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“...The thing is, since Diluc left without his vision–”
Kaeya doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. He really doesn’t.
But this time, something prompts him to automatically duck behind a bookshelf, carefully leaning in to listen. Perhaps it’s the uncharacteristic note of agitation in Jean’s voice, or the way he can hear her pacing restlessly around the corner of the library. Perhaps it’s the way she and Lisa have their heads bent together, conversing in hushed whispers.
(Or maybe it’s Diluc’s name, and how the mere mention of it is enough to send a painful clench through Kaeya’s chest.)
Lisa’s voice comes next – softer, more pacifying. “I’m sure he can look after himself.”
“But Diluc isn’t even in Mondstadt anymore,” Jean frets. “If he’s traveling alone and there’s an accident, then...I’m just worried, Lisa. Not to mention, for this to be in our possession...”
She shifts, holding out something in the center of her hand. Kaeya can’t get a proper look from this angle, but the tell-tale glow of warm, brilliant crimson is more than enough.
It’s Diluc’s pyro vision.
“A person’s vision is intensely personal,” Jean continues. “It feels...wrong, for us to keep hold of such a thing.”
“But the Grand Master would never have allowed him to leave with it,” Lisa says, a little regretfully. “Not after he decided to resign. For someone as strong as Diluc to cut himself off from the knights...if he’s given the chance to operate independently, they’d see him as too much of a loose cannon.”
“I know,” Jean finally sighs. She closes her fist again, snuffing out the light. “Besides, he left already. I wouldn’t know where to look for him now.”
“Think of it this way. At least you can check on him through the vision, right?”
“I suppose so.” Jean brightens slightly. The bright glow of red flickers back into view, and the sight of it calms Kaeya’s heart just a little bit, too.
A person’s vision is a reflection of their own well-being, after all. For Diluc’s vision to be glowing so strongly...no matter where he is now, he must be safe and well.
Kaeya hates how that single thought is enough to fill him with relief.
A few feet away, Jean is speaking again. “I just have to decide where to keep it,” she sounds more like herself this time, all matter-of-fact. “Grand Master Varka entrusted it with me, but there aren’t any official protocols in place; we don’t usually do this with people’s visions, after all. I was thinking–”
“Actually,” Kaeya interrupts before he can think twice, stepping out into plain view. “Would it be possible to leave Diluc’s vision with me?”
Both Lisa and Jean’s heads snap up. Lisa’s eyes narrow for a split second, the motion barely noticeable. The corner of Jean’s lips tighten.
“You were listening,” she says.
“I was,” Kaeya confirms, holding up his hands in an apologetic gesture. “I’m sorry. But after I heard Diluc’s name, it was hard to walk away.”
Jean regards him for a second more before the lines of her shoulders relax. “No, I understand,” she says. “You must be just as...no, even more worried than us right now.”
The smile on Kaeya’s face feels stiffer now, like a sheet of plastic that’s been drawn over his mouth and pulled tight, suffocating–
“Of course,” he says. “Diluc is my brother, after all.”
Even though they’d drawn their swords against each other on that dark, rainy night.
(“I can’t believe I ever trusted you! You’re no brother of mine!”)
Even after Diluc had, on no uncertain terms, already cut ties with him.
But Jean didn’t need to know that.
“As you’ve said,” Kaeya continues, ruthlessly shoving those twisted, sour feelings down. “Visions are of an intensely personal nature, and it simply doesn’t feel right to leave Diluc’s locked up in the knights’ storage to gather dust. I know I’m asking for a lot, but if there’s no official protocol on it, then...”
He trails off meaningfully.
Jean hesitates. “There isn’t,” she says. “But...well, it’s just…”
“I’ve no intention to return it to Diluc, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Kaeya's smile is rueful. “I don’t think I can find him if I tried.”
None of them can. Diluc had vanished without a trace, not even leaving a single parting word behind. He may never intend to come back to Mondstadt again.
“It would just be...reassuring, to be able to look at it and know he’s alright.” He’s saying it to convince Jean, but it’s staggering just how true that statement is. Kaeya looks down, shoulders drooping as he exhales. “And regardless of how he might feel now, I am the only family Diluc has left.”
He sees the exact moment Jean’s gaze softens, and it comes as no surprise when she steps forward to press the glowing sphere into his palm. “Take good care of it, Kaeya.”
Kaeya closes his fingers over the orb. It burns warm and bright in his hand.
“I will.”
Obtaining Diluc’s vision turned out to be surprisingly easy. But what he’s supposed to do with it is another story entirely.
It’s not like he can wear Diluc’s vision orb anywhere visible, so Kaeya slips it into his pocket for the rest of the day. It burns unnaturally hot through the fabric of his clothes, just a temperature short of actively scorching. He has to check a couple of times to make sure that the unnatural red light isn’t showing through dark cloth.
Still, it’s uncomfortable. He bolts as soon as his duties are over for the day.
‘Going home’ isn’t so much home as much as it is simply a small, cramped place to sleep at night. The apartment feels cold and unfamiliar, but it had been the best he could find on short notice after the way they’d parted that night. Most of his belongings are still at the Dawn Winery, too, and he hadn’t had the heart to try picking them up yet.
Hell, Diluc might've told the staff to trash his room already.
Pushing the door closed behind him, Kaeya digs through his pocket for Diluc’s vision and tosses it down on the bed. It bounces twice before landing right side up, the glowing pyro sigil pulsing gently like a live, beating heart.
Kaeya stares at it for a couple seconds, then sighs and runs a hand through his hair.
“What was I thinking…?”
There’s no point to this. The vision isn’t his. He can’t use it. Diluc would probably rather it be crushed to pieces than remain in his possession.
And yet…
Gingerly, Kaeya picks up the vision again and cups it between his hands.
(“Like this, okay? No need to be nervous, I’ll be with you every step of the way!”
He remembers Diluc’s voice, younger and brighter. The radiance of his smile. The feeling of his hand, sliding into Kaeya’s and tugging him forward, supportive and encouraging and–
So, so warm.)
Diluc’s vision is warm, too. Kaeya swallows, feeling a sudden tightness in his chest.
Its light is steady and bright. No matter where Diluc may be right now – if he’s in Liyue, or Fontaine, or Snezhnaya and even if he may hate Kaeya with every fiber of his being–
This vision is a little piece of Diluc, too.
As long as he has it, Kaeya can rest knowing that he is alive and well.
Carrying it in his pocket is not a viable long-term option, so Kaeya stows Diluc’s vision away in the corner of a hidden drawer.
Which certainly isn't a perfect solution either, but what kind of person would go robbing such a tiny, run-down apartment? Not to mention that visions are usually useless to anyone except their rightful owner, and only Jean and Lisa know that it's even with him in the first place. It’s either this or he keeps it awkwardly in his pocket, where it’s almost sure to go missing eventually.
Instead, he gets into the habit of checking it twice a day – once in the morning, before he leaves for the knights’ headquarters, and once more at night, before he turns in for bed. The routine becomes somewhat of a comfort and Kaeya learns not to let his mind linger on the bitter regrets of their past; to only allow the passing sentiment of he’s safe, he’s alive before putting the vision away once more.
Until one night, when he pulls open the drawer and is greeted by no light at all.
There’s a moment of shock, followed by frantic, bone-chilling panic as Kaeya dives into the drawer, practically turning it upside down in his search for the missing vision. It doesn’t take long before his fingers bump into the familiar, glass-like orb, feeling the sensation of faint heat – and for a moment, he breathes a sigh of relief.
And then he realizes that this isn’t right, either.
Mere hours ago that morning, the orb had glowed radiant and bright. But now the light it emits is dim and weak, like smouldering embers barely clinging onto life.
The temperature, too, is all wrong. Diluc’s vision usually burns hot enough to feel uncomfortable against his bare skin. But now, there’s barely any heat coming from it at all.
“No, no…”
For Diluc’s vision to have become like this–
Clutching the vision between shaky fingers, Kaeya whirls around and is halfway out of his apartment before lurching to a stop at the doorway.
I need to help him.
But he doesn’t know where Diluc had gone.
I need to call for help– the knights– Jean, anyone–
None of them know, either.
Kaeya takes a few shaky steps out onto the street, feeling the cold winter wind against his face as he holds the faintly-glowing vision against his chest. The city of Mond is quiet but well-lit at night. Past its walls, he sees only darkness.
Diluc is out there somewhere, alone and in trouble and–
And there’s nothing he can do about it.
He can grab his gear and run out right now, but without any leads, even searching Mondstadt’s territories would be impossible – let alone all of Teyvat. Kaeya had known from the start that his possession of the vision had no real purpose, that it’s simply a hollow peace of mind for himself, but the sheer helplessness he feels in that moment is staggering.
Is Diluc hurt? In pain?
What if he’s bleeding out at that very moment?
It’s only when Kaeya tastes copper that he realizes he’s bitten through the skin of his lip, nails digging deep crescent shapes into the skin of his palms. The pyro vision continues to glow weakly in his hand.
Kaeya takes a deep, shuddering breath, and heads back inside.
Sleep doesn’t come easily that night. Instead of returning Diluc’s vision to the drawer, Kaeya puts it down beside his pillow and lays his hand gently over it. He leaves just enough space between his fingers for traces of the faint traces of light to escape, muted and dim even in the darkness of his room.
Please.
Khaenri’ah is a land without gods. Kaeya seldom ever prayed, even after he’d made Mondstadt his home.
But in that moment, Kaeya prays; to Barbatos, to the Rex Lapis, to any of the seven archons that may listen, on the chance that Diluc may be within their domains–
Please keep him safe.
Kaeya doesn’t know how long he must’ve spent laying on his bed, staring blankly at the light between his fingers, but he does notice when the sunlight eventually starts to peek through ragged curtains. Its light drowns out the feeble glow of Diluc’s vision, making the orb’s lusterless surface look even duller by comparison.
He’s almost afraid to look away from it now, for fear that the light may go out the second his gaze wanders. After some deliberation, Kaeya slips the vision into his pocket.
Diluc’s vision doesn’t feel like it’s scorching through his clothes this time. Nor does Kaeya have to worry about light showing through his pocket, dim as it is now.
The artificial smile on his face feels infinitely more taxing than usual as Kaeya navigates through the usual greetings and morning meeting, then joins the rest of the squad sent out on a patrol around the city outskirts. No matter how he concentrates, he can’t tell if the vision in his pocket is still radiating heat or not.
So Kaeya slows his steps, subtly lagging behind little by little until he’s near the back of the group, then takes the vision out of his pocket to check. It’s still glowing, faint as the light may be.
“Hey, you’re falling behind! Everything okay?”
The moment of relief is somewhat tainted by the call of other knights. In one fluid motion, Kaeya shoves the vision back and quickens his steps to catch up, plastering an easy grin back onto his face.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m coming!”
Try as he might, it’s utterly impossible to concentrate on anything else. Kaeya suffers through his patrol, then retreats into his tiny office and pulls out the vision orb to check again. Then again. And again.
There’s no point, he thinks desperately, and forces himself to put the vision away. I checked it ten minutes ago. Even if it were to go out right before my eyes, there’s nothing I can do.
He lasts another ten minutes before pulling it out once more, then groans and buries his face in the crook of his arm.
He’s tired of it all. This overwhelming, helpless anxiety had been gnawing away at him since last night, and for what?
Every single thread between them had already been severed, memories of happier times crushed like dust and scattered into Monstadt’s winds. He’d known that this might happen when he confessed the truth to Diluc that night, under the stormy rains. But the truth is, what Kaeya had braced himself for was angry words and verbal rejections.
Not for the sheer murderous rage in Diluc’s eyes as he–
(“Draw your blade!”
“What are you saying? Diluc, listen–”
“I won’t say it again! Defend yourself – or don’t. I don’t care.”)
Kaeya’s lips curve into a wry, bitter smile.
This would be so much easier if he could stop caring, too.
He remains with his head down for a couple moments before dragging himself back up. As he raises his head from the table, Kaeya's gaze automatically flit to the vision again, and this time he feels his breath catch.
Diluc’s vision is flickering.
It’s like a fire about to go out, going dark for entire seconds at a time before sputtering weakly back to life, only for the light to disappear again. Kaeya’s heart stutters to a stop before resuming again, blood roaring through his ears.
There’s no doubt about it now.
Whatever had happened last night, Diluc’s condition is only worsening as time goes on. He’s dying.
I have to do something. I have to do something. I have to– I have– I can’t, he doesn’t want me– I can’t do anything–
“Kaeya?”
It takes him several seconds to realize that someone is knocking on his door, calling his name. Instinct kicks in and Kaeya shoves the vision down into a drawer.
“Come in.”
The door creaks open to reveal Jean, holding a sizable pile of papers. She does an obvious double take upon seeing him.
Kaeya tries to smile. “What, is there something on my face?”
“No,” Jean hesitates. “Well, yes. Are you alright, Kaeya? You look...ill.”
Is he being that obvious? “Maybe I caught a bug. It’s been pretty chilly lately.”
“I suppose so.” Jean frowns slightly, then looks down at the papers in her hand. “Am I overworking you? Sorry, I’ll take these back...”
It’s just like her, ever-concerned about others and offering to add their duties on top of her own workload. Kaeya shakes his head, standing up to take them from Jean.
“Nah, don’t worry about it. If a few patrols and reports are enough to overwork me, then that’ll be pretty pathetic, won’t it?”
“If you’re sure,” Jean says with a wan smile. She casts a look at rapidly-darkening streets outside the window. “It’s getting pretty late, though, so don’t worry about doing those today. Go get some rest.”
Night had fallen. And once again Kaeya finds himself laying on his side, clutching Diluc’s vision between his fingers and staring blankly at the weak, flickering light.
Twice, he debates shutting it in his drawer and leaving it until morning. After all, it wouldn’t make a difference whether he looks at the orb or not – he’s little more than a bystander at this point, so why not spare himself the torture and put it away?
But he can’t.
...This vision is a little piece of Diluc, after all.
Several hours slip by in a daze. The exhaustion of his previous sleepless night is catching up to him, too, and Kaeya finds himself zoning out, drifting into the murky state between sleep and wakefulness, only to jerk awake minutes later and frantically check on the vision. This happens once, twice, then–
He opens his eyes.
This time, Kaeya is on his feet.
The room around him is in a state of perfect darkness. Or maybe it’s not a room at all; the space is perfectly empty, with inky black shadows that continue endlessly in all directions. In his hand is Diluc’s vision, barely lukewarm and glowing faintly.
Kaeya turns slowly, using the vision as a feeble light source as he tries to make something, anything out of his surroundings. A few tentative steps merely brings him from one part of the void to another. He sees nothing, feels nothing–
Then, he hears it.
Someone is crying. Soft whimpers punctuated by weak, raspy gasps, as if its owner is struggling to draw breath.
“...Diluc?” Kaeya whispers.
Silence. Then, a feeble cry of pain.
“Diluc,” Kaeya repeats, more urgently this time. He takes a step forward, then another, and another, until he’s running blindly through the darkened haze. “Diluc! Hold on, I’m coming! Where are you?”
He receives no answer. Kaeya keeps running but there’s nothing in front of him, nothing but void in all directions and he can’t see anything–
A gust of cold air sweeps through him. Snowflakes begin to fall from the sky – and with it, light.
The path before him is illuminated all at once, the snowy forest trail dusted by the frost of early winter in a cascade of white.
And, right before him–
“No,” Kaeya chokes out.
There’s red all over, so much of it, soaking through Diluc’s clothes and pooling around his motionless body until it’s dyed the snow crimson. Each unsteady, shallow breath brings a rattling sound from Diluc’s chest. When he coughs, blood spills from his lips.
“Diluc!”
Kaeya drops to his knees before him, frantically seeking to apply pressure to Diluc’s wounds and stem the bleeding, but his hands go right through him. He tries again but it’s like touching a ghost, like wisps of smoke slipping through his fingers and it’s cold, cold, cold –
“Kae...ya…”
Diluc’s gaze drifts over to him.
“I’ve got you,” Kaeya’s voice cracks. “I’ve got you, it’s going to be okay.”
But Diluc doesn’t seem to be listening anymore, eyes dull and unfocused. He breathes out one last time, a puff of white against the winter air.
“No,” Kaeya moans. He tries again, wrapping his arms around Diluc’s unmoving body and trying to cradle him close. “This can’t be. You can’t...!”
No matter how hard he tries, his fingers close around nothing but the bitter, icy chill. Snow continues to fall all around them, faster and faster. It lands on Diluc’s face, and doesn’t melt. It lands on his clothes. His hair. Kaeya tries to brush it off, but what remains of Diluc’s body seems to crumble at his touch, dissolving into snowflakes to join the howling storm.
And leaves him with nothing at all.
When Kaeya opens his eyes again, the first thing he sees is a sea of frost.
He panics at first, recoiling at the thought of being trapped in that terrible, empty void of wind and snow – but then he sees the familiar shabby furniture of his own temporary apartment and the sunlight streaming in through cheap curtains.
Slowly, he sits up.
This is indeed his apartment, but just about everything had been frozen over with a thin sheet of ice, and it takes a few more moments for Kaeya to realize that the cold is coming from him. Sometime during that terrible nightmare, he’d lost control of his own powers and the emitted chill had frozen half of his room solid.
The cold hasn’t bothered him since he received his vision. But when Kaeya moves his hand and feels a total lack of heat there, his heart drops to the bottom of his stomach.
It’s gone cold. It’s gone cold. It’s–
Also covered in ice.
He claws at it with his bare nails, frantically scratching off the thick layers of frost. For a heart-stopping moment Kaeya fears that he really might be confronted with the sight of a broken vision, dull and lifeless.
But then the last piece of ice comes off and comforting, familiar heat washes over his hands.
Diluc’s vision is glowing again, bright and steady and brilliant even under the light of the morning sun.
His throat feels tight. A tear slowly slides down Kaeya’s face, dripping down onto the vision’s clear surface. Once the first one has fallen, it’s as if the floodgates had been opened and he can only choke back a relieved sob, smiling through his tears.
It’s so warm.
("It's funny, you know," Diluc had once said as the two of them sat on the balcony, swinging their legs. "Kaeya's only been here for a year, right? But I can't imagine you ever not being in my life."
Under the starry skies, their fingers laced together, full of easy affection and pure, childlike innocence. Diluc had smiled at him.
"So let's be together from now on, too!")
“Diluc, I…” Kaeya swallows harshly around the sob and trails off, bending down to press his forehead against the vision’s surface.
Soon, he will have to slide on the mask of Kaeya of the Ordo Favonius and return to the headquarters for work. Even if he sees Diluc again, sometime in the distant future, things will never be the same between them. He will never be able to voice these feelings.
But here, in the privacy of his own room, clutching at the only piece of Diluc that he has left...
It’s fine to allow himself this much, isn’t it?