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With each passing year, catching up to Diluc seems more and more impossible to Kaeya. His big brother appears to grow in strength and size twice as fast as him – not to mention that he already had an immense head start, so it’s hardly a fair competition.
Now, though, in a flimsy medical gown at least three sizes too large, drowning in two layers of ragged blankets, his dulled hair fanning out in every direction behind his head across a single lumpy pillow, he looks even smaller than Kaeya does on a bad day. The cool tones of moonlight streaming in through the large window and washing out all his warm colours certainly don’t help.
If only you hadn’t been so stupid, Kaeya thinks, dragging his freezing metal chair closer to Diluc’s cot with a quiet but drawn-out screech against the near-spotless tile floor.
(There’s a small, brown stain on the tile just below where Diluc’s hand is hanging off the side of the bed. But surely it’s just been there too long to be cleaned now. Surely he’s not looking at his brother’s blood.)
Kaeya gingerly takes Diluc’s dangling arm by the wrist and lays it on top of him again to mirror his other arm. Diluc’s sleeping positions are never usually so orderly – his limbs are always thrown out at every angle, like he’s trying to take up as much space as physically possible – but at least he looks peaceful like this, lying flat on his back with his hands folded gracefully across his stomach. Like a sleeping prince.
(Like a corpse in an open casket–)
No, he’s not– he’s still breathing, Kaeya reminds himself, dragging the chair even closer – right up to the edge of the cot. He draws his knees up to his chest so his legs can’t get in the way, and tentatively lays his hand over one of Diluc’s. They rise and fall in tandem, in a slow and steady march, and he counts how long each motion lasts, forces himself to breathe in time with his brother.
He’s still breathing. He’s okay.
Or at least, he will be.
Idiot.
He dares to look at his brother’s face again now that he can get a closer look – then swiftly remembers why he’d been avoiding that.
Both of Diluc’s cheeks are adorned with the painfully unmistakable stains of dried tear tracks that weren’t there when Kaeya went to sleep.
Idiot, idiot, idiot, he can’t help but chant to himself, unconsciously squeezing his brother’s hand. He doesn’t even know who that’s directed at anymore.
He knows who it should be directed at.
Kaeya had been lovingly, faithfully appointed as Diluc’s lieutenant, despite all the Knights – even Varka, who hardly ever interferes with his Captains’ affairs – advising Diluc to select someone with more experience, especially given his own youth, his own relative inexperience.
But Diluc had insisted. He’d gone as far as to declare he’d rather resign than work with a lieutenant other than his brother, accusations of nepotism and naivety be damned.
Idiot.
And they’d all gone along with it. Because surely the youngest Cavalry Captain in history must know what he’s talking about, or how else would he have risen to such a position at his age?
Idiots, all of them.
But one of them is indubitably worse than the rest.
What sort of lieutenant causes trouble for his captain instead of supporting him? What sort of irresponsible, incompetent, selfish lieutenant lets his captain almost throw away his life for one measly subordinate?
If Diluc weren’t his brother, Kaeya certainly would’ve been dishonourably discharged for his ineptitude. Though he’d argue that it’s precisely because he’s Diluc’s brother that he should be fired for failing him so severely. If he had any honour, he would’ve resigned himself by now.
Maybe there’s still a chance. As soon as Diluc is well enough for a debriefing, Kaeya’s failure will surely come out no matter how hard Diluc tries to downplay it, and so Kaeya’s fate will be sealed. It’ll be the least he deserves.
He pulls his hand back and hugs his knees closer to his chest until it hurts to breathe.
It’s so stupid. He’s so stupid. He’s known for a long time now how myopic Diluc gets when he’s striving towards a goal. That’s why it’s always been Kaeya’s job to see the bigger picture, to cover Diluc’s blind spots, to stay aware of everything in their periphery so Diluc can focus his efforts where they’re needed most.
He should’ve seen that attack coming from a mile away. He shouldn’t have needed Diluc to literally throw himself in front of the Mitachurl’s axe, to take that scorching Pyro-infused blade directly to the chest after it cut through his armour like a knife through butter. He should’ve–
It’s too late to fix anything.
He exhales slowly, even though that pushes their breathing out of sync once more, then shuts his eyes so he stops staring at Diluc’s rising and falling chest and imagining the bloodstained bandages wound all around it – but even the oppressive weight of darkness, his oldest companion, does nothing to soothe him now. It can’t blot out his mind’s ceaseless visions.
He hides his face against his knees and feels smaller than he has in a long, long time.
“Kae?”
Of course that’s when his brother decides to wake up.
His head snaps up fast enough to send a stinging pain down the back of his neck.
The only part of Diluc that’s moved is his face, now turned ever so slightly in Kaeya’s direction. His eyes are half-shut, like he’s fighting to keep them open, but they’re still oddly bright in stark contrast to… well, to everything else about him, really.
(Bright – bright red, like freshly-spilled blood–)
“Hi,” Kaeya croaks out. His voice sounds even worse than he expected it to.
Diluc squints. The corner of his mouth twitches up into a faint smirk. “You look awful.”
“That’s my line, not yours,” Kaeya shoots back without missing a beat.
Diluc’s weak little laugh quickly fractures into dry, wheezing coughs. “What’s that about, then?” he says, half-spluttered.
Kaeya follows Diluc’s gaze to the bandages wrapped around his own arm and wrist, and instinctively hides it against his chest, behind his knees. He shakes his head and says, “Just some scratches.” He nods towards Diluc. “Nothing compared to you.”
Diluc finally seems to remember that he, too, has a body worth paying attention to, and looks down warily at himself, as much as he can in his position – but his eyes wander back to Kaeya far too soon and start to scrunch up the way they do when he’s about to cry. “Sorry–”
“For what?” Kaeya says, only a little angrily.
Diluc opens his mouth and promptly closes it again. He looks down at himself once more. Then, like the idiot he is, he begins pushing himself to sit up straight.
“Diluc, no,” Kaeya says, uncurling himself just enough to lean forward and press a hand against his shoulder. “The medics said you need to lie down, at least until they come back.”
“Call them back in, then.”
“You need to rest.”
“You’re not a medic–”
“And I’m not the idiot who tried to take a giant axe straight to the chest, so will you please just stay down,” Kaeya snaps, shoving his brother back into the mattress with perhaps a touch too much pressure – enough to elicit a sharp cry of pain that he wilfully ignores.
Diluc is trying so very hard to glare at Kaeya, but it’s as weak as the rest of him, and he gives up the fight quickly enough, letting his head sink back into the depression it’d left in the pillow and staring up at the ceiling with a now-vacant expression.
Which is worrying. Vacancy and reticence don’t suit Diluc in the slightest.
Kaeya exhales slowly, again. Their unsynchronised breaths are the only sounds filling the heavy silence.
Maybe he should go get a medic. But at the same time, the mere thought of leaving Diluc for even a second has him as paralysed as the sight of a Mitachurl swinging straight towards him–
The stitches in his own arm start to sting.
“Everyone else made it out fine, by the way,” Kaeya says at last. “And we managed to clear out the whole camp, so.”
Diluc doesn’t quite meet his gaze. “Mission accomplished, then.”
“I guess.”
Heavier silence. The kind that weighs on your chest and makes it impossible to breathe. And the last person who needs more weight on his chest is Diluc, in his condition–
“How bad is your arm, really?”
Kaeya bristles at the sudden accusatory tone in Diluc’s voice. “I told you, it’s just a few scratches.”
“Then why are you still here?”
Kaeya’s jaw is caught between hanging open in unadulterated shock and clenching shut in righteous anger. His incredulity carries his pitch upwards when he finally brings himself to reply, “Because you’re here?”
“I don’t need you to babysit me.”
“Stop acting like a baby, then– gods, what’s gotten into you?”
“You’re hiding something from me,” he says, now glaring at Kaeya’s bandages like he wants to burn them away with his eyes alone and expose whatever he thinks Kaeya is hiding.
“No, I’m not,” Kaeya says, glaring back. He wants to knock some sense into him and tell him to quit worrying over the wrong person, but that would go over about as well as telling him the full truth of his injuries, and the latter is something Diluc will eventually wring out of the first medic who attends to him and Kaeya will pay for trying to cover anything up – so, exerting a good deal of effort not to chew on his lip, he eventually admits, “I needed stitches. But I’ll be fine.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not a promise.”
“I promise,” Kaeya hisses between gritted teeth.
“Don’t get mad at me. I’m your big brother. I have to worry about you.”
“I’m not mad– you’re just–”
“Just what?”
“Just–!” Resisting the primal urge to kick his brother while he’s quite literally down, Kaeya turns a full 180 degrees with an exasperated groan and curls up in the chair with his back towards Diluc. “So stupid,” he mumbles into his bandages, hoping Diluc hears him anyway.
The silence is the heaviest it’s been all his life, tension burgeoning anew. It’s only broken by Diluc muttering bitterly, “If you’re well enough to not need immediate medical attention, you should go home. Father must be wondering where you are.”
Kaeya fires an equally bitter look over his shoulder, though Diluc conspicuously doesn’t meet his gaze, choosing instead to stare and pick at some fraying thread in the blanket. “Father’s on his way here. There’s no point going home–”
And then Diluc shoots straight upright, so quick that no one would be blamed for thinking he’d somehow been instantaneously, miraculously healed. His eyes go terrifyingly wide. “He’s– what?!”
“Why are you surprised? Of course he’d–”
“Why would he? How does he know about this? Who– Kaeya, don’t tell me you told him–”
Kaeya turns back to face his brother. His own expression probably mirrors Diluc’s horror, but for entirely different reasons. “How was I supposed to hide it?”
“You hide all kinds of stuff from him when you need to!”
The scalding heat of Diluc’s accusatory words has him stuttering. “I– like what?”
“I don’t know, like– like when we tried to steal wine from the cellar one time, remember, and–”
“That didn’t even work!”
“But at least you tried–”
“And I learned my lesson,” Kaeya hisses. Clearly you didn’t. “You’re being really stupid right now, Luc. They obviously need to add brain damage to the list of injuries you’ve suffered.”
Diluc growls and leans forward like a predator about to pounce on its prey–
But that list of injuries catches up to him just in time, causing him to cry out in pain before falling back to the bed with a soft thud.
“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Kaeya says, high and strained, standing up to tuck Diluc back into the blankets while ignoring his muted, pained groans. “You can’t move so much, Luc. You’re already badly injured – you’re supposed to be here for at least a week, maybe more. Definitely more, if you don’t let yourself rest properly.” His empathy gets the best of him. He brushes some of Diluc’s hair out of his eyes and wipes the cold sweat from his clammy forehead. “Father was always going to find out eventually. What are you so scared of?”
The worst that could happen is Adelinde fussing over him non-stop for the next month or so, probably, but she fusses over both of them so much as it is that they wouldn’t even notice the difference.
Whatever Diluc’s imagining, though, has him screwing his eyes shut and cursing into his pillow, grip tightening on the blankets and threatening to tear them in half. The steady rise and fall of his sleeping chest is long gone, replaced by vicious, rapid trembling as his breathing accelerates out of control.
Kaeya leans over him, gingerly pressing one hand to that fluttering heart in an attempt to rein its runaway beat back in. “Luc– calm down, Luc, you’re going to–”
“He can’t find out– gods, Kaeya,” he mutters, burying his face in his hands, “why would you tell him anything?”
Kaeya pulls his hand back. Diluc’s never been so frightened like this before. Not after a nightmare, not when he’s been hurt – not even that one time Kaeya ran away.
“I’m sorry,” Kaeya says, faltering – anything to keep Diluc’s panic at bay before he hurts himself – “but I– it’ll be okay, Luc, you don’t have to worry–”
His expression is clouded with fear, but he still yanks Kaeya closer by the wrist with a grip too strong and focused for someone in his condition. “It’ll only be okay if you help me.”
“Huh?”
“You just– you need to tell Father something different when he gets here. Like–” Diluc’s eyes dart around wildly before lighting up. He pulls Kaeya even closer and continues in hurried, conspiratorial tones, “Tell him I was out drinking.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Tell him I snuck out with the older knights to drink and– so this is just alcohol poisoning, I wasn’t in a fight – and you were just covering for me, and you’re very sorry for lying to him but I made you do it–”
“I’m not going to lie to Father.” I’m already lying to him enough as it is. “He knows we were on an expedition, he’s never going to believe that. And you don’t get injured like this from alcohol poisoning.”
“Didn’t know you were an expert–”
“Even if he did believe me, how would that story be any better? He’d be furious if he thought you’d disobeyed him like that. You’d be grounded till you were thirty.”
“Don’t you get it, Kae? He’ll be even more furious if he finds out the truth! He’ll never forgive me if– if–” Diluc’s grip tightens so much Kaeya can already envision the sickly greens and purples of the bruises that’ll be decorating his wrist tomorrow. “If he finds out that I nearly let you die–!”
Kaeya watches open-mouthed and helpless as tears start to spill down Diluc’s cheeks. His brother’s breathless panic is contagious – his own hand grows numb in that tightening grip. He tries to twist it around enough to return the grip and drag Diluc back to his senses, but he can’t move a single inch.
In the end, he gives in. He gives up on pulling away from Diluc and instead crawls into the empty space beside him in the cot, then wraps one arm around Diluc’s shoulders and hugs him as tightly as he dares while being mindful of his injuries.
“I’m not dead,” Kaeya murmurs against his ear. “You saved me, and you’re still here, too, you’ll be okay – why would he be mad?”
Diluc shakes his head before hiding it in the crook of Kaeya’s neck. “You don’t get it– I’m supposed to be– to be strong enough to keep you safe, and I wasn’t– it was too close and I couldn’t protect you without getting hurt myself – if I’d been stronger, it never would’ve been that close in the first place – he’ll never– he’ll hate me, Kae, he’ll hate me ’cause I’ve wasted every gift I’ve been given and I’m obviously too weak to handle any of it–”
How can the strongest person Kaeya knows think of himself like this?
How can he think he’s weak when the weakest person he knows is right beside him?
“Luc, you can’t blame yourself–”
“I’m your captain– your brother– there’s no excuse–”
Kaeya deliberately hugs him tight enough to hurt, to squeeze the self-deprecating breaths from his already constricted lungs – anything to keep Diluc from lying even more. Diluc’s not supposed to be the liar between the two of them.
“Father isn’t like that,” Kaeya says with a soft exhale. The faint medicinal scent of wound dressing ointments and antiseptics won’t leave his nose. “Even if you were weak, he’d never hate you.”
(Good fathers don’t hate their sons.)
“And you’re definitely not weak – you took a direct hit from a Mitachurl – no one else in the company could’ve done that. No one else could have saved me.” Knowing Diluc will hear it even if he can’t see it, Kaeya forces himself to smile. “You saved me, Luc. I’m only here because you were strong. And Father will be really proud of you when he hears about what you did. I promise.”
Kaeya will never give Father a reason to be proud in the same way. But as long as Diluc’s happy – as long as Father has one son he can be proud of – that’s enough.
Diluc’s sniffling is terribly loud. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says hoarsely.
“I know more than you.”
“Kae, please–”
“If you don’t trust me, you should at least trust Father.”
“It’s not about trust, it’s about–”
They both freeze up when the Grandmaster’s voice rumbles with the exasperation of dying thunder from beyond the door, accompanied by stampeding footsteps. “Crepus, stop running – you’ll wake up every patient here–”
And Father’s voice is, shockingly, just as loud, matching him beat for beat. “I am not slowing down until I see my sons.”
“They’re probably asleep too–”
“Tell me what to do one more time, Varka, and I’ll–”
The door slams open to reveal Father glaring over his shoulder at the Grandmaster – but his attention is immediately diverted to the only bed in the room, and the relief that floods his expression is overwhelming and palpable enough to send Kaeya drifting back to stable ground.
“Diluc– Kaeya– oh, thank Barbatos, thank the Seven,” he says, trailing off into incoherent strings of divine praise as he hurries towards them.
Kaeya sits up again and looks past him towards Varka, shifting awkwardly in the doorway. When their eyes meet, he raises a hand in doubly awkward greeting. “Ah, Diluc, you’re finally awake. You boys doing alright there?” he says, half-laughing, the twinkle of his eyes dimmer than usual.
Before Kaeya can even open his mouth to answer, Father turns to glare at him again – or so Kaeya guesses from the way Varka flinches like he’s been stabbed through his armour.
“I– I’ll go see if there’s a medic around,” he stammers. Stammers. Varka doesn’t stammer–
“Thank you,” Father says dryly.
And with that, Varka leaves, swift as the wind, as if he’d never been there at all.
Kaeya and Diluc exchange bewildered glances. Varka is perhaps too approachable and friendly in proportion to his status, but he’s still not someone anyone dares to talk back to, let alone order around – besides Frederica, on occasion, maybe, but certainly no ordinary civilian would–
Well, Father’s never exactly been an ordinary civilian, has he?
“The Grandmaster will understand,” Father says, as if he can read their minds. “But never mind him now. How are you two doing? I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”
“We’re okay,” Diluc answers, as if he wasn’t just in the throes of a panic attack two minutes ago.
“I set out as soon as I got your message.” Father ruffles Kaeya’s hair carelessly, but less vigorously than usual – his touch is too light, too restless. “Thank you for that, son – goodness knows when the Knights would’ve gotten round to it.”
Nonetheless, Kaeya ducks beneath his hand. “Of course, Father.”
Father turns immediately back to Diluc. He has that sharp glint in his eyes now – analytical abilities typically reserved for assessing merchandise now focused squarely on his eldest son. “Tell me everything, Diluc. What happened? How bad is it?”
The aforementioned son squirms too obviously under their father’s scrutiny. “…Not that bad. Medics already took care of everything. I just need to rest,” he says, the words rough and ragged as if they’d been scraped raw from the back of his throat.
Father looks distinctly unimpressed with the deflection and turns right back to Kaeya with an expression that says Do better than this.
Of course, Kaeya knows exactly what he should say, but it’s harder to be honest to Father than it is to Diluc, especially when he knows Diluc will try to save face by stubbornly calling it a lie anyway.
…Maybe just a little lie, Kaeya thinks. Just to soften the blow. Just to make sure Diluc doesn’t panic–
But Kaeya’s thoughts screech to a halt when Father’s expression shifts, because oh, he knows that expression all too well: disappointment. Damn those mind-reading abilities.
Diluc speaks up, either oblivious or wilfully ignorant of the unspoken negotiations taking place via silent glances. “It’s really not that bad, Father – I already told Kaeya I don’t need a babysitter, so you can both just go home and–”
Father’s gaze is sterner when it snaps back to him. “Son. You know better than to lie to me. Don’t you?”
That simple question seems to tip Diluc back over the edge, and whatever facade he’d managed to reconstruct before Father entered the room crumbles in an instant.
“Luc, don’t cry,” Kaeya mumbles weakly, but it’s too late – the dam has broken. Tears begin streaming down Diluc’s cheeks, more than Kaeya’s seen in years; only Barbatos knows how long he’s been holding them back.
“Father– I– I didn’t mean to– I’m sorry–”
“Sorry for what?” Father asks, gentle and without judgement, but that gentleness is wasted when Diluc only shakes his head and continues stammering out apologies and lamentations.
“I should’ve done more to protect Kae– I– I’m sorry I let him get hurt – I s-swear, it w-won’t happen again, I’ll get stronger–”
“Luc, stop it,” Kaeya hisses, clenching his teeth, his own eyes stinging uncomfortably–
Until Father settles a hand on his shoulder, silencing him without a word, and leans in to cup Diluc’s face with his other hand. His calloused thumb brushes the dark circles under Diluc’s eye, smoothing away those dried tear tracks from earlier, while his signet ring bearing the Ragnvindr crest presses slightly into Diluc’s cheek, leaving the faintest of indents in the pale skin.
“I certainly hope this doesn’t happen again,” he murmurs. “But you don’t need to apologise like it was your fault–”
“But it was,” Diluc sobs. “A r-real captain would’ve been able to take the Mitachurl down straight away–”
“Mitachurl?” Father echoes with a sharp intake of breath, shooting an acutely worried glance towards Kaeya, but Diluc is still too busy spiralling to notice.
“–before Kaeya could get hurt at all – before anyone could get hurt – but n-now Kaeya’s got stitches and–”
“And he’s still here because of you,” Father says, gentle again, though Kaeya can’t help picking up on the suppressed note of worry. “Diluc, my boy, I think that’s quite enough apologising. What matters is that you’re both safe.” He punctuates the last word by cradling Diluc’s face between both hands – the loss of that weight from Kaeya’s shoulder makes Kaeya feel oddly cold, but he pushes that feeling down as far as he can. This is about his brother, not him. He’s not the one who needs attention right now.
Diluc’s mouth opens and closes a few times, eyes caught between widening in indignation or scrunching up with more tears. Eventually he settles on a helpless sniffle and turns his face into Father’s palm.
“Shh, easy now,” Father hums. “You mustn’t overexert yourself, hm?”
“’m sorry…”
Father adjusts his position to take a seat on the edge of Diluc’s cot, near the headboard, and with unnerving ease guides Diluc’s head towards his lap instead of the pillow and begins carding through the unkempt red curls while softly shushing him.
He glances up at Kaeya again once Diluc has quieted a little, and Kaeya swallows thickly. That look in Father’s eye is a familiar one – one that leaves no room for evasion, not even for the most silver-tongued of men. Father nods once, a silent command, and so Kaeya finds himself relaying the grim details of their ill-fated mission that he’d skimped on in his initial letter: the mechanics of the attack, the unexpected enemies, the injuries both of them had sustained – and most reluctantly, how close Diluc had come to death. Diluc has his eyes squeezed shut now, one ear covered with his hand and the other pressed to Father’s leg, drowning out the world enough that he doesn’t react to Kaeya’s voice – and yet, the twitches and tension in his curled-up legs betray that he can tell exactly what they’re talking about nonetheless.
When Kaeya finishes, Father nods again, then looks down at Diluc and turns his head slightly in his lap, forcing Diluc to look up at him. “There’s no need to be so ashamed, son. You and your brother have survived a terrible ordeal. Really, you… you’re the strongest boy I know, Diluc.” His gaze flicks up to Kaeya. “You both are. And no matter what,” Father continues, unhurried, “even if you were ‘weak’ – I would always be so proud of you both.”
Diluc bites his lip and sniffles again. In other circumstances, Kaeya would tease him for the childish gesture, but he can’t muster up any sort of playfulness in this situation.
“Maybe you’re not strong to fight off Mitachurls singlehandedly. Maybe you’ll never be – but you’re both so strong in so many different ways. I couldn’t be more proud of you. You’ll always be my boys.” He cups Diluc’s cheek, a hint of urgency in the way he brushes Diluc’s hair away from his face. “Tell me you understand, son.”
Diluc bites his lip and tries to hide his face again, but Father doesn’t let up.
“C’mon, Luc, stop being a dummy already,” Kaeya mumbles, nudging Diluc’s leg with his foot, earning himself a wilted glare. Father cracks a smile that he quickly smooths away.
“I–” A weak but frustrated groan slips through Diluc’s trembling, clenched teeth. “I-It’s not that simple, Father–”
“How could it not be?” Father smiles, faint but sure. “This was only your first mission, and you’re both so young, with so much to learn and so much life ahead of you. I know you’ll only go from strength to strength from here on out, and make me even prouder.”
“…So… y-you’re not… mad…?”
“Not at you, my boy,” Father says. “Never at you. If anything…” He purses his lips, a shadow passing over his eyes in a blink, then shakes his head, the moment gone before Kaeya can decode it. “Never mind. Just trust in your old man, hm?”
Diluc sniffles again. Kaeya quietly plucks the handkerchief sticking out of the breast pocket of Father’s vest and presses it to Diluc’s nose, which elicits a mumbled protest before Diluc reluctantly takes the cotton square and blows into it with a miserable, almost petulant sound.
“That’s better,” Father murmurs. With terrifying care, he lays Diluc back against the pillow again, and draws the blanket in the cot back up over his shivering frame. “Now, you oughtn’t worry about anything else besides resting and recovering. Leave everything else to me."
Diluc’s eyes are fluttering already, sleep’s arms extended and waiting for the right moment to drag him under. “Even Kae…?”
Kaeya’s pulse stutters, but Father doesn’t miss a beat. “Especially Kae,” he says, shooting Kaeya a tiny smirk before running his fingers once more through Diluc’s hair. “Sweet dreams, son.”
The spark of jealousy in his chest at how Diluc falls asleep so easily – with just a few soft words and a simple touch from Father – briefly threatens to incinerate Kaeya from the inside out. But it’s immediately extinguished by the tide of guilt that surges once more as he watches Father’s shoulders slump, his hearth-like smile flicker and die.
He has to be so strong for us, Kaeya thinks, as Father rubs a hand down his face and massages his stubbled jaw with a sigh that only leaves through his nostrils. We’re always making things difficult for him. If I weren’t here–
“Still worried?”
Kaeya flinches – just a little – startled by the abrupt weight of Father’s attention. He doesn’t dare speak – he’s not sure he even could. His lips are frozen shut.
Father’s smile returns like a ghost that doesn’t know how to pass on. “Diluc’s a strong boy. He’ll recover quickly – always bounces back sooner than anyone expects, doesn’t he?” He laughs softly, then pats Kaeya’s shoulder, his grip warm and firm. “You’ve done more than enough for him, son. You can rest as well.”
Kaeya tries to nod, but he can’t maintain eye contact with Father for more than a few seconds, and his gaze drops to Diluc’s now-sleeping form on the bed. He’s a little more alive-looking than before, when he hadn’t yet woken up, but the odd stillness and the colourless bedding actively erases those very same signs of life. If Kaeya’s focus slips for even a fraction of a second, the image of Diluc’s body merges with the bone-white sheets and–
“Kaeya?”
He doesn’t realise he’s scrambled back out of the bed until the absence of Father’s hand on his shoulder leaves it cold and the new inches of distance between them leave him unmoored. His hair falls in front of his eye as he ducks his head with a fractured gasp and clutches at his arm with his stitched-up hand – the stinging pain is necessary, grounding.
“Kaeya, my boy – talk to me.”
Any and all words stick in his throat like those awful sour candies he and Diluc had snuck out of Father’s office once (years ago as children with nothing better to do and no lives ever put on the line). Distantly, he registers a tentative pressure under his chin – Father’s finger attempting to lift his head – but he can’t seem to manage any more movement than the minimum required to breathe.
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he chokes out after a lifetime. “Not Diluc.” He grips his arm tighter until even his closely-trimmed fingernails dig in through the sturdy wool of his Favonius jacket. “If I’d been stronger, he wouldn’t have had to save me. And I’m his lieutenant. I should’ve–”
“Even the strongest people need saving from time to time.”
The rest of Kaeya’s words go back down his throat even worse than those candies had. At least back then he hadn’t wanted to vomit. His voice drops to a frail whisper. “But he almost died.”
“That just shows how much he loves you.”
Kaeya’s head drops further, chin almost touching his chest, neck straining. The floor is spinning and blurry beneath his feet. “But– if he hadn’t survived–”
“But he did.” Father says it so easily, as if there’s no other way it could have gone. As if fate itself could be anchored by that faith. “He loved you enough to make sure he lived for you too.”
Another ‘but’ weighs heavy on the tip of Kaeya’s tongue. He presses his lips tightly together – it wouldn’t be right to talk back to Father any more than he already has. I really am an ungrateful child–
Father manages to tilt Kaeya’s head up at last with disorienting ease. “I know it must have been terrifying – but you’re both alright because you had each other. Just like always, hm? So, don’t be upset with yourself, son. Be grateful your brother was there. I know I am.”
There’s a wavering there – the faintest of tremors at the end of the line – yet it’s gone by the time Kaeya processes it, smoothed over by Father’s ever-patient smile. He can only blink helplessly as Father turns away with a muted hum and, in a manner more appropriate for one of the luxurious armchairs back home, settles into the creaking chair by Diluc’s cot. A low murmur escapes Diluc in sleep, his head tilting towards Father like windwheel asters to the breeze, but Father only shushes him kindly and reclines with the grace of a cat, placid and content even in such bleak circumstances.
“You’re… staying?” Kaeya shifts his weight from one leg to the other and back again, hovering and restless while rooted to the spot. The distance between them and him is surely unbreachable. “It’s not… comfortable, here. I– I’ll watch over Diluc, so you can go home for now…”
Father’s laugh is quiet but hearty, a low rumble that resonates in the otherwise stifling room. “This might be my only chance for decades to get some rest without dear Adelinde waking me up at unholy hours for ‘household responsibilities’. I’d be fool not to take it.” He holds out his arm and shifts in the chair. “There’s room for you, too. Unless you’re too grown up now to cuddle with your old man…”
The warmth of Kaeya’s cheeks could start fires bright enough to earn his own Pyro Vision – but he ends up taking the invitation anyway, curling up in the scant space beside his father on the chair, his smaller body pressed awkwardly against the older man’s sturdy frame, his limbs curled in tight to take up as little room as possible.
Father undermines those efforts by pulling Kaeya close with a low hum of satisfaction. “Mm, much better. Don’t you agree?” His arm drapes easily around Kaeya’s shoulders, as if this position is the most natural thing in the world even if the environment won’t accommodate it.
“…Goodnight, Father,” Kaeya murmurs in response instead of actually answering. He squeezes his eyes shut and allows himself the minor indulgence of letting his head rest against Father’s chest.
Father murmurs something in return, but Kaeya doesn’t hear it, already drifting into unconsciousness under the weight of his father’s warmth and the steady drumbeat of his heart.
Father’s stronger than we are, he thinks to himself just before unconsciousness can drag him under completely. Strong enough to handle a burden like me.
Maybe one day, we’ll be that strong too.