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Kaeya thought about it, sometimes. A lot of the time if he was honest, though he never truly was. It never left, always creeping around the back corners of his mind like something in your peripheral you wouldn’t dare look at directly. But you know it’s there. It waited, bated time and breath until his mind was absent just enough so it could pounce, claws and teeth into his amygdala.
Unfortunately, without work on his desk or a drink in his hand, it had a lot of times where it could feast on him. Kaeya nearly wished it was a brain eating bacteria, because then at least there would be a clear end in sight, a definitive in a world of simple maybes and mild shrugs.
He thought about it most on rainy nights, alone in the Alberich estate far from the city. It was somehow loud and quiet at the same time, dull and sharp. Those nights he removed his shirt, a hand shakily over the burns that marred his torso. He couldn’t tell if the pain was from the skin or the muscle beneath them, or even the heart at the inner most parts of his body.
Kaeya Alberich is a man of grief- of mourning. He mourns all that he had and all that he did not, and his black veil is so thick he doesn’t even notice to grieve the gradual loss of himself. Maybe he wasn’t really gone- just hidden away with his heart. But it felt impossible a task to ponder on it. The past 3 decades and a half had already taken its toll, had already beat him down every time he stood, and he doubted he could take another hit without surrendering completely.
He spends every day, every night, every living moment in fakeness, hypocrisy and pretense. He can’t distinguish the shield from the shielded, and his head turns like tables over it. He feels he needs someone to tell him that whoever he is, is there. He has half a mind to not care if he ever left, or maybe that he was more himself when he felt less like it.
Few people who lingered around him knew, truly, the extent. He could see it every time they spoke to him. Jean's eyes softened as she handed him papers or gave him an order. Diluc’s eyes averted for a split second as he slid another drink across the counter. He thought it cruel that the two distractions he had were connected to people that he could not distract from.
Diluc hurt the most. Stranger turned brother turned foe, and now what? Stranger once more? He used to imagine a point where he could comfortably say “now, what?” Maybe in reference to a knightly mission, maybe a question after a long night with drinking partners. But now– this definitive unquestionable now– it just stands as a reminder, a warning, and a pin in the softest part of him all the same.
Even so, he can’t help but feel like he deserved it. For all the pain he has endured and will continue to endure, the best and yet worst parts of himself don’t allow him to point fingers, to change the course of blame, for all roads lead back to the very same pointed finger. He still remembers how Diluc wielded his great sword, ablaze and headed straight for him. His words cut deeper.
Traitor, he’d yelled. You are no brother of mine.
Now, Kaeya walked around with the words carved into the insides of his eyelids, scaring him every time he closed them. He was afraid of the dark, not of the one outside but the one within every blink. He knew what he was, and he couldn’t tell if he preferred it or longed for the bliss of ignorance, the soundness of denial. No longer a son, no longer a Ragnvindr, no longer a brother.
The point “no longer as family” was so painfully made over and over again, yet it was a burn from within. Not only was he exiled, but he himself also separated and divided. Part of it was to protect himself, so no one could hurt him the same. The other part was because he felt it was correct and deserved, objectively, the “right thing to do.”
Even though he felt it warranted, his heart clenched whenever Fathers day rolled around, whenever Crepus’ birthday was X’d off the calendar, and whenever the death anniversary took place. After all these years, he still had not visited Crepus’ grave even once, for with all he deserved was all he did not.
He did not deserve the right to deface the gravesite of the head of a family he’d betrayed with his presence, he did not deserve the right to disrespect Crepus’ death by believing he was still as son was to father. He was no longer family to Diluc, and by extension, to Crepus, even if he hadn’t lived long enough to see the branch be snipped off the tree.
He felt conflicted because even though he nor Diluc considered each other family (for all they would say,) everybody else hadn’t made the change. Unaware or perhaps too aware, he thought. Adelainde still sent letters, and gifts on his birthday. Certain staff at the Angel’s Share still patted his back and asked him to help behind the counter.
Sometimes he felt that his own body had yet to catch up, even if his mind had. He still instinctively itched to turn whenever he heard “Ragnvindr!” called out in a crowd. He still sat on the cliff by the Statue of Seven, eyes turned downward and focused on the winery. He saw the grape fields he and Diluc used to run through, the horse stables they’d play in. While he yearned, he didn’t kid himself pretending he was the only one.
He thought that Diluc felt it too, even if for different reasons. He couldn’t see how Diluc might want their brotherhood back, but he could see how Diluc might want the simpler times. He could see how Diluc wanted Crepus back. Diluc had been so close with Crepus, even venturing as far as to Snezhnaya to find revenge, or better yet, an answer.
Thinking back on it, Diluc’s absence was possibly the hardest time for him, in the entire “post-Ragnvindr” era of his life. While healing from his injuries, reluctantly staying in the cathedral for healing, he’d overheard whispers from the sisters, about how the ‘newly appointed owner of Dawn Winery’ had fled off, somewhere no one knew.
He didn’t hear anything more about it, didn’t try to, not even as he recovered, took up the position of Cavalry Captain, and purchased a small apartment in the city. It wasn’t until a quiet night a few weeks later that he’d gotten any more information.
He was asleep, or at least trying to with itchy bandages around his torso, when he heard the faintest pecking from his balcony door window. Upon further, begrudging, investigation, he would find it to be Diluc’s pet hawk. Kaeya had never liked birds, even one as familiar as Diluc’s pet, but he wouldn’t bring himself to shoo it off.
In its grasp was something that glowed a bit in the darkened atmosphere. A pyro vision, red and glistening with a haunting warmth and beauty. He hadn't considered that Diluc would've left his vision behind, and he wished he could say he couldn’t understand why. Perhaps he wanted the challenge, perhaps he felt his grief and rage were enough. Whatever the reason, the vision was glowing, which meant he was alive.
Over the next few years, he held onto it. When his nights were plagued with nightmares and fear, he sat on the edge of his bed, the vision in his shaky clutch and he watched. He figured he must've looked like a maniac, hunched over and watching the thing like it had the answers to all his questions and problems. However, it provided a strange sense of comfort. But the comfort always drifted into dread when the light would flicker.
Once, about a year into having it, he could recount once how the light had gone out completely.. In those 5 seconds the vision had gone out, he held his breath. A cold sweat formed down his back, terror settling into his already damaged heart. It felt like time had stopped, tormenting him with the eternal punishment of staring at it.
But once the light had come back on, flickering silently in his sweaty grip, he managed to breathe again. He hadn’t ever doubted Diluc’s abilities, and after his fight, neither did he Diluc’s vengeful spite. Wherever he had gone, seeking out retribution and solutions, Kaeya had no doubt it was dangerous. Observing the vision was the only odd solace he had in this confusing time, despite the fact it held great power over his joy and his despair.
After that, Kaeya went to lengths he wouldn’t dare name. He’d found a Fatui member in the city, ironically in the Angels Share, tucked away in the back corner of the upper floor. He sat down without invitation, talked with them over a few drinks, used his newly found charm and demeanor to get to the point.
Long after the sun had set and he stumbled back into his home, he was one finger less, his pinkie to be exact. He had wrapped it with gauze, though it still ached from where the knife had been pressed. A finger for protection, they had eventually agreed upon. He didn’t even know if the deal would be respected, but he felt a little less helpless, a little more helpful. Even if Diluc had burned him, Kaeya couldn’t bring himself to hate the person who had helped him tie his shoes and held him after nightmares.
And then, years later, Diluc came back. As the whispers spread throughout the crowds of his return, Kaeya soon paid a visit to the Dawn Winery. He had figured that seeing Diluc again after years would’ve been some surreal experience, and the anxiety in his stomach agreed that it seemed like a make-or-break meet. However, as Adelinde let him through the doors and he tentatively stepped inside, seeing Diluc wasn’t surreal.
It felt familiar, it felt warm, and he hated himself for it. He hated how his brain was wary, but his body naturally gravitated toward Diluc. A big brother didn’t harm, he protected, and even the scars weren’t lesson enough to change that. Diluc looked tired, older, and yet all the same. More scars, but he still had freckles. He had eyebags now, but his hair still curled at its ends.
Kaeya played it cool, that was his new ‘thing.’ Concealment, shield, protection. He smiled and gestured, acted as if nothing had ever happened even as the tension between them sat. The tension was unfamiliar, not because it was new, but because it was unidentifiable. Was it tension from lingering hard feelings? Was it tension from the apologies on the tips of their tongue? Whatever the case, it remained hidden.
Their chat was more or less brief, simple but efficient. Kaeya slid through his sentences swiftly, and he could only help but marvel and mourn at the differences in Diluc. His voice, his tone, his way of speaking. He was calm, straightforward, even as he tossed darts at a target. Then, Kaeya mentioned having seen a drake, and Diluc’s hand slipped. Kaeya felt it best to leave after that.
Later that week, Kaeya stopped by once more with an, albeit, very eccentric vase in hand. A gift to replace the one broken during their previous chat. While out of politeness or a fragile truce, Kaeya didn’t know, but Diluc ended up accepting the vase. What he was unaware of until after Kaeya left, was that at the bottom lay his vision, regifted and returned.
The next few years were less of a dance, more of an awkward stumble where both were afraid to take the next step. Sometimes it felt like Diluc still cared, even if just a little bit, but Kaeya often dismissed his own recognition, considering it hopeful thinking. But lately? Maybe things have gotten better, and it’s possible to look back and see how far they’ve come.
Lately, things have been almost normal, or what they used to consider as normal. Light banter that wasn’t shrouded in subtle threat or insinuation, teasing without malice, even a few softened looks and partial smiles here and there. It felt like they were children again, and while Kaeya’s guard never fully slipped, never had since that day, it slipped. He found himself laughing wholeheartedly, he found himself lowering his shield.
Maybe things between them would never be the same again, he would consider. Maybe they’ll never hug again, maybe they’ll never share a room again, maybe they’ll never share a family again. But Kaeya would take what he could get. He would take fighting in sync with Diluc, he would take concerned yet stern advice, he would take Diluc’s frizzy hair on a rainy day, he would take all of this over the slightest chance he would lose this again by pushing too hard.
He couldn’t lose this again, he couldn’t lose Diluc again, he couldn’t mess up again. So, for now? He’d keep his distance. He’d try to predict and act accordingly, even if he almost always overthought when it came to Diluc. Even after all these years, Kaeya still felt like a little brother, and a little brother would always need his older brother.