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Diluc sighed.
It was a slow night, even slower than a typical night he would call slow, and there were a thousand other things he could have been doing at the moment. He thought of the unreasonably tall stack of paperwork sitting on his desk at home, of the trade missives with Sumeru he had to review, of the rumors of an Abyss Order hideout somewhere in the Stormbearer Mountains. The latter of which, of course, being far more enticing to take care of, but Diluc was beholden to his responsibilities. This was Charles’s night off.
And, so, here Diluc was. Sighing as he ran a dry rag over the lip of the glass he had just washed; a night slower than slow at Angel’s Share.
It was unusually empty, save for the muted conversations of one or two patrons that filled the air. Not even the likes of Patton or José remained, despite the fact those fools were here every damn night. That strange nun – Rosaria, was it? – had dropped by, ordered one single drink, and left. Not to mention that Venti hadn’t even showed his face tonight. Diluc supposed that Archons would typically have better things to do, but this was Venti. There was no way this particular Archon had anything on his agenda to do except for drinking wine. And yet, inexplicably, Venti was nowhere to be found, the tavern resoundingly empty from the familiar strumming of his lyre.
There was, additionally, one more reason it was unusually quiet tonight. The biggest nuisance of all hadn’t turned up yet. Mondstadt’s Cavalry Captain always made a habit of knowing which nights Diluc would work, to make sure he dropped in for the sole reason of harassing the tavern’s owner, running his mouth a mile a minute simply to fill the space. Simply to get on his nerves. This was a routine so consistent, so reliable like clockwork, it might as well have been as factually predictable as the sun rising in the morning.
So? Then, where was he? It certainly begged the question.
Diluc didn’t care. This was an important distinction to make. Kaeya was a grown man, clearly capable of making his own decisions, of living his own life. What they used to be, and what they were now, were two entirely separate things, and what the Cavalry Captain was to Diluc now was nothing more than a stranger wearing a familiar face.
He supposed, distantly, that he was a familiar patron, at any rate, despite the questionable running balance on his tab. Familiarity wouldn’t pay his bills. But it did allow for the question of where, exactly, one of his most reliable visitors had gotten off to tonight. Diluc kept tabs on the Knights of Favonius – and there was nothing in particular that came to mind that should have warranted the Captain’s attention tonight, unless there was an unforeseen emergency.
And? If there was?
Then, Diluc reasoned, he should like to close up early. He’d be much better off putting his claymore to use than rinsing the counter of an empty bar, but unfortunately there really was no justification. Diluc knew, realistically, there was no urgent battle tonight, nor would there be. It was quiet, just as it always was, as Mondstadt had grown peaceful as of late despite the nauseating presence of the Fatui still occupying the Grand Goth Hotel. Aside from rumors of the Abyss Order on the move, which weren’t so much rumors as they were current reports, there was nothing for Diluc to be doing. He patrolled the city at night, but there hadn’t been any reason for him to brandish his weapon against anyone, human or monster alike.
If anything, Diluc might have been getting a bit restless.
He hadn’t yet grown used to life back in Mondstadt. It had been a year since his return, but it still didn’t feel like part of him, somehow. He went through the motions, listened to the rambling of the city folk, ignored rubberneckers on the street when he passed by. But deep down, Diluc was still running. Still trudging through the snow, breath hot on his lips, a sharp and painful contrast to the biting temperatures nipping at his cheeks. Chasing the trail of any Fatui’s stench that dared reach his nose.
Diluc was still hunting. Even if he had called it off, even if he had returned home. Even if he laid to rest in a soft, warm bed at night and woke to Adelinde’s homecooked meals in the morning. Diluc was still running, and he had never put his sword down.
It was his possession of those heightened senses, maybe, that put him on edge, even when there was nothing for him to be alarmed about. Logically, he knew he was restless. Knew he needed to ignore the way the hairs on his arms stood on end for no reason, even when things were quiet. Knew he needed to learn to relax, to settle in.
But there was no way he could. No way he would. Diluc had changed, that day. He ran his father’s business, as he did tonight, but Diluc couldn’t live the way his father had wanted him to. Not anymore. Diluc couldn’t ignore the way his blood sang for vengeance, much as he tried to douse the flame within him. The weight of his claymore was still more comforting than the pen that bore the Ragnvindr crest. Diluc had been forged into a fighter, and manning an empty bar unsettled him more than the frenetic shrieking of battle ever could. This was not something Diluc was proud of. He hadn’t chosen that way of life. But Teyvat was cruel, and had robbed him of everything he had spent eighteen years taking comfort in. Hardship was all he had left. Everything else had burned away.
All he had left to remember his old life by was ashes. Remnants of what used to be a source of happiness, the cinders blown away in the breeze.
And, maybe, that was what unsettled him most of all: Kaeya was one more remnant, wispy and elusive like the memory of an ember, ground away until nothing but ashes remained. A constant reminder of what used to be, and no longer was. Diluc went through the motions. Listened to the rambling of the Cavalry Captain. Ignored the way Kaeya’s eyes followed him when he passed by. But deep down, Diluc was running. Still running. Would be running, forever.
He didn’t know Kaeya, and maybe he never had. But his face was familiar, like a ghost, the specter of who Diluc used to be. Reminiscent like the sound of Venti’s lyre echoing in his ears long after the bar had closed for the night. Distorted, like the way memories of the song never got the pitch right, tones familiar yet nothing like the way they were supposed to be. Diluc didn’t know Kaeya, not anymore. He wore the face of the man who used to be his brother, but at the end of the night he was just a patron like any other. One who was absent from the bar now, his usual seat empty, a reminder once more of everything Diluc had lost.
Diluc was restless, but there was no good reason for him to be. He’d returned to Mondstadt of his own volition. It was a quiet night. Things were peaceful, and Diluc didn’t have any reason to think of anything other than the drying glass in his hands. A slow night at the tavern meant less work for him. This was a good thing.
Less work, though, meant more time for thinking.
And Diluc sighed.
The hours crawled by, the floorboards creaking beneath his boots as he sorted away the empty glasses, the cups clinking delicately as he pushed them together on the shelf. The hour was late and the tavern had finally closed, the final remaining patrons scuttering away into the night, leaving Diluc in peaceful solitude. When Diluc stopped moving, it was completely silent. There was little more to be done. He would finish here, and go home. He’d patrol tomorrow night. His routine was uninterrupted.
That was, of course, until he heard a thud just outside the back door of the tavern.
He paused, momentarily, but ultimately Diluc did not think anything of it. Those alcoholics lingered around outside Angel’s Share after hours, sometimes, stumbling and collapsing into the surrounding alleyways to sleep off their inebriation. It wasn’t unusual. Diluc shooed them off, sometimes. But tonight had been a quiet night, and Diluc was feeling subdued. So he went about his business, finishing up with the glasses.
Then, after he finished, he gathered up the garbage bag, tying the top into a knot, and went to take it out back. He opened the door slowly, expecting the wooden boarding to bump into whatever drunkard had mistakenly settled there for the night, feeling only a light amount of surprise when the door opened normally. It was possible they had already gotten up and staggered on home. Diluc stepped out, but there was no one there.
Then, though, Diluc’s eyes settled a short ways away from the door, and the garbage bag slipped from his hand entirely.
There were dozens of ways he could have reacted; could Diluc have chosen, the first words from his mouth would have been those of admonishment. It was unsightly to turn up to a bar already so drunk that it was impossible to even make it inside. It reflected badly on the Knights of Favonius to act in such a disgraceful manner.
But Diluc’s heart betrayed him, just the same way Kaeya had, that fateful night. Because despite everything, he still reacted with worry, first and foremost. Before anything else.
The sight of Kaeya lying face-down on the pavement a few scant steps away from the back door of his tavern, unmoving there in the dead of night, did nothing but fray Diluc’s nerves. He didn’t miss the way Kaeya’s arm was outstretched, like he’d been trying to reach for the door handle, despite being too far away to reach it. And his other hand…
There was nothing Diluc could do but stare, his heart hammering against his chest with terror. Because he’d already lost everything. Lost it all, once. Grasped, desperately, at the ashes that remained, watching them flow away between his fingertips like sand. Ran away, because he was afraid of what he would find at the bottom of the hourglass. But the hourglass, filled with ashes, had already been turned. And maybe time had already run out. Run out, while Diluc had been doing something as pointlessly insignificant as drying glasses with a dishrag. Because Kaeya had tried to reach him, once again, and once again, Diluc had failed.
Diluc drew in a sharp breath, then, as his feet finally moved, his knees scraping against the cobblestone as he threw himself down onto the ground. “Kaeya, damn it all,” Diluc breathed, his stomach clenching with fear, as he reached forward to grasp at Kaeya’s coat, nauseous where the white and lavender hues of his cape were staining crimson.
Kaeya’s other hand, where Diluc’s eyes had followed, was clutched as his side, a pool of blood already having formed beneath him.
Eyes snapping to movement, finally, Diluc noticed the rise and fall of Kaeya’s chest against the pavement, his back shifting ever so slightly with the motion. But it was stuttered, unsteady, and audibly forced. Kaeya was conscious, but barely, the way he struggled to breathe painful to hear – but such a sound, hurt as it was, wrung Diluc’s chest with relief so thoroughly it was hard to draw in a breath of his own.
“D’luc?” Kaeya rasped, then, head turning against the pavement to where one starry eye could make contact, unfocused and dazed.
Finally shook from his initial stupor of paralysis, Diluc’s hands moved, then, one coming to rest at Kaeya’s shoulder while he gently tried to turn him over. “Don’t talk,” he said sternly, eyes roving over where Kaeya clutched at the wound, frown deepening as Kaeya groaned with the sudden motion.
Gasping, Kaeya ignored what Diluc had said, protesting instead. “Ow,” he wheezed. “Warn me… first.”
Despite himself, despite everything, Diluc’s mouth still moved before his brain did. “Be quiet.” He snapped harshly, uncaringly, and immediately regretted the tone. He sighed deeply. Slowly. Tried to get his frantic heart under control. “Just. Don’t talk. Let me see it.”
Kaeya struggled to pull in a breath, the tense air between them lingering for a moment, before Kaeya’s bloodied hand finally moved, though not without an accompanying wince. Diluc had seen his share of battle injuries – this wasn’t one of them. From the looks of it, it seemed like Kaeya had been on the receiving end of a stab wound. And, if Diluc had to guess, a rather messy one – someone was in a hurry. Or Kaeya was attempting to evade it. Perhaps both.
“What happened?” He asked, distraught, the wheels in his brain already turning. He wanted to move Kaeya inside, but he wondered if he should at least do something out here, first, to stem the bleeding. He had more important questions that really needed answering before the one he’d asked – was the perpetrator still around? Why hadn’t Kaeya gone to the cathedral instead? But once again, his mouth had moved before his brain did.
“Oh, now you want me to talk?” Kaeya protested weakly, voice raspy. Not answering Diluc’s question.
“Kaeya,” Diluc growled dangerously, his worry ultimately getting the best of him. He bunched a handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket and pressured it into the wound, as needed, but not gently.
Gasping painfully, then, Kaeya finally yielded. “Bad deal,” he said, explaining next to nothing in his typical fashion, but it was enough for Diluc to fill in the details. He knew what Kaeya got up to, under the table – just as Kaeya knew what Diluc did at night. They both had wordlessly agreed to look the other way, never reporting the other’s illegal activities, because all of it was for the benefit and protection of Mondstadt. It was a mutual understanding they never spoke of, but one final respect they held for one another, the single remaining vestige of what they used to be.
The problem with Kaeya’s methodology, though, was the factor of uncertainty. Diluc’s strategy was simple: find and remove the problem. This left little room for mistakes. Kaeya’s underhanded tactics suited him, surely, his silver tongue being the language of flattery for the wicked, but gathering information left room for double-edged subterfuge. Trickery was a messy game, and Kaeya had spent his life playing it, so surely he should have known better, by now. Clearly he didn’t.
Diluc snorted. “And you didn’t see it coming?” He said, once more speaking cruelly out of habit, despite the way his chest immediately recoiled once the words left him. “Inefficient as always, you Knights of Favonius.”
Diluc knew better. He did. Because this stab wound was on Kaeya’s right side. The side it had always been Diluc’s role to cover. The side Diluc had always covered, before the ground they had once stood together on washed away in a single night of rain.
Kaeya could handle himself well in battle. Even without a vision, he had always been a force to be reckoned with, blind spot notwithstanding. He was ever sharp, and evasive. It wasn’t easy to catch Kaeya off guard. Not then, and certainly not now. Diluc knew it was unfair to blame him for it. But it wasn’t like Kaeya to make a mistake, especially not one of this magnitude. And Diluc knew that.
Kaeya tried to laugh, then, but it came out sounding more pathetic, than anything. “Heh. Well. You know me,” he said, partway, only to lose steam halfway through, leaving the sentence unfinished. He was exhausted. And here Diluc was, wearing him out further. He should have known better.
And even still, despite his silence, what Diluc really wanted to reply, was: “Do I?”
Because, did he? Did he really, truly still know Kaeya? And had he ever truly known Kaeya?
Were all those years a lie? Because sometimes, Diluc truly didn’t know. Couldn’t know, when the empty mask of a stranger smiled in front of him, bold and taunting, in a way his brother never had been. It was fake, so fake, and yet Diluc really had to question if that was what had been lying beneath all that time. Because there was no trace of the past self to be found in the present, whisked away by the carriage of lies Kaeya had spent so many years building. Because what, really, had been real? Was any part of it real?
And still, knowing the doubt he had thrown into everything Diluc thought he knew, what gave him the right to turn up here, injured like this?
It seemed like Kaeya had realized his misstep, then, because even as his consciousness was slipping, his eye blinking heavily, he still tried to fix it. “’Luc,” he said once more, missing the first syllable, but recognizable all the same. One word, a simple name, carrying of everything it needed to: a plea, and an apology.
Diluc’s breath paused in his throat, his mouth a thin line, the stilled hold that had come over him dissipating. He wasn’t going to waste any more time. Not helping had never been an option, not to mention something Diluc wouldn’t have even considered. He had left Kaeya alone, and hurt, under the cover of darkness once. He would never make that mistake again.
“Come on,” he exhaled at last, leaning forward, gathering Kaeya into his arms and supporting him gently from beneath. Standing up, he tried to move as little as possible, but Kaeya’s weight shifted and Diluc could feel him recoil. His heart clenched at the small, pained sound that unintentionally escaped Kaeya’s lips, a faint gasp at being jostled, the way his hand unconsciously grasped at Diluc’s coat like a lifeline.
And that… that was the trace Diluc had spent so long looking for. The echo of something that used to exist. A hint of vulnerability, hidden between the blurred lines of wakefulness and unconsciousness – a breadcrumb trail, a warm hand, a thread that could be unraveled back to something that, maybe, still existed, after all.
“You’ll be fine,” Diluc assured, his head turning back momentarily to the puddle of blood on the pavement. He’d lost a lot, but not enough to be deadly. Not anymore, at least. It was another mess he’d have to clean up. But he would be fine. Diluc had lived through losing a lot more, had gone much longer without medical attention. Kaeya wasn’t particularly in good hands, maybe, but he was in hands, all the same. Diluc would see to him.
It was Kaeya’s turn to sigh, this time; a faint huff, nothing more than a small exhale. But it was enough; Diluc watched as his eye slid closed, then, the way Kaeya’s weight gave in his arms, just a little bit, as he relaxed. It was a silent admission, an acknowledgement, and Diluc understood the meaning. He wasn’t sure he deserved it, but he understood the gesture. Even after everything Diluc had done to him – denied him, spurned him, burned him – Kaeya still trusted that Diluc would take care of him. Trusted Diluc enough to let his guard down, even just for this small moment.
Kaeya would deny it when he woke up. Would return to acting the way he always did. Would thank Diluc cordially, sarcastically, and saunter out the door, never bringing it up again, acting like this had never happened. Diluc liked to think he would do that because Kaeya didn’t care, and had never cared, about what they had been. Because thinking that way was easier, and less painful, than reflecting truthfully on what had been lost. It was easier to sling blame for Kaeya’s lies than to admit that those lies had never been Kaeya’s choice in the first place. It was easier to pretend that things were simple when, in reality, it was far more complex, their relationship shattered upon the ground like a fragmented pot, broken into a thousand tiny razor-sharp shards that Diluc had no idea how to piece together again.
Kaeya never let his guard down, these days, never dropped the façade he wore around so blatantly. And it was true he had lied his own way into that state of being, but that hadn’t been all of it. Diluc had hurt him, too. Kaeya had tried to come clean, had come to Diluc with trust. And Diluc had thrown it back into his face. Diluc had rejected him, had shoved all the blame onto him for something he had no control over. And Kaeya would never stop acting the way he did, now, because Diluc had told him in one hundred silent ways that he was worth nothing. The real reason Kaeya could never let his guard down wasn’t because of his paranoia over his past. It was because of Diluc.
And yet, despite that, Kaeya was trusting him, now.
It made Diluc feel rotten to his core.
Pulling the door open as best as he could, he ascended the stairs up to the second floor to where the spare bedroom was in the loft – usually something Diluc only used after nights got late patrolling the city before sunrise, but built into the establishment originally for less unconventional uses. Diluc’s usage of the room, though, meant he kept a well-stocked assortment of medical supplies there, which was exactly what he needed now. He’d patched himself up a countless number of times in those four years he was away from Mondstadt. He’d patched himself up countless more after returning. He knew what to do.
“So why, exactly, didn’t you go to the cathedral?” He grumbled, unsure if Kaeya was actually still awake enough to answer, or if he had already passed out. “They could’ve actually healed you, you know.”
Still clinging to consciousness, though, Kaeya shook his head. “Nah.” He said quietly.
There was clearly still some explanation to be done, there, and Diluc sighed as he unrolled the bandages. At this point, it was worth trying to keep Kaeya awake a bit longer, considering how much easier it would be to clean and dress the wound if he could at least cooperate somewhat.
“Care to elaborate?” Diluc asked dryly, eyes focused into his lap where he wound the gauze around his hand.
“Mm,” Kaeya seemed to think about it. “No.”
Diluc sighed. Typical. But he didn’t think that Kaeya had really thought that answer through entirely, in his half-unconscious state; because by virtue of omission, he actually said a lot. It would’ve been easier for him to say the cathedral was too far. There was no reason for him to lie about that. Conversely, if he wanted to hide his real intention, he could’ve used the cathedral being far away as a lie. Either way, that’s what Kaeya would’ve said if he were fully alert. Much as Diluc hated to admit it, he knew this new version of Kaeya well enough to know what kinds of lies he told regularly. Which meant, by deduction, that Kaeya had probably chosen to come here on purpose.
Kaeya would’ve already known Diluc was working tonight. The implication of that… Diluc wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about it. Kaeya had an apartment not too far from here that he could’ve gone back to in order to patch himself up. But he’d come here, instead. Did Kaeya really think of Diluc as someone he could go to when he needed help?
It was stupid, and naïve, but Diluc hoped so. Hoped that his brother was still in there, somewhere, within Kaeya. Buried beneath the years of lies, and the hurt, maybe, but there nonetheless. Diluc would never forgive himself for everything that had happened, and for everything he had done. But just a glimpse, like this – like taking a drink from forbidden waters – made his throat dry. Because if Diluc’s cruelty hadn’t managed to entirely kill his brother that night, if he was still alive in there, somewhere, then… then Diluc wanted to find him. To pull him back out, from whatever depths he had sunken down into.
“You could be honest about it, you know.” Diluc said, his hand stilling, the words coming out more unsure than he would have liked.
Kaeya’s head turned, then, his focus on Diluc unsteady, but readily attempted – it was a remark Diluc might have usually grumbled, but even in his current state, Kaeya hadn’t missed the sincerity of his tone.
It would have been so easy for Kaeya to laugh it off, or to pretend to sleep. But Kaeya simply stared at him, even as his gaze was clearly swimming and heavy. Diluc wasn’t even sure if Kaeya would remember this, later – but the words had simply dropped out of him, unthinkingly, and there they sat.
“I…” Kaeya started, uncharacteristically hesitant, searching Diluc’s face, his eye scanning for something Diluc couldn’t know. For that single moment, Diluc saw him. No pretenses. No lies. But the timing was wrong, and Diluc pulled in a breath. It was unfair of him to try and have this conversation while Kaeya was barely holding on to consciousness. But Diluc was never fair to Kaeya, was he? He was always making mistakes. Always.
Diluc opened his mouth, ready to tell Kaeya to forget he said anything – but Kaeya spoke first, his lips turning to a frown, eye sliding shut. “Don’t mock me.” He said.
And Diluc, bewildered, had no idea where Kaeya had gotten that impression from. “Mock...” He started, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He frowned. “What?”
Kaeya snorted weakly. “Don’t act like you aren’t thinking it.”
“I wasn’t.” Diluc said.
“I know you were.” Kaeya replied, huffing. “I got sloppy, and then made it your problem. There. Are you happy now?”
The words sat uncomfortably with him, and Diluc frowned. “Nothing about you turning up at my door with a stab wound makes me happy, Kaeya.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, though, Diluc knew Kaeya would take it wrong. The words were honest, but Kaeya would hear what he wanted to hear. He always did. And what Kaeya wanted to hear, inevitably, was always something that would hurt him worse.
“Then leave me to bleed out.” Kaeya replied sharply, his stare harsh even though the haze of pain. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Diluc pulled in a deep breath. Sucked it in. Held it. Then let it out. He wasn’t going to argue with Kaeya. Not here, like this. Especially not with Kaeya’s bloody shirt discarded at the foot of the bed, his arm raised across Diluc’s shoulder bonelessly as Diluc wrapped bandages around his torso. He wasn’t going to. He wasn’t going to let himself make things worse for either of them. Not again. Because the resentful response was ready to snap out of him at a moment’s notice, his hands ready to curl into fists, feet ready to stomp out of the room and slam the door. He could feel it rising in his chest. And that was what Kaeya wanted. But Diluc had rampaged for four years on that anger, let it burn him from the inside out. He thought he’d burnt away Kaeya, too. But he had a chance, here, and he had to try and save it. He desperately did not want to escalate this. Not when he’d been so close.
Diluc held his breath, and let it out. And he spoke quietly. “It wouldn’t be.” He admitted. “But I never should have done that.”
It wasn’t an apology. Diluc wasn’t sure how long it would take him to make a real, proper one. But it was an offering, an olive branch, and Diluc reached forward to guide Kaeya back down into a comfortable position lying down. And then he waited.
And Kaeya, for all the years of hurt he had spilt into the words he had spoken, for all the ways he could have responded with rightful fury for the injustice, simply deflated. He stared at Diluc, then, for a while. Searching. Uncertain, like he wasn’t sure Diluc had actually spoken those words at all. And then, eventually, he replied, looking down, breaking the eye contact, looking away from where Diluc sat entirely. “I understood why.” Kaeya said quietly. “I understand, why.” He added. “You were right to.”
And Diluc’s chest constricted. Because that was the heart of this, wasn’t it? They were both guilty. And they were both justified. How could one put something back together that was so entirely broken?
Diluc shook his head. He pulled in another breath, thinking his words over. He wasn’t good with them. But they were here, and he was going to be honest, for whatever it was worth. “You were my brother.” He said. “No one,” he started, the words faltering in his throat. His anger had been justified, just as Kaeya’s timing for his confession had been so, so wrong. But the fundamental difference was that Diluc had crossed a line that should never have been crossed. And they both had paid the consequences. “No one has the right to do something like that. I wasn’t right to, Kaeya. I should have listened.”
Kaeya turned his head, then, eye wandering slowly up to meet Diluc’s. And Diluc wondered what must have been going on in his thoughts. Was he mad? Was he upset? It was impossible to tell, his face completely blank, expressionless. Four years ago, Diluc might have known what he was thinking. Even with his mask finally off, like this, Kaeya was still a stranger to him. But maybe this was the realest Kaeya of them all – not his brother, nor the stranger who sat at a barstool until the end of the night drinking away his sorrows – but a guilty conscience who never had the life he was supposed to have led. And Diluc felt ashamed, putrid, like the hollowed out remains of a decaying log; having wandered out too far on a limb, with no way out but down, the distance between where he stood and the ground insurmountable to leap from.
“Most people don’t have a spy as a brother.” Kaeya said. “You were justified.”
Kaeya had been angry, a moment ago. Had laced his words with the venom Diluc had deserved to hear, just as he always did, when things between them got a little too raw. This, though – this was something new, something unfamiliar. Something honest. Something wracked with fathomless guilt, an endless self-blame, that emptied him from the inside out.
“And your timing was terrible.” Diluc replied. “That doesn’t make it right.”
Kaeya huffed with amusement, but it was mirthless. “It was on purpose, you know.” He admitted. “I wanted you to be mad.”
Diluc heard him, this time. Listened. And he wondered why Kaeya would want such a thing, why he would invite that kind of pain on purpose. But it wasn’t so hard to imagine, now, with the things he’d heard Kaeya say. Kaeya was just guilty. He was guilty, and inviting pain was his way of atoning. And Diluc felt ashamed, because he should have known better. If he’d just stopped to listen, back then, all of this could have been avoided. All of it.
“Well,” Diluc said. “You got what you wanted.”
“Yeah.” Kaeya replied, his eye closing as he tilted his head back. “Sure did.”
They fell into a silence, then, awkward and pensive. Diluc knew Kaeya needed rest. And Kaeya, for all his valiant effort to remain awake, was flagging. Still stubbornly holding on, waiting, his eyes closed, but Diluc could see the way he gripped anxiously at the sheets.
Kaeya wouldn’t be the one to break the silence, though. Diluc knew it had to be him. And so he spoke once more.
“Is that what you still want?” Diluc asked him then, sincerely. “Be honest with me, Kaeya. Please.”
Kaeya’s eye cracked open, then, his starry pupil staring Diluc down in the dim lighting. He looked at Diluc, thinking; and then Diluc finally heard him, voice wispy as it always was, but clear. “Of course not.” He said bitterly. He sighed. “Of course it is.” He amended. “I don’t know, Diluc. I’m tired.”
And suddenly, Diluc realized with a pang, of course he would be. Diluc felt guilty, because Kaeya had just been stabbed tonight. Of course he was tired. He needed rest, and instead Diluc was making him stay up to have this conversation they should have had ages ago—
Kaeya laughed, then, suddenly; a raspy sort of sound, cut off abruptly by a sharp gasp of pain. “Ow,” he wheezed, still laughing, though, and his eye seemed to sparkle as his attention remained focused on Diluc. “You haven’t changed at all.” He commented.
Diluc only frowned. “And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”
Kaeya shook his head, then, settling back down onto the pillow, his eye closing once more. “Nothing.” He said, but there was a small smile on his face. Something fragile, but real. More real than Diluc could remember seeing in a long, long time.
Diluc sighed, then, but not in an unfriendly way. “Fine. Then forget I asked.”
Kaeya remained quiet, then, for some time; and Diluc wondered if he’d actually fallen asleep, by then, when he spoke once more, much to Diluc’s surprise.
“The real reason I came,” he said tiredly, “is because I knew you’d finish the job for me.”
It was a lie. Diluc could tell. But it was a half-truth; he’d already figured out the real reason. Kaeya had come because somewhere, deep down, he still trusted in Diluc. And that was worth more than a thousand of Kaeya’s half-truths. But he would take this one, too.
“You mean you didn’t get him?” Diluc frowned, his eyebrows pulling together.
“No, no, I did.” Kaeya assured him. “All the other guys, though…”
Diluc sighed, but it was more theatric than anything. This was more the speed he had come to expect from Kaeya – asking for a favor, hidden behind a lot of pretense. In this particular situation, though, Diluc didn’t mind too much.
He had been rather restless tonight, after all.
“Oh?” He said, crossing his arms, despite the fact Kaeya would not see the motion, his eye closed as it was. “And what sort are we talking about?”
“The boring ones.” Kaeya said, his tired, playful tone bending into something a bit loopier as his exhaustion stretched. That was, somehow, something that had never changed about Kaeya, even from when they were kids. “Wears dark colors, says a lot of cliché lines…”
“Huh.” Diluc snorted, the hint of a laugh at the cost of himself. “Very funny.”
“Thanks.” Kaeya replied, not missing a beat. “Really, though – outside the city walls, by the docks. Treasure hoarders. Can’t miss them. Lousy sense of humor.”
Diluc hummed, but said nothing in reply, working out the timing in his head. If he left soon, he could probably obliterate them by morning.
“Figured I knew a guy.” Kaeya finished, only half making sense, but Diluc understood the intent well enough.
“Yeah?” Diluc asked.
“Yeah,” Kaeya agreed, nearly delirious. “A real ass kicker.”
Diluc pulled in a breath. He was speaking from personal experience, unfortunately, but he supposed that was just Kaeya’s sense of humor, too. There was nothing bitter about the tone – if anything, it was a compliment, and that made Diluc feel a strange mix of emotions. Guilt, for sure, but also warmth – not the kind that burned him from the inside out, but something gentle, a softer flame, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Because if Kaeya could still find it within him to forgive Diluc for everything… then Diluc had to try, too.
Diluc steeled himself. “I’ll make sure I’m more effective, this time.” He grumbled, going along with Kaeya’s off-color, morbidly dark sense of humor, just this once, despite the horrified twinge he felt in his stomach at the words, the remnants of memories from that night resurfacing.
Kaeya’s responding laugh, though, was bright. It chased away the edges of the darkness of the words. “Great, then. See, knew I could count on you.”
And Diluc, who simply sat there in bewildered silence, could only blink. It was a joke, he knew, but he had asked for honesty, earlier, and there it was – accidental, in Kaeya’s mostly asleep state, but there all the same. Laid out plainly in front of him, clear as day. No lies, no trickery. Just a simple sentiment. And Diluc really had to let it sit with him, then, for a few minutes, before he could even try formulating a reply.
“Kaeya…” Diluc started, searching for words, but it was no use, anymore. Kaeya had finally lost the fight against falling asleep, and Diluc could see the even fall and rise of his chest. Diluc might venture to say Barbatos knew Kaeya needed the rest, but unfortunately, Diluc knew Barbatos, and so this was not the sort of blessing it might have been prior to such a meeting.
Well, it was alright that Kaeya had finally succumbed to sleep, though. The rest of that conversation, really, was best saved for a time when Kaeya was awake, anyhow. Awake and healthy. Whether or not he would stop being elusive for five minutes in order to have it, Diluc supposed, was another trial in and of itself, but… he got the feeling Kaeya wouldn’t completely pretend tonight hadn’t happened, at least. There had been a shift, somehow. Diluc had felt it. And he was sure Kaeya had felt it, too.
Maybe the anger hadn’t burnt everything away. Maybe there was a chance for something to grow anew in the ashes that were left behind. Because for a moment, just for one night, Diluc had felt like everything hadn’t been completely lost. And with Kaeya sleeping there right in front of him, safely, it was hard to deny that some things remained, even if they weren’t exactly what they once were. Diluc had changed, that day. So had Kaeya. But that hadn’t meant they had to be completely lost. They were both still here.
Standing up, then, Diluc brushed away at his pants, despite there being nothing in particular to brush away. He inhaled deeply, rolling his shoulder, adjusting his glove. He’d been restless, earlier, but Diluc was calm, now, collected. The night wasn’t completely over; he’d wanted to put his claymore to use, and now he had a good reason to. It had been a pretty quiet night, before all this. He’d been lacking in reasons to fight, and wallowing in reasons to run. But running wasn’t so bad, in the right situations. If his blood still sung with a thirst for vengeance, then this was the perfect time to listen to the call.
Those bastards had picked the wrong little brother to stab tonight.