🐺🥀

It’s only when the last of the Knights stands up to leave that he starts to think something might be wrong.

Kaeya still hasn’t ordered, and he hasn’t said so much as a goodbye to the knights, which implies that he’s here for some other reason—a loaded conversation with Diluc, maybe, or a proposition for the Darknight Hero’s involvement in some new ploy, neither of which Diluc wants to be discussing right now.

“That seat is for patrons only,” he says.

Kaeya’s eyes snap to his. He smirks. “Oh? Protective about the seating arrangements, are we?” “If you’re not here to drink,” Diluc says, “I’m sure you can find a better place to spend the night.”

“Fine, fine,” Kaeya says lightly. “One Death After Noon, please.”

He’s speaking more quietly than usual. There’s a dullness to his eyes, too, when Diluc looks back at him, blinking.

It’s… frustrating, to say the least. Kaeya is never entirely straightforward—he’s never as honest as he had been when they were both children, but he must be here for a reason, and he isn’t doing either of them any favors by not speaking up about it.

“What do you want from me?”

“Oh? What makes you think I want something from you?”

“You didn’t order anything until I asked,” Diluc says.

Kaeya smiles cryptically, resting his chin on one hand. “Maybe I just came here to unwind.”

“Nonsense. You haven’t spoken to anyone all night.”

“So you’ve been watching me?”

Diluc scoffs. “You are usually the most talkative customer here. I would have to have been exceptionally unobservant to not have noticed your silence.”

It’s not a secret that Kaeya isn’t here to see him. He’s here because it’s one of two taverns in Mondstadt, and because moreover, it’s a more popular spot for the Knights than the Cat’s Tail is, for days when he’s here more for conversation than for the drinks. Even when he’s here for strategic reasons, though—on nights when he’s enticing whoever he’s with to drink just enough to loosen their tongue—he always orders something for himself.

Tonight is an anomaly. But Kaeya doesn’t offer an explanation for it, and Diluc has never been one to press, so he occupies himself with procuring a bottle of white wine from the upper shelf.

Behind him, Kaeya coughs, but the sound is a little muffled. Diluc turns, instinctively, half expecting that Kaeya’s trying to direct his attention to something.

But Kaeya merely raises an eyebrow.  “Does my presence bother you so much?”

“No,” Diluc says. “If you are waiting for someone to show up...”

“I’m not.”

Diluc goes back to pretending that a drink he can make in his sleep is taking up all of his attention. Behind him, Kaeya sniffles—quietly enough that it almost goes unnoticed, except for the fact that the tavern’s empty except for the two of them, so late at night on a weekday.

At first, Diluc thinks—hopes—that he’s misheard. But then Kaeya sniffles again, loud enough to be confirmation, and then the silence suspends itself for a soft intake of breath.

Diluc thinks that if he grips the wine glass in his hands any tighter, it’s going to fracture. Is Kaeya… crying?

What could possibly warrant a reaction like this? Why here, of all places—so openly in front of Diluc, who he’s not supposed to trust? But before he can think more about it, there’s another sharp, desperate breath behind him, followed by—

“hihH’DXxt!” A pause, and then another gasp. Diluc whirls around, surprised, just in time to see Kaeya’s eyes flutter shut, as he pitches forward with none of his usual grace, roughly enough to jostle the cups on the countertop.

“hIH’ISCHHh-uu!”

It sounds rough, and... miserable, really, like it’s somehow both desperately necessary and barely relieving.

This is certainly… unexpected.

“...Bless you,” Diluc says hesitantly, if only to break the silence. Kaeya looks up at him, blinking distractedly.

“Thanks. You’ll have to excuse me,” he says—quieter than usual again, except now Diluc realizes it’s probably more out of necessity than anything—Kaeya’s voice is nearly shot, now that he’s paying attention.

Diluc turns back around—mercifully, perhaps—and tries to pay attention to the precise ratio of dandelion wine to white wine in the glass he’s holding.

It’s not long before Kaeya’s breath is hitching again.

“Hh… - hIiH! hHh - hH’ESHhh’uu!”

It’s so desperate and vocal. Kaeya lets out an exhausted sigh, reaching across the table to grab a handful of napkins. If he’s been doing this all day, it’s no wonder that he’s lost his voice.

“Are you getting sick?” Diluc says, though he suspects he knows the answer.

Kaeya laughs. “Why? Are you worried?”

“Only deciding whether I’ll have to wipe down the tables when you leave,” Diluc answers.

“Don’t worry. I assure you, you won’t catch this.”

“You are not doing a good job of convincing me of that.”

Kaeya hums, slumping further in his seat. He’s moved so that his chin’s resting on his hand again, but now it looks like less of a casual gesture. He just looks tired.

“I’ll be careful, I promise.”

It’s barely even a retort. Diluc stares at the half-finished drink in front of him. Then he pushes the cup aside so that it rests on the other side of the countertop, leaving the space in front of him clear. “You shouldn’t be drinking like this.”

Kaeya watches him warily, suppressing a shiver. “Thought the wine would warm me up.”

“You’re cold,” Diluc realizes.

By the way Kaeya’s eyebrows furrow in response, Diluc can tell he hadn’t meant to admit it so plainly. “I didn’t say that.”

Diluc ignores him again in favor of swiping a mug from the cupboards. Kaeya sniffles, sinking lower in his seat to rest his head on his forearms. Has he been so tired all afternoon? Diluc hadn’t expected that he’d do something like this—just sit here quietly all afternoon, waiting for someone to notice. Diluc can count the number of times Kaeya’s fallen ill on two hands, with room to spare. Back when they’d been close he’d sought Diluc’s presence whenever he fell ill, but it’s been years since then, and Kaeya is exceptionally popular—Diluc is sure anyone in Mondstadt would be happy to keep him company. This isn’t the same.  

Kaeya’s eyes are lightly shut when Diluc sets the mug in front of him finally, still steaming. Diluc considers tapping him on the shoulder—or checking his forehead, or something—and then decides against it. “Apple cider,” he says, instead. “Don’t burn yourself, it’s hot.”

Kaeya opens his eyes, sits up. Diluc pushes the mug towards him, and his fingers curl around the sides. He shivers again, lifts the mug with both hands, and takes a tentative sip.

“Adelinde says it’s good for your throat,” Diluc says, unsure of what else to add. “Or… it’s what she always tells me, in the winter.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Kaeya murmurs. He coughs into a fist, his shoulders trembling with the effort. “It’s good. Was I asleep long?

“The tavern closes in twenty.”

“Is that so?” He sniffles, his eyes watering as he sets the mug down hurriedly, ducking into his elbow. “Hh— hIIH’ESCHhuu! hH!… snf, sorry to keep you, then.”

He says it without a trace of sarcasm, which feels… unfitting, if anything. Whatever Kaeya does, he does it unapologetically.

Diluc regards him for a moment. “It’s my shift. I’d be here anyway.”

“You’d be closing up if not for me,” Kaeya says, which isn’t untrue. “I’ve been here long enough.”

The why goes unaddressed. Diluc isn’t sure why Kaeya’s here—Kaeya is unpredictable, but he’s also deliberate. Diluc doesn’t believe he’d be here for no reason—the tavern is warm enough, and crowded enough in the evenings to be pleasantly distracting, but that’s about where the benefits end. Kaeya—where’s he’s hunched over the counter, exhausted and shivering—looks like he’d be more comfortable anywhere else.

“Are the Knights aware that they’re assigning you too much work?”

Kaeya averts his glance. “It’s nothing like that.”

“When is the last time you’ve slept?”

This time, he smiles, raising an eyebrow. “Concerned?”

It’s an accusation that Diluc would normally dispute. Now, he settles for crossing his arms. “You’re exhausted.”

“I don’t see why that’s relevant... hh — hH-ESHhh-uu! We’ve had more domains than ever to cover, is all. Nothing out of the ordinary, but you’ll understand why I couldn’t... ” Kaeya stifles a yawn which he half-hides, embarrassed, behind one hand. “I couldn’t afford to take time off even if I wanted to…” His eyelashes flutter shut, his shoulders tensing up in trepidation as he gasps, jerking forward. “Hh! hiIIH... hiih... hh—IIISHHh’uu! hiihh’iIhTSSHHew!”

Sheepishly, Kaeya lifts the drink to his face, carefully enough that Diluc almost misses the wince when he swallows. Almost. His throat must be sore sore; it explains why he hasn’t been talking much.

“If Jean had a good look at you, I’m sure she’d send you home,” Diluc says. The look on Kaeya’s face, in response to that, is telling enough. “You’ve been avoiding her, then.”

“Jean has enough on her plate already.”

“So you have no reservations about lying to the Acting Grandmaster.”

Kaeya shrugs. “I didn’t lie to her. I simply neglected to inform her that I was unwell.” He trails off, blinking dazedly. “Hhih… hIIH’EZCHHuu! Snf… HIHH’IZCHh-uu!” Sevens above. Even his sneezes sound wrung-out, as if they’re using up the last reserves of the voice he’s about to lose.

Kaeya sighs, reaching for the bar napkins. “On second thought...” He swallows again, eyebrows drawing tighter. “Maybe wiping down the tables would be a good idea after all.”

“I was planning to, anyway,” Diluc says. Kaeya has always been dramatic. But if this is all some ridiculous ploy to get him to worry, it’s working. “It would be bad for business if you managed to infect all of my patrons.” Kaeya huffs a quiet laugh, which immediately turns into a particularly harsh coughing fit.

“Is it helping?” Diluc asks.

“What?” Kaeya’s voice breaks on the syllable, and Diluc falters.

“The drink. With your sore throat.”

“It’s working wonders,” Kaeya says, almost convincingly nonchalant, if not for the quietness with which it’s delivered. “I’m sure that by tomorrow, I’ll be good as new.”

He can’t seriously believe that. “Don’t tell me you actually intend on going to work.”

Kaeya tilts his head in question. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m feeling much better now.”

“You’re not.”

The smile on his face falters, gives way for something a little more honest. “You’re right,” Kaeya admits, after a pause. “I’m not. But it’s fine, you know. It’s just a cold. You don’t have to—” He stops again to cough, his shoulders shaking. “—be so worried.”

“Archons,” Diluc snaps. “I know. Stop talking.”

Kaeya opens his mouth—probably to protest, but Diluc cuts him off before he can speak.

“You’re losing your voice,” he points out, by way of explanation. “If you keep pushing yourself, you’ll postpone your recovery for days. How do you think Jean would like it if you ended up bedridden?”

There’s no response to that.

“If it is customary for a captain to work through illness, it’s no wonder that the Knights are always so terribly inefficient.”

Kaeya’s breath hitches, and he ducks voicelessly into his elbow, his eyelids fluttering shut. There’s a beat, and then—

“hHH’DSCHhh!”

...there’s that, too. Diluc crosses his arms. “Not to mention, if you are contagious...”

“I’m very careful,” Kaeya whispers, which is an irritating workaround to Diluc’s rule. But it doesn’t seem like it hurts his voice—what’s left of it, at least—so Diluc lets it slide. “You underestimate my abilities. It’s just—”

“A cold. I’m aware.” He turns aside, moving to pour the half-made Death After Noon into the sink. Kaeya, if anything, is a good liar. Even if Diluc somehow gets him to promise he won’t push himself too hard, Diluc doubts he’ll take it seriously.

It was easier, he thinks, when he’d been away for those three years, too distant and too caught up in Fatui affairs to care about Kaeya’s destructively selfish tendencies. Now they’re distant, less than acquaintances, but he sees Kaeya everywhere, and on days like this it feels almost cruel. It’s like they have some sort of mutual agreement to play strangers. Like caring too much would be overstepping.

“Just… don’t get worse,” he says resignedly. For once, Kaeya is silent behind him. When Diluc turns around to take his cup from him, Kaeya’s expression is unreadable.