Two Birds on a Wire

by JinxedForever

Summary:

“It was all my fault. I’m so sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry,” he sobs. “You were so much better than I will ever be. I don’t know how to do this without you here. I don’t want to.”

Diluc falls to his side, curling his knees up to his chest. “You could have lived, and here I am instead, wasting everything you gave me. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what you’d want me to do.” His breath hitches, and another wave of tears rolls down his face. “I’m all alone.”

--

Suffocating under the weight of grief and feeling disconnected and lost, Diluc's passive suicidal ideation starts to develop into something more concrete. He's struggling with his father's death, what happened to him during his time away, and the damage he's done to his relationship with Kaeya. Forgiving himself seems impossible, and it's getting harder and harder for him to get out of bed every morning.

Meanwhile, Kaeya just wants his brother back, Adelinde wants Diluc to stop running headfirst into danger, and Jean wants her childhood friend to smile again, and they - along with some new friends Diluc makes along the way - are determined to show Diluc how loved he truly is.

Notes:

There can never be enough Diluc angst... so here you go! I've been working on this for the past three years, so I'm really excited to share. Please mind the tags and take good care of yourself. <3

Two birds on a wire…  

One says come on,  

and the other says I’m tired.  

Diluc comes home to an empty house. The night’s drawn on enough one could argue it’s morning. The maids and workers are long gone, leaving everything perfectly in its place, and it's so silent out here amidst fields of sprawling grapevines that the isolation chafes against his skin. Someone used to make sure there was always a fire burning for him when he arrived back at the winery, but after a skirmish with the Abyss Order about three months ago that left a streak of civilian casualties across the knight’s ledgers, Diluc had walked inside and found the hearth cold and empty. Whoever had been tending those fires probably died that day, and Diluc had never learned their name, couldn’t add it to the list of people who’ve shown him kindness and suffered a miserable death he failed to prevent. 

Tonight, like every night since then, the house is dark. Diluc doesn’t bother lighting any candles as he shrugs off his jacket and boots and sets them by the door, heading for his bathroom. His path is clear, no stray trinkets or books to trip over, no soft robe draped over the arm of the couch to brush his fingers against as he walks by, no feather-tipped cat toy jingling in the corner. Ever since his father died, the maids have had two less people to clean up after, so everything’s always perfectly tidy, but Diluc hates how it doesn’t look like anyone actually lives here. 

As much as he hates it, he knows it’s right for him to feel like an unwanted guest in a house that shouldn’t have been his for fifty more years, at least. 

Diluc slowly unbuttons his shirt and tosses it over the mirror above the sink as he enters the bathroom. Moonlight filters in through the half-open window, illuminating the mottled bruises forming on his torso. His left arm refuses to move correctly, so he tugs his right glove off using his teeth and tucks a thumb under his left to ease it off; the blood slicking the inside makes it easy. 

The rest of his clothes come away and he steps into the shower, pressing a palm against the tile in front of him and summoning enough warmth in his hand to make the water near-scalding. He makes quick work of rinsing out the debris caught in his hair and scrubbing away the traces of the elements clinging to his skin. Jostling his arm sends pain shooting through his neck and shoulder, and the stab wound he’d cauterized stings as the movement pulls on it. It’s still bleeding sluggishly despite his efforts. 

The last of his adrenaline fades and his movements gradually begin to slow. He’s barely cognizant of turning off the water and stepping out of the shower, dazedly wrapping a towel around his hips. He blindly digs around under the sink for some bandages and takes them into his bedroom with him, tossing them onto the duvet and exchanging the towel for a pair of soft sleep pants. A violent shiver wracks his body as the wet hair plastered to his neck and back seeps the chill into his spine. 

He walks to the other side of the room and tugs the heavy curtains closed with his good hand, then sits down on the bed and feels around for the roll of bandages until he finds it. He tugs the end free with his teeth and tucks it under his arm, wincing as he applies pressure with his bad shoulder to keep it from falling. Muscle memory takes over as he wraps the bandage around the wound, tight enough that the fingers on his left hand spasm with each rotation. He knows his shoulder is dislocated, but as long as he sleeps on his right side, it won’t keep him awake. 

Diluc stares down at his lap and wonders, not for the first time, what would happen if he just… didn’t bandage it. If he simply forgot, because he was so tired. Would it be enough to kill him? Or would he wake up to the cathedral ceiling and Barbara’s teary eyes as he had so many times before? Would they keep him close, to make sure he didn’t do something so stupid again? Surely they wouldn’t think he’d do it on purpose… not the wine tycoon of Mondstadt, not when he lives in a gilded mansion with so much money he’d never have the right to worry about anything. 

In any case, with the way he’d cauterized this one, it’s probably too risky to assume it would kill him. It’s more likely he’d just wake up woozy and nauseous, and then Adelinde would force him to drink some dastardly concoction she’d insist would help him replenish the blood he’d lost. She wouldn’t even question it; he’s been on the brink of death in this house far too many times for it to be a cause of genuine concern. She might even prefer it if Diluc died an untimely death… he’s the last of the Ragnvindr bloodline, and he’s sure another noble family could take over and do a much better job of running the winery. Hell, he’s never even taken the time to change his father’s will, and the next in line behind Diluc would definitely do a better job of forming bonds with the people here, if he was willing to accept the offer. 

With a final tug, Diluc knots the bandage and tosses the rest of the roll to the floor. He pulls back the duvet and shuffles into bed, curling up on his right side and trying not to jostle his shoulder too much. His body is exhausted, well past its limits and hurting, muscles trembling and aching at the barest of movements. Still, the empty ache in his chest is worse. He reaches out and tucks his hand under the pillow on the other side of the bed, searching. His fingers catch on soft, worn fabric, and he pulls it to his chest. 

His father’s favorite sleep shirt was the only thing Diluc managed to hide away from the hands that roamed the house after his father died, taking away everything that made it his and hollowing it out for Diluc to fill. It doesn’t smell like him anymore, but Diluc pretends it does, pretends his father can still hold him in warm arms and murmur reassurances against the top of his head. 

Diluc falls asleep with one arm clutching his father’s shirt and the taste of salt on his lips. He dreams of bonfires and uncontrollable laughter, of grape leaves against his cheeks and strong hands on his shoulders. He wakes alone. 

Two birds on a wire…  

One says come on,  

and the other says I’m tired.  

Bartending at Angel’s Share provides Diluc with some semblance of human companionship, and while he’d never admit it to anyone, there are times when the ache in his chest is so crushing he can’t breathe unless he surrounds himself with people. Even as a child, he understood that everyone who approached him had an underlying agenda of some kind, and he isn’t so deluded he considers himself good company, so he doesn’t try to strike up any conversations. Instead, he tucks himself safely away behind the bar, busying his hands cleaning the same glass over and over, and watches. 

He watches people relate, the way they light up when they greet each other, the casual touches passed between friends without a second thought, how they share secrets and place trust on newfound companions within the span of some appetizers and a handful of drinks, and wonders how they can all do it so easily. Every once in a while, he’ll have half a mind to introduce himself to someone who seems interesting, and he’ll take a step towards them only for the floor to fall right out from beneath his feet. He’ll find himself standing back in that office, numbness spreading through his limbs, listening as the man who’d sat in the winery playing chess with his father barely a week ago informs him that the Knights of Favonius are going to take credit for defeating the monster his father had sacrificed himself to stop, and he’ll turn back to the bar. 

Diluc knows he’s far more capable of being alone and isolated than most others are – only in part due to his time away from Mondstadt – and there’s some comfort in the fact that if he died, no one would feel the way about his death he feels about his father’s, but there are moments he wishes he could be selfish, wishes he could be important to someone. Then, he’ll catch Jean’s eye from across the room, or count the collection he keeps behind the bar of empty glasses Kaeya’s polished off in one night, or find himself unable to eat the meal Adelinde’s left on his desk, and berates himself for wishing. 

There’s a crease in Jean’s forehead, the one she wears when she’s trying to solve a particularly troubling problem, and all he wants to do is reach out and smooth it away. He forces his hands to remain motionless in his lap instead.  

“You’re… breaking up with me?” She asks, more confused than upset.  

He hums, staring at the floor. “I’m sorry Jean.”  

“Diluc, I really can’t say I understand where this is coming from.”  

His throat tightens, and he fidgets with the hem of his glove. “It was… unwise of me to pursue this with you. I’m not the same person I was when we were young.”  

“Neither am I,” she replies, giving him a wry smile.  

He grimaces, pushing his thumbnail into his wrist. “You’ve changed for the better, Jean.”  

She gently covers his hands with her own and eases his nail away from where it had been digging an angry red mark into his skin. “You are a good person, Diluc. No matter what’s happened to you, or what you’ve had to do, you have a good heart. I know things have been difficult for you since you’ve returned, and I’m sure that’s in some part because of whatever happened to you during your time away, but I’m here, and I want to be here with you. Please don’t push me away.”  

She’s been especially kind to him ever since they were children, and he knows that on some level, she loves him, and he loves her too. But her sense of justice has always been purer than his, has always held more faith in the goodness of people, and his goodness became marred when he set out on his quest for revenge. He’s no longer deserving of the kindness, the closeness, she offers him, and he hates that he didn’t realize it sooner, hates that he’s strung her along, even if their attempt at a relationship could barely be called short-lived.  

Jean searches his face for a long moment before closing her eyes and sighing softly. “I can see that you’ve made up your mind about this, and it’s your choice, I respect that… but I’ll miss you, Diluc.”  

He watches a tear slip down her cheek, followed by another, and his eyes sting as he watches her cry. He leans forward, touching his forehead to hers. “I’ll miss you too, Jean.”  

She dips down, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his lips, and he kisses her back, carding a hand through her loose hair. After a moment, she gently breaks away and wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. He follows her lead, clutching her to his chest and pressing the side of his face against her neck to listen to her heart. It beats loud and strong, as it always has. They stay like that for a short while before she sniffles and sits back, dabbing at her eyes. He hands her his handkerchief, and she gives him a wobbly smile.  

Six months later, he stumbles upon Jean on one of her rare (and often forced) days off, sprawled across a checkered picnic blanket on the shore of Starfell Lake, eating strawberries plucked from Lisa’s perfectly-manicured fingers. Lisa drops one of the small red fruits, feigning a shocked expression, and it goes bouncing off her knee. They both chase it, wrestling each other for the prize, and end up sprawled in a heap, giggling hysterically. Jean is radiating happiness, and despite the pang of loneliness that cuts through Diluc’s chest as he watches them, he’s sure he made the right decision. 

“Just get it over with, already!” Kaeya screams. He’s on his knees in the mud, more distraught than Diluc’s ever seen him, face flushed and panting, sobbing . Diluc can practically see the way he’s split down the middle. On one side is the persona Kaeya’s worn ever since he’d crossed the border of Mondstadt, and on the other, the real Kaeya – the liar, the manipulator, the survivor . “Just kill me, Diluc.” He's putting on a good show of anger, but his voice trembles and his throat spasms around the words, exposing the resigned terror behind them.  

Diluc’s arms ache from holding up his claymore. He’s split, too… split between the half of him that’s looking down at his baby brother kneeling in front of him, words begging him to end his suffering but eyes begging him to understand, and the half of him that sees the threat Kaeya poses to Mondstadt, the target he’s carelessly put on the backs of everyone Diluc holds dear, awaiting execution for his secrecy, and he can’t-  

“I can’t,” Diluc chokes out. His arms stay raised above his head as his sense of duty wars with his sense of loyalty, of family.  

What would their father do, if faced with this?  

He’ll never know.  

Kaeya laughs, teeth flashing in a wicked, manic grin. “Of course you can. You already killed father… why not add fratricide to the list of your accomplishments for the day? Maybe they’ll even give you a medal for it, Captain !”  

“Stop it.” Diluc stumbles back a step, tears cutting through the blood still caked on his face from the killing blow he’d dealt only hours before.  

The corners of Kaeya’s mouth fall, and he leans back, spreading his arms away from his body and staring Diluc down, challenging him. “It’s easy! You remember where you shoved that blade into father’s chest, don’t you? Right…” He trails a finger over his ribcage and down to his stomach. “Here, I think, wasn’t it?”  

Images flash in Diluc’s vision and he falters, knees weak as nausea grips him full force.  

“Just do it already, you fucking coward!”  

“Kaeya, please!” Diluc shouts, voice echoing into the empty night around them. For a long moment, neither of them speak, and the only sound is the harsh crackling of Diluc’s flames. Despite his efforts, a tear slips down his cheek. “I can’t take this.”  

Kaeya is the first to move, sitting back on his heels and dropping his arms to his sides, eerily calm. His face falls into a blank expression. Diluc breathes, trying to come back to himself, trying to understand.  

“I’m glad he’s gone.”  

Kaeya says it plainly, like he’s announcing the day of the week. Diluc’s flames sputter out entirely, and the clearing goes dark save for the dim light of the waning moon and the pulsating red glow of Diluc’s vision. He couldn’t have heard that right.  

Kaeya waits a beat, and then continues, “It’s a relief, really… not having to pretend anymore.”  

Diluc can’t speak. He stands perfectly still, frozen, staring down at the stranger in front of him. Kaeya, on the other hand, keeps moving. He rolls his shoulders like the weight of the world has been lifted from them and cranes his neck from side to side like he’s bored, like he’s expressed his distaste for a certain kind of tea, not like he’s just thoroughly disrespected the man who’d given him a home, a family, a life, and who had only just died hours prior.  

Kaeya stands up, brushing the dirt from his knees, and sheathes his sword. He crowds forward into Diluc’s space like he did when they were kids and he was trying to rile Diluc up. “Oh, come on, is it really so surprising? I am a SPY after all, you dunce. I never cared about him, or you.”  

“That’s a lie,” Diluc replies on instinct, but it’s weak, and he’s really only saying it because he wants it to be true.  

Kaeya sighs, rolling his eye and leveling his gaze at the tree line over Diluc’s shoulder. “That’s the first thing I’ve said since I came here that’s not a lie, Diluc.”  

It’s pathetic, really, how much it hurts. Diluc bites his cheek so hard his mouth fills with blood and makes one last-ditch effort to appeal to the Kaeya he’d come to know as his little brother. “How am I supposed to explain this to Addie?” He asks, but it sounds like a plea, and he can’t help the way his chest aches under the weight of his idiotic, simple-minded hope.  

Kaeya studies his nails for a moment, then shrugs, meeting Diluc’s gaze. “You won’t have to, once I slit her throat.”  

Diluc screams wordlessly, flames flashing bright and hot and instinctual, and before he can stop himself, his arms have finally moved from their standstill. He swings, and a heartbeat later, the tip of his claymore sinks into the soft earth at his feet. He slams his eyes shut, knowing that as soon as he sees what he’s done, it will be real, and he’ll never be able to live with himself. Instead, he stands there, shaking, until wetness begins to seep into the toes of his boots, and whatever lingering piece of him still believed himself to be good evaporates. A horrified sob wrenches itself out of his throat.  

“No, please, no… no…” he whimpers, dropping his sword into the dirt and covering his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, oh gods, I’m so sorry.”  

The numbness he’d felt when his father’s last breath had ghosted over his cheek begins to set in again, so it takes him longer than it should to realize that the wetness is cold, and Kaeya’s always run cold, but not that cold. Diluc slowly pries his eyes open, lowering his hands, and comes face to face with a wall of ice. There’s a deep, fatal gouge carved into it from top to bottom, but there’s only a few inches where the attack actually broke through to the other side.  

Relief surges through him, and he stumbles sideways around the wall, splashing freezing water all the way up to his knees. He finds Kaeya, mostly unharmed, clutching a shimmering cryo vision in his palm. He doesn’t register Diluc at all, completely enthralled by the powerful trinket. Two halves of his eyepatch are splayed on the ground on either side of him, and blood is dripping from his chin, but he’s alive.  

He's alive, and Diluc is a monster.  

Kaeya had seemed just as confused by the gift from the Archon as Diluc was, but at the time it was enough for Diluc to believe Kaeya wasn’t as much of a threat as he’d presented himself as, enough for him to leave Kaeya alive and sheltered within Mondstadt’s walls when he left. It wasn’t enough for him to allow Kaeya free reign over the winery and close proximity to Adelinde, however, so despite how wrong it felt, he disowned his little brother, and sent a letter to Elzer letting him know that Kaeya was banned from the grounds effective immediately. He’s spent every night since meticulously picking through his memories of Kaeya, trying to determine which half of him is the real one, and which is the façade, and he still can’t decide. 

It's only been a few days since he made it back to Mondstadt, and he’s still recovering from the injuries that had finally put his ill-advised revenge quest to an end, but the constant movement and noise at the winery had been driving him up the wall, so he’d left to clear out a Hilichurl camp. It was a swift and simple job, and he’s sure he wasn’t gone for more than an hour, but with how cross Adelinde looks, standing just inside the door of his bedroom, you’d think he’d been gone at least a week. He’s not used to anyone keeping track of his comings and goings anymore, and truthfully, it’s a little unsettling.  

“Give me your hand,” Adelinde demands, leveling him with her best authoritative glare.  

“I’m fine, Addie, leave it,” Diluc replies over his shoulder, shrugging off his cloak and turning his back to her to shield the Delusion from view.  

A hand wraps around his elbow and yanks, hard. He allows himself to be maneuvered, mostly out of shock, stumbling over his feet until he and Adelinde are standing face to face. The Delusion’s chains are writhing around his wrist, ready to spring forward and attack, and he has to consciously relax his fist and remind himself that there is no danger to be found here, just a ticked-off head housemaid.  

Diluc blinks down at Adelinde and opens his mouth to say something, but she beats him to it. “You take that horrible thing off this instant or I will remove it myself,” she snaps. Splotches of red color her cheeks, eyebrows so drawn they’re almost touching, and her grip is unwavering and unnervingly strong. He’s never seen her like this.  

“What the-? Addie!” He blurts, weakly struggling to regain control of his arm.  

Adelinde lets go only to grab the Delusion with both hands. She gives it a firm tug, sending pain shooting up his arm and into his shoulder. He yelps, putting his free hand over hers. “Adelinde,” he groans through gritted teeth, “let go.”  

She jolts, looking up at him. When their eyes meet, her grip immediately falters, and she slowly releases his arm. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” With nothing else to do, her fingers twist into her apron. She takes a moment to gather herself, and the remorse that had appeared in her face disappears just as quickly. “Still, you need to stop using that thing, Master Diluc. Immediately.”  

He bites the inside of his cheek, studying her face and deliberating on how to respond. She shouldn’t know what the Delusion is, or why it’s dangerous for him to be using it. He supposes rumors of it may have spread, but even so… “How do you know what this is?” He asks, subtly adjusting the device and angling it behind him in case she tries to reach for it again.  

Adelinde opens her mouth and then closes it, and an uncomfortable silence stretches between them. Her gaze wanders away from him, settling somewhere off to the side, and she tilts her head so her bangs cast a shadow over her eyes. Eventually, she says, “that’s not important. What’s important is that you stop using it.”  

“Easier said than done.”  

What he can see of her face crumples, and she’s never been all that good at keeping secrets.  

“How do you know about the Delusion?” He repeats, taking a step away from her.  

She raises her head, and he can see the answer gleaming in the tears she’s holding back. He inhales sharply, and on the exhale, he breathes, “Addie…”  

Her lower lip wobbles, and the tears begin to streak down her face. “Your father, he… well… I found it one day while I was cleaning, and I confronted him about it. I didn’t think it was safe to have something that looked so dangerous in the house with you boys – you know how you were always getting into everything – and he… well, he told me what it was.”  

“Did you know?” Diluc asks, voice barely a whisper. “Did you know it would kill him?”  

Adelinde hesitates for a moment, shifting from side to side, then gives him a halting nod. “He practiced with it a couple of times… I could see how exhausted he was afterwards, how slowly he moved – I begged him to get rid of it, but he refused! He said he needed it in case something happened and he needed to protect you boys… you know how upset he was about not having a vision. He was worried something would happen to you and he’d be powerless to stop it.”  

“Why didn’t you get rid of it anyway?” Diluc snaps, fully aware that he’s losing control of himself but unable to keep the questions at bay. If she’d only done something…  

“He ordered me not to. Believe me Master Diluc, it killed me not to get rid of it,” she replies, her voice watery and thick with guilt. She’s more distraught than he’s ever seen her, furiously wiping at the tears falling down her cheeks and clearly struggling to keep her composure, but she continues to hold his gaze.  

Something vindictive and hateful lashes up through his chest and out of his mouth. “Well not getting rid of it killed him .”  

Adelinde chokes on a sob, and the sound is all too similar to the hacking gasp of a dying creature when he slashes open its airway. He thinks she says something else to him, but it’s lost to the static in his mind. He doesn’t hear her walk out of the room, he only knows she did because the sliver of light shining in from the hall becomes thinner and thinner until it disappears completely, leaving him alone in the dark.  

Mostly, he just does his best to avoid Adelinde. All of their conversations from that point onward have been of a professional nature, and he starts finding alternate routes out of the winery that don’t give her sharp eyes the opportunity to search him for the Delusion. He knows there’s nothing he could do to make up for what he said, so he doesn’t try. She keeps making him his favorite foods despite it all, and he has to force himself to choke the meals down. 

Two birds on a wire…  

One says come on,  

and the other says I’m tired.  

Diluc’s not sure why everyone is so keen on celebrating his birthday, given they must know it’s also the anniversary of his father’s death. At first, he wonders if Kaeya is behind the party, arranging it on purpose to needle him, but he’s softened back into his life in Mondstadt enough he also entertains the thought that his acquaintances might be arranging it so Diluc won’t be alone, and are just using social convention to lure him in. In any case, it would take more energy to say no to Jean’s invitation than it would to simply attend, so he doesn’t put up too much of a fight. 

Parties at Angel’s Share always look relatively the same, but the traveler and Paimon had pitched in this time before barreling off to some other continent, and the entirety of the tavern is, thanks to them, covered in birthday-related paraphernalia. He can hardly walk five feet without a brightly colored streamer blinding him, there’s a seven-layer cake on the bar, and Kaeya has slapped “Grape Juice” labels on all the wine bottles he could get his hands on. It’s a mess, and Diluc is powerless to stop it. His only solace is that they seem to know better than to force him out from behind the bar, so there’s some comfort in the familiarity of making drinks and polishing glasses. 

It's strange finding himself surrounded by people who call themselves his friends, but never talk to him outside of obligatory social niceties and ordering drinks. Even a couple of hours into the party, they haven’t interacted with him much besides greeting him and checking to make sure he hasn’t fled the scene. He’s not sure why, exactly, he hasn’t fled yet… he’s still debating whether it’d be more trouble than it’s worth. 

Kaeya is, as usual, the center of everyone’s attention, recounting the details of a battle he fought some days ago to an enraptured Bennett, Amber, and Barbara, while Albedo and Eula sit and talk quietly on the other side of the room. Diluc stands behind the bar, unmoving, studying the icing on his cake. They didn’t ask him what his favorite kind of cake is, and he wonders who chose this one. Given the white icing, it’s safe to say Kaeya wasn’t involved… although it would be out of line for Diluc to assume Kaeya’s still holding onto any of his knowledge of Diluc’s tastes after everything that’s transpired between them. He ignores the little voice that pops up in the back of his head to remind him that Kaeya’s favorite cake is chocolate with little chili peppers mixed into the batter. Kaeya always got a kick out of watching people panic and get all red-faced at the unexpected spiciness. 

A drop of water slides down the cake platter and plips onto Diluc’s knuckles. He tries in vain not to think about the way his father’s lifeblood had felt slipping through his fingers. 

He wonders if anyone here would miss him. If he left, or if he… 

Maybe they’d throw a party to celebrate. 

No, they would miss him, wouldn’t they? 

“I would,” a voice says, and Diluc startles. 

“Huh?” He murmurs inelegantly, blinking himself out of his daze, and turns to find Venti slumped over the bar to his right. “What did you say?” 

Venti watches him for a drawn-out moment, the clever spark in his eyes a sharp contrast to the way his mouth stretches into a languid smile. “I said I would like some wine, Diluc.” 

Diluc forces himself not to acknowledge the weight that settles in his stomach. Right, of course, why else would anyone talk to him if not to order a drink? “You got it. I must warn you though, I can’t read any of the labels thanks to our dear Cavalry Captain over there.” He juts a thumb in Kaeya’s direction. 

Venti lazily waves a hand. “No big, as long as it’s wine.” 

Diluc nods and turns his back to Venti, reaching for a bottle and a glass. 

“They care about you, you know,” Venti says, unprompted. “They just don’t know how to approach you. They don’t want to upset you.” 

Diluc frowns as he finishes pouring the glass and puts the bottle back on the shelf. He doesn’t know how to reply to that. 

As he turns to give Venti the wine glass, the bard leans over the bar and gently catches his wrist. “I can tell there’s something…” Venti’s brow furrows, and he looks like he’s concentrating hard. “… dark, going on up there.” He taps a finger against Diluc’s forehead. “And I just want to make sure you know they care about you… more than you think they do.” 

Diluc shudders, wondering if Kaeya just sent a burst of cryo up the back of his shirt. He feels like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “What- I-” he stammers. 

Venti smiles sweetly and pulls away with his wine glass in hand, winking. A soft wind spirals around Diluc’s body, warm and comforting, tossing his hair out of its ponytail. He takes a few startled breaths and pats himself down, making sure everything’s still in its rightful place. When he looks up, the bard’s gone, along with a bottle of mead Diluc had stashed below the bar. He sighs. 

His hands fumble for something to do for a moment before finding purchase on a rag and beginning the routine motion of wiping down the bar. As he does so, a shock of ruby red appears in his periphery, and he watches as Amber bounds up to the bar and catches a bit of icing off the bottom of the cake platter, popping it into her mouth. 

Once she’s finished her thieved treat, she looks up at him, frowning a little. “Are you alright?” She asks. “You look shaken.” 

He swallows once, twice. “Yes, I’m fine,” he replies, offering her a small smile. 

Reassured, she grins back at him, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She isn’t quite meeting his eyes, and he’s not sure what she’s looking at, but he feels a little self-conscious being on the receiving end of her curiosity. 

“Your hair!” She exclaims after a short pause. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it down before, it’s so pretty!” 

His heart shudders weakly in his chest. It’s been a long time since someone’s complimented him. 

Undeterred by his lack of an answer, she loops around the side of the bar and stands at his side, beaming. “You should let me braid it,” she suggests, eyes wide and sparkling. 

And how the hell is he supposed to say no to that? 

Diluc reluctantly nods his consent and Amber squeals in delight, grabbing his hand and tugging him into the dining area where the others are. It hurts, the way she’s pulling on his still-healing shoulder, but he forces his expression to stay neutral. She drags a chair over and guides him into it before disappearing out of view behind him. Then, her hands are in his hair. 

Diluc only remembers fleeting moments of his late mother, given how young he’d been when she died, but some of his favorite memories of her were watching her brush his father’s hair, and once Diluc’s was long enough, his too. She’d sit him down on the porch and comb her fingers along his scalp, gently brushing through the soft strands, and sing to him. Jean had liked to twirl the ends of his hair around her fingers when they’d sit together, but he hasn’t had anyone really care for his hair in over a decade. 

Amber’s fingers are nimble and efficient, parting his hair and easing out tangles as she goes. Diluc finds himself melting into the sensation, resting his head into her hands, only a little embarrassed at how comforted he feels. She weaves the strands into a tight braid, humming as she goes. Once she’s finished, she wraps a ribbon around the end and stands him up to show her work off to the others. They all gather around, cooing over his hair and Amber’s handiwork, Eula even going so far as to tuck a flower behind his ear. Diluc loses himself in it for a moment, smiling genuinely in the face of their cheer. 

Barbara giggles and puts a hand on his arm. “It’s so nice to see you smiling for once, Master Diluc.” 

He blushes and tilts his head down in a nod, and then Bennett says something about cake, and Diluc’s suddenly being rushed back over to the bar. Albedo lights the glittering candles sitting atop the layered cake with intense precision using his alchemy, and Diluc finds himself pushed into one of the barstools. Amber puts a hand on his shoulder and whispers in his ear, “When you blow out the candles, don’t forget to make a wish!” 

Diluc blinks; he hasn’t made a wish in years. Barbara pushes the cake towards him, and someone snuffs out the lanterns illuminating the tavern. The lit candles on the cake cast a golden glow on the faces around him, and there’s a warmth in his chest he hasn’t felt in a long time. They begin to sing him “Happy Birthday”, tacking on a few unusual phrases he’s never heard before at the end, and beckon him to blow out the candles. 

As he does, he thinks to himself: I wish I could spend more nights like this.  

Everyone cheers, and the lanterns flicker back on one by one as Kaeya cuts the cake, handing everyone but Diluc a slice. Barbara hands him hers, and Kaeya hands her a new one. They all begin to disperse again, settling into pairs and groups around the bar. Diluc eats a few bites of his cake – it’s incredibly sweet, moreso than he’d usually go for, but it’s enjoyable all the same. He glances down at Amber. She didn’t spread out with the rest of them, and she hasn’t touched her cake. 

When she notices him looking at her, she sets down her plate and straightens her back, meeting his gaze. “Master Diluc?” She prompts. 

He turns to face her fully, taking a deep breath. Judging by her tone and the guilty look on her face, this can’t be good. He hums, raising an eyebrow at her in question. 

She clears her throat. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a long time.” 

His mind flips through various interactions he’s had with her, but he can’t think of anything that could have happened between them that was so dire she’d feel the need to come to him to make it right. After a long pause, he realizes she’s waiting for him to respond. 

“Alright… what is it?” He replies, willing his nerves to settle. 

She hesitates for a moment, seemingly caught in an internal conflict. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks, leaning down a bit to make himself seem less intimidating. 

She flinches a little, shaking her head and staring down at her shoes. “No, no! Nothing like that. I’m just… I’m not sure I should say anything, really, but I feel so guilty with you not knowing.” 

He tilts his head to the side, still completely unsure of what she could possibly be referring to. 

Amber makes a little frustrated noise in her throat and then finally seems to make up her mind, snapping her head up and meeting his eyes. “I was there when Inspector Eroch gave you the order to conceal the truth about your- about Master Crepus’s death. I was hiding in the wardrobe.” 

“What?” He demands, staggering backwards. Stones sink deep into his stomach, one after the other. Thunk, thunk, thunk. “You knew? You knew, and you didn’t-” 

Amber’s eyes well with tears, and she makes an aborted motion to reach out to him. “I didn’t know what to do! You resigned, and then you disappeared, and I was so confused, I just-” 

His chest feels unbearably tight. “Why are you telling me this now?” 

“I don’t know! I just felt guilty that you didn’t know, and I’m so sorry I didn’t say something sooner, then maybe you wouldn’t have left, and-” 

Amber continues to ramble, but her words start spilling out so quickly and are so thick with emotion they get lost to the ringing in Diluc’s ears. 

Is there anyone in my life I can trust?  

Diluc takes a step forwards, drawing himself up to his full height, and cuts her off, “And yet you stayed with them, pledged your loyalty to them, knowing what they did!” 

“I’m sorry!” Amber cries, standing her ground. “What should I have done instead? Please, tell me!” She stares up at him, eyes wide and apologetic and achingly earnest. 

He knows. He knows she was just a kid, too young to be privy to such things, and must have been scared, must have wanted to preserve the sanctity of the Knights of a city she loved and wanted to protect, just… 

“Today, of all days?” He murmurs, trying and failing to keep the hurt out of his voice. 

They’ve drawn the attention of the others now, and Diluc knows he won’t be able to keep it together much longer – his insides are splitting like shards of glass – so he turns on his heel to leave. 

“Hey!” Eula shouts, planting herself between him and the door. “You can’t just leave like that! She’s trying to apologize.” 

Diluc pauses. That must mean… 

“You know too,” he breathes. His gaze snaps up to Eula’s, then Albedo’s, and then the group’s individual features simply blur into a haze of color. “You all know.” 

“Not the whole time,” Albedo says quietly. “And we only know because we were there at Eroch’s trial.” 

Diluc can’t breathe. “Then why do the records still show that Eroch was the one who killed-” His voice breaks; he can’t say its name. “Why haven’t you righted this wrong?” 

Silence. 

“How can you all stand here, pretending to be my ‘friends’, pretending to care, pretending to be decent human beings, knights , for god’s sake, when you’ve done nothing to right such a grievous wrong done to a good man! How can you…” he trails off, his throat too constricted to force any more words out. He’s choking on nothing. He shoulders his way past Eula, ignoring the muted pleas for him to stay. 

Kaeya steps in front of him, opening his mouth to say something, a smirk splitting his face in a mockery of the lopsided grin he used to sport when they were children, and Diluc grabs him by the front of his shirt and yanks him down, towering over him. “Don’t you say a word,” Diluc hisses, “don’t you dare mock him. He was kind to you, took care of you, changed his whole life for you, and you ally yourself with the organization that took credit for the sacrifice that ended his life and run your mouth making fun of me for killing him when you were too late! ” 

Trembling violently, Diluc releases his hold, and Kaeya gapes at him, eye wide and stunned. “Diluc, I-” 

He can’t bear another word. Diluc bolts out of Angel’s Share and down the main road. The braid Amber had woven into his hair unravels with the motion and his boot crushes the flower that falls from behind his ear. He feels like a coward, but he can’t let them see him fall apart, can’t let them see him so vulnerable… not when they’re so far from who he thought they were. He runs, and runs, and runs, until his feet take him to where his broken heart still lies, beating in the dirt alongside his father’s dying breath. 

He collapses to his knees in the small clearing. It bore witness to the darkest day of his life, but the evidence of the massacre has faded over time. The ground had been so saturated with blood that night Diluc would have expected the dirt to still be red, but it’s the same pale brown as it is everywhere else in Mondstadt. The trees that had been gouged by claws and wings are gone, most likely collected for lumber, and it’s easy to imagine their scattered branches being snapped up by the smaller creatures of the forests for their nests. Whoever’s bodies had remained intact would have been carted back to the city to be buried properly, but he wonders if the severed limbs and unidentifiable carcasses were left behind for the boars. 

Now, it’s quiet. Serene. There’s no trace of what happened here. 

Diluc leans over, pressing his forehead to the ground. “You meant everything to me, everything ,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut as Ursa’s roar bellows through his mind. 

Tears drip down his cheeks and nose, and he clenches his jaw tight, trying to stave off the rush of emotion. Memories flicker through his head: his father’s smile, the way he’d ruffle Diluc’s hair when he was proud of him, the rumble of his voice… the cavernous hole in his chest, his blood soaking into Diluc’s clothes, the way his father’s body had become more and more cold and weightless until it just disappeared completely. He can still remember the give of his father’s stomach as he eased the knife in, all the way to its hilt, the awful, choked gurgle at the back of his throat, the way Diluc had prayed to a god that had forsaken them to make his hands stop shaking as he drew the blade out because every tremor, every spasm of his fingers caused a pained gasp, and he was hurting him, he was killing the man who had loved Diluc from his very first breath and- 

Diluc gags, somewhere between dry heaving and sobbing. He can still remember his father’s attempts to console him – words that came out as wet, incomprehensible gurgles as he drowned in his own blood. Diluc hadn’t been able to understand any of it, and that almost feels like the worst betrayal of them all… he killed his own father, and he doesn’t even know what his last words were. 

He bunches his fingers up in his hair and yanks , tearing at his scalp. “It was all my fault. I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m so sorry ,” he sobs. “You were so much better than I will ever be. I don’t know how to do this without you here. I don’t want to.” 

Diluc falls to his side, curling his knees up to his chest. “You could have lived , and here I am instead, wasting everything you gave me. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what you’d want me to do.” His breath hitches, and another wave of tears rolls down his face. “I’m all alone.” 

He turns his face to the side, burying his nose in the dirt. “I hope you can’t see how pathetic I’ve become. I hope you’re happy, off somewhere beautiful with mom.” 

Diluc lies there, listless, as rain begins to fall. 

Two birds on a wire…  

One says come on,  

and the other says I’m tired.  

None of the people who witnessed his meltdown at the party try to speak to him in the following weeks. No one tries to speak to him at all, really, aside from Venti trying to schmooze his way into more wine… the bard has been more persistent than usual, and Diluc frequently catches Venti watching him with a somber expression he masks the moment their eyes meet. It’s unsettlingly knowing, and it makes Diluc restless every time he’s on the receiving end of it. 

He hands the responsibilities of running the winery off to Elzer, and nearly manages to shut the maids out entirely – Adelinde appears to have some sort of master key that she doesn’t hesitate to use freely, despite how flagrantly insubordinate both its use and its existence are, but (despite multiple attempts) he hasn’t been able to catch her using it yet, so there’s always still at least one other presence occupying the manor besides his own. Jean gently tries to coax him out of the house a few times, but he can’t bring himself to accompany her, even for something as simple as a walk. He only leaves the estate to slay Abyss Mages, refusing to let any more of them slip into Mondstadt undetected and kill people as a result of his negligence. 

Every time one of them shoots a fatal attack in his direction, he wishes his reflexes were slower. 

Kaeya comes around a couple of times, knocking and shouting, but leaves after an hour or so of loitering on the front steps. He must not be that concerned with hunting Diluc down, which is all well and good, considering he’s at the top of the list of people Diluc’s avoiding. He doesn’t think he can handle any more of the passive aggressive jabs Kaeya’s so fond of these days, warranted as they may be. Ever since the party, he’s been feeling like an exposed nerve, restless and sensitive and altogether bad company. 

In the end, he manages to evade the Cavalry Captain for about a month before his luck runs out (or, perhaps, before Adelinde’s had enough of his sulking and decided to intervene). He arrives home one evening from clearing out several Abyss Mage camps that had cropped up at the base of Dragonspine to find Kaeya standing in the entryway with his arms crossed, face devoid of the thinly-veiled malice Diluc’s so used to seeing on his features nowadays. When Diluc groans at the sight of him, and Kaeya’s typical feigned hurt at the reaction is nowhere to be seen, he immediately knows something’s off. Their interactions follow a certain script these days – obnoxious joke, biting comment, scoff, eye roll, repeat – and he’d thought they were operating under a mutual agreement to stick to said script to avoid shattering the fragile co-existence required of them, but if either of them were to throw caution to the wind and break their brittle truce, it would be Kaeya. 

Kaeya shifts his weight, raising an eyebrow at Diluc’s bedraggled appearance. A lucky shot from one of the Mages had sent him flying backwards into a puddle of mud, so now he’s covered in patches of dirt at varying stages of drying and his movements are punctuated by little pieces of clumped earth falling from his coat and skittering along the hardwood. His childhood tutors would be appalled, but he can’t summon the energy to care. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, failing pretty miserably at keeping the exhaustion out of his voice. He toes off his boots and leans his claymore up against the entryway table. 

Kaeya strolls over to the bookshelf on the other side of the room and runs a finger through the dust collecting on the shelves. “I ran across one of your shipments being ransacked the other day while I was out patrolling, and I did a little digging. Apparently you’ve handed off the running of this place to someone else?” 

Diluc hums noncommittally, biting the inside of his cheek. He just wants to go to sleep; he hadn’t even heard about the shipment being attacked. 

“What’s going on with you?” Kaeya demands, turning to face him. “You aren’t bartending at Angel’s Share anymore, either.” 

“Why do you care?” Diluc grouses, swaying a little. He’d… taken a hit he could’ve dodged, and now his ribs are shot. “Just leave me alone, Kaeya.” 

“Diluc?” Kaeya takes a step closer, hands twitching at his sides. “Are you alright?” 

“Kaeya, I mean it, please leave,” Diluc repeats, trying to force some authority into his tone. 

“No, I don’t think I will.” 

“Kaeya!” 

“ Diluc. ” 

“Ugh!” Diluc yanks his jacket off and tosses it over the back of the couch. “Could you please just, for once in your life, piss off!? ” The shout puts too much strain on his ribs, and he wheezes, clutching his side. Dammit. Not enough to kill him, just enough to make everything a thousand times more inconvenient. 

“You’re injured.” 

Diluc sighs. “Please, Kaeya. I just want to be left alone.” He runs a gloved hand through his bangs, shoulders dropping from where they’d defensively hiked up around his ears. 

Kaeya’s expression softens a bit, and he takes another step closer. “Your ribs aren’t going to wrap themselves.” 

“I’ve wrapped them on my own plenty of times.” 

“You don’t always have to do everything by yourself, you know,” Kaeya says, placing a hand on Diluc’s bicep and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“It’s better for everyone if I do,” Diluc replies, voice flat and toneless. 

Kaeya’s mouth twists to the side and he stares at Diluc for a long moment. “C’mon,” he murmurs, uncharacteristically quiet, “let me help.” 

Diluc’s eyes search his face, looking for any hints of dishonesty, but he doesn’t find anything – not that he would if Kaeya was tricking him, but it helps to at least give his intuition the opportunity to pick up on something. Maybe it’s because he’s so achingly tired, or maybe it’s because he hasn’t really spoken to anyone in weeks, but Diluc’s shoulders slump and he concedes, reluctantly allowing Kaeya to take his elbow and guide him upstairs. They move slowly, and Diluc has to lean on Kaeya more than he’d care to admit. 

“How did you even get in here?” He asks, following Kaeya’s lead as he pushes open the door to Diluc’s bedroom and guides him to sit down on the end of the bed. 

Kaeya ducks into the adjoining bathroom, replying over his shoulder, “Your maids are in a tizzy. They’re worried about you, especially Ms. Adelinde.” 

Diluc rolls his eyes while Kaeya’s still out of sight. He knows he’s nothing more than a paycheck to them, and it’s not like he can hold them at fault for that… he hasn’t exactly put any effort into building relationships with his staff. Adelinde’s fondness for him is bewildering at times, but not entirely unsurprising, given they’ve known each other for a long time. Still, maintaining his well-being is an aspect of her responsibilities, so her concern could be just as fabricated as everyone else’s. 

Kaeya reappears, bandages in hand. “Alright, shirt off,” he orders, gesturing to Diluc’s rumpled tunic. 

Diluc shifts uncomfortably. “You can just do it over my shirt, it’s fine.” 

“Um, no. If you think I’m letting you continue to wear that stinking thing, you’re gravely mistaken.” Kaeya replies, wrinkling his nose. 

“Fine, just give me a minute to change my shirt and then you can-” 

“Jeez, Diluc, I knew you were a prude, but this is a little much, don’t you think? Just-” Kaeya drops the roll of bandages and catches the hem of Diluc’s shirt, yanking it upwards. 

“Wait! Kaeya-” Diluc yelps. Caught by surprise and injured as he is, he’s helpless against Kaeya’s antics as the other man drags the garment up and over his head. 

Diluc slumps back down on the mattress as Kaeya pauses, the shirt balled up in his fist. His mouth works around nothing for a moment before he murmurs, “Oh. I… I didn’t know…” 

Diluc has acquired quite a number of new scars since the last time Kaeya saw him shirtless, most notably the ones carved into his left arm from the Delusion. Kaeya’s eyes flit over his torso, analyzing, and Diluc leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, exhausted. 

“Is… is that from…” 

Diluc knows he’s looking at the deep valleys gouged into his forearm, and they prickle uncomfortably under his scrutiny. Diluc sighs, desperate to avoid this conversation. “Are you going to wrap my ribs or not?” 

It looks like it takes a second for the question to register, but once it does, Kaeya shifts. He settles into a crouch and reaches behind Diluc to wind the bandages around his back and chest. Diluc flinches every time Kaeya’s freezing fingers brush his skin, and he can feel Kaeya’s gaze mapping his chest, tracing and memorizing his scars. His shoulders curl inwards, and he does his best not to focus on the contact or the staring. He wonders idly if his skin feels unnaturally warm in the same way Kaeya’s feels unnaturally cold. 

Kaeya signals he’s finished by tugging on the knot he’d made over Diluc’s sternum, and Diluc immediately gets up to retrieve a clean shirt. 

“Wait-” Kaeya blurts, and Diluc pauses, glowering at him. “Just… these ones…” Kaeya gestures to the scars on Diluc’s back that curve over his shoulders. “They don’t look like battle scars… they- they look like whip marks.” 

“They are,” Diluc replies, the admission slipping out before he has a chance to cull it. 

He hasn’t seen an authentic emotion on Kaeya’s face in who knows how long, so it’s jarring to see… worry? pity? sadness? so openly reflected on the other man’s features. “But… but who?” He stammers, “While you were away… who did this? Who hurt you?” 

Diluc brings a hand up to rub at the raised skin on the side of his neck. “The Fatui thought they could turn me to their side if they took me down low enough and offered relief.” 

“They tortured you…” Kaeya quietly sums up. 

Silence seeps into the space between them. Kaeya looks like he wants to say something more, and Diluc already feels incredibly exposed having said that much, and it’s awkward, having had such a strong bond in the past, but not knowing, really, how to speak to each other now. After a long, tense moment, Diluc shrugs on the clean shirt, and Kaeya finally looks away. 

Now would be a good time for him to make his exit and save them both from having to continue this humiliating conversation, but apparently Kaeya has other ideas. He pulls a chair over and sits down on the edge of it, fiddling with the ends of his hair. “That wound on your shoulder, it looks fresh.” 

Diluc averts his eyes. 

“And now your ribs? I haven’t known you to be this sloppy in the past, Diluc,” Kaeya speaks softly, with patience Diluc didn’t know he possessed, and it’s suddenly unbearably tempting to tell him the truth. 

There’s a small part of him that wants someone to notice what he’s doing to himself, to care, to make him stop, but there’s a bigger part of him that knows that what he’s doing is wrong, that it’s shameful, vulnerable, tender, and he can’t afford to show those parts of himself to someone he can’t trust, someone whose betrayal still keeps him up at night. 

“I haven’t been getting much sleep,” he replies, shrugging. 

Kaeya rolls his eye. “You’ve handed off literally all of your work. You’ve had nothing to do for weeks . Do you really think I’m going to believe that obvious lie?” 

Heat rises at the back of Diluc’s throat. “Well you’re the best liar I know, so why don’t you open up your playbook and give me a lie that would make you shut up and leave me alone?” 

Kaeya sits up straight and meets Diluc’s anger head-on, as if he’d expected the outburst. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.” 

Diluc bites back a snarky since when and sighs instead, rolling the tension out of his shoulders and sinking back down into guilt. “Then what did you come here for?” 

Kaeya leans back in his chair, crossing an ankle over his knee; the charm dangling from his anklet catches the moonlight and splays it in shimmering rays across the floor. He rubs a hand over his mouth, gaze drifting out the window as he frowns. “I know you too well, I think. Even though I try to distance myself from you, given how you’ve made it very clear how much you don’t want me around, I still know you too well. I never had the chance to make amends with you before you left, and it seems nothing’s changed since you’ve been back… you still keep your distance, and I respect that you have no desire to rekindle our relationship, so I’ve given you your space.” 

Diluc doesn’t think he’s seen Kaeya avoid eye contact since they were children… it’s disconcerting, but perhaps this is what Kaeya’s body language looks like when he’s being truthful. Diluc’s gotten so used to the insults and the jibes and the manipulations that somewhere along the line he’d lost his mental images of Kaeya’s genuine expressions. But there’s no one around for miles, so it’s not like Kaeya’s putting on a show for the sake of his image. Diluc singes his fingers trying to contain the tiny flame of hope that ignites in his battered chest. 

Kaeya continues, “But I know you too well, Diluc. I can tell there’s something going on with you… something that frightens me. It feels like you’re giving up, pulling away from your life… collapsing in on yourself.” 

Diluc bites his tongue, guilt and shame coiled up tight and sitting heavy in his gut. He knows he’s an awful liar, but he can’t tell Kaeya the truth, can’t admit how pitiful he is, how he’s not only wasting the life their father died to protect, but actively endangering it because he’s too weak to carry the weight of his own wrongdoings, how on numerous occasions he’d considered pressing his fingertips into his eyes and burning away his tear ducts so he’d stop fucking crying . 

He can’t admit how badly he wants to die. 

Kaeya shifts so he’s facing him, and he reaches out to take Diluc’s hands in his. “We haven’t been family for a long time, and I know you don’t trust me, and probably won’t trust me with whatever’s going on with you, but I want you to know that despite everything, I care about you, and I don’t know what I’d do if you left again.” 

“I thought you’d be happy with me gone,” Diluc says, before he can stop himself. 

“No,” Kaeya replies, squeezing his hands. “No, Diluc, I-” his voice cracks and he pauses, taking a moment to compose himself, before he finally raises his eye to meet Diluc’s. “Who do you think carried around your vision while you were gone?” 

Diluc blinks. What? He’d assumed someone threw it in some dusty old cabinet somewhere and left it to rot, and that Kaeya had hunted it down and delivered it to him in that ugly vase when he came back as another one of his attempts to get under Diluc’s skin. 

Kaeya chuckles self-consciously. “I swear, all that hair leaves no room for your brain.” He flicks Diluc’s forehead, and when Diluc doesn’t react, he drops his gaze back down at their joined hands, the sad half-smile on his face shifting into something more vulnerable, something that pulls on Diluc’s heartstrings and makes it impossible to look away. “I carried that thing on me, day in and day out, praying I wouldn’t look down, or wake up one morning, and find it greyed-out, find out you’d died alone, and that I’d never have the chance to speak to you again.” He pauses, swallowing hard. His grip on Diluc’s fingers tightens. “Sometimes, I wanted to throw it in a lake just to spite you. It was easier to be angry with you for trying to kill me, for cutting me out, for leaving without a word… than it was for me to feel the pain of losing you.” 

Diluc yanks his hands out of Kaeya’s. A myriad of apologies he’s repeated over and over in his head like a catchy tune spill over his tongue, but he can’t force them past his lips. From the way Kaeya barrels on, he wasn’t looking for one anyway. 

“And then you came back, and you just… pretended like you were never gone, like nothing had changed. And I felt – I feel – so horribly guilty, for being too late to save Crepus, for telling you my story when you were already so distraught, and for telling it so badly… but most of all, for not being there for you. I shouldn’t have let you shut me out in your grief. I tried to give you space, because that’s what you, and everyone else, said you wanted, but it’s been years since that day, and you’re still just… reliving it, over and over, torturing yourself. You need to move on, you need to-” 

“Move on?” Diluc interrupts, a thousand miles away and barely aware of his mouth forming the words. 

Kaeya fidgets, licks his lips. “I don’t mean… I don’t mean that you need to ‘get over it’, I mean that you’re letting this loss run your life, and it’s running you into the ground.” 

“Well maybe I deserve it,” Diluc whispers, clenching his fists and staring down at his lap. 

“Diluc…” Kaeya chides gently, “Diluc, Crepus’s death wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?” 

Every insult, every biting comment about Diluc killing their father that Kaeya has spit at him, resurfaces in an instant. There are a million things he could say in response to that, everything from diversions to denials to insults born of misdirected anger, but the part of him that loves his father, his brother, his family, more than anything, aches so strongly to believe it wasn’t his fault that all he can do is crumple in on himself in response, breathlessly shaking, curling his hands into the front of his shirt like a child. 

He feels Kaeya’s presence shift closer, and his hands gently guide Diluc’s head onto his shoulder. “Has no one ever said that to you?” He murmurs, voice thick with disbelief and anguish. 

Diluc bites down on the back of his hand, willing himself to stay silent, to not embarrass himself like this. Crying in the arms of his estranged little brother about whether or not it was his fault he’d murdered their father is completely unacceptable, and yet- 

Kaeya hums, brushing Diluc’s bangs out of his eyes, and the cool air hitting Diluc’s forehead is a momentary relief, shocking him out of his spiraling thoughts. Kaeya seems to have taken Diluc’s lack of a response as answer enough. “Diluc, I know I’ve said some hurtful things to you, but if you’re going to take any of my words to heart, please let it be that father’s death was not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done, and punishing yourself for it now won’t bring him back.” 

It's pathetic how little it takes for Diluc’s resolve to break. A sob tears out of his throat. “But it was .” He buries a hand in his hair and tugs. “It was my fault. I was right there, I was trained, I should have – it should have been me,” he cries, “it should have been me, not him. He was so much better than I’ll ever be, it should have been me. It should’ve been me…” 

Kaeya slides them off the edge of the mattress and onto the ground at the foot of the bed, carefully pulling Diluc against his chest. Kaeya eases Diluc’s punishing fingers into letting go of his hair and tugs at the knot at the base of his skull, allowing red locks to spill over his shoulders. He interrupts Diluc’s frantic murmuring. “Losing you would have killed him,” he says softly, running a hand up and down Diluc’s back. 

Diluc should care that Kaeya’s a traitor, that he lied to and manipulated Diluc their entire childhood, that he could very well kill him and everyone he loves someday, but Kaeya is also his brother , his only real remaining family, and the aching wound inside of him that’s been sluggishly bleeding ever since he’d plunged his sword into his father’s chest needs this, and he’s been shutting it out for so long. All the rage that had sent him careening into enemy territory to dismantle anything bearing the mark of the Fatui has trickled away since getting back to Mondstadt, and he doesn’t know who he is or what he’s supposed to be doing without that purpose… he’s just a hollow shell of a man wrought with grief now that he doesn’t have enough energy to fuel the anger. 

“I miss him endlessly,” Diluc chokes out. “I miss him with every breath.” 

Kaeya hums in acknowledgement, tucking Diluc’s head under his chin and continuing to rub his back, mindful of his ribs and shoulder. Diluc clutches weakly at the back of Kaeya’s tunic and buries his face in the fur lining his coat. He turns Kaeya’s words over in his mind, guilt and regret blooming hot and fast in his chest. He’d never imagined Kaeya missing him, or caring that he was gone. His mental image of Kaeya’s feelings towards him since they’d parted had always been of Kaeya gleefully dancing on his grave. 

“I’m sorry Kaeya,” he murmurs, the apology slipping easily from his lips this time. “I’m so sorry.” 

Kaeya leans his cheek against the top of Diluc’s head. “I know,” he replies quietly. 

“No, but you don’t, you don’t know,” Diluc blurts feverishly, “I’ve never apologized. I’ve never tried to make things right, it’s not enough, I haven’t done enough, I-” 

“Diluc,” Kaeya says, sharp, but not unkind. “I know.” 

Diluc stops short, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing the urge to continue rambling apologies. His thoughts are churning so violently it makes him dizzy, and Kaeya holds him steady as grief floods through him, pushing and pulling and siphoning away piece after piece of the vengeful façade he’d constructed to prevent it from swallowing him whole. He knows Kaeya’s right – at some point, he’ll have to accept what happened and move forward, but what is there to move towards? Anything fate hadn’t taken from him he’d gone and destroyed himself. 

Somewhere in the back of his head he can hear Kaeya’s voice murmuring to him, but he’s too far gone to tell if it’s real or if it’s his mind trying to comfort him with a memory. “Shh… shh… it’ll be alright, ‘Luc. Just rest.” 

Exhaustion creeps in so suddenly Diluc wonders if the words were laced with a sleeping spell. He gives into it regardless, letting it pull him into the depths of unconsciousness and praying that Kaeya will be gone by morning so they won’t have to continue this conversation. Or, better yet, praying that Kaeya will finally make his move and slip a dagger deep into Diluc’s throat before the morning sun’s rays glint over the horizon. 

Two birds on a wire…  

One says come on,  

and the other says I’m tired.  

Diluc’s heart sinks as awareness begins to trickle back in and he feels a twinge of pain when he takes a breath that can only mean he’s lived through the night. He should have known better than to think the universe would put him out of his misery so easily; it hadn’t worked all those freezing nights he’d spent curled up on the ground in abandoned ice-fishing huts in Snezhnaya, and even with the added element of the Khaenri’ah’n spy, it appears his wishes remain futile. A cursory glance around the room tells him one of his prayers was answered at least, as Kaeya is nowhere to be found. The airy scent of lilies that tends to linger around Kaeya has dissipated as well, meaning he must have left long enough ago that he hadn’t just wandered downstairs for breakfast. Diluc tilts his head from side to side, wincing at the soreness in his neck. Did Kaeya really sit on the floor with him all night? 

As he moves to stand, a folded note falls off his lap and he snatches at it, immediately regretting his haste when the movement pulls on his ribs. He groans, clutching at his side with his empty hand and stumbling backwards until he hits the edge of his mattress, managing to fall onto it and not back down to the floor. It takes him an embarrassingly long moment to unfold the note with one hand, and once he does, he has to blink rapidly a few times until his eyes start to cooperate and the words come into focus. 

I forgot to turn in a very important document yesterday and if Jean discovers it’s missing, she’ll string me up the flagpole – which you’d probably get a kick out of, actually, but I don’t think either of us want to put any more work on Jean’s plate – so I have to head back to headquarters, but don’t think this conversation is over.  

Diluc groans again, lowering himself onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. Kaeya’s stubborn needling is the exact opposite of what he needs right now. Maybe he should leave Mondstadt again… for good this time… hand it all off and disappear, surrender to the Abyss Mages so they’ll give Mond a bit of respite, and hope they kill him without much preamble. He looks back down at the note. 

P.S. You owe me some of Addie’s signature waffles for sleeping on the floor with you all night. With lemon curd. And blueberries. And that syrup she gets shipped over from Sumeru.  

Damn, now I’m really hungry.  

Despite himself, Diluc huffs out a small laugh, tossing the paper onto his nightstand. Leave it to Kaeya to fit thinly-veiled threats of wringing out their emotional baggage and waffles into the same note. Diluc shakes his head and stands, ambling towards his dresser and mentally preparing himself to face the day ahead of him. 

-- 

Already on edge from weeks of self-imposed isolation, this new development with Kaeya sends Diluc’s mind into a confused frenzy, twisting and contorting around itself to try and fit the conversation they’d had yesterday into the picture of their relationship he’s had in his head since the night they’d fought. Anxiety buzzes in his fingertips and makes him restless when all he’s wanted to do for the past month is curl up in bed and sleep the days away. He decides some fresh air might help him unravel the confused mess of thoughts, so he sneaks out the front door and idly wanders down the road towards Wolvendom. Wolvendom and the surrounding area are largely void of other people, given the wolf packs that reside there, so for the moment, Diluc is safe from prying eyes and questions he doesn’t have the answers to. The overgrown path is quiet and serene, and the corner of his mouth quirks up into a small half-smile as he watches bunches of lamp grass nestled alongside the trail sway in Mondstadt’s eternal breeze. 

It's not long before he spots a set of child-sized footsteps in the dirt, and while he’d usually ignore them, the scrap of torn bandages caught on a low-hanging branch next to them, as well as the fact that there’s no accompanying footsteps to indicate a nearby adult, spurs him to follow. They lead him to a clearing unsettlingly close to where he knows Andrius’s arena lies, and when he rounds the corner, he comes across Bennett, facedown in the dirt. A quick sweep of the clearing makes it obvious that the kid has been training here, and for quite some time, by the looks of it. The area is littered with training dummy parts, snacks and water bottles, a pair of tattered wooden swords, and a dark cloak spilling out of a hole in one of the trees. It’s dangerous to be out here in wolf territory, training with no supervision. 

Bennett pushes himself up on his elbows, muttering a quiet, “Ouch,” to himself as he shakes dust out of his hair. He’s littered with small cuts and bruises, but otherwise looks alright. 

The part of Diluc that feels too raw to interact with other people begs him to turn on his heel and disappear before the boy notices him, but the part of him that vowed to protect Mondstadt and its people, the part of him that can’t bear to see a child hurt, the part of him that still functions like an older brother, keeps him rooted to the spot. “Bennett,” he calls, stepping into the clearing and crossing his arms over his chest. 

Bennett yelps, whirling around and staring up at Diluc with wide eyes, looking properly chastised before Diluc even has the chance to get a word out. “Oh! Uh. Master Diluc! H-hi,” Bennett stammers, rubbing a hand against the back of his head. “How did you find me?” 

“I wasn’t looking for you,” Diluc replies, raising an eyebrow. “I was out for a walk, and I noticed your footprints. I think the more important question is what are you doing way out here? This isn’t the safest place to train.” 

The kid slouches down into himself, picking at a loose thread from a tear in his glove. “I know,” he sighs, “I was training with the Knights in the city, but… well…” he shrugs, and the self-deprecation evident in the gesture is stifling. “My bad luck got someone hurt, and they kicked me out. No one wants me around, so I came out here…” 

Age-old resentment flares in Diluc’s chest, but he forces it back down; it’s of no use here. Still, those idiotic knights… getting hurt is part of the job description, and kicking a child out to train on his own – a child harboring a curse that makes him prone to serious injury, no less – is extremely poor form. He takes a steadying breath and kneels, placing what he hopes is a comforting hand on the kid’s shoulder. “You could get hurt out here, and no one would know. This is a seriously dangerous thing you’ve been doing.” 

Bennett is silent for a suspiciously long moment, and Diluc watches the boy’s eyes dart in the direction of the cloak he’d seen earlier before he replies, “I’ll be alright, you don’t need to worry.” He smiles at Diluc, the corners of his mouth trembling. It’s an alarmingly convincing fake smile for someone his age. 

Something about the way Bennett talks irks him, pulls at something familiar in his chest, and he can’t quite figure out why, but he knows he shouldn’t leave the kid alone out here. Mentally surrendering the rest of his afternoon, Diluc summons a flashy display of harmless sparks in his right hand and gives the kid his best attempt at a smile (hopefully his is even more convincing… he’s had longer to practice it). “Would you like to train with me today? Just for the sake of having some company?” 

Bennett lights up like a firework, hands flailing wildly as he jumps from one foot to the other, and excitedly blurts, “Really?!” 

Diluc chuckles a little and nods. “Really.” 

Bennett blushes bright red, embarrassed, and then his brain seems to catch up to him and his expression sours. “W-well, I appreciate the offer, Master Diluc, but it’s probably not a good idea now that I think about it.” 

“Nonsense,” Diluc drawls, adjusting his ponytail and gesturing toward the center of the clearing. “C’mon.” 

After a moment, Bennett trails after him, but he still seems hesitant. “But I’m bad luck,” he explains, wringing his hands. “I’ll only get you hurt.” 

“I’m tougher than I look, kid. I’ll be fine.” 

“But-” 

“Bennett,” Diluc starts, then pauses, softening his tone as the boy ducks his head, “I can take care of myself. If you don’t want to train with me, that’s perfectly alright, but there’s no reason not to if you do.” 

Bennett searches his face wildly for a beat, then acquiesces. “Well, alright… if you’re sure…” 

Diluc walks over to the edge of the clearing and picks up one of the wooden swords, then tosses Bennett the other. “Show me what you were working on.” 

“Okay!” 

-- 

Diluc calls for a break once the sun hits its midpoint and they’re both suffering under its heat – he’s shed his jacket, but he’s still in his long sleeve shirt and gloves, and he’s not particularly keen on passing out from heatstroke. Bennett heaves a sigh of relief, fetching a couple of canteens from his stash of supplies before collapsing in the shade of one of the fragrant cedar trees surrounding the clearing. Diluc mops the sweat off his forehead and comes to stand beside him, leaning his back against the tree. 

“You’ve got a good setup out here,” Diluc says absentmindedly, taking a swig of the water Bennett offers him. 

Bennett nods. “Yeah, it’s pretty awesome.” Silence stretches between them for a moment before the kid speaks again, “Y’know, don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but I wouldn’t have expected you to go out of your way like this for someone like me.” 

Diluc blinks down at the mop of white, messy hair. “What do you mean by that?” 

“I dunno, you have this sort of…” Bennett turns to face him, gesturing with his hands. “I mean… you’re a nobleman, right? I wouldn’t expect you to interact with someone like me.” 

Diluc hums, a bit surprised. “I see. And what do you mean by ‘someone like you’?” 

Bennett chews on his lower lip, his gaze wandering off to the side. “Well, you know… my parents abandoned me, so I’m not from any kind of noble family or anything, and the knights don’t want me around… I can’t even get anyone to go adventuring with me. And then there’s the whole ‘cursed with bad luck’ thing…” 

Diluc slides down so he’s sitting next to Bennett instead of towering over him, concern and a considerable amount of anger at the mistreatment of this kid battling for dominance in his chest. 

Bennett continues, “Plus… I’m, like, completely covered in scars, and I’m constantly having to stitch up holes in my clothes, so I look like a mess all the time. Nobody wants me around…” he sighs, running his fingers over the bright yellow threads securing a fabric patch over the knee of his shorts. Diluc shifts, opening his mouth to say something, but Bennett beats him to it, hurrying to get a word in as if barreling forward will erase everything he just confessed. “But you’re all noble-born, and dignified, and an amazing fighter… you’re like the uncrowned King of Mondstadt! I bet you have no problem getting people to go adventuring with you.” 

Diluc blinks. Bennett is leaning forward on his knees, hands still hovering in the air from where he’d been gesturing at an imaginary crown on Diluc’s head. 

Oh, the ways in which people distort reality to see things through their own lens…  

Diluc covers his mouth with his hand, contemplating how to respond to all of that. He knows people have very little idea of what his life actually looks like, but to hear it spoken so plainly is something else entirely. He supposes that looking in from the outside, his life must seem like a fairytale… especially to a kid like this. 

Bennett sits back on his heels, eyes wide, searching Diluc’s face for a reaction. He’s not sure what kind of reaction the kid is expecting, and for a moment, he’s not sure what kind of reaction to give. Words have never really been his strong suit, but Bennett’s expression is slowly morphing into one that Diluc knows from experience is a precursor to tears, so he does the first thing that comes to mind: he unbuttons the cuff of the sleeve covering his left arm and pushes it up to his elbow. 

Bennett’s expression quickly flashes from surprise to morbid curiosity as his eyes rove over the deep scarring winding around Diluc’s forearm. Diluc’s heart flutters rapidly as the kid raises a hand and gently runs his fingers across the deepest scar – the one that had nearly stolen his motor function in that hand. Diluc reigns in his breathing and works his throat for a moment, finally having found the words. “It’s true that I have privileges others don’t… I’m not unaware of that.” He pauses, looking down at Bennett’s small hand, crisscrossed with thin white lines. “But there’s a lot more to a person than their appearance, or their social status.” 

Bennett nods, pulling his hand away and looking down at his lap. Diluc quickly yanks his sleeve back down, fumbling the buttons back into place with shaking fingers. He takes a long drink from the canteen propped against his leg. The panic he’d anticipated buzzes at the periphery of his mind, but thankfully it’s not too overwhelming. Bennett still looks pretty downtrodden, though, so Diluc bumps his shoulder with his own, hoping to break the kid out of his thoughts. It has an immediate effect – Bennett startles a little and meets Diluc’s eyes, smiling a little more earnestly this time. 

“You-” Bennett starts, then stops, clearing his throat. “You got your vision when you were like, what, eight or something?” 

Diluc hums. Something like that. 

“See, I just got my vision from a fluke accident, but you probably did something amazing to earn yours, right?” 

Diluc stares straight ahead, off into the trees. “Not particularly,” he replies. His voice sounds far away, and his head feels fuzzy. 

 Bennett flops down on his back so he can look up at the clouds. He sighs, wistful. “Do you think our visions shape who we are? Like… our personalities? I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have an anemo vision, or an electro one.” 

“I’m not sure… I’ve never really thought about it.” 

Bennett’s face suddenly pops up right in front of him, and Diluc does his best not to startle. “Really?!” The boy chirps, “Never?” 

Diluc blinks, coming back to himself a little. Bennett’s hands are braced on Diluc’s knees, and he’s putting most of his weight on them to leverage himself up so he’s at eye level with Diluc. “No…” Diluc answers, a little hesitant. “My father always wanted a pyro vision, but he never got one, so when I imagined receiving a vision as a child, it was always pyro.” 

“Huh,” Bennett replies, contemplative. “He must have been really happy for you when you got one then, right?” 

Diluc cautiously lets his mind wander back. “I’m… not sure, actually. He seemed more… satisfied than outright happy. He sent in the paperwork for me to become a knight that afternoon.” 

“It sounds like he really believed in you!” Bennett smiles, sitting back and giving Diluc a thumbs up. 

Something bittersweet unfurls in Diluc’s chest, and he smiles back. “I suppose he did.” 

-- 

The longer they train, the more Diluc notices a pattern Bennett has of dropping his block in favor of advancing his footing, and the more he watches it happen, the more eerily familiar it becomes. Bennett frequently, seemingly purposefully, leaves vital organs open to attack. Frankly, it’s a miracle the kid’s still alive if this is how he fights real enemies… it’s borderline suicidal. 

And it’s exactly how Diluc’s been fighting for the past year or so. 

Is Bennett doing it on purpose? Or is it simply poor training? Surely this can’t be what the knights are teaching their recruits. Diluc plants his feet and thrusts his sword through the next unnecessary opening Bennett creates, stopping just before the tip of the wooden sword hits Bennett’s chest. The kid doesn’t even glance down, opting instead to push forward until his sword is touching the side of Diluc’s neck. 

Diluc stands there for a moment, stunned, as Bennett grins triumphantly. There’s a thin line of blood dribbling down the kid’s stomach from where he’d shoved himself into Diluc’s sword. Bennett follows Diluc’s gaze and chuckles sheepishly when he catches sight of the wound, tossing his sword to the ground and pacing across the clearing to retrieve bandages from his stash. Diluc feels hollow; if they’d been fighting for real, he’d have gutted Bennett before the kid would’ve even had a chance of reaching him. 

Bennett comes back over, a fresh square of gauze taped over his stomach, and picks up his sword, giving it a little twirl. “Again?” He prompts, and Diluc finally snaps out of his shock. 

“Bennett,” Diluc says carefully, stepping forward and placing a hand over the one Bennett’s using to hold his sword. “What was that?” 

The kid takes a half step backwards, nervousness flitting across his features. “What do you mean?” 

Diluc nods at the bandage. “That. What was that?” 

Bennett fidgets. “Uh, I got cut? It happens… these swords won’t seriously hurt you, but they’re still a little sharp.” He’s looking at Diluc like he’s explaining why humans need to drink water. 

So… not on purpose, then. Either that, or he’s a better liar than Diluc gave him credit for. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

Diluc lets go of the boy and steps back, taking a steadying breath before meeting Bennett’s confused stare. “Bennett, if that had been a real fight, I would have killed you before you ever had a chance of reaching me.” 

Bennett shrugs a shoulder and exhales an awkward, fake chuckle. “Uh, well, good thing it wasn’t real then, right?” 

Diluc sighs. Time to get to the point. “You have a pattern of dropping your block and leaving yourself unnecessarily vulnerable to attacks. If you don’t fix that habit, you’ll be dead before your next birthday. You don’t want that, do you?” 

The boy flinches, digging the tip of his shoe into the dirt, and despite the hot day, Diluc suddenly feels cold. His heart is in his throat. 

“Do you?” He asks again, softer. 

Bennett clutches his sword to his chest, silent, and Diluc waits. Eventually the kid lets out a small sniffle and says, “No… no. I just… sometimes I think about what my life’s gonna look like, and it seems so lonely, and so I think maybe… maybe if I could just help someone, really help someone, even if it means me getting hurt, maybe I’d be worthy of some good luck in my next life.” 

One tear, and then another, drips down between them, sinking heavy into the dirt. 

Diluc’s chest aches , and he acts on the first impulse that comes to mind… he steps forward and gently pulls Bennett into a hug. The kid freezes up for a split second, then drops his sword and throws his arms around Diluc, small hands clutching at the back of Diluc’s shirt as he sobs. Diluc wraps an arm around Bennett’s shoulders and puts a hand on his head, holding him as he shakes apart. How cruel it is for a boy with such a kind, open heart to be subject to so much misfortune. 

He lets Bennett cry it out for a while, and when the boy’s sobs die down into hiccups, Diluc pulls away slightly and puts his hands on Bennett’s upper arms, squeezing a little. “Bennett, I want you to listen to me, okay?” 

Bennett nods, rubbing at one of his puffy eyes with a balled-up fist. 

Diluc kneels down and looks up into the kid’s face. “Despite what people around you have led you to believe, your life is not worth any less than anyone else’s. Please don’t throw it away. Your bad luck is not your fault… it’s a burden you must bear, and it’s not easy, but you are so much more than the boy with bad luck. You will find people who can see all the other things that make you who you are, and you’ll be glad you stuck around to meet them.” 

Bennett’s lip wobbles, and he bursts into tears again, sinking to his knees and covering his face with his hands. Diluc puts a hand on his back and rubs circles into the kid’s hand-sewn shirt. Bennett sniffles and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

“Bennett… okay?” 

Diluc startles with a small shout, whirling around to face the new voice as his heartbeat skyrockets. A boy, around Bennett’s age, with long silver hair and red eyes, managed to completely sneak up on them, and Diluc hasn’t been so caught off guard since Kaeya fell off the roof of their childhood home trying to find bird nests and landed right on top of him. The stranger seems uninterested in Diluc, though, fully concentrated on Bennett, who seems unfazed by the other boy’s arrival. 

A friend, then. 

Bennett offers the newcomer a shaky smile. “I’m fine Razor.” 

The boy – Razor – cocks his head, then shuffles up beside Bennett and intertwines their arms at the elbow. Razor nuzzles against Bennett’s cheek, and frowns. “Why Bennett… crying?” 

Bennett reaches over with his free hand and ruffles Razor’s hair, pushing back the hood of his cloak. “It’s nothing. I’m alright now, Master Diluc helped me feel better.” 

Razor glances at Diluc for a split second, then turns back to the other boy, aggressively sniffing the air around him. His nose scrunches up and his eyes dart down to the patch of gauze on Bennett’s stomach. “Bennett hurt!” He exclaims, searching Bennett’s face for a moment before he huffs and stands up, turning towards Bennett’s stash of supplies. “You stay here, I get medicine.” 

Bennett smiles, reaching up to take hold of Razor’s hand before he gets too far. “I’m really okay Razor, I promise. But I could use a snack if you-” 

“Bennett stay! Razor get food.” Razor shakes Bennett’s hand off and hurries over to the other side of the clearing. 

Diluc watches Razor for a long moment, intrigued. That must be who the cloak belonged to, then… and the reason Bennett wasn’t worried about being this close to the wolf pack. Diluc had heard stories of the knights discovering a boy raised by wolves, but he’d dismissed it as another tall tale rookie knights used to impress girls. That kid is something else, though… it’s been a long time since someone has gotten that close without Diluc realizing they were there. 

Turning his attention back to Bennett, Diluc raises a questioning eyebrow. 

Bennett shrugs, giving him a toothy grin. “Well, I guess the wolf’s out of the bag.” 

The absolute absurdity of that statement, in lieu of anything resembling an explanation, rips a short laugh out of Diluc before he can stifle it. He ruffles the kid’s hair and Bennett laughs too, shoving playfully at his arm. Diluc’s eyes drift over to Razor again, and he drops his hand. “I’m glad you have someone watching out for you.” 

Bennett hums, following his gaze. “Me too.” 

After a moment, Bennett turns back to Diluc and tilts his head up at him, smiling softly. “Thank you for today, Master Diluc. It was nice to have some company, and I…” he trails off, and his smile fades as his gaze drifts to the side. Before Diluc has a chance to interject, Bennett shakes his head and curls his hands into fists, and when he looks up again, there’s a newfound resolve shining in his eyes. “You’re right. I won’t think that way anymore… and I’ll work on my blocks.” 

Diluc nods, allowing himself the relieved smile that involuntarily spreads across his face, and pats Bennett’s shoulder. “I’m glad to hear that. And… Bennett?” 

“Yeah?” 

It takes more effort than Diluc would like to admit to push the words out, but he manages it. “If you ever need any more help with your training, you’re welcome to come by the winery… I may not be a knight anymore, but I could still teach you some useful tricks. Ask for Adelinde, she’s got a knack for tracking me down. Razor would be welcome, too.” 

“Awesome, thank you Master Diluc!” Bennett cheers, pumping a fist in the air. He then excitedly whirls on his heel and starts heading over to Razor, who is currently rummaging through Bennett’s – apparently quite extensive – stash of snacks. Diluc follows, if only to retrieve his jacket before leaving the boys to their own devices. 

When they’ve made it about halfway through the clearing, Bennett freezes mid-step and turns back to Diluc, frowning a little. He lightly puts a hand on Diluc’s arm, and Diluc is a little concerned about the kid giving one or both of them whiplash with all these mood swings. “You’ll find your people too, Master Diluc,” Bennett says seriously, eyes glinting with determination. “Don’t give up on that.” 

Diluc’s breath leaves him all at once and, a bit light-headed, he wonders to himself when he became so transparent. He swallows thickly and nods, and as quickly as he’d dropped that bomb on Diluc, Bennett’s off again, jogging the rest of the way across the clearing. Diluc stands there for a long moment, watching Razor use his teeth to open a packaged ham, watching Bennett laugh, holding his belly, and then turns away to find his coat. He leaves the clearing that afternoon feeling like he did something good for the first time in a really long time.  

Two birds on a wire…  

One says come on,  

and the other says I’m tired.  

“Diluc~” 

Oh no.  

Diluc heaves a sigh, shelving the wine bottle in his hand and resigning himself to a night of trying, and most likely failing, to wriggle his way out of uncomfortable interactions with Kaeya. He’s only been back to bartending for about a week, and while he’d had to deal with Kaeya during his first two shifts, he’s had a string of peaceful evenings since that he’ll be mourning the rest of the night. Despite the threat of further conversation in Kaeya’s note, he and Kaeya haven’t talked since Diluc sobbed all over him like a pre-pubescent teenager and then passed out in his arms – well, not about anything aside from Abyss Mages and the never-changing weather – and Diluc would do just about anything to keep it that way, which means the less time they’re in close proximity to each other, the better. Besides, it’s less than enjoyable watching Kaeya drown his liver in alcohol every night, especially knowing he’s the cause of it. 

Resigning himself to his fate, he turns to face the door as Kaeya shoves it open wide enough to step through. Diluc’s already exhausted, fighting off the twinge of nausea that comes with the expectation of social interaction and a persistent migraine that won’t be helped by whatever Kaeya’s got in store for him. It’s made all the worse by the fact that although they’d had something of a heart-to-heart, Kaeya still can’t seem to reign in the side of himself that enjoys pushing pins into Diluc’s chest when he’s drunk and in a bad mood, so Diluc never knows whether to have his guard up or not. In the end, it doesn’t really matter – he deserves anything Kaeya throws at him – but he’d really rather not have another meltdown in his own tavern if he can help it. He’s not sure who exactly he’s keeping up appearances for at this point, but the weight on his shoulders remains regardless. As it is, he’s sure no one will ever attempt to throw him another birthday party. Not that he’d want them to. 

But wait… is that… is Kaeya smiling? Genuinely smiling?  

The Cavalry Captain steps inside, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he used to when their father would bring in fresh strawberries from the garden. “Diluc!” He calls again, scanning the room until they lock eyes. “My friend’s in town. You haven’t met him before, but-” 

The rest of Kaeya’s sentence is lost to the sudden ringing in Diluc’s ears. Behind Kaeya, ducking slightly so as not to brush the top of the doorway, is a mop of ginger hair adorned with an unmistakable red delusion mask. A quick scan of the man’s lanky frame, gray suit, and deadened blue eyes confirms Diluc’s fears. 

Harbinger.  

His hands clench around nothing. The tavern is bustling around him, Venti’s melodic voice drifting down from where he’s perched on the upstairs railing, patrons laughing and shouting, and Diluc’s supposed to be a civilian. He can’t summon his weapons here, not without risking his secret. He’s not sure how the people of Mondstadt would react to the news that their resident wine tycoon is the vigilante running around torturing Abyss Mages in the dead of night, but he’s sure it wouldn’t be good. 

The Harbinger’s hand lands on Kaeya’s shoulder and he smirks, eyes closed but still clearly directed at Diluc. Kaeya turns his head and smiles at the Fatuus, chattering away about something frivolous, no doubt, but when he looks back over at Diluc, he pauses. His expression shifts, almost like he’s confused, and Diluc realizes he hasn’t moved, hasn’t breathed, since the Harbinger entered the room. Kaeya waves a hand in front of Diluc’s face, but all Diluc sees is the Harbinger grinning over Kaeya’s shoulder at him, and Diluc can’t tear his eyes away, can’t take the chance that he’d miss the warning signs of a strike. 

Oh gods, he could kill Kaeya before I’d even be able to lift a finger.  

The warmth and light of the tavern fade, and Diluc shivers despite how thick his coat is. He feels the color draining from his face, feels the leather of his gloves protesting as he curls his fists impossibly tighter. The vision on his hip burns , chasing away the ache of a remembered cold in his bones. Restraints bind his chest. He can’t breathe. 

No. Not like this. Not again! I can’t do it again-  

The Harbinger finally opens his eyes, and his lifeless gaze sears through Diluc’s skull. 

Stop! Stop looking! Stop looking at me!  

He needs to calm down, needs to convince the man he’s not a threat, that he’s not who he thinks he is. Kaeya snaps his fingers in front of Diluc’s face; he’s closer now, close enough that his cold breath wafts over Diluc’s cheek as he speaks. Diluc’s nerve endings are on fire, his clothes damp and clinging to his skin. There’s pain in his abdomen, and with each passing moment, he feels more and more empty. Something’s trickling down, down… blood… he’s bleeding… 

Don’t let them see.  

Diluc flinches, wide-eyed, then makes an effort to regain his composure by clearing his throat. “My apologies,” he chokes out, “I forgot about an urgent matter that needs my attention. Charles?” 

Charles appears on his left, a hand hovering over Diluc’s bicep. “Yes, Master Diluc?” 

“Please take over the bar. Kaeya, you and your friend can have one on the house.” He pulls the corners of his mouth up into a strained smile, heart beating a frenzied staccato in his chest, and turns his back to the three of them, nerves alight with panic at leaving himself so vulnerable. Hopefully that’ll get the beast off his scent. 

If he was going to hurt Kaeya, he would have done so already. We’re in Mond… not… not…  

He has the presence of mind to swipe the ledger from behind the bar before quickly weaving his way through the tables toward the back storage room. He opens the door to the glorified supply closet and shuts it behind himself with a soft click . 

Oh gods. A Harbinger. In Mondstadt. What the hell is he doing here? How does he know Kaeya? Is he here for personal reasons, or will I be bringing flowers to fresh graves come morning? What do I do? Does Jean know he’s here?  

Unable to keep his hands from shaking, he drops the ledger on his foot, then barely manages to catch himself on the shelving as he stumbles. He hits the shelves a little harder than he’d expected, and he hears a sharp crack as glass breaks from the impact and liquid douses the back of his head, sliding down his neck and into his jacket. 

Hands bound at the wrist, on his knees, water drips from his bangs to the blood-soaked concrete beneath him. He sucks in a ragged breath, and a hand on the back of his head shoves him into darkness. He chokes. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe- 

One hallway passes, then another. He’s lost track of where they are – they’re taking him somewhere different. He’s jolted to a stop in front of a locked door. Keys rattle, and he meets the eyes of a boy his age, blue, empty. 

His arms are trapped against his sides, straps biting into his skin as he struggles. The side of his neck is sore, the punctures still bleeding sluggishly. He can’t tell which way’s up. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t br- 

“Diluc?” A soft voice, accompanied by a knock. 

Diluc goes rigidly still, pressing his hands over his mouth and nose. 

“Diluc, I know you’re in there…” The doorknob jiggles. 

He backs away from the door, pushing himself into the opposite corner, broken fingers scrabbling along the floor for a weapon. 

“Dammit, I know this is a supply closet, not your office.” A pause, then a sigh. “Fine, where’s my lockpicking kit…” 

A low hum followed by some rustling, and then Diluc can hear the clink of metal instruments in the keyhole. He chokes down a terrified sob. He knew he’d only get so far before they found him and dragged him back. 

There’s the sound of the lock disengaging, and a small “Aha!” followed by the creak of the door swinging inward. Diluc seizes his opportunity to spring forward, taking the person by surprise and covering their mouth with his hand. He yanks them into the room, curling his other arm around their neck. They struggle, feet scrambling across the floor as Diluc kicks the door closed. He tightens his hold, praying they’ll fall unconscious without much fuss; he’s not sure he has the strength to continue applying so much pressure. He falls to his knees, taking his assailant with him. 

A bony elbow finds his ribs and pain ricochets up his spine, surprising him enough that he releases his hold. The person whirls around, reaching for his wrists, and unfiltered fear spikes in Diluc’s chest. “Get away from me!” he shouts, and – what he later realizes was his vision – responds to his desperation. A flash of fire illuminates the small space, and he can just make out the terrified expression he swore he’d never cause again before the flames die out and he’s left panting on the ground. 

Kaeya hiccups, back against the door, staring at nothing. Diluc’s throat closes up, feeling like a blade has pierced right through his sternum. He slowly shifts onto his haunches, his own panic forgotten, and tries to figure out how to fix what he’s broken, again . 

“Kae?” He murmurs quietly, tucking his hands away despite the urge to reach out. 

Kaeya sucks in a shuddering breath, crossing his arms and pulling his knees up to his chest, hiding the scarred side of his face against the wood. 

“Kae, you’re safe, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m really sorry,” Diluc tries, voice breaking. 

“I’m sorry,” Kaeya whispers, “sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

“No… no, Kaeya…” Diluc takes a deep breath and reaches a trembling hand out, intending to close the gap and offer comfort, but Kaeya gasps a little and flinches, slamming sideways into the doorframe, and Diluc recoils. 

The hands of a monster . 

Clearly, his presence is only making things worse… he’s the true threat here – not some Fatuus from another land. Diluc mutters another meaningless apology as he slips out of the room and beelines for the staff entrance. The skin on the back of his neck prickles and he pauses, turning to find the Harbinger watching him, eyes wide and inquisitive like a fish peering above the tides for the first time. It’s unnervingly innocent. Diluc stands there, enthralled, for a long moment before the Harbinger goes to stand from where he’s seated at the bar and Diluc exits the tavern, bracing himself against the cold as he makes his way towards the winery. 

If he runs into a mitachurl along the way and lets it bash his head in a few times, then that’s no one’s business but his own. 

Two birds on a wire…  

One says come on,  

and the other says I’m tired.  

Kaeya’s terrified expression is branded on the backs of Diluc’s eyelids. He can’t escape it. It shifts between the Kaeya from their fight nearly five years ago, baby fat still clinging to his cheeks, sword trembling in his grip, and the Kaeya at the tavern, visible eye wide with shock, clutching at himself like staying perfectly still might spare him his fate. He can only imagine what Kaeya must have thought, how betrayed he must have felt. Diluc had broken his trust once again, and not only that, but he’d broken the promise he’d make to himself when Kaeya’s eyepatch had slipped once after too many rounds of drinking led him to pass out on a table and Diluc had realized his regrets weren’t only burned into his mind, but Kaeya’s skin as well. 

When Diluc had arrived home the night he’d fled the tavern, blood crusted down the side of his face and a visible contusion, or three, protruding from his hairline, and refused to meet Adelinde’s gaze, she’d mandated him to bedrest for the foreseeable future. Once she’d finally left him alone, after applying sweet-smelling salves and cotton bandages and lecturing him softly, Diluc had used the last of his strength to barricade the door to his bedroom shut. Every morning, afternoon, and evening since, she’s knocked on the door to let him know there’s a tray of food waiting in the hallway for him, and each time he’s ignored her. 

It’s been a few days now, and she’s finally started trying to shove her way into the room, pleading with him to give her a sign he’s alright. It takes more energy than he’d care to admit – and it makes the painful throbbing in his temples flare so intensely he thinks he might black out – but he manages to send a small flame to dance in the gap she’s managed to create between the door and its frame. With a sigh, she relents, and Diluc sinks back into the heavy silence left in her wake. 

What kind of monster nearly burns their last remaining family to death not once, but twice? Diluc rolls over, throwing both arms over his eyes and ignoring the spike of pain that ricochets through his skull. What was the point of their father sacrificing himself to save him? What was the point of a quest for vengeance that just left behind more children with dead parents? What was the point of coming back, of trying to live a normal life, when he doesn’t fit into it anymore? Diluc’s fingers brush against the gouges the Delusion carved into his skin and he flinches. He can still remember the way the electricity tore through his nerves; an elemental weapon used by one not blessed with resistance. The chains would snap back at him, biting into his chest, his arms, his fingers. He can’t imagine the pain his father must have felt… it had to have been worse than anything Diluc has experienced if it was enough to bring him to the brink of death. What was the point? All of that pain, and for what? To save Diluc? What a waste . 

What a wretched thing to think.  

Diluc digs his fingers into his ribs, into his still-healing shoulder, and thumps his head back against the headboard. Pain washes over him, some of it sharp, some of it muted, but all of it deserved. A small trickle of blood curves down his face and into his right eye. 

It’s not like his father didn’t know who he was giving up his life for – even when Diluc was young and his father would bring him along to socialize at his events, no one cared for him, no one sought out his company… no one found him charming, or kind, or funny; he was just there because he was supposed to be. Even now, he’s made up of the wants and needs of others, there’s nothing about him that wasn’t taught, nothing he wasn’t trained to be. A façade, an image, a fabrication of duty and expectations. Is there a single aspect of his personality that wasn’t planted? If he were to disappear, what would there be to mourn? The end of his family line, of their signature red hair… is that worth this torment? 

Blood drips from his chin, soaking into the collar of his shirt. His father would have done so much more with his life than Diluc ever will. He would be so disappointed in what Diluc’s become. Diluc lets himself sink further into the bed, succumbing to the enormous weight pushing down on his chest. His body aches, protesting the abuse of his injuries, but it’s a comforting distraction from the scrambled thoughts racing back and forth in his head. 

He spends the afternoon tossing and turning in a fitful half-sleep. When the golden sunlight streaming in from his window starts to bleed into orange, and he’s pretty sure he’s cracked a molar from trying to hold back tears, Diluc swings his legs over the side of the bed and tests his weight on them. He’s still woozy, and at this point it’s anyone’s guess as to whether that’s due to the head injury or the lack of food, and he has no destination or task at hand, but the sudden restlessness searing through his limbs forces him upright. 

As he lists forwards, balancing on the balls of his feet, he’s distracted by a blinding light in his peripheral. He turns his head to catch the sunlight glinting off the frame of his mirror, and is unwittingly met with his own reflection. 

He’s never gone a day without shaving, not while he’s had any control over it, because he knew, he knew he’d look- 

Exactly like father. 

Grief seizes his chest in a vice grip. He stumbles backwards, and in his disorientation, his foot catches on the corner of a rug and he goes down, taking the mirror with him. It shatters, and little glass shards go skittering all across his bedroom floor, catching the light and twinkling in various shades of pinks, oranges, and reds. The gilded frame lands on its edge against the leg of his nightstand, and some remaining shards cling to the backing, reflecting a disrupted image of his face. He stares at himself for a long moment, vaguely registering a shout out in the hallway, and lurches forward on trembling arms. His hand glances over one of the bigger shards of glass, splitting the skin of his palm. 

Diluc brings it up to his face, watching brilliant red blood slip down his wrist, and dazedly curls his fingers around it. He angles it sideways against his throat and kicks the mirror the rest of the way to the floor so he doesn’t have to see such a pitiful expression on his face – on his father’s face. He takes a deep breath, adrenaline spiking, and yanks the sharp edge across his neck. 

Relief fills him for one blissful moment before a powerful gust of wind erupts out of nowhere, sweeping the glass out of his hand, and he’s pulled upwards, completely weightless, before being dropped back onto his knees, gasping and wide-eyed with shock. 

What the fuck was that?!  

His hair gently flutters down to rest on his shoulders, and he sits there, hands twitching and gaping like a fish out of water, as the door to his bedroom slams inward and the furniture he’d used to barricade it topples over, screeching along the hardwood floor. Panic ricochets through his body; the glass nicked him, he can feel the sting along his jugular, but it’s not enough to- to… 

“Diluc!” A strong hand presses firmly against the cut on his neck. He blinks rapidly in an attempt to clear his vision, and he can just barely make out the fuzzy outline of a blonde ponytail. 

Jean’s grip tightens. “What the hell were you doing!” 

Diluc works his throat for a moment, warmth seeping down his collarbone. He fixes his vision on a blank spot on the wall over her left shoulder. “I was shaving,” he rasps quietly. 

He hears a sharp sob from the doorway, and Jean turns her head toward the sound. “I’ve got him, Adelinde. You don’t need to see this-” 

“I’m not leaving him,” Adelinde replies, turning to shout something into the hallway before rushing into Diluc’s bathroom and yanking open his cabinets in search of his first aid supplies. She mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse and starts digging through the mostly empty kits for anything that might still be useful. 

Jean pulls her hand away from Diluc’s neck for a brief moment and grimaces. “Diluc, you’re the worst liar I’ve ever known… please don’t disrespect me by pretending this isn’t what I think it was.” 

The last shred of composure he was clinging to slips right through his fingers, and Diluc closes his eyes as tears track down the sides of his face. She’s the one person who’s ever respected his wishes, maybe… maybe she’ll understand… “Please, Jean,” he whispers, “please, let me die.” He reaches up and grasps her wrist, swallowing thickly. “I’m so tired, please…” 

Jean caresses the side of his face, and when she speaks, she sounds like she’s fighting to hold back tears, “Diluc, I love you. Please let me help you.” 

Despair expands in his chest, and he weakly tugs at the hand she’s using to staunch the bleeding. “I don’t want do this anymore,” he sobs quietly, “I’m worthless, I-I’m nothing but a monster, I can’t-” 

She shushes him, sitting down at his side and wrapping her other arm around his shoulders. “I’ve got you Diluc, I’ve got you.” She hugs him to her chest, and a warm breeze drifts over his skin, sealing the self-inflicted wound shut. 

“Please, Jean, please ,” he sobs, “I don’t want to be here, I hate it here- why is everyone so intent on keeping me alive when no one wants me around, I don’t understand!” He slams a fist into the bed frame. 

She shushes him again, rocking them both gently. 

“It hurts, Jean,” he whispers, “please.” 

She brushes a hand over his forehead and the fuzziness dissipates slightly. His strength fades, weak protests beginning to slow, and Jean keeps rocking him, fingers drifting gently along his skin, seeking injuries. She heals his shoulder, his ribs, eases the ache in his arm. Adelinde comes back into the room, dropping a small pile of medical supplies on his nightstand and slotting herself under Diluc’s arm to help Jean lift him up onto his bed. A palm presses to his forehead and Jean murmurs something to Adelinde about a fever, and then he’s gone. 

Two birds on a wire…  

One says come on,  

and the other says I’m tired.  

When he wakes next, his head feels clearer than it has in months, and his body moves without complaint. He turns his gaze to the left, scanning over the polished hardwood floor, mourning the loss of shattered glass, and how pretty his blood had looked staining it. What he finds when he turns his gaze to the right, however, is much more unexpected – although in the end he supposes it shouldn’t be, they’ve been at each other’s side nearly every time either of them has faced down death. Kaeya looks haggard, gangly limbs stuffed in a chair too small for him… and Diluc wonders for the first time when he got that tall. He must’ve had a growth spurt after Diluc abandoned him. 

He closes his eyes, a long breath easing in and out of his lungs. He was so close to ridding himself of the knotted binds encasing his heart, suffocating his voice… of the guilt, the ceaseless pain. No tears come this time, chest bone-dry and hollowed out, and he wonders if he’s feeling anything. There’s no relief, no disappointment, no anger, nothing. He’s just… continued existing. His gaze wanders from Kaeya’s disheveled ponytail to his chapped and bitten lips to the lines of tension etched into his forehead, and Diluc lays there, feeling his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, over and over again, his blood still moving and his heart still beating. 

After some time of fitful slumber, Kaeya blinks awake, gripping the pommel of his chair tight enough the wood creaks in protest. It takes him a few moments to realize Diluc is awake, and a few more to compose himself. Diluc drags his gaze away, turning his eyes to the window. He knows he should be ashamed of his weakness, but he can’t muster the energy. 

“You’ve been out for about a day,” Kaeya starts, and Diluc can’t quite put a finger on his tone – it almost sounds as emotionless as Diluc feels. “Jean and Adelinde are downstairs, resting.” 

Diluc tries to picture what kind of face Kaeya made when they informed him of his attempt, and he can’t picture anything but sheer relief, the kind that loosens your shoulders, softens your face. Then, maybe, some dread… knowing his tormentor wasn’t truly gone, could still move, could still turn his flames on him once more. 

“I’d hoped I was wrong,” Kaeya sighs, and it feels heavy in the room, “but it appears otherwise.” 

Diluc watches a flock of birds flurry from the long-standing oak tree outside his window, wordlessly falling into formation with each other, and he wonders what it’s like to be surrounded by others who know you so well they just do what they know is right for you without you even having to ask. He wonders what it’s like to be able to move without worrying you’ll end up in someone else’s path, or knock them from the sky. 

“Jean told me about your other injuries… I knew about the broken ribs, but your shoulder… your head – gods, Diluc, it’s a miracle you’re even awake with how much damage had been done to your head. What happened? Who did this to you?” 

A bitter laugh bubbles up in his chest in response, but it dies when it reaches his throat, choked out by exhaustion and the small, endlessly-persevering part of him that hates hurting Kaeya’s feelings. Instead, Diluc rolls his head to the side to face Kaeya, meeting his gaze for a moment before breaking away to look down at the floor, letting his eyelids droop closed. 

He feels the bed dip beside him, and a calloused hand gently covers his. “You were letting yourself get hit, right? As some precursor to… to…” Kaeya trails off, either incapable of finishing the thought, or simply unwilling to. 

His thumb runs along Diluc’s knuckles, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. 

“How long have you wanted to die, Diluc?” 

The answer comes without hesitation, wrenching its way out of Diluc’s mouth. “Since father died.” He pauses, opening his eyes to stare down at Kaeya’s gentle ministrations. “Since I killed him, since I hurt you.” 

Kaeya’s free hand goes up to his forehead, digging the heel of it into his bad eye and tugging on his bangs. He used to do that when he was upset. His visible eye is shining, and he won’t meet Diluc’s gaze. A tear slips down his cheek, and anguish seeps into his voice, “Diluc, you have to forgive yourself.” 

“I can’t,” he whispers, the words slipping from his lips before they even materialize as a full thought. 

Kaeya chuckles darkly, crushing his hand into his eye. “Stubborn bastard,” he chokes out. 

Diluc hums, exhaling. They sit in silence for a long moment, Kaeya mopping up his tears even as they continue to come. 

Diluc licks his lips. “Why…” he pauses, “Why are you here, Kaeya? I don’t understand… did Jean ask you to-“ 

Kaeya blinks at him for a moment before launching himself to his feet and gesturing wildly with his hands. “Are you seriously asking me that right now? Are you fucking kidding? Fuck .” 

Diluc averts his eyes. “I’m… I just… I don’t understand, Kaeya. Why you’re still here, after everything, after I-“ He stops, takes a steadying breath. “The only people who can bear to be around me are those who are too kind for their own good, or people I pay to be in my general vicinity. You are neither. You’re the last person who should be here. So… why?” 

“Why?” Kaeya echoes harshly, covering his face with his hands and letting out a small scream. “Why? You absolute idiot , I’m here because I love you , because you’re my family . Because when I look at you, I don’t see the hands that burned me, I don’t see the mouth that tells me it hates me in my nightmares, I don’t see the anger in your eyes that turned on me when I thought it would only ever be directed at our enemies…” 

He brings a hand up to Diluc’s forehead, then his cheek. “When I look at you, I see my big brother… I see the kid that accepted a complete stranger into his life, into his family, with no hesitation, no doubt in his mind, no jealousy or anger at having to share his father. I see a stubborn idiot who refuses to ask for help and inevitably ends up getting hurt, I see kindness in patched-up-knees and sharing a bed to fend off my night terrors, I see brotherhood in wooden swords and dusty races and playing pranks on Adelinde. I see the seashell you gave me, sitting on my nightstand, every morning when I wake.” 

Diluc’s crying now, he thinks, weeping listlessly into Kaeya’s hands. Kaeya leans closer and kisses his forehead, ever-so-gently, and holds Diluc’s face close to his own, like it’s something precious, like Diluc is precious to him. 

Kaeya continues, his voice growing softer with each word. “I see someone who’s borne too much suffering for anyone, let alone someone with such a bleeding heart. I see someone just, and honorable, with a strong moral compass. But most of all, I see someone whose heart has been shattered, whose hopes and dreams have fallen out of reach, whose ability to trust is gone. I know you don’t see the good in yourself, Diluc, but I do. I’ve never stopped thinking of you as my brother, I’ve never stopped loving you… as stupid as that may be.” 

Emotion seizes Diluc’s chest in a vice grip, unforgiving and all at once. He chokes on it, grasps at Kaeya’s hands, his shoulders, cups his face in trembling palms. He raises his eyes to meet Kaeya’s gaze, and puts as much will force as he can into his next words, “I’m so sorry, Kaeya. I’m so, so sorry .” 

Kaeya’s expression softens, and he leans his cheek into Diluc’s palm. “I know, I know Diluc.” 

Diluc lets his hands fall back to his chest, curling them into his nightshirt and closing his eyes as tears curve down the sides of his face and soak into his pillow. “There’s nothing I could ever do to make up for what I’ve done. I’m a monster, this world should be rid of me.” 

“’Luc,” Kaeya says, so softly Diluc barely hears it, “You don’t have to make it up to me if I’ve forgiven you.” 

Diluc shakes his head and turns away, curling into himself. Kaeya’s hands retreat from his skin, and Diluc hears him sigh quietly. He gives Diluc a moment to reply, and when he doesn’t, Kaeya climbs in bed with him, wrapping his skinny limbs around Diluc’s body, and Diluc doesn’t say anything about that, either. 

“Please,” Kaeya whispers into his hair, “Please just give me some time to help you believe it.” 

Diluc’s mind begins to soften into sleep, and a selfish thought he wouldn’t normally allow himself slips to the forefront of his mind. 

Once again, I’m living my life for someone other than myself.  

He holds back a sigh and tries to find some comfort in the embrace of his brother. That feels selfish, too. 

Two birds on a wire…  

One says come on,  

and the other says I’m tired.  

Somehow, Diluc manages to convince Adelinde, Jean, Kaeya, and the unfortunate maids who got roped into cleaning up the mess he made, to keep quiet about his… attempt. They seem to know him well enough, at least, to know that his heart would give out entirely on its own if talk of it became widespread. Unfortunately, that doesn’t dissuade Jean from trying to force him into talking with one of the nuns every time she comes to check on him. He tells her he’d rather die, which doesn’t go over particularly well in the current climate of Dawn Winery. 

Kaeya… well, he seems to be spiraling into a bit of hysteria, desperately trying to keep the mood light by telling poorly-crafted jokes and skirting around the subject entirely. Seems his well of sincerity ran dry after a single conversation. Adelinde hasn’t said much of anything to Diluc since that day outside of asking after his comfort and ordering him to eat the light meals she brings him. He recognizes the anger she’s carefully concealing behind a mask of duty, and he hates himself for putting it there. He hates all of it, really. If he’d known just how annoying everyone was going to be, he’d have found a very far-off cliff in some other Archon’s land to commit the deed. If he hadn’t had a fever at the time, maybe he would have taken a moment to consider how they would react to him attempting to dispose of a broken weapon. 

Diluc’s not allowed to leave his bedroom, even after he’s deemed physically fit to. Can’t have the “Uncrowned King of Mondstadt” walking around with a death wish, after all… even if the confinement is suffocating him. His quality of life is even worse now, and isn’t that ironic? It’s not as if they truly care for him, they’re just trying to preserve a swordsman, a bloodline, a paycheck… he doesn’t blame them, but it’s notably inconvenient. 

The time he would usually spend working he now spends listlessly staring out the window, silent in the face of Kaeya regaling him with tales of the outside world and aching for the chance to wade into the ocean or to stand among a dusting of Windwheel Asters and allow the sun to soak into his skin. He’s told time and time again that he needs his rest, that he needs to allow his body, and his mind, to heal, but every moment spent withering away in bed makes him feel even more disconnected from the world. He longs to be useful, to get some paperwork done or clear out some Abyss camps (he’s sure they’re cropping up everywhere now as a result of his weakness) … he even longs to tend the bar, to feel the wind on his face as he makes his way into town, even if it means dealing with drunkards, and that petulant bard- 

Wait… the wind on his face… the bard… Venti . Venti must have been the one who knocked the glass from his hand; Jean hadn’t made it into the room yet. He’s still suffering at the hands of this wretched life because of that obnoxious, squawking, green-feathered pigeon! 

His vision flashes brightly in response to his rising anger, and Kaeya abruptly stops his incessant pacing in front of the fire, staring inquisitively down at the trinket. He opens his mouth, shuts it again, then murmurs, “I haven’t seen it do that since before you…” 

Diluc takes a deep breath and forces his temper to subside… it wouldn’t do for Kaeya to catch onto his restlessness and increase his security. “It’s nothing,” he replies quietly, tilting his face away. 

He can see Kaeya weighing the merits of calling him out on the obvious lie out of the corner of his eye, can see when the fragility of the situation overrules his curiosity. Kaeya smiles tightly. “It’s just nice to see that there’s still some passion burning in there somewhere.” 

Diluc hums in acknowledgement, and Kaeya sighs, used to his closed-off responses by now. Kaeya resumes his pacing, and Diluc shifts in bed, stretching out his legs and wincing at the resulting pins and needles. Slipping out from beneath the Captain’s watch will be difficult, but not impossible. Diluc can’t bear sitting still much longer, especially now that he has a bone to pick. 

-- 

Once Adelinde completes her new nightly routine of checking Diluc for new injuries (he’s not sure how he could possibly injure himself again under her dutiful watch, but he supposes it’s the least he can do to let her check after what he’s put her through) and refilling the water at his bedside, she departs. Kaeya closes the door behind her and takes his place on the cot Jean had brought for him to set up in Diluc’s room. Diluc settles as well, closing his eyes, but his heart is hammering in his chest, and lying still long enough for Kaeya’s breathing to even out into a natural rhythm is challenging. 

After maybe half an hour of feigning sleep and triple-checking that Kaeya isn’t doing the same, Diluc pushes himself up onto his elbow. He looks over and scans Kaeya’s face, noting the frown pulling at his lips and the darkened skin under his eyes, the tenseness in his posture, even in sleep, and the beast of self-loathing in Diluc’s chest sinks its teeth into his ribs, gnawing at his bones. In spite of that, he silently pushes his blankets aside and plants his feet on the floor. 

His muscles protest as he stands, and he resents the weakness he registers throughout his body, the atrophy of his one useful attribute. Dwelling on it won’t make a difference, however, so he pushes the thought aside and makes his way to the window, avoiding the floorboards he knows would creak under his weight, and flicks the latch, holding his breath as Kaeya shifts at the small click . Once Kaeya has resettled, Diluc eases the window open and makes his way onto the roof, pulling the window closed behind him and using one of his hairpins to relock the latch. He makes his way to the edge of the roof, to the spot where the eaves hang over a sturdy lattice he built to encourage ivy to grow up the side of the winery. Swinging a leg over the edge, he slots his feet between the wooden planks and carefully makes his way to the ground. 

Once he’s reached the bottom, he curls his toes in the sharp gravel and takes a deep breath of Mondstadt’s crisp night air. He’ll be sure to be back before anyone awakens; he’s well aware of everyone’s schedules, including how they’ve changed in recent days, and Kaeya’s a fairly sound sleeper if nothing interrupts his slumber. Diluc snags a leather workman’s coat from inside the entryway to the cellar and slings it over his nightclothes before setting off in the direction of the nearest Archon statue. 

His chest aches with relief as the elements swirl around him; he’s known captivity before, he’s known what it’s like to be sequestered from the outside world and all its beauties, but never before has his own home fulfilled the role of the shackles holding him still. Plump lamp grass sways along both sides of the path he walks, and he trails battle-worn fingers along the tops of them, breathing in their soft fragrance. He has to dodge a few wayward Hilichurls and camps set up by hunters staying in the wilderness overnight, but otherwise he has little trouble finding what he’s looking for. 

When the soles of his feet meet the carved stone of the statue’s pedestal, he feels somewhat foolish, but the righteous anger churning in his gut presses him forwards; he’s never been one to let an injustice go unpunished. He lays a hand upon the base of the statue and calls out to his Archon, just once. In response, the airy lilt of a bell chiming rings out above him, and Diluc raises his face to the sky to find Barbatos, perched upon the cupped hands of his own statue, posture subdued and folded inwards. 

Diluc crosses his arms over his chest and takes a step back, fuming. Venti releases a small sigh and shakes his head, dangling his legs out into the air and gently easing himself off the statue, floating down until his shoes meet the earth. His unnatural, ethereal presence is stronger when it’s just the two of them like this, and it’s harder for Diluc to ignore the fact that he’s confronting a god, unarmed, weakened, and completely alone. 

“Diluc,” Venti greets, rocking back and forth slightly on the balls of his feet and staring off into the middle distance over Diluc’s shoulder. 

“Barbatos,” Diluc snaps, fingers clenching around his biceps. 

The bard flinches a little at the title, then sighs again, reluctantly meeting Diluc’s eyes. “I take it that means I wasn’t quite as subtle as I’d hoped…” 

Diluc can feel heat rising in his cheeks, and his hands snap down into fists at his sides as he takes a step forward into Venti’s space. “That’s right. You stopped me from… from-“ 

“From taking your own life,” Venti finishes quietly, voice unwavering in the face of Diluc’s fury, but not unkind. 

“Yes!” Diluc throws his arms up, frustrated. “Yes, you stopped me from putting an end to my misery. The one time I’ve ever chosen to do something for myself, and you ruined it!” He takes another step forward and jabs a finger into the smaller man’s chest, callous to the fact that a younger version of himself would have blanched at the thought of something so sacrilegious. “Aren’t you supposed to be the god of freedom?” He splays his hand out over Venti’s chest and winds his fingers into the ribbons at the collar of his shirt. Diluc’s face contorts with anger, iron bands wrapping around his lungs and squeezing . Breathless, his voice breaks as he cries, “how could you take this choice away from me?!” He shakes the bard, once, and lets his head fall forwards as tears begin to track down his face, hidden by his bangs. 

Diluc isn’t sure what he’s expecting Venti’s reaction to be, really. An Archon’s wrath, a pitying lecture… complete ignorance, perhaps. What he doesn’t expect is for thin arms to wrap around his waist, and for the bard’s shoulders to shake as he buries his face in Diluc’s chest. “I’m sorry, Diluc…” Venti says softly. “I’m sorry, I know… I know it wasn’t what you wanted, but I-“ his voice wavers, and he stops to take a shaky breath before continuing, “I couldn’t bear to lose another friend.” 

Diluc’s arms fall to his sides as his misplaced anger ebbs away, and he looks down at the top of Venti’s head, feels… really feels… the way his small hands twist in the back of Diluc’s coat. 

Friend?  

Instinct takes over, and Diluc awkwardly wraps an arm around the bard’s shoulders, mind racing to try and figure out what he could have done for Venti to consider Diluc his friend. Venti pulls away after a moment, scrubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes, and once he’s composed himself, he raises his head and meets Diluc’s gaze. “I’m sorry you’re so miserable, firebird. I intended to ease your burden, but it seems I’ve only added to it, and for that I am sincerely apologetic. But, for seeing you here now, standing before me, I can’t be anything but grateful.” 

Diluc takes a measured breath, the smell of the grass and the mist off the pond to their right washing over him. The anger he’d been harboring since he realized Venti was the one who interrupted his attempt begins to fade, and in its place comes a surge of loneliness… the kind he’d become so familiar with after everything that’d happened on his eighteenth birthday. As he exhales, he lowers himself to the ground and lets his head fall into his hands. “I just… I don’t understand why it would matter if I were gone. No one missed me while I was away for three years, what’s the difference between that and this?” 

Venti hums, taking a seat beside him. “I think… I think people here hoped you’d found some peace out there… someone to love, something to fight for.” The bard turns to him and lays a hand on Diluc’s knee. “You were missed. In big ways, like as the Cavalry Captain, and in small ways too, like how Kaeya insisted he be put on gate patrol for the first year and a half you were gone so he would be the first person to welcome you home if you came back, how Adelinde made your favorite meal every evening on the off chance you’d walk back through the doors of the winery hungry, like you always did after a long expedition, and how Jean framed the sword you gave her on her sixteenth birthday and hung it in her new office.” 

Tears spring to Diluc’s eyes, unbidden. He’d had no idea. “But… but why? I don’t understand. I can fight, but so can all of you. I can run the winery, but so could Elzer… or Kaeya, if he wanted to. I’m not companionable, I make horrible decisions on a regular basis, I’m useless when it comes to anything but combat…” his voice wavers, “I’ve hurt everyone I’ve ever cared about. I burned my brother, I killed my father. I’m a horrible person, I don’t understand how any of you can stand to look at me, let alone vie for my continued existence!” By the end of his tirade, Diluc’s voice is straining, and he’s fighting a losing battle with the tears in his eyes, and he’s not sure he’s ever felt this humiliated, not even when Kaeya accidentally pantsed him in front of Adelinde in a clumsy attempt to steal Diluc’s waffles. He screws his eyes shut, vehemently wishing he’d stayed home, and only jumps a little when Venti’s palms come up to cup his cheeks. 

Venti speaks softly, but with conviction, “Just because you can’t see the good in yourself doesn’t mean it’s not there. You are passionate, and clever – even witty, in your own way. You have a strong sense of justice, and a kind heart, and those two things are a heavy burden to bear in this world.” 

Diluc grits his teeth, his stomach churning. “I’m a monster ,” he whispers. “You don’t know what I’ve done.” 

“I do, Diluc,” Venti replies quietly, “and you are not unforgivable.” 

A shudder races down Diluc’s spine; he’d forgotten who he was talking to for a moment. His eyes instinctually snap open, and he reels back a bit, searching Venti’s face. The bard simply offers him a small smile, settling his hands back in his lap. “I’ve been debating telling you something for a long time… I wasn’t sure if it would help or hurt, but I think I know now.” 

Diluc’s throat closes up, mind racing to try and figure out what Venti could have possibly been keeping from him. The bard shifts a little, fingers twisting around each other anxiously. “I spoke with your father, as he was passing on from this realm to the next.” 

A cold shock snaps through Diluc’s body, and all the breath is sucked out of his lungs at once. “ What? ” 

Venti hurries to continue, eyes searching Diluc’s face. “He told me you’d blame yourself for what happened, but that it was a parent’s duty, his duty, to ensure the wellbeing of their children, and that he was at peace knowing his death would save your life. He’d been warned that using the delusion would cause him a slow, agonizing death, and in the end, he was grateful to you for ending it as quickly as you did.” 

Diluc chokes on a sob. “He was grateful that I killed him?” 

Venti reaches his hands out and takes Diluc’s in his own. “He was grateful that you ended his suffering, and that you lived , Diluc. He was terrified that his mistakes would lead to one of his two most precious treasures being taken from him.” He presses his palm over Diluc’s heart. “He asked me to watch over you. He was so proud of the man you’d become.” 

Venti’s words rip through him, and it hurts , almost as much as it had watching the light fade from his father’s eyes. Something inside of Diluc breaks, and he clutches Venti’s forearms as he bends in half at the waist. Tears come, unrelenting, sinking into the cold earth between them. 

Venti continues, and Diluc almost tells him to stop, that he can’t take any more of this, but he doesn’t… he has to know. “Your father never blamed you, or hated you, or feared you. Not for a single second, Diluc,” Venti’s voice is quiet, and he grasps onto Diluc too, holding him up as Diluc sobs, loud, childlike sobs, ones he never thought he’d allow himself again. The narrative he’d been telling himself all this time starts to unravel, and for the first time in almost five years, he thinks of his father and sees his smile, wide and bright and directed right at Diluc, and no memories of bloodshed follow. 

Venti runs his hand up and down Diluc’s back as he cries, and after a while, his sobs begin to slow. He licks his lips. “So that’s why… that’s why you saved me.” 

Venti tilts his head and hums, reaching into his pocket and producing a handkerchief Diluc accepts gratefully. “Well, that’s only part of the reason, but I did promise him I’d do whatever I could to keep you safe.” He trails off, gently pressing his fingertips into Diluc’s ungloved, scarred hand. “I’ve done a pretty terrible job of that, though, haven’t I?” 

A loud, surprised laugh bursts out of Diluc, and he immediately clamps his free hand over his mouth, staring wide-eyed over the tips of his fingers at his Archon. Venti’s face falls, a little, but he simply moves closer, wrapping his arms around Diluc’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Diluc. You’ve had to bear so much alone, so much pain and heartache. These wounds…” his fingers brush over the nape of Diluc’s neck, and Diluc shivers. “I’ll destroy those who did this to you if they ever dare to show their faces, I swear it.” 

Diluc shakes his head, a tentative smile spreading across his face... he’d forgotten what it feels like to be protected. He returns the hug, feeling the tension bleed out of Venti’s shoulders, and they stay like that for a short moment before they both pull away. Drowsiness tugs at Diluc’s mind and he reluctantly gives in to the urge to yawn, earning a teasing punch to his arm as Venti’s forced to follow suit. 

The moment is broken by a wolf howl close-by, drawing their attention as they wait for the corresponding response. Once it comes, Venti puts a hand on Diluc’s shoulder. “You should probably be getting back, no?” 

Diluc winces; he’d forgotten he snuck out. “Yeah… Kaeya will have a fit if I’m not there when he wakes up.” 

“Yes, well, sneaking out to accost one’s Archon isn’t typically advisable, you can’t really blame him,” Venti teases with a wink, sticking his tongue out at Diluc. 

Diluc’s entire face flushes red. He pushes himself to his feet, brushing himself off in a huff. 

Venti’s melodic laughter rings out in the empty meadow, and he stands as well, stretching onto his tiptoes to ruffle Diluc’s hair. “Shall I give you a lift back to the winery?” 

“No, that’s alright. I think I’ve caused you enough trouble already.” 

“You’re no trouble,” Venti replies easily, smiling lopsidedly at the redhead. 

Diluc attempts to return the smile – he’s sure it comes off more like a grimace, but Venti seems to appreciate the gesture nonetheless. “Well, in any case, I think I could use a walk… to clear my head.” 

“Alright, if you’re sure!” Venti turns to leave, and Diluc opens his mouth awkwardly, realizing he should probably say something, but not sure what. Before he has the chance to, Venti swirls up into the air and disappears. “ Take care, firebird. ” The bard’s voice rings out clear as day in his head, and a lone white feather drifts down into Diluc’s open palm. “ I’m always here for you .” 

Diluc twists the feather between his fingers and turns to head in the direction of the winery. “Thank you,” he whispers, and a flurry of wind dances across his path, carrying wishes of dandelion seeds and the promise of eternal summer. 

-- 

Kaeya’s displeasure as he plucks a stray twig from Diluc’s hair when he wakes up to check on him an hour later does nothing to chase away the small buds of warmth now growing in Diluc’s heart. 

Two birds on a wire…  

One says come on,  

and the other says I’m tired.  

Two days later, in the early moments of dawn, right on the cusp of when the moon begins to fade and the birds start to wake, Adelinde sits Diluc down at his vanity and gathers his hair into her hands. Her fingers part the strands, and she deftly works out the knots collected at the ends. A near-imperceptible frown tugs at her lips, and she’s silent, like she has been every morning since that day. 

“You’re angry with me,” Diluc says, voice soft in the serene, early-morning lull of the winery. He follows Adelinde’s reflection in the new mirror they’d brought in; it’s missing the character of his old one, the chip from tripping into it and knocking it over the first time his father taught him how to shave, the eyeliner smudge Kaeya had accidentally made one night when he was a little tipsy… wiped away and replaced with new, pristine glass, shining with the elemental residue of a spell cast to ensure it won’t break. 

Adelinde’s jaw tightens, and she reaches around him to pick up his hairbrush. “I’m not angry with you, Master Diluc,” she replies, keeping her tone at the even, professional level it always is. 

“I’ve known you my whole life, Addie… don’t you think I can tell when you’re hiding something from me?” 

Her eyes flicker up to meet his, reflected back at her in the mirror. Her hands move on autopilot as she eases the brush through his hair. “I’m not angry with you, I’m…” she hesitates, shaking her head. He watches traces of emotion slip into the features of her face. “I’m scared, and worried.” 

Diluc’s heart sinks, and he feels himself withdraw a little despite his best efforts to maintain the courage he needs in order to have this conversation with her. It had been one thing to disappoint his father, but disappointing Adelinde was something else entirely. “I’m sorry, Addie,” he starts, then stops, takes a breath, “I… I honestly thought things would be better for you… for everyone… if I were gone.” His shoulders curl inwards and he breaks her gaze, staring down at his lap. “I didn’t imagine it would affect you all the way it has.” 

She doesn’t respond right away, and he focuses on the sound of her heels clicking softly against the hardwood as she goes to pull a chair over to sit beside him. He turns his knees towards her as she places his hairbrush on the vanity and carefully reaches down to take his hands in hers. He almost pulls away – they’ve maintained an unspoken agreement since he’d come back that she doesn’t touch his hands without his gloves on, but she doesn’t recoil from his scars, so he doesn’t either. 

Adelinde inhales shakily, massaging circles into his palms. “The last time I had to force my way into your room was the night your father died. I’d briefly caught a glimpse of you rushing up the stairs, and I could tell you were covered in blood, and I was terrified … but the knights were at the door, hauling Kaeya in by his jacket, and there wasn’t enough of me to get to you both. By the time I made it upstairs, you were already gone, without a word.” She pauses, fighting back the uncharacteristic tremble in her voice, and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard her so mournful. He wouldn’t have – not with the way he disappeared after his father died and the idyllic life they’d all lived together came to an abrupt end. His heart aches . “I thought that was the worst thing…” she continues, her voice barely above a whisper, “it felt like the worst thing, but I was so wrong.” She chokes on a sob, letting go of his hands to catch the tears falling down her cheeks. “I was so, so wrong.” 

Nausea churns in his stomach, and his throat feels unbearably tight. To have caused her so much pain… “I didn’t know, Addie, I-“ 

“How could you not know ?” She pleads, blinking back tears. “You and Kaeya are the closest thing I have to a family… the closest thing I have to having my own sons. How could you not know?” 

Memories of cookies being snuck into his pockets and bedtime stories read five times over and words of encouragement being shouted at him from the sidelines during his training fill his  thoughts, and he doesn’t know how he could be so stupid . 

He finally manages to raise his head, and the pain in Adelinde’s eyes is so visceral he can feel it in his chest, sharp and stinging and awful . She pulls an edge of her apron up to dab at her cheeks, and once she’s regained some composure, she squares her shoulders and stares him down, like she used to do when he was too nervous to socialize with his father’s friends and she knew he had no choice but to get out there and do exactly that. “When you left, it was like you took Kaeya with you. He barely talked, or moved, or spoke for weeks . That night I lost your father, then I lost you to his death, and I lost your brother to the wine bottles in the cellar. And now you’re back, but you’re so different from the Diluc I lost, from the boy I raised, and you’re hurting, so much more than I know how to help, but I don’t want you to ever, ever feel like you are not valued, or wanted, or loved. Getting to watch you grow from the sweet little boy I first met to the strong, kind-hearted man I know now has been one of the greatest joys of my life, and I want you to always remember that, no matter what.” 

His chest squeezes and he swallows thickly. His lips move before he can think to stop them, spilling out his mind’s habitual reaction to someone showing him kindness or care – confessing something that will scare them away, “You wouldn’t want me anywhere near you, or Kaeya, or the staff, or, hell, all of Mond , if you knew what I did in my time away.” His thoughts fill with the vague scraps of the carnage he’d doled out still left in his memories after the delusion hollowed out his mind. “You wouldn’t… you wouldn’t want me-“ the weight on his chest suffocates the rest of his sentence and he clutches at his shirt, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Adelinde’s uniform rustles as she moves closer, taking his face in her hands. She rubs her thumbs across his cheeks, and he slowly cracks his eyes open… curious, but afraid of what he’ll see. He quickly finds that he needn’t be; she’s smiling that soft, forgiving smile she smiles every time he comes to her to apologize, to make things right, but can only get halfway through before collapsing right back into guilt. 

She forces him to meet her gaze. “Diluc, I know you better than anyone else still alive in this world… I know who you are, at your core. There is nothing you are capable of doing that would make me stop loving you.” 

“You don’t-“ 

Her grip tightens a little in warning. “Nothing,” she repeats, quiet, but sure. 

“Addie…” Diluc murmurs, finally giving in and leaning his face into her palm. She slides one hand around the back of his neck and pulls him into a hug, tucking her face into his hair and crying quietly. 

“I was so scared I’d lose you completely this time,” she whispers. 

He squeezes his eyes shut against his own tears and puts an arm around her back, returning the hug. Her grief is overwhelming in its intensity… there’s nothing Diluc’s mind can do to invalidate it or lessen its impact, and it sinks into him, solidifying something back into place he thought he’d lost the night his father died: unconditional love. 

He swears to himself that he won’t ever make her cry like this again. 

Two birds on a wire…  

One says come on,  

and the other says I’m tired.  

To say his staff are delighted to see him returning to his regular duties is an understatement; he’s pretty sure that, as a collective, they’ve said more words to him in the past week than they have in the past three months. Adelinde says it’s because he’s stopped scowling all the time. Whatever the reason, Diluc finds that he doesn’t mind it so much… if anything, it’s a welcome change. 

Kaeya’s finally started sleeping at his own apartment again, although Diluc did offer him his old room back. He says it’s because he needs to be close to the Knight’s headquarters should anything happen, and while that is certainly a factor, Diluc’s also just not sure Kaeya’s ready to live under the same roof as him yet. Of course, Diluc can’t blame him for that. It’s a touch lonelier, but Kaeya’s taken to visiting whenever possible, and without him around all the time, Diluc has finally had the chance to catch up on some paperwork without his brother yammering in his ear non-stop. 

On one such occasion, during one of Kaeya’s un-announced visits, the Cavalry Captain not-so-subtly slips into conversation that Jean’s been looking especially stressed as of late, and has been asking after Diluc at every opportunity. Before Diluc has the chance to respond, Kaeya switches topics and starts insulting Diluc’s “old man office decorations”, and Diluc therefore has to deal with the headache of getting Kaeya to leave , but the needle about Jean got stuck, right under Diluc’s skin, and so here he is, standing at the doors to the Knight’s headquarters for the first time since the day he’d quit. 

He steels himself, entering the building and striding towards what he hopes is Jean’s office. He stops in front of the closed door, raises his fist to knock, and pauses. He’s thought a lot about what to say, but none of it has felt quite right… none of it has felt like enough . He’d been so egregiously wrong, about, well, everything, that he’s not even sure how he justified his thought process in the first place, which makes it a whole lot harder to apologize. Anxiety prickles in his chest, but he knows this is important, so he forces his hand to move. 

“Come in!” Jean calls. 

Diluc pushes the door open and slides through it, closing it softly behind him. 

Jean waits a beat, probably used to whoever’s knocking immediately demanding something of her, and when he doesn’t say anything, she looks up from her paperwork and catches sight of him. “Diluc,” she greets, a smile spreading across her face. “It’s good to see you.” 

“And you,” he replies, taking a few steps forward until he’s standing in the center of her office. He folds his hands behind his back. This conversation, somehow, has been the most difficult one to plan out; he’s made a fool of himself in front of Jean so many times now it’s hard to imagine being in the same room as her without melting into the floor, let alone trying and failing to explain himself for the hundredth time. She’s known him for so long, seen him at so many of his lowest points, that he doesn’t know how she can consider him anything other than pathetic. 

“Something on your mind?” she asks, shuffling the papers in her hands into a neat pile and setting them down, placing her pen on top of them. Her tone is remarkably warm, almost casual, considering… well, everything. 

He adjusts his gloves and takes a deep breath, hesitantly raising his eyes to meet her gaze. “I suppose… I owe you an apology, for causing such a fuss,” he murmurs. She doesn’t respond right away, and his cheeks burn uncomfortably hot. He shifts his weight from foot to foot. 

After a moment, her expression softens, and she stands from her chair, rounding the desk. “You don’t have to apologize, Diluc.” 

“I didn’t mean to add one more thing to your plate,” he continues, and it’s such a menial, greeting-card-esque thing to say – and definitely not something he’d planned on saying – that he just gives up and shuts his mouth before he can stick his foot even further into it. 

She lets out a short sigh and puts a hand on his upper arm. “Your life is far more important to me than budget reports and petty squabbles between junior knights.” Her lips press into a thin line. “I just wish… I wish you’d come to me, instead of hurting yourself. Maybe I could’ve…” she trails off, shaking her head a little, then starts again, “Well, that doesn’t matter now. I understand why you did what you did… well, as much as someone on the outside can, but I’m… I’m really glad to see you up and about again.” 

The headquarters are uncharacteristically quiet, and Diluc finds himself resting comfortably into the silence between the two of them. He supposes there are perks to having known someone for so long, too. “You’re all so kind,” he mutters, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

“We’re no more kind than you deserve,” she replies easily, gently reaching up and pulling his hands away from his face. 

He opens his mouth on autopilot, a protest already brewing on his tongue. 

“Ah, ah!” She tsks, and he shuts his mouth like a scolded child. “Diluc, you have a fundamental misunderstanding of how relationships work. You don’t get to decide how others feel about you. You decide how you feel about them, and they decide how they feel about you. It’s okay to let yourself be loved, even if you feel like you don’t deserve it.” 

He huffs, shoulders hunching up around his ears. 

She laughs a little, letting go of him. “When you do that, all I can see is eight-year-old Diluc being too prideful to admit that he’s wrong about something.” 

He immediately drops his shoulders, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. “Yes, well, the face you make when you scold me hasn’t changed much in fourteen years, either.” 

She grins, and a little spark of mischief blooms in her eyes. “Oh! I forgot. I have something to show you, actually.” 

Diluc follows after her as she heads back towards her desk. “Still changing the subject when it suits you, I see,” he grouses. 

She levels him with a look , and simultaneously plucks a newspaper mockup from one of the mountains of paperwork on her desk. “Trust me, it’s worth it,” she replies, handing it to him. Her tone has lost its playfulness, and he raises an eyebrow at her before looking down at the paper in his hands. 

Crepus Ragnvindr: Mondstadt’s Unsung Hero  

The Knights of Favonius’s Blatant Coverup of the Heroic Act Leading to the Winemasters’s Untimely Death  

Diluc inhales sharply, and the air cuts into his lungs. On the exhale, he breathes, “What is this?” 

Jean shrugs, a wry smile on her face. “It’s about time someone told the truth about Inspector Eroch. Publicly.” 

“But what about the reputation of the Knights?” Diluc asks, shocked that she would even consider such a thing as Acting Grandmaster. “Surely this won’t go over well with Varka.” 

She hums conspiratorially. “Yes, well, Varka’s not here, is he? We all know he’ll take his office right back as soon as he returns, anyways. Besides, the whole point of the Knights is to see justice done, and how could we do that if we’re perpetuating this kind of awful misconduct?” 

He stares at her, mouth agape. 

Jean smiles, propping herself against the edge of her desk. “I hope this helps to ease some of your burden, Diluc. I’ve always considered you a close friend. You can lean on me if you ever need to, you know that, right?” 

“You don’t have to do this for me,” he murmurs. 

“I know.” 

The mockup crumples in his hand, and he chokes back the wave of emotion that threatens to turn him into a sobbing, childish mess on the floor of her office. “Thank you, Jean,” he manages, pulling her in for a hug. She goes willingly. 

“You’re welcome, Diluc. And, for the record, Amber’s testimony takes up half of that article.” 

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of dandelions, and gives her a short squeeze before letting go. “You’re a good friend,” he says, trying his best to smile. He takes a couple steps back, and she waits patiently, rocking back on her heels as he takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’m sorry for what happened between us, too. I’ve been really… confused, to say the least, but I didn’t mean to get you caught in the middle of it, and I never wanted to hurt you.” 

She nods, crossing her arms. “It’s alright, Diluc. Don’t worry about it… really,” she assures, “I think… I think everyone always expected us to get together because we were so close when we were younger, you know? So I think it was good for us to try it out… because if we didn’t, well, I don’t know about you, but I always would’ve wondered.” 

 He nods, unsure of how to respond to that. It’s true, he can’t count the number of times he’d been teased for his closeness with Jean when they were younger, friendly or otherwise. 

“Besides,” she continues, “Lisa makes me happy… I just hope you’ll find the way to your happiness soon, too.” 

“Thanks, Jean.” 

“Of course,” she replies, standing back up to her full height. 

He takes that as a cue that their conversation is over, setting the crumpled mockup back on her desk and heading towards the door. Once he’s reached it, he pauses. “You’re always welcome at the winery… well, you and Lisa, if you ever want to drop by for lunch. I’m sure Adelinde hasn’t forgotten how to make Fisherman’s Toast.” 

Jean smiles, picking up her pen and sparing him a final glance. “Thank you, Diluc, that sounds lovely. We’ll be sure to drop by.” 

He nods and steps out of her office, shutting the door behind him and making his way towards the front of the building. That certainly could have gone worse. Traces of warmth are left behind in his chest after their encounter, and with the promise of the restoration of his father’s memory comes a sense of peace he never thought he’d have again after the last time he’d descended these steps. As he breathes in the quintessential sunny Mondstadt afternoon, Diluc thinks, for the first time in a long time, that life might not be so bad after all. 

Two birds on a wire…  

One says come on,  

and the other says I’m tired.  

“Diluc~” 

Oh, not again . This time, Kaeya’s ‘I’m about to rope you into something you’re definitely going to hate’ voice is coming from the entryway of the winery, so at the very least, Diluc will be able to privately decline whatever his younger brother has come to torment him with. Diluc sighs, briefly resting his cheek against the cool surface of his desk before resigning himself to the reality of his brother’s sudden appearance and forcing himself to get up and leave his study. Standing at the top of the stairs, he stares down at a remarkably blueberry-shaped head of hair. 

The moment Kaeya notices him, his face brightens, and he beams up at Diluc, genuinely beams , and it catches Diluc off guard, almost making him feel guilty for assuming the worst of Kaeya’s excitement. Almost . 

“Diluc!” Kaeya shouts, starting to climb the stairs. “A couple of friends of mine are in town for a little get-together I’m throwing at my place tonight.” As he speaks, his hands gesture animatedly, and it’s such a mirror image of his younger self that Diluc has to force himself to stay in the present and focus on what Kaeya’s actually saying. “There’s one of them I’ve been dying to introduce you to, and he almost never visits Mondstadt, so you’ve got to come!” He finally reaches Diluc and comes to a stop one step below him, clasping his hands in front of his chest. 

Diluc recoils a bit inwardly at the notion of socializing, but does his best not to let it show, casually resting his hip against the banister. His relationship with Kaeya is still rocky at best, what with Kaeya’s constant attempts to reach out and Diluc’s fifty-fifty chance of being a dick about it, but he’s finally been able to admit to himself that he wants Kaeya in his life… even if it means dealing with the other man’s inexplicable whims from time to time. A party is the last thing Diluc ever wants to leave the house for, but Kaeya knows that, and he doesn’t seem to be in a particularly devilish mood, so it must be important to him. 

Diluc’s stayed silent for too long, so Kaeya continues, quickly rambling out, “Look, I know the last friend I brought around didn’t go over too well, and to be completely transparent with you, he’s also been invited tonight, but I really think you’re going to like the friend I want to introduce you to, and they’re friends, so-“ 

“The friend you want to introduce me to is friends with a Fatui Harbinger?” Diluc cuts in, frowning. “Doesn’t sound like someone I’d like to get to know, Kaeya.” 

Kaeya deflates a little, lower lip jutting out in something far too close to a pout. “I know… but I swear the Harbinger’s not as bad a guy as you think he is.” 

“Of course you don’t think so, the Fatui lie ,” Diluc bites out, studying the fresh floral arrangement on the table in the entryway. His hands twitch at his sides. 

Kaeya breathes a quick sigh out of his nose. “Diluc, you of all people are aware of my proficiency with lying. Don’t you think I would see through it if he was lying to me?” 

Diluc’s gaze flits to Kaeya’s face. His expression is open, his eyes soft and honest. Diluc swallows thickly and reminds himself that relationships are built on vulnerability. It takes more work than he’d care to admit to force the admission out of his mouth. “He was there when they had me, Kaeya.” 

Kaeya pauses for a beat. “I know.” 

Anger flashes, hot and volatile in Diluc’s chest. “You know? ” 

“I asked him why you had such a strong reaction upon seeing him, and he told me.” 

It feels like a violation, somehow, for Kaeya to know that – for the Harbinger to have told him that – and Diluc feels stripped raw knowing that there’s someone out there who saw him at his most vulnerable and feels fit to share that information. 

Kaeya puts a gentle hand on his arm, eyebrows knitting together at the small flinch it elicits. “He wasn’t free to help you then, Diluc. He was young… so young… when they got their hands on him. He’s still sorting out who he is and where his moral compass lies without them turning the needle.” 

Sounds like someone else I know. Diluc thinks to himself, taking in the premature signs of worry and stress etched into Kaeya’s skin that Diluc suspects are the result of their falling out combined with the traumatic childhood Kaeya masterfully skirts around these days, but had a harder time concealing in their youth. 

Kaeya licks his lips. “I’m not sure what, if any, of this you remember, Diluc, but Childe found you bleeding out in the snow near the end of your time away. He took you inside and stitched you up, warmed you up, and brought you to the outskirts of Snezhnaya. That’s how you wound up in the care of Dr. Baizhu. He saved your life.” 

Diluc takes a step back, pulling his arm out of Kaeya’s grip. “Am I supposed to be grateful to him? His organization was the one who put me there to begin with – they hunted me down like a dog! He- he watched them- Dottore-“ he cuts himself off with a gasp, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Kaeya moves closer, wrapping his arms around Diluc’s middle and flattening his hands against his back, digging his fingertips in just enough to be grounding, to keep Diluc in the present. “You’re allowed to hate him, Diluc, if that’s what you need. I’d understand.” 

Diluc leans into the hug and just breathes for a moment, steadying himself. “What did they do to him?” 

Kaeya hesitates. 

“Did he tell you what they did to me?” Diluc whispers. He’s not sure if he wants to know. 

“They found him in the Abyss.” Kaeya says, and he starts to tremble, ever-so-slightly. “He’d fallen in, somehow, and he had to fight monsters off, day and night, for who knows how long. It made him strong… and it made him bloodthirsty. He was a child , Diluc. Instead of trying to reverse the effects, they encouraged them, and they crafted him into a Harbinger of their cause. In spite of all that, he loves his family more than anything, with every ounce of his being, and he saved you, Diluc, and for that, I can’t hate him.” 

“He was affected… by the Abyss,” Diluc repeats, slowly. 

“ Don’t ,” Kaeya replies. His voice is firm, but there’s an unmistakable tremor in it. 

“Okay,” Diluc acquiesces. “Okay.” 

Kaeya pulls away from the hug, staring down at the floor between them, and it’s like Diluc sapped all the joy right out of him. Diluc thinks back to that split second – those soulless eyes, and the blank expression on a face still plump with baby fat – and finds the idea of facing the Harbinger a lot easier to stomach. 

“I’ll come to your party. But if I’m offered even a drop of Firewater, I’m leaving.” 

It’s a dumb joke, but it, along with his acceptance of the invitation, has Kaeya smiling at him once again – it’s not the same carefree grin it was when he arrived, but it’ll have to do for now. His younger brother takes his arm and leads him down the stairs, rambling about party decorations and which wine Diluc should bring and “for god’s sakes, please wear something less stuffy”, and Diluc does his best to steel himself for whatever the hell he just agreed to. 

Two birds on a wire…  

One says come on,  

and the other says I’m tired.  

The party is more of an intimate affair than Diluc had expected, given the way Kaeya’s address book is overflowing with extra notes and pages stuffed into the binding, and Diluc feels extremely awkward in the ruffled white shirt and high-waisted pants Adelinde had forced him into. Diluc’s pleas for his usual coat went completely ignored by his traitorous head-housemaid, and she had even gone as far as to claim that it wasn’t on the grounds anymore, along with the vest and button-down that accompany it. She’d had the common sense not to rob him of his gloves, at the very least, or he wouldn’t have shown up at all. 

Kaeya had ushered him in with a brief greeting when he’d arrived, unceremoniously nabbing the (very expensive, thank you very much; Diluc still has manners, even if he doesn’t use them often) bottle of wine he’d brought, and had immediately disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Diluc standing just inside the door and wishing he could simply turn around and walk back out. He’d made an entrance now, though, and it wouldn’t reflect well on the host for him to leave as soon as he’d arrived. So, he takes a deep breath and thinks back to the many, many lessons he received on social etiquette and appropriate party behavior in his youth and glances around the room, subtly observing the other guests to gauge who he should approach first. 

Albedo and Lisa are tucked away in one corner of Kaeya’s living room, sipping a sparkling wine and – judging from the drawn looks on their faces – discussing a theory of some sort. Unlikely either of them would notice a fire starting in the kitchen, let alone Diluc coming up to talk to them, given how engrossed they both seem. Rosaria’s standing by an open window on the other side of the room – smoking out of it, no doubt – but Diluc can barely seem to get along with her when he’s serving her drinks, let alone in a party environment. Two women Diluc doesn’t recognize – one with a calculating look in her eyes and a white fur coat draped over her shoulders and another dressed in Inazuman fashion whose lips are moving so quickly Diluc couldn’t guess what she was saying if he tried – are seated on the couch. And finally, a woman dressed in red and black is leaned up against the wall next to the fireplace, pyro vision dangling from her hip and claymore callouses on her hands. 

He takes a step in her direction, having decided she’s the most likely to have enough in common with him for them to strike up a conversation, when the door opens behind him and catches his shoulder, sending him reeling forward on the balls of his feet. He slams a shin into Kaeya’s coffee table and bites down a curse, righting himself and smoothing his hair back into place. One of the women on the couch in front of him blinks up at him owlishly, an arm out in case he’d fallen further, and the other is hiding a smirk behind a gloved hand. Diluc directs an appeasing smile towards them and then turns to face whoever had nearly knocked him clean off his feet. 

The Fatui Harbinger – Childe, his mind supplies – that Kaeya seems so enamored with is standing there with his hand on the doorknob, face blank. When Diluc makes eye contact, however, the man’s expression shifts into something more apologetic, and he blusters forward with a hastened apology and a hand offered for Diluc to shake. Diluc eyes it for a moment, but finds he can’t bring himself to take it. Instead, he adjusts his sleeve and nods at the Harbinger. 

“Diluc Ragnvindr. Pleasure to meet you…” Diluc trails off, allowing space for the other man to fill in the blank. 

“Childe,” he supplies, then seamlessly retracts his hand and sets it on his hip, grinning widely. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Diluc.” 

Diluc hums in response, unsure if the statement was meant to be as ominous as it sounded. Childe opens his mouth to say something else, but a hand appears on his shoulder and his lips purse into something of a pout instead as he shifts slightly to the left, allowing the man behind him to step forward. The man has a good inch on Diluc, and he’s dressed in a perfectly-tailored suit, hair slicked back to show off the gold crystal dangling from his left ear. He’s clearly someone of importance, given how he holds himself, and when he raises amber eyes to meet Diluc’s, something tightens in his gut; this man is dangerous, despite how gently he’s smiling. 

The man offers a gloved hand to Diluc, despite Diluc’s refusal to shake Childe’s. “Good evening, Diluc. My name is Zhongli. It is a pleasure to meet you.” 

Inexplicably, Diluc finds himself clasping the other man’s hand; it’s warm, like a patch of dirt that’s been baking under the sun all day. Zhongli’s thumb ring brushes against his fingers as he pulls away. Diluc clears his throat, stalling momentarily as he tries to shake off the static buzzing in his head. He feels like he’s standing in an electrified puddle, and he almost glances over his shoulder to make sure there’s not an Abyss Mage cackling at him a few feet away. Did Zhongli poison him, somehow? No, they hadn’t had any skin-to-skin contact, how could he have? 

Diluc blinks. “Likewise,” he replies, grateful that he sounds steadier than he feels. 

He blinks again, and Kaeya’s to his right, throwing an arm around Childe’s shoulders and grinning that obnoxious, shit-eating grin reserved for little brothers, and little brothers alone. “You two seem to be hitting it off well,” he chirps, “just like I thought you would!” 

Diluc glowers at him, crossing his arms. 

“Ah, ah!” Kaeya scolds, “you wouldn’t want to brood in front of my guests, would you?” 

Caught off guard by the audacity of Kaeya calling him out like that in front of complete strangers, Diluc flushes bright red, all the way up to his ears, and ducks his head as Kaeya snickers at him. 

A hand on Diluc’s elbow shocks him out of his embarrassment, and his eyes follow the hand up to Zhongli’s face. “Would you like to go out on the balcony for a moment, Diluc? You seem like you could use some air.” 

Is this guy trying to assassinate him? What other reason could he- 

“That sounds like a great idea, off you go!” Kaeya replies for him, ushering them towards his balcony. 

Diluc allows himself to be guided through the room in a daze. He’s trying to have me killed. All that talk about reconnecting and being a family again, and he’s sending me to the most secluded part of his home with a man I’ve never met who’s friends with a Fatui Harbinger and-  

Oh. Wait a second. This is the friend Kaeya wanted to introduce him to. 

Diluc’s heartrate slows a bit at the realization, and he’s calmed down enough by the time the cool air hits his face that he can appreciate it. Zhongli walks them out onto Kaeya’s small balcony, expertly avoiding the succulents balanced on little trays by the door, and closes the doors behind them. Diluc leans on the railing, purposefully avoiding the other man’s gaze, and takes a moment just to breathe. Zhongli comes to stand beside him, arms folded behind his back. 

“I’m sorry about Kaeya,” Diluc says, not for the first time in his life, “he’s… excitable.” 

Zhongli chuckles, voice rumbling deep in his chest. “Not to worry, I’m around someone quite similar on a day-to-day basis.” 

“I feel even more sorry for you, in that case.” 

“You needn’t be. I find it amusing and… endearing, in a way. It is nice to see young people enjoying themselves.” Zhongli tilts his head upwards, gazing out into the night sky. 

Young people?  

Diluc’s eyes wander over the man’s features again, examining him a little more scrupulously this time. There are no physical marks to indicate that he’s older than Diluc, but there’s a distinct flawlessness to his skin – no scars, no freckles, nothing to indicate he’s spent a day outside in his life – that points to the possibility of Zhongli being something other than purely mortal. Zhongli’s eyes cut over to meet his, and Diluc stands frozen under his stare, heart hammering in his chest. 

“You run the local winery, yes?” Zhongli asks conversationally, tilting his head. The question is innocent, but it’s obvious that he’s scrutinizing Diluc as well. He’d been less subtle than he’d hoped, then… either that, or Zhongli knows when he’s being sized up, which wouldn’t come as a shock. 

“I do,” Diluc replies, keeping his tone light. “It was my father’s business. I’m not much for wine myself… or alcohol of any kind, for that matter.” 

Zhongli nods, looking back at the stars. “These days I drink tea more than anything else, although I am partial to Osmanthus wine.” 

“Osmanthus wine…” Diluc repeats, humming to himself, “I believe that was one of my father’s favorites as well.” 

“A man of good taste, then.” 

“Indeed.” 

Silence lapses between them for a moment before Diluc remembers his manners and clears his throat. “Kaeya mentioned this is your first time in Mondstadt… if I may ask, where are you visiting from?” 

“Liyue,” Zhongli replies. “It has been my home my entire life, and for a long time, I thought that my devotion to its welfare was all that mattered. But things have settled there now, and I am needed less, so I’ve decided to visit other parts of the world.” 

Diluc thinks back to his time away… how he’d fled Mondstadt, how he’d razed through the continents he’d set his sights on, barely stopping to eat, let alone enjoy the scenery and culture. He’d avoided Liyue Harbor entirely – given its status as a port, someone was bound to recognize him and notify the Fatui of his whereabouts – but he’d seen it from afar, and he’d always felt drawn to it… something about it exuded warmth. Maybe it was because he could remember the countless business trips his father took there, and the paper lanterns he’d brought back with him once that had shone so brightly when they’d released them into the sky together. 

“I’ve always wanted to visit Liyue,” Diluc murmurs, lost in thought. 

A languid smile stretches across Zhongli’s face. “No one knows more about Liyue than I do, I can assure you. I would be honored to show you around if you ever decide to make the trip.” 

Diluc inclines his head, a little embarrassed at getting so caught up in reminiscing. “I suppose I could take you up on that if I’m ever in the area.” 

“Please do. I hardly ever get the opportunity to show the harbor to someone who’s never seen it before.” 

Diluc nods along, and there’s a beat of silence before his mind catches up to him and he hurriedly adds, “Oh, and, of course, if you’d like to visit the winery, I can have the maids scrounge you up a bottle of Osmanthus wine, on the house.” 

“That’s very kind of you,” Zhongli replies, smiling a bit. “I’ll be in town for the next few days, if it’s not a bother.” 

Diluc waves a hand. “Not at all, come by anytime.” 

Zhongli nods, and then they’re interrupted by the sound of commotion inside. They turn to look, and Zhongli chuckles, moving towards the door. “Shall we head back inside? It looks as though our host is rounding everyone up for a game of cards.” 

Diluc sighs and adjusts his shirt. “As societal rules dictate,” he grouses quietly, stepping forward to open the door for Zhongli. As the other man passes, Diluc leans in conspiratorially. “Kaeya always wins; he cheats.” 

Zhongli looks at Diluc over his shoulder and smirks, his eyes flashing gold. “We’ll see about that.” 

Diluc blinks, and the moment’s gone. Zhongli’s snaking through the crowd, making his way towards the lone armchair in Kaeya’s apartment, and Diluc’s left standing there, questioning his sanity. He files the moment away in his newly-opened case file on Zhongli and grumbles out a protest as Kaeya ushers him onto the middle cushion of the couch, right between the two women he’d nearly flattened earlier. Kaeya deals, and Zhongli collects his cards, leaning back into the cushions and crossing his legs, the picture of indifference. 

The aghast look on Kaeya’s face at the end of the game as Zhongli hoards his winnings makes the whole excursion worth it. 

-- 

Two days later, Zhongli shows up on Diluc’s doorstep in search of the Osmanthus wine he’d offered. It’s just after sunset, burnt orange blazing across the horizon, and the interior of the winery is lit with the soft glow of candlelight. Not one to seem too eager, Diluc offers Zhongli a seat next to the fireplace and excuses himself to fetch the bottle of wine he’d promised from the cellar. When he gets back, Zhongli’s leafing through the book he’d left on the end table during his recent forced bedrest. It’s a book of folktales from across Teyvat, some rooted in history and others clearly embellished. 

“Light reading?” Zhongli inquires, tilting his head. 

Diluc chuckles awkwardly. “I spend most of my days engrossed in ledgers and contracts, so I don’t often read for pleasure, but I’ve had some… free time, recently.” His eyes drift to the side. “My father gifted it to me before he died, and I’ve never had the time or… the strength to read it before now.” 

Zhongli hums, nodding. “It’s beautifully written. Unusual to see illustrations in a book such as this, but the artist was clearly prolific.” He turns the book towards Diluc, holding it open to reveal fine gold lines etched into the page, portraying a sleeping dragon. Brown, orange, and gold watercolors fill the empty spaces, and there are patches of individually inked scales along its belly and tail. 

Diluc smiles a little. “Yes, it’s quite exquisite. My father always sought out the finer things in life.” 

Zhongli gently closes the book and sets it back on the end table. Diluc puts the wine bottle down next to it and ducks into the kitchen for some glasses, grateful Adelinde hasn’t reorganized the kitchen again since the last time he’d had to fumble around for a glass of water in the middle of the night. By the time he’s gotten back, the wine’s already uncorked. He decides not to question it, pouring them both a glass under Zhongli’s watchful gaze. 

“I thought you said you don’t enjoy drinking wine.” 

Diluc twists the bottle and puts it down on the table. “I don’t, really. But I’m also not a fan of letting it go to waste. Here.” He hands one of the glasses to Zhongli and carries his own with him as he takes a seat in the armchair beside the couch. He flicks his fingers and the fire jumps a little, gentle warmth dancing across his shins. 

 Zhongli breathes in the scent of the wine for a long moment, closing his eyes. “Pyro… ambition, passion, drive.” He takes a sip and sighs, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “You wield such a vision, yet you seem aimless.” 

Diluc’s empty hand subconsciously reaches towards his neck, and he clears his throat. “I…” 

Zhongli’s eyes slip open, and he shakes his head a little, glancing at Diluc. “My apologies, I don’t mean to pry.” 

Diluc swallows, hard, and takes a sip of his wine. It’s bitter, and burns at the back of his throat, but he can pick up on the notes that make it unique, and it’s enough to ground him. “I lost… well, I lost everything that mattered to me,” he murmurs. “And… and then, I think, I lost myself, too.” 

Zhongli nods and shifts forwards to lean his elbows on his knees, staring into the fire. “I went through something similar, once.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Zhongli waves his free hand. “It’s all in the past now.” He pauses for a moment, and despite the dismissal, Diluc can see the shadow that passes through his eyes before he gathers himself. He’s so focused on it he startles a little when Zhongli turns and meets his gaze. “Do you feel as though you’re finding yourself again?” 

Diluc hides his face behind his wine glass, taking another sip. “I’m not sure. I understand more about my life now, I think… and there are parts of it that are still very dear to me, but there’s so much-” He sighs, running a hand through his bangs. “Being here feels like living in the past. The life I had here doesn’t exist anymore, and I wouldn’t fit into it even if it did. I’ve changed too much, and people have moved on, it just… nothing clicks like it should.” 

Zhongli hums, resting back into the pillows. “It sounds like it’s time for a change.” 

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” Diluc replies, running a thumb along the edge of his glass. 

“Well, forgive me if this is too forward, but you did mention you’d like to visit Liyue someday, and our biggest festival is coming up in a couple of months.” Zhongli pauses. “It’s a celebration of new beginnings.” 

Diluc blinks. Leave Mondstadt? Not something he thought he’d be doing again anytime soon, and certainly not by his own choosing, but… “New beginnings, huh?” 

-- 

Liyue Harbor is somehow both everything and nothing he’d expected it to be like. It’s bright and loud and full of life, but there are elements of grace and a depth of culture that offset what would otherwise be a significantly hectic and overwhelming atmosphere. In the six weeks he’s been here, Diluc has made more new friends than he’d thought himself capable of having, and he’s discovered that Liyue’s cuisine, as well as its theater scene, is very much to his liking. He’s been able to manage the winery from afar with a little help from Kaeya and a lot of help from Elzer, and he hasn’t fought an Abyss Mage or a Hilichurl since he arrived. 

The relief feels like a betrayal, somehow… that being here is so much easier for him than being at home, but every time the thought crosses his mind, a gust of wind dances up his back and tosses his hair out of its ponytail, and Diluc can picture the chiding look on Venti’s face. 

Don’t worry. I’m watching over them. Let yourself be happy.  

The citizens of Liyue know nothing more about him than that he’s from Mondstadt, and that he owns a winery, and that’s enough for them. Zhongli’s well-connected and well-liked, and has been more than happy to introduce Diluc to what feels like half the town. He’s also taken it upon himself to show Diluc every corner of the port, from buildings with historical significance (and long-winded explanations) to hole-in-the-wall restaurants to Zhongli’s favorite artisans and their wares – which Diluc somehow always ends up paying for, not that he really minds. Zhongli’s occupation as a consultant for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was a bit of a shock, and the company he keeps there even moreso, but it’s fitting, in its own eccentric way. Hu Tao took a little getting used to after she gave Diluc a onceover and pointed him in the direction of the nearest coffin – Diluc doesn’t think Kaeya’s gotten over that yet, and he almost regrets including it in his letter. Truthfully, Diluc was more offended that she’d pointed him towards the cheapest one in the room, but he decided that detail was better kept to himself. 

He and Kaeya write to each other often, and the last vestiges of awkwardness and turmoil that had been clinging to them as they said their goodbyes (Diluc made sure there were proper goodbyes this time) seem to have dissipated, leaving room for their bond to rekindle into something even closer, perhaps, than before… more honest, at the very least. Kaeya has been dutifully keeping Diluc updated on Jean, and Lisa, and their budding romance – he’s already designing himself a suit for their wedding (that Diluc’s sure he’ll be the one paying for). Some of his letters include motherly reminders from Adelinde, survival tips from Amber (who’s been getting her official huntress certificate), and/or rudimentary drawings from Klee of her adventures, and sometimes some slightly less rudimentary drawings from Bennett and Razor of theirs. 

Diluc’s found a friend in Zhongli’s reluctant ward, Xiao, although they don’t see each other very often. He brings Xiao offerings at Wangshu Inn when he’s feeling unsettled or like he needs to get away from all the busyness of the harbor, and the Yaksha had murmured something once about Diluc being strong enough to withstand being in close proximity to him for longer periods of time, so they’ve maintained something of a peaceful, quiet kinship. It didn’t take long for Zhongli’s “secret identity” to slip, and while Xiao was positively mortified at having revealed the secret, Zhongli merely chuckled, deep in his chest, and gave Diluc a knowing look. 

The next time Zhongli “forgets his wallet”, Diluc sits him down to have a talk about why the hell the god of money didn’t leave himself any. It’s a fruitless effort. 

Childe comes around occasionally, but most of the time he’s off doing god-knows-what, and Diluc’s grateful for it. He tries to make himself like the guy, for Kaeya’s sake, but he just can’t help but find him grating. The animosity between the two of them has faded, though, and Diluc hopes that’s worth something. 

There are others, too – Ningguang makes for fine company, and the gaggle of kiddos that are somehow always underfoot are a source of great amusement. Diluc runs into one of the women from Kaeya’s party and she introduces herself as Yelan… it turns out they each have a spiteful streak that does their friendship wonders, and if he now has a photo of himself in the Tsaritsa’s stolen jacket hidden in his sock drawer, well, that’s his business. 

If nothing else, the anonymity does wonders for Diluc. He’d been away from the eyes of Mondstadt before, sure, but he was hunting and being hunted in equal measure, so there was another sort of pressure there. Getting to simply be, without anyone’s expectations or needs weighing on him, has given him time to sort out which aspects of his personality are truly his, and which have been planted by others. The grief is still there, a dull ache near the bottom of his ribcage, but it’s a stitched wound rather than a violent, bleeding gash across his heart. His vision glows brighter now, stronger. 

He's still searching for purpose, for meaning, but the underlying feeling he returns to now is a sense of curiosity, rather than the despair he’d been steeped in before. He’s open to possibility, to change, and whatever that might bring. There’s this incredible townhouse at the outskirts of Liyue Harbor that was built by a Mondstadtian architect – it uses the building materials and color palette of Liyue, and it doesn’t clash with the surrounding buildings, but the essence of Mondstadt is embedded in the structure, somehow, and Diluc wonders, often, if it might make a good second home for him. He could split his time between Mondstadt and Liyue, between his old life – his heart, his heritage – and this new life, whatever it becomes. 

-- 

Zhongli, for all of his eloquent language, still didn’t quite manage to capture how beautiful Lantern Rite is. The city is full to the brim, and its people are of one mind, one heart, flocking together to celebrate letting go of the old and welcoming in the new, honoring their fallen adeptus in a display of everything he’d given his life to protect. It’s like nothing Diluc’s ever seen before, rooted in grief and loss but celebrating love and perseverance. 

They’ve followed Zhongli to his favorite spot to watch the festivities – one of the highest balconies overlooking the harbor – and there are only moments left before the lanterns are released. Zhongli’s leaning against a pillar to Diluc’s left, chest swelling with pride as he looks out over his beloved city, silent for the first time since the evening began. Kaeya and Childe are standing in the center of the bridge, excitedly chattering on about something – Diluc’s not sure if either of them are understanding what the other’s saying, it’s like one big stream of consciousness pouring out of them – and Diluc can see the tip of Xiao’s spear hovering just below the lip of the roof overhead. Xiangling, Chongyun, and Xingqiu are gathered on the floor to Diluc’s right, lighting sparklers and waving them around. 

They’d just come from dinner at one of Diluc’s favorite restaurants in Liyue, and he’s perfectly full, and warm, and his mind is quiet. He folds his elbows on the railing and sighs as the wind dances across his cheeks and through his hair – he’d worn it down tonight for the first time in years. He turns his attention to the streets below, anticipation buzzing in his chest as the first lantern begins to glow. Zhongli moves from his spot, waving everyone over. 

“It’s time.” 

He comes to stand at Diluc’s left and leans on the railing beside him, their elbows brushing. Kaeya appears on his other side and settles there, bumping Diluc’s shoulder with a grin and bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet – this is his first Lantern Rite too. There’s a shuffling of feet as the kiddos jump up and join them, sparklers still in their hands. 

There’s a moment where everything goes completely still, and they watch with bated breath as a single lantern becomes many, and the cobbled streets shift into rivers of liquid gold. It’s quieter than the harbor ever gets, and Diluc can hear his own shaky, eager inhale. Then, the lanterns begin to take to the sky, first rising one by one, and then in small groups, until they’re spanning the whole of Liyue Harbor. Warmth blooms in Diluc’s chest, and he suddenly feels weightless, freer than he’s ever been, watching those flickering little flames, full of people’s hopes and dreams and wishes, take to the night sky and illuminate the darkness. 

Two birds on a wire…  

One says come on,  

and the other finally follows.

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! As I mentioned before, I've been working on this fic for about three years... and I've finally decided to stop being perfectionistic about it and post it.

I'm generally much better at writing individual scenes, and not so much at writing a continuous story, but I really tried to make this fic one cohesive story with a plot... did you notice that there are three scenes (with Kaeya, Jean, and Adelinde) at the beginning where Diluc has some kind of falling out with them, and then another three scenes with them at the end, where their relationships resolve?

Believe it or not, this fic was actually born from three ideas - Venti reading Diluc's mind while Diluc is wondering if anyone would miss him if he died, Zhongli inviting Diluc to live in Liyue, and Diluc discovering Bennett's suicidal tendencies. The rest of the fic was built around those foundational scenes... weird as that might be. I originally wasn't intending to have Diluc actually attempt to kill himself - it was more supposed to be about suicidal ideation - but the scene came to me and it felt important so I kept it. I also originally was very opposed to including Diluc and Kaeya's fight because I was worried I wouldn't be able to characterize it right and it would alienate people (I had the same worry about including the super minor Jean/Diluc scene) but then I had that idea about Kaeya threatening Adelinde and it evolved from there.

Just thought it might be fun to hear a bit of my thought process. ;)

Also... don't come for my use of god/gods/archons... it just sounded too weird to use archon for everything.

Also, also... if you haven't read the official Genshin comics I highly recommend doing so, there's a bunch of Diluc content in them. I think I read them on Webtoons back in the day? That's where I got all the Eroch stuff from - and the bit about Amber hiding in the wardrobe when Diluc confronts Eroch is real.

I decided not to include Diluc's secret organization he's involved with or the fact that he and Kaeya canonically sent letters to each other during Diluc's time away in this story... it just didn't feel like it fit... but I am aware of those things, for the record. ;)

I think Diluc's such an interesting character and I have so many headcanons about him that I'd like to explore... so it's likely I'll write more Diluc angst in the future. It wouldn't be a continuation of this fic - this is complete - but it'll be interesting to see what comes to mind after I've put this fic out into the world and have space in my brain for other things.

Kudos are always super appreciated, and I worked so hard and for so long on this piece that I would LOVE to hear your thoughts about it in the comments. And if you feel inspired to create fanart of this fic, feel free to... just please let me see it if you do, I would die of happiness. And, as always... thank you so much for reading!

Also, also... I recently started my own Discord server for rambling about various fandom things, so if you want to talk Diluc with me, please feel free to join me (it's adults only, so please only join if you're 18+)!

My Discord: MadCapCosplays Discord

You can also find me on:
MadCapCosplays Instagram - I spent six months making a Diluc cosplay from scratch... if you want to check that out. ;)
MadCapCosplays TikTok
MadCapCosplays YouTube
And various other places you can check out here: MadCapCosplays Social Links