle by cubicle, letting the people in the project know they are meeting for one last reunion for the day before going home. Kaeya honestly doesn’t mind it. Thinking about the Dawn Winery as part of a project is much easier than letting his mind play tricks on him all day.
“We’re proposing an ethnographic research,” Lisa announces, writing the words in red ink as the rest of them settles down around the table, “Conducting multiple on-line researches on the Dawn Winery’s customers is pointless. Most of the results coming up are from people who are either in love with the CEO or too drunk to care about the actual taste, let alone the publicity. Diluc says his company is sophisticated, yet accessible. We need people that appreciate the product, that would be willing to speak on it, whether it be because they have compliments or complaints. It isn’t our job to make the wine better, but it sure is to make it look like it is.”
“How should we do that?” Noelle asks, her eyes bright as always. “We can’t exactly find a community of wine tasters.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Lisa says, softly, and turns her back on them to write something under the previous swords she had on the board. As she finishes and steps aside, they collectively let out a hum of understanding.
“Wine clubs,” Kaeya reads aloud, squinting a little.
“Yes, wine clubs. Not the ones shops and companies use to have people taste their product and brag about it, but the ones where actual wine lovers reunite to talk about the process of grinding grapes or whatever it is happens. They’re exclusive, of course, but that’s easily solvable. Since we’re doing this for mister CEO of the month, he can definitely get us in.”
Amber leans forward. “Which one of us, though? Do you see anyone here that would fit into one of those sophisticated places?”
If it were Kaeya saying something like that, people would jump him for doubting their capabilities—however, they all know Amber’s words are true. All they know about wine is the taste of their favorite brand in reunions with friends. They have more important things to worry about on a daily basis, too much to care about the process of making any sorts of drinks.
After a few moments of silence, Kaeya raises two fingers, tilting his head to the side. “I’ll do it.”
Lisa crosses her arms. “Why should I trust you anywhere near a wine club, huh? You’ll just drink the night away and forget all about the project.”
“You insult me, Lisa, you really do,” Kaeya says, smirking. “I’m the only one here that’s ever had to behave around those kinds of people. I might not have been a wine club before, but I know those people. Too rich to have something to do, so they go around tasting whatever classy drink someone puts in front of them and spewing some nonsense on the importance of it for the aristocratic world or whatever. I can deal with that with a clear head. The rest of you will punch your way out in annoyance.”
Amber shoots him a stare, gesturing towards Noelle as if saying, really? You think she would do that?, but Lisa seems convinced. She writes down Kaeya’s name and places the pen over the table.
“Alright, Alberich. You’re in. Ethnographic research is up to you. Now, who here is going to be on the brainstorming group tomorrow, and who’s going to write down the notes?”
The second they hear the word brainstorming out of Lisa’s mouth, they freeze. The corners of Kaeya’s lips pull hard into a smile, and he gets up from his chair, making a show of it. “Sorry to abandon you kids, but I have to go home and get my best wine-appreciation outfit ready. Let me know when the CEO gives us the get-go, Lisa.”
He doesn’t wait for her to confirm or deny anything before walking right out, pulling his phone from his pocket and conducting his own research on the best wine clubs they could get responses from. Although they joke around him with often, everyone knows he takes his job seriously, and no one worries that he’s going to go home and forget his tasks.
He is still in the middle of scrolling past some doubtful looking spots, leaning against his desk while simultaneously grabbing his stuff from over the keyboard and placing everything back into the drawers, when a new notification pops up. He registers the chiming noise first, then absentmindedly bringing his eyes to it.
And, not for the first time since this whole mess started, nearly drops his phone face-first on the floor.
Because Childe insisted so much that one night, Kaeya saved Diluc’s contact number. It was a desperate, pitiful thing to do, yet he knew there would be no one snooping around and finding out about it, so he saw less reasons not to do it and more reasons to just say screw it.
He did not, for a second, think Diluc would ever text him again.
Hello, Kaeya.
Are you busy tonight?
Kaeya tightens his grip around the phone, staring at the screen with a thoughtful expression for a few moments. He supposes, at this point, he has gotten used to the fact that Diluc will keep on surprising him until he eventually can’t take it anymore. He can’t understand, however, this one sudden development.
He gathers up his courage and texts:
i guess you could say i’m sort of busy
i’m working for this fancy wine company
That’s better than his previous dramatic reactions, isn’t it? It has to be. Kaeya lets out a sigh, plopping down on his chair and massaging his temple. If this were anyone else, he would be so much smoother it would’ve been ridiculous. Now, all he can manage are two sentences heavily clouded in humor to hide his hesitance.
His phone chimes once again.
That’s funny.
Would you like to meet?
“That’s funny, huh,” He rubs his forehead, “That’s all you could muster, you little. . .”
Then it hits him.
Diluc wants to meet.
With him.
Before he can stop himself, he types back:
sure
where
There is a pause. A long pause. At first, Kaeya thinks it might be him—he’s stressed out, so it feels like it’s been a long time. But he looks back at the clock and realizes over ten minutes have passed. He drums his fingers over the desk nervously, wishing for Childe to be long gone from the office by now and not catch him in his freaking-out moment.
Two things happen at the same time. Jean emerges from her office, holding at least three heavy-looking folders under her armpits, and Kaeya’s phone chimes with a new text. When he looks down at it, his agitated heart sinks to his stomach soundly.
I’m sorry, Kaeya.
Something’s come up. I’ll talk to you again some other day.
“Hey, Kaeya. Are you okay?”
He had it coming, he knows that much. Whatever this is—the fake hints, the sudden appearances, and even more sudden disappearances—he’s well-aware he earned that. He swallows every last bit of his pride, flips his phone in his hand casually, looks up at Jean with a smile and asks, “Did you know there are around fifty wine clubs in this city? This is crazy. I didn’t think there would be enough stuck-up people around here to fill five of them.”
“Oh, are you looking them up?” She leans over his desk, and he shows her the tabs he had open before the quick conversation he just had. He truly hopes a notification doesn’t pop up while Jean has her eyes on it. “Lisa told me about the ethnographic research. Are you doing it?”
“Yeah. I’m the only one here classy enough to do it.”
Jean lets out a soft laugh. She seems to be in a good mood. “Good work, then. Let Lisa know if you find anything promising.”
He sighs, pressing the off button on his phone as soon as she turns her back. “Alright, boss. I will.”
***
Kaeya has finally come to the healthy decision not to think about Diluc anymore.
He asks in on a project Childe is working on, doubling the time he has to keep his head occupied, and ignores the concerned glance he receives from Jean when he announces he’s “giving Tartaglia’s amateur ass a hand for a while”. Because she knows the kind of drama he’s submitting himself to, she agrees to it, but she makes sure he knows the Dawn Winery’s website is their priority.
Childe’s team is developing an app. Since they picked a Design Thinking process to go through, they’re already past emphasizing and defining by the time Kaeya joins, and the whole phase of ideating has already begun. He joins one or two brainstorming sessions, writing down the suggestions and reorganizing them as Childe requests that he does. He clears his head, and he’s distracted for the better part of five days. He’s still waiting on the confirmation for the wine club—he sent a few suggestions based on the popular opinions he found on-line and e-mailed them to Lisa a few days ago.
By the time the brainstorming session is done and everyone else but Kaeya and Childe have left the room, they join in front of the white board and set the post-its and notes accordingly. Kaeya pretends not to notice Childe’s sly eyes on him, choosing to continue with his work instead.
Unfortunately, his colleague has other ideas.
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks, Tartaglia. That’s all a guy wants to hear.”
“When was the last time you slept?”
Kaeya smirks at him. “When was the last time you cared?”
“Didn’t you catch that?” Childe grins openly. “Just now!”
“Alright, smart-ass. Let’s wrap this up. I still need to get back to Lisa,” He says, absentmindedly massaging the back of his neck, “Hey, are you going straight home after this?”
Childe tilts his head. “Really depends on the other alternative.”
“I need to buy a better jacket for the wine club ethnographic research. I have good clothes, but I don’t think they’re context-appropriate,” Kaeya explains, sticking the last post-it. “Since you’re, like, an international spy or whatever, I thought you might be able to help me pick something out.”
“I’m not an international spy.”
“National, then? Don’t worry, you’ll make it overseas someday.”
Childe chuckles, grabbing the keys from his pocket and spinning them on his fingers. He starts heading towards the door. “Fine. I’ll take you. If I see something especially fancy, I’ll just keep it for me, so. . . Uh oh.”
Kaeya frowns, turning around to look at him. “Uh oh, what?”
A mischievous grin shows on Childe’s lips as he points outside the glass doors. “I think someone’s here to see you.”
Absolutely no way.
Diluc isn’t wearing a suit tonight—he’s wearing a black overall and a scarf around his neck. Under the dimly lit lobby—most of the employees have already left, so they’re keeping energy usage to a minimum—he looks just as attractive as he did some days before. In fact, the blue-ish effect might make him even more attractive, the nice contrast with his red hair not going unnoticed for a moment.
If he were here to speak to Jean, she would be out of her office in a minute, ready to receive her client. She isn’t. He’s here for something else.
“Dude,” Childe says, looking at Kaeya as if he’s expecting something. “Go talk to him.”
Kaeya shakes his head. “I’m not about to submit myself to that.”
“Kaeya.”
“No.”
“Kaeya.”
That second one isn’t Childe’s voice.
The other day, Diluc sounded fully composed, not even a shred of emotion in his tone. This time, something is different. He stands there, posture straight and face impassive, but his voice betrays him. He sounds expectant. Kaeya clears his throat, exiting the conference room and standing as close to Diluc as he can without breaking into his personal space.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” Diluc says, “I asked Jean. She said you were still in the building.”
“Yeah. I, um, just finished a meeting.” Kaeya looks above his shoulder, meaning to introduce Diluc to Childe, but he realizes his colleague is already long gone. He squints hard. “The guy that was responsible for it already left, so.”
“Lisa got in touch with me. She said you had plenty of ideas for wine clubs you could explore,” Diluc explains softly, “I went through it. Most of them require memberships, and we could manage to get them within a few days, but there is one where we won’t have to. The Angel’s Share.”
Kaeya frowns. He knew Diluc was powerful, but. . . “Isn’t that supposed to be the fanciest, hardest one to get into?”
There is a split moment where he thinks he sees Diluc smile. The dark makes it difficult for him to be sure, but his heart skips a beat regardless. “I suppose so. Gladly, I already own a membership there. If you’d like to conduct your research there, I will happily accompany you.”
The words “accompany me?” get stuck on the tip of Kaeya’s tongue. He shoves down the feeling that this is once again a trap that’s going to make him feel terribly about himself in a few minutes, smiles politely and says, “That’d be great. I still need to fix myself up with something to wear, but, as soon as I’m done with that. . .”
Diluc frowns a little. “The Angel’s Share might sound exclusive, but it doesn’t demand anything special regarding social wear.”
That much, Kaeya knows. “I got it. I just have this thing when I’m working where I’m either going big or going home,” He says, attempting to sound as natural and light as he would if he were talking to anyone else, “So, I’ll find something a bit too extravagant, mingle, and get results for the Dawn Winery.”
“I don’t doubt you will, Kaeya,” Diluc says, voice surprisingly gentle. Kaeya half-expects him to turn around and leave—if his goal is to make sure he is constantly on Kaeya’s mind, he has successfully placed himself back in there—but instead he places his hands in his pockets and asks. “Well, if you’re going to find an outfit, I should put in effort as well. After all, this is for my company. Would you like to go for social wear with me?”
Part of Kaeya’s mind wants nothing more than to immediately say yes, drop everything, and go shopping with Diluc—as unrealistic as that sounds. Part of him, however, remembers the last time Diluc referenced any sort of going out with him, and he speaks his mind before he’s able to stop himself, “You don’t think something’s going to come up this time?”
Diluc might have been an amiable, extremely friendly child, but there was part of his temperament, even as a child, that could only be described as easily annoyed. At the same time, Kaeya was a lot more patient, but he was capable of sarcasm before he knew its name. Back then, they had no opportunities to witness that side in each other—this time, they’re old enough for those uncomfortable feelings to actually surface in the middle of a conversation.
Diluc absorbs Kaeya’s remark quickly, and his slightly quirked up right brow suggests he wasn’t exactly expecting it. “I apologize for that. It wasn’t my intention to. . .” He pauses. Sighs. “I had told Zhongli I had to speak to you. I left my phone unattended for a moment, and he took the opportunity to text you. He failed to notice I still hadn’t finished my work for the night, and I had to cancel it on you immediately. I’m sorry.”
Kaeya blinks. “Zhongli, the investor?”
Zhongli, the investor, has the liberty to go to your house, grab your phone from wherever it lies around the place, and text people on your behalf.
That’s just. . . wonderful. That’s a really beautiful friendship.
“Yes. I needed some help with a briefing for a meeting with the stakeholders, and he offered to help,” Diluc explains simply, as if it meant nothing. “I told him I’d come speak to you when I had the time, so he dropped it.”
Kaeya clears his throat, but the bitter taste in his tongue doesn’t dissolve in the slightest. “Got it. What’s it that you wanted to talk to be about the other night, then? The wine clubs? Had Lisa gotten in touch with you before talking to the rest of us?”
For a moment, it seems Diluc is shaking his head, but then he says, “Yes. I was going to suggest the Angel’s Share, actually, so I was thankful you had the insight of going for it.”
Aaaaaand it’s awkward again.
“Well, then,” Kaeya says, “Shall we? To. . . wherever wealthy CEOs buy their social attires?”
For once, a very subtle smile shows on Diluc’s lips. “Follow me, if you don’t mind.”
Diluc drove himself to the firm instead of taking a limousine, and that is something Kaeya is grateful for. He wouldn’t know how to react if he had to ride in the back of the most extravagant car in existence, facing Diluc all the way to whatever it is they’re going. Instead, Diluc gestures for him to get in when they reach the richest-looking vehicle in the parking lot, and the doors open upwards instead of at the pull of a hand, like a normal-person door would. Diluc fits into the fanciness as if he has always been a part of it, and Kaeya, having been just as rich someday, doesn’t feel like he could ever compare.
Although he half-expects them to end up at some marble-decorated neighborhood, Kaeya feels that it’s a welcome surprise when Diluc parks in front of a retail store—it’s a sophisticated one, with shiny showcases and impeccable suits on display, and yet it isn’t like he completely stands out in there, at least not with Diluc by his side. The place isn’t super quiet; there is some soft music flowing through the pieces of extremely expensive clothing, and Kaeya averts his gaze from the price tags multiple times. Diluc leads him to a round of stairs that connects the store’s main lobby to a closed door. There are several employees spread around the store—at the sight of Diluc, not a single one of them asks him whether there is something he wants, choosing instead only to greet him with a polite smile.
When a pale grey-haired man opens the door at the first three soft knocks of Diluc’s hand, Kaeya immediately regrets thinking this was a simple retail store. He stares at the man beside him, horrified, and whispers, “When I said I wanted to look good for the wine club, you said my clothes were fine.”
Diluc looks at him. “Yes, I did.”
“Wha—If they were fine, why did you bring me to a tailor?”
For a split second, he thinks he sees a glimpse of humor going through Diluc’s clear eyes. “I thought your motto was something on the lines of ‘go big or go home’, Kaeya. If you wanted an appropriate attire for the wine club, I could assure you the best tailor in the city can manage it for you.”
Before Kaeya can protest, Diluc engages in conversation with the man, and he ends up dragged into the office, quickly ordered to stay still so his measurements can be taken. He considers texting Childe something like “I’ve been kidnapped. Send help”, but part of him dreads that he would ever say something like that and have Childe believe him. The last thing he needs is an assassin showing up to the retail store’s doorstep because he wanted to lighten up his own tension with a joke.
“So, um,” Kaeya stars, certainly unsure of how to talk to Diluc while a tailor—a tailor, really, he shouldn’t have said anything—measures his waist. There is a comfortable armchair on a corner of the room, and Diluc settles there, grabbing his phone and going through something; probably important e-mails from actual relevant people who won’t drag him to tailors needlessly. “We barely had a chance to talk.”
Diluc looks up, meeting his eyes for a moment. “Yes. That’s unfortunate.”
Thanks. Your enthusiasm is exhilarating. “How have you been, Diluc?”
“I’ve been well,” Diluc says, and it seems, for a second, like that’s all he’s going to say. A few moments later, however, he lets out a sigh, lowers his phone and looks back up. “What about you? The design firm, when did you become interested in that?”
Kaeya half-smiles. “Interested is a big of a strong word. I dropped out of college before I could truly say I was getting into it, but Jean’s offer was a good one, and the firm is a nice place to work at. It’s not like. . . well, like I was going to need any abundance of money for a while, but I thought it would be a better idea to get a job and settle down than to just. . . be. And not do anything with it.”
Some acknowledgement makes its way along Diluc’s features. He hums, and adds, “Jean said you’re an excellent asset to the firm. You must do a great job there.”
It’s such a simple sentence, one Kaeya could go along with and keep the harmony all around the room, and yet there is part of him that’s unable to hold back from asking, “Is that why you demanded that I joined the project when you learned my name wasn’t a part of it?”
A pause. The atmosphere thickens—Kaeya truly hopes the tailor can’t feel it. Diluc averts his gaze from Kaeya, turning back to his phone, and manages to say in the most casual manner possible, “Yes, exactly. It’s an important thing to have an appropriate website for the company, and I wanted the best people working on it.”
Before Kaeya has the opportunity to say anything else, Diluc’s phone rings. He makes a quick apologetic gesture, gets up and walks out of the door, closing it gently on his way out. Kaeya is forced to swallow down the bitter taste on his tongue, shoving down the faint impression that, just now, before the phone rang, Diluc quickly typed and sent out something.
Diluc drives Kaeya home afterwards. They don’t talk on the way, and Kaeya barely lets out a “thank you” when leaving the car. Diluc leaves wordlessly.
***
Kaeya’s hand-tailored navy-blue suit arrives at his place three days later. He quickly lets Jean know, and she informs him that, if he’s ready, the wine club will be open the next evening. Kaeya quickly replies that, if it’s okay with Diluc, it’s okay with him.
He spends the day at work, a sophisticated bag with his suit in it resting under his desk, and tries not to think about going on an ethnographic activity with Diluc that, in other circumstances, would have been crazy similar to a date. At some point, he tells Childe about it, and the glance of complete and utter mischief he receives in return is enough for him to feel shivers running down his spine.
“You’re literally never getting an opportunity like this again.”
“Shut up, Tartaglia.”
“Kaeya,” Childe drops the pen he’s holding and turns fully to him, “You’re incredibly attractive. You’re, objectively, the hottest guy in the office. Aside from me, that is.”
Kaeya props his chin on his wrist, looking at him through his eyelashes. “Oh, this should be interesting.”
“You can argue Diluc is also incredibly attractive, and, truth be told, you’d be right,” Childe proceeds, and the grin on his lips only widens at Kaeya’s sudden quirked up brows, “But that just means you’d look good together. Besides, he took you to a tailor, and he made sure you had, like, the greatest suit available for tonight.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the least expensive part of his monthly accounts.”
“Yeah, I mean, the greatest suit available for you, since you’re not rich,” He points out. “So, look at the situation from this perspective: as long as you manage to charm him a little bit with that pretty face of yours, you can actually get Diluc to think of you as someone other than the guy who screwed him over years ago.”
If it were anyone else saying that, Kaeya might have gotten mad. With Childe, all he does is sigh, a slight smile dancing on his lips. “Whoever said I want him to?”
“Oh, you think I’m an idiot.”
Kaeya doesn’t reply to that. He looks out of the window, at the sunset, and briefly wonders whether Diluc feels anxious at all because of the event tonight. According to his interviews, he’s not a big fan of wine himself, but he must have to attend several parties like that in order to keep up with the market. Kaeya might have been thinking about him and quietly wishing they still talked for several years, but that doesn’t mean Diluc ever thought about him. Lately, every signal he thought he received was a misdirect—first, Diluc’s investor close friend was the one who texted him, and second, the need he had for Kaeya being in the project was purely professional. The tailor visit might be either considered a peace offer or simply a moment to show off his wealth. Right now, Kaeya has no reason to believe Diluc wants anything to do with him at all.
“Well, I’d offer to accompany you. You know, in order to make sure you don’t screw it up,” Childe says, casually scrolling on his phone, “But I have a date tonight, so I’m unavailable.”
A curious look appears on Kaeya’s face. “A date? With whom?”
“Didn’t I tell you before?” Childe asks, grinning. “With my husband, obviously.”
Kaeya rolls his eyes. His curiosity dies under Childe’s silliness, and he finishes his tasks quickly and swiftly before going back to his desk. He soon learns Childe isn’t the only one supposedly taking the night out for a date—Jean left him a note warning him that he should call her personal phone if he needs anything, considering she’s taking Lisa out for dinner. They have been working so hard and for so long for the firm they hardly ever find the time to enjoy each other’s company nowadays.
He looks up and finds Jean must have wrote that note less than a minute ago. She’s standing by the elevator, waiting, speaking on the phone. Kaeya’s gossipy nature allows him to observe as Lisa casually walks up to her, snatches the phone from her hands and spins it into her pocket. Jean begins protesting, but Lisa interrupts her by dragging her close by the shoulder and placing a quick kiss to her lips. Jean flushes from her toes to the top of her head, and Lisa chuckles happily when the elevator door opens, pulling her in by the waist. They disappear a few moments later.
Kaeya’s phone chimes, drawing his attention back. He purses his lips at the sight of Diluc’s name.
I’m leaving the house right now. I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.
Kaeya’s lip contorts, and he picks up the bag to change. Definitely not at all similar to a date.
Fourteen minutes later, he finds himself standing outside of the firm’s building, breathing in the fresh air of the evening while worrying a little that he seems a bit too fancy for the occasion. Those concerns quickly vanish, however, when he sees Diluc—not because Diluc is any more extravagant, considering how subtle his every look is, but because he doubts anyone could pay attention to anyone else when Diluc is looking like the most beautiful person he has ever seen and walking around like he’s not even aware.
Diluc watches him get into the car, eyes following his every movement for a moment, and Kaeya briefly wonders whether his mind is playing tricks on him or Diluc actually seems to be unable to look away from him for a moment. He didn’t want to show up with only a suit on and no extra effort, so he added a little make-up and held the side of his hair back in a braid. For a few moments, there is pure silence in the car, and then Diluc regains his conscience, clears his throat, and announces they’re right on time.
“So,” Diluc starts, sounding a little uncomfortable, “How is this going to work?”
“Oh, it’s pretty simple. Ethnography is mostly anthropology, which means it’s basically observing people in their natural environment and absorbing their behaviors and habits,” Kaeya explains, finding the distraction helpful, “If we were designing a project for a larger group of people, we might have to live in their midst for a few days, but we have enough with the research we’ve done on your customers and the data you offered. Mostly, I’m here tonight to make sure the people in that wine club would click on the link of your website and spend longer than five minutes scrolling. Ideally, they should also feel comfortable sharing it.”
Diluc hums in understanding, and Kaeya is slightly surprised to notice he seems to actually pay attention to it. Although knowing the kind of processes involved in research and developing pieces is really helpful to the clients, most of them only want to be reassured, not actually to learn anything. It seems Diluc differs from them.
“If there’s anything I can help with,” Diluc says, spinning the wheel between his long fingers as he finishes parking, “Just let me know. I’ll be around to make sure I can support you in any way possible.”
Kaeya smiles. “Alright. Let’s go in, then.”
The wine club is hosted in an extremely sophisticated pub-looking establishment, and they are received with smiles and enthusiastic “Welcome to the Angel’s Share” exclamations. Clearly, the staff knows Diluc, and they spare no effort making him feel the utmost at home. He offers them polite smiles, introduces Kaeya as a “friend from the design firm working with the Dawn Winery”, and requests that the members are informed of the research process going on tonight.
“Will you drink anything?” Kaeya asks. Diluc leans forward over the polished counter, placing his phone face up, eyeing the shelves filled with Dawn Winery wines.
“I’d really rather not.”
Kaeya smiles a little. “Do they not serve grape juice exclusively for you?”
Diluc blinks, staring at him as if he’s somewhere between curious and confused. “I drank that as a kid, but how would you know that’s still my preference?”
Oh, well. How bad can it be. “You said so in a bunch of interviews, didn’t you?” Kaeya asks, attempting to sound casual rather than oddly nervous. “Knowing you’re the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the wine industry, only ever drinking grape juice is sort of. . .” Endearing. Adorable. Everything. “Courageous.”
“And I suppose you don’t feel the same,” Diluc says, gesturing with his chin towards the bottles over the shelves. Kaeya gives him a sheepish smile, and, although he would figure Diluc wouldn’t actually engage in conversation with him when he’s supposed to be getting his work done, the CEO stretches out his arm and draws the attention of the bartender hired to keep the wine tasting up during the event. “The newest product, please.”
He turns back to Kaeya, and, if the designer believes there is a faint amount of blood rushing through his cheeks, he convinces himself it’s the lighting in the club.
“We’re releasing a few new recipes, since we want the audience not to get too tired of us,” Diluc explains briefly, and he smiles in satisfaction when a glass filled with wine is placed in front of Kaeya. “Will you give me your opinion on it?”
Kaeya wants to joke about how they’re surrounded by wine lovers, much more qualified the judge the taste, the texture, and the overall product than he is. He wants to tell Diluc he shouldn’t put that much trust into someone that’s only there to observe in a corner. He wants to do a lot of things.
He smiles and takes a sip. Diluc’s eyes sparkle a little while waiting for his verdict. Kaeya convinces himself the warmth in his chest is part of the wine’s magical effect.
“This is excellent,” Kaeya says. He feels bad, because, under the light of Diluc’s eyes, he’s not really paying any attention to the alcohol or the taste at all. He looks at him, smiles and adds, “The Dawn Winery is really ahead of its time.”
For the first time since they’ve reunited, a genuine, teeth-showing smile lights up Diluc’s face. Kaeya believes, from the bottom of his heart, that his breath stops for at least a few seconds, and the rest of his body freezes as if he’s been ordered to stand still and not budge a centimeter. The smile goes away as soon as it came, Diluc rapidly regaining his neutral countenance, but it’s already been burnt into Kaeya’s memory. And he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop seeing it now.
“Thank you, Kaeya,” Diluc says, gentle and genuine. “That means a lot.”
Kaeya’s words get stuck in his throat. By the time he’s found his voice, he hears the soft chime of Diluc’s phone getting a text. Since it’s facing them, he accidentally catches a quick glimpse of the name on the screen before Diluc grabs it, apologizes, and retreats to speak to the caller.
“Angel”, read the contact’s name.
“Oh, I’m in the club,” He hears Diluc say, standing close enough that Kaeya still catches it even if he doesn’t mean to, “Yes, Zhongli, I took care of it before leaving. If you’re so doubtful, you can go and check it by yourself. No, it’s fine, just use your keys. It’s fine if the paparazzi don’t notice you.”
There is a ringing in Kaeya’s ears, and he downs the rest of the content of his glass, immediately rearranging every thought he had in the last five minutes. There’s a reason he’s here. There’s a reason it’s Diluc on the other side, and not someone that actually enjoys his company and wants to be around him.
There’s a reason he had to hear that phone call—to get over it once and for all.
“I’m sorry,” Diluc says, placing the phone back into his pocket, “I had to pick up.”
Kaeya forces out a smile. “It’s totally fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to do some research.”
If Diluc notices the way Kaeya becomes an entirely new person by the end of the night, he doesn’t mention it.
And Kaeya thinks that’s probably for the best.