#elfwrites

Discarding the red-spotted paper, you placed your hand under the adjacent drawer to open it. Panic set in, and he scrambled to push it back. The wood slammed shut with a loud thud. 

“What?” You turned to him, startled. “I’m just trying to get you a bandaid!”

“I don’t have any in there.” The lie slipped out easily. “It’s really fine, it’ll heal soon.”

You gave the drawer and his guarding hand a pointed look, silent skepticism spreading across your features. Then you shook your head firmly, stubborn as always. “I’ll just go grab mine.”

His eyes followed as you walked out of the study, hand only lowering once you were out of sight. That was a threateningly close call. Had you seen what was inside the drawer, everything he’d been planning would've gone up in flames.

Just to double check. He opened a gap wide enough for him to peek inside. The warm light spilled in, revealing a red velvet box sitting serenely atop other miscellaneous objects. He drummed his finger against the wooden board and, giving in to his uncertainty, pulled out the box. The ring was still inside– the band a pale silver, twirling up to enclose a sapphire that was catching light on all sides. 

He sighed and returned it into the drawer, slamming it into the dark.

He'd bought the ring for a good while now, just about long enough for it to collect dust. While the purchase had been done on a whim, he confessed that the possibility of marriage had been stuck in his head like a rowdy tenant unwilling to move out.

And of course, you were the one who'd given rise to the idea. He could still remember how you'd woken up that day, dazed still by sleep, and upon recognizing him, pulled away and buried your face into the pillow almost in annoyance. He'd been offended, but after some insistent pestering, you finally explained that you'd dreamt of marrying him.

"It was such a sweet dream, and you had to go ahead and ruin it!" You'd complained, looking off to the side with a stubborn frown, but it didn't take a pair of keen eyes to notice the way your ears burned. To make it up to you, he'd vowed to make it a reality one day. It might've been a light-hearted promise at that time, but it would soon bloom into a question that lodged itself into his heart, making it hard to breathe without first getting it out.

He owned exactly three white suits and had to put them all away, because every time he opened the closet and caught sight of them in his periphery, his mind would just go haywire. White suit, wedding, flowers, rings, vows, promise of a lifetime . He would never admit it, but the mere imagination he conjured in his head was enough to make him giddy. He would put an unhealthy amount of sugar in his tea just so the sweetness would taste realer, would run into doors while still donning a tooth-rotting smile.

Simeon was worried that he was sick, but if it really was an illness, he didn't want to get rid of it. Not when you were both the cause and the remedy.

It wasn't always pleasant though. Dreaming was the easy part, but when it came to taking actions, he was in a bind. He wished to make the proposal as memorable as possible, but he had no idea how to. Either he accidentally let the perfect moment pass by or the time and place just didn't work. The world seemed to be against him this time, throwing curveball after curveball on his quest to pop the question. The only thing preventing him from giving up was the unbudging certainty that, yes , he did want to marry you and live out the rest of your lives together. That was enough to keep him going.

At the nearing footsteps, he reluctantly pulled himself out of his thoughts. You came back with a pack of bandaids decorated with pink hearts. 

"What?" You chuckled at the appalment dimming his eyes. 

"Couldn't you have gotten the less cutesy ones?" 

"They were the only ones lying around."

You were obviously lying, but he bit his tongue once again, watching as you peeled the backing. 

"Your hand, please."

He complied. You tilted your head to get a better angle and placed the soft cotton on the cut, the skin surrounding which had started to bloom red. Then his eyes trailed up, and realization dawned on him.

The paper had grazed his ring finger, which shouldn't have been a big deal, but his heart still jumped out of his throat. Suddenly he was hyper aware of your hand working around the wound, wrapping the sticky surface around the base of his finger. You didn't do it very well, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he watched the hearts adhere to his skin.

One day, it would be just like this, except he would be the one holding your hand like it was glass, and instead of a band aid, it would be a ring. He could already see it happening before his eyes– your finger slipping into the ring of perfect size, the happiness blooming on your face, then your hands fitting perfectly together.

It was only when he felt your touch on his face that he snapped out of the images, feeling the smile etched on his face. Softly you asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"How dumb this bandaid looks."

"That’s not what your face says," you mirrored his smile. "At least wait a few days before you peel it off, okay?"

What the hell am I doing ? He turned to look at the ‘fiend’— a red teddy bear with elastic horns and a pretentious bowtie in indigo. It was nearly the size of Lucifer’s torso, its tummy round and full of soft cotton. 

This childish plushie was all the hype lately, sought after by children and adults alike. You were no exception, having been utterly enchanted by its adorable design created by corporations to encourage revenue.

He hadn’t thought much of it at first, seeing as it was quite possibly the least harmful-looking plushie to have ever existed. As a matter of fact, he’d been the one getting it for you. With only a pair of sunglasses as his insincere disguise, he’d competed with a sea of enthusiastic children on the first day of sale. Even after he’d snatched a bear, it still wasn’t easy bringing it home with all those chubby hands grabbing at him and short legs chasing after him for a good ten blocks. 

The moment he carried it home, Asmodeus started wailing dramatically about how he’d failed to get one for himself while Mammon not-so-subtly calculated how much he could earn by reselling it. Lucifer didn’t pay any attention to them though, as the surprise blooming on your face was a sight he could never get bored of.

Little did he know, it would be the start of his waking nightmare.

It happened right under his nose. He didn’t notice it at first— the way you dedicated a spot on your lap to it as you watched TV, or the way you lazed the night away leaning against it instead of spending time in his study. It was only when he began to see it sprawled out on the seat next to you as you worked, or occupying the space between the two of you, that he realized that you hadn’t been curling up next to him under the blanket for a few weeks now.

And it was all because of this damn bear with a pointed smile that was supposed to look cute. Now it just seemed to be mocking him. 

Lucifer had never felt anything so intense that he would call jealousy, but this was about the closest he would ever get to envying something else. And it wasn’t even a demon or a human or any other living being. It was just a bear plushie. Yet it was this innocent-looking toy that was slowly replacing him, stealing your cuddles that he’d regretfully taken for granted and taking his place at the receiving end of your affection.

His brows twitched just at the thought of it.

The door opened. You entered while scrolling on your phone, then without looking up at all, headed to the bed and started pulling the bear out from under his weight.

He refused to budge.

You pulled again. He persisted. Finally, you eyed him with a confused frown. “Excuse me?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. What was he trying now? Keep the bear from you so you would finally pay him some attention? It was the dumbest thing he’d ever done, but he supposed you had the unique power to drive him to such lengths.

“What?” He chose to feign ignorance.

“Can you move over? I need the bear,” you tugged at it, but in vain. 

“I don’t want to move. Just sleep without it tonight.”

“I can’t. I’ll probably lie awake for the whole night.”

He rolled his eyes and faced away from you. You’d never failed to fall asleep in his absence before. It was just another testimony of how you’d already forsaken him. How heartbreaking.

You didn’t miss the look of annoyance on his face. “Okay. What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing, because you are obviously brooding.”

The fact he had to spell it out for you was beyond ridiculous, but he also knew that you wouldn’t let it drop easily. He had to wring the words out of him, “I don’t like the bear.”

“You aren’t allergic to fur though, are you?” 

“Of course not.”

“Right. Why don’t you like him then?” There was genuine confusion in your voice, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were forcing him to say it out loud.

“I just don’t think you have to bring it everywhere you go. Especially not in bed.”

“But plushies are made to be hugged in bed, Lucifer!” You shoved your head into his periphery, smiling with the slightest curl of your lips. But when you saw the irritation preservering on his face, you hesitated. “Wait. Don’t tell me—“

He gulped.

“—You want the plushie too?” You gasped. “You could’ve just told me! I know he’s fluffy and all, but I wasn’t expecting you to fall for it as well. Just say the word next time you want to cuddle with it, I don’t mind-“

“Dear,” he cut in. “It’s not the bear that I want.”

“Then what exactly is it? You don’t have an allergy, you don’t want me going around hugging it, but you don’t want it either-“ your hands stilled, the three counting fingers hovering in the air as your eyes darted towards him. Silence hung in the air, heavy and tense.

“…Lucifer?”

He hummed, the frown on his face so deep that it would probably leave a permanent imprint.

“Are you jealous of the demon bear plushie that you got me?”

He didn’t need to answer. The slight pout on his lips was already enough of a telltale sign. He glared as giggles escaped you at his expense, the humiliation making his skin crawl so much that he wanted to tear through it.

After your laughter finally died down, you climbed into the vacant space next to him and lay on your side. There was a hint of mischief as you spoke, “I can’t believe you are actually salty about a plushie.”

“I know it’s ridiculous, you don’t have to shove it in my face.” 

“I find it more cute than ridiculous, actually.”

“You do realize that’s worse right?”

“Not to me,” you draped your arm across his chest, and though he was still adamant that his scowl stayed on, his arm found purchase on your waist instinctively. "You know, next time you crave cuddles, you can just ask–"

He decided to interrupt you again, this time with a kiss abrupt enough to leave you breathless. It wasn't just so that you would stop teasing his already sulking pride, but also to make sure you wouldn't notice the way the tips of his ears burned with embarrassment. 

It hadn't even been that long since he'd had you in his arms, but to him it felt like decades had already passed since you'd last given him your full attention like this-- arms looped around his neck, faces close enough that whenever your nose bumped into his, you would smile into the kiss while suppressing a few giggles. 

He could never say this out loud, but he'd missed this. And it was all because of that stupid bear– one that was still being squashed under his weight. Groaning slightly, he shoved his arm behind him and flung the plush somewhere onto the ground. You gasped and craned your head backward, a complaint already forming. 

“love, why do you keep calling me that?” he came up from behind as you moved the flowers into a vase, snaking his arms around you.

“calling you what?” you frowned.

he grumbled, “bro. you say it so often that i’m starting to question our relationship.”

he’s joking, of course, but it’s undeniably been a problem for him.

turning to face him, you had on an incredulous smile which made him feel like a pouty kid complaining about the most trivial things.

“you know it doesn’t mean anything, right? it’s just something i say mindlessly.”

“yes, i know…” he groaned, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “but can’t you call me something else? love, darling, babe, dear, sugar cube-”

“sugar cube??”

“-jam on a toast, fluffy blanket, delicious fruity skewers-”

you snickered, patting his back. “okay, okay, i got it. i will try to refrain from calling you bro.”

if he catches you slipping in the future, he’s probably going to be extra annoying about it

diluc

diluc didn’t care… he really didn’t … but unfortunately, his brother did

it happened when you were visiting the tavern to give him a little energy boost. before you left, you gave him a brief kiss and bid him goodbye while calling him bro

he sighed a little, no stranger to hearing that, but as soon as you walked out of the door, kaeya leaned forward with an amused look. “did you just get bro-zoned? i thought you’d been dating for the past year.”

“we have.” he snapped. “it’s just… something they like to say, that’s all.”

“so you don’t mind?”

“no.” he lied. it didn’t fool anyone, but at least kaeya knew not to further provoke him.

that night, his thoughts couldn’t help but come back to this quirk of yours from time to time.

he knew you loved him, and vice versa, but it would be really nice if you could call him something more intimate instead of the same endearment you used for kaeya, charles, jean, lisa, venti, and basically everyone else in mondstadt

you were already in bed by the time he came home, though not quite sleepy yet. he climbed under the blanket next to you, the mattress sinking under his weight. it was an instinct, the way you rolled over and threw your arm around him.

he cleared his throat. “hey, darling?”

your voice came in the dark. “yes?”

“you know the thing you do, where you call me bro?”

“mmhm.”

“i was thinking… do you maybe want to try something new?”

silence. the ceiling stared back at him as he gulped. a beat later, you pulled back a little to stare at his face, shielded by the night. “like what?”

“like the usual names couples call each other?”

you started to feel worried. “wait, does me calling you bro make you feel weird?”

he scrambled to explain that no, it didn’t, okay maybe just a little, but mostly he just wanted to switch things up and to rip off that grin on kaeya’s face. after he finished, you let out a laugh through your nose and leaned back against him.

“alright, i get it. i will make sure to call you something sweeter, love.”

thank goodness that the lights were off, or else you would’ve seen the way his face turned into the color of his hair.

thoma

thoma had been crushing on you for as long as he could remember, but he was never sure whether you felt the same.

why, you might ask? here’s a demonstration of your interaction:

thoma had this habit of bringing you lunch if he knew that he would be passing by your workplace that day, and today was no exception. he had packed a bento box that was guaranteed to give you enough energy to last a whole day.

due to his frequent visits, he also got teased by your colleagues a lot. a few of them even knew that he had a massive crush on you, but he managed to persuade them to keep it a secret.

“thoma, here to deliver lunch again? how i wish i had someone who loved me as much as you-”

“haha, yea!” he cut them off nervously, just in case you could hear their conversation.

“look, you’re a good guy, and i’m sure they think so too,” they gestured at where you were working. “as a matter of fact, i think they like you too! just pay a little more attention, and maybe you’ll see it.”

although he only agreed out of courtesy, their words haunted him as he approached you. your face lit up at his presence and he could feel his heart dashing around like a wild creature.

“working hard, i see.” he rested his hand on the back of your seat.

“as usual,” you replied, unwrapping the lunch. “oh my god, octopus sausages! have i mentioned how much i loved you--”

his thoughts screeched to a halt.

“—bro?”

when ayaka spotted him later that day, she almost thought he was going to fall over with how pale his face looked.

“i’m fine, my lady… just heart-broken, that’s all.”

at this point ayaka was starting to get frustrated for him. all these years of pining and you still hadn’t got together? outrageous.

when you came knocking on his door that night, he was puzzled at first, but then you started apologizing profoundly about confusing him and giving the wrong signals, and he knew immediately what this was about

“i do like you, thoma… and not in a bro-way.”

you had no idea how happy that made him.

yoimiya

when yoimiya realized that you liked to call her bro, she thought wholeheartedly that it was what you’d like to be called too, thus began the mystery that rumors that surrounded the queen of summer on narukami island and her faithful best friend

those who liked to speculate about your relationship were usually divided into two sides: those who believed that you were just really good buddies, and the ones that claimed you were dating

“they have got to be friends. i mean, who calls their lover bro? that’s what i call my childhood best friend!”

“maybe you should review your relationship with your so called childhood best friend then,” another person said. “look, i caught them holding hands the other day. it has to be romantic.”

“i hold hands with my childhood best friend too!”

“well then maybe you’re just in love with them!”

words spread like wildfire around inazuma. as soon as you caught wind of the discussions about you two, you shared them with yoimiya. soon it became one of your favorite inside jokes. every time people presented new arguments, you shared them with each other and had some good laughs over them

in reality, the truth was really obvious. if only they were aware of the way you looked at each other, the fact that you were always together like a package deal, and the matching rings that adorned your fingers, these rumors wouldn’t even have started in the first place

needless to say, as soon as you were seen kissing each other goodbye in public, everyone erupted into chaos— congratulations, ‘i knew it’s, etc etc.

You recalled in the back of your head how this was supposed to be a relaxing evening. You’d just spent the early afternoon in the laboratory helping Sucrose brew potions after potions, and your brain could’ve really used some loosening up. Turned out luck wasn’t on your side at all, for the moment you entered the tavern, the familiar face of Kaeya Alberich turned to you. There went your chances of getting a peaceful night.

Diluc happened to be absent today, off somewhere making deals with merchants. That’s the only reason why the two of you were even allowed to have a drinking contest in the first place, because god knows he’d kick you out before you could even start. 

However, this wasn’t a rare occurrence at all. Kaeya never missed an opportunity to drag you into contests that would surely result in a head-splitting hangover the following day. And you weren’t any better. All it took was a bit taunting for you to accept his declaration of war, like a moth to fire.

“Wre- wrestle.” You demanded, throwing your elbow onto the table. Unfazed, Kaeya clasped your hand tightly and— BAM , your knuckles hit the wood. More cheering.

“Fuck,” you murmured before drinking another shot.

Next to you were Venti (out for the count) and Rosaria (refused to participate in your ‘stupid game’). The latter had the heart to give your back a soothing pat as you suppressed the lump in your chest.

“Can one of you just give up? This is taking forever.” She said flatly.

“Sure,”

“No.”

You glared at Kaeya and his permanent shit-eating grin, “I’m gonna win this once and for all. I will ob… oble- ugh,”

“Obliterate?” Bruce suggested, having come down from upstairs for the show.

“Yea, that.” Your words came like waves, blurred and overlapping. “I’m the greatest wine-bubble in town.”

“Winebibber,” Rosaria said.

“Winebibble,” you nodded.

With an amused smirk Kaeya bowed his head to the side to get a good look at you. His hair, tousled after having his hands run through it for umpteen times, cascaded down like someone had just knocked over a cupful of night sky. “You’re tipsy already.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “I’m not. It’s your turn, asshole.”

The night dragged out, and another bottle was emptied. Charles watched from behind the bar, eyes grim with horror as you lined up the newly-filled tumblers in a horizontal line. You threw your satchel somewhere empty on the table, and the content flooded out. They were mostly miscellaneous samples Sucrose had given you as gifts of gratitude. You ignored the vials rolling around.

“Next one,” you sandwiched your face between your palms to keep it from spinning. By now his cape was already nowhere to be seen. “Blink and you lose.”

He scoffed. “You’ve never won before.”

“Try me.”

You narrowed your eyes in concentration, staring dead into Kaeya’s unmoving one. The air was thick with anticipation, all around you were heavy indrawn breaths as the crowd looked back and forth between you two.

After a tense beat where nothing moved, your mind started to wander. Lunch, bladework, dandelion seeds. Then you reckoned that, if you were to close your eyes, you could probably conjure an image of him that’s correct down to the very detail. You almost attempted right there until you remembered that you were in a staring contest. Perhaps you really were drunk.

A skilled reader of your expressions, Kaeya curled his lips when he realized that you were slipping away. Not only that, your lids were also fluttering, eyes begging for moisture.

Meanwhile Kaeya looked as unbothered as ever. Maybe he’d already blinked, you were just too drunk to notice it.

Moments before your body gave in, you gritted your teeth and kicked him under the table. It hit him right in the shin, and he doubled over in pain. His eye shut as he winced loudly. The crowd made a sound of mild surprise.

“You lost.”

“No, you cheated!” he said incredulously. He must’ve been so displeased, because as soon as his voice dropped, he split into two images. No matter how hard you blinked, he wouldn’t merge back into a singular Kaeya.

“I don’t care. There’s no rue- rule stating that I can’t disturb my opponent. Drink up,” you said, but your words sounded miles away. “Ah, ah, ah,” you made some random noises to make sure you were hearing correctly.

He looked like he still had a lot to say, but instead he clicked his tongue, snatched a glass and emptied it. You were still wondering about why there were two of him when he clicked his tongue. “What’s this? Tastes weird,”

Through the dizziness, you could still make out the color of the remaining liquid. Your heart sagged. Sweat gathered under your nose. “What d’you drink?”

“Something weird,” he repeated. “Ugh, it’s so sweet. Tastes like a…like a cloying love song,” whatever the hell that meant. “Why’s it pink?”

“Oh, hell no,” Rosaria muttered under her breath. You looked back and forth between the frowning man and the vial, the cogwheels in your head spinning and spinning and spinning until you realized what he’d just put inside his body.

You saw your bewildered reflection in Kaeya’s eye. The words formed in your throat but died on your tongue. You could tell the exact moment the potion took root.

He burped.

And then you passed out.

—

From the comfort of your slumber you were awakened by persistent knocks on the door. This morning, your body seemed hellbent on chastising you for the reckless intake of alcohol. Your head was screaming with murderous intent, and your throat felt like a desert that hadn't been touched by a single drop of water for eons. The ache in your limbs had you wonder whether you’d run through all of Mondstadt in your drunken state.

You lay unmoving in the position you'd woken up in, and contemplated staying like this forever. The sun was in your eyes, but the will to move had long left you. Events from last night eluded you. Trying to recall drunken memories was like looking for a seashell in a raging storm.

Another series of knocking. You promptly rolled out of the bed, the collision sending another wave of pain.

Death would be merciful in comparison.

Lisa was standing on the other side of the door, a basket hanging from her elbow. The sweet aroma of fresh bread enveloped you. “Mornin’, are you here to relieve me of my suffering?”

“As always,” she walked past with familiarity. “I heard about what happened last night.”

“Great, because I don’t remember a second of it,” you sat down at the dining table, watching her present the food in front of you. “All I know is that it’s probably that icy bastard’s fault.”

“If it’s any consolation, Kaeya called in sick today. You should probably do the same, because you look like you’ve been through hell and back,” Lisa pushed the toast toward you. The golden crust, the glorious sunny side up, and fresh jam stared back at you. A knot rose in your throat. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I actually did.” You turned away from the food. Perhaps your appetite would return a moment later. “Thank you for coming, by the way. Can you grab me the hangover cure?”

“You mean that large jar of suspicious brown substances?”

“Say what you want, but it works like a charm every time.”

The cure had been a recipe passed down from your ancestors. Evidently they were not exempt from the alcohol-loving nature of Mondstadters. 

Despite the strain on your back, you leaned in to get a peek inside the basket Lisa had been holding. Inside was another serving of toast. 

“Who’s the other toast for?” You asked.

“Make a guess?” She said from the kitchen.

Frankly, you’d known the answer before asking. “So you didn’t come especially for me after all? I’m hurt,”

Her airy chuckle echoed through the house. “Truth to be told, I was told by Jean to pay you two a visit. She knows how much you two like to torture yourselves for some childish glory.”

Your face scrunched up. “She’s not mad, is she?”

“Of course not,” she returned with a cup of ‘suspicious brown substance’ and pushed your bag out of the way. Her eyes caught on a piece of note. “What’s this?”

You grabbed the paper and squinted. Every word you read was a stab at your throbbing head.

you fucked up. big time. — Rosaria

“What’s that about?” Lisa chuckled. “Would you mind if I brought some of this cure for Kaeya?”

A mindless nod was all you could muster as you reread Rosaria’s note. The memory flooded up to you, albeit backward— her carrying your home, the slumping forward, the moment of astonishment shared between you and Kaeya, the drained vial…

“Oh no,” you shot up from your seat and snatched yesterday’s satchel, rummaging through the chaos inside. “Oh, no, no, no, please —“

Sucrose’s samples came clattering out one by one until you found, to your horror, a vacant one. 

Now Kaeya having drunk this specific concoction shouldn’t be a big deal. At least it wouldn’t kill him, Sucrose would never make something like that. In fact, these were mostly mild and experimental funsies, from truth potion to juice that makes you sound like a frog. But the reality wasn’t really better.

“What’s wrong?”

Your shoulders dropped. “Kaeya drank it. It’s a love potion.”

“Oh my,” Lisa’s hand hovered in front of her open jaw. 

“And considering its method of activation, I was the first person he made eye contact with.”

“…Which means he’s going to be head over heels for you?”

The broken wail you let loose could be heard from streets away.

“Okay,” you managed to calm yourself down before your neighbors could come and complain. “It’s not that bad. It might not even have worked, it was experimental after all. In fact it’s a favorable outcome, because now I can tell Sucrose whether her formula works,”

“Uh-huh,” Lisa cocked her eyebrow, not a bit convinced. “Are you going to tell him though?”

Your bravado faded as quickly as it’d come. “I don’t know. I don’t want to think right now.”

Tense silence draped over the room. Your head ran wild with tangled thoughts, most of which were imaginations of a very out of character Kaeya. All were enough to induce psychological horror.

“Alright, well…” Lisa tapped her finger against the table. “Since you don’t know for sure that it worked, maybe we should first confirm. When you see him again, look for signs he’s interested in you. I’ll help you out later, but I doubt I’ll get anything out of him,”

You nodded, temporarily incapable of giving a more animated response. 

“When are you going to see him?” She asked.

“Like tomorrow? We have a… we have to check out an area around Springvale. Stupid slimes have been going rampant lately.” The two of you as a team was nothing out of the norm. At the end of the day, you were still his second in command, as much as you hated to admit.

“Perfect. So when you’re out saving Mondstadt from perils, you can do some observations of your own. Just to let Sucrose know the effectiveness of her potion, of course,” she winked. “And if the potion really did work, you can just ask her for an antidote when you come back. Sounds good?”

In a lack of an alternative, you bobbed your head in agreement. Lisa shifted to ruffle your bed hair with a meaningful smile. Had you not been all up in your head, you might’ve even caught a hint of amusement in it. 

“Then I’ll leave you to it. I still have a drugged captain to visit after all.” 

Lisa excused herself and left you to ponder. The toast stared back at you, lonely and untouched. Once again your brain overheated from all the thinking, so you opted to take the cure and head back to bed instead.

—

If anyone were to ask about the origin of your rivalry, you would have to go way back to the first time you met each other, and without surprise, it was at the tavern.

Growing up, you had been known as nothing short of ambitious. Having had your vision bestowed upon you by the fair-minded hydro archon at the tender age of seven, there was only one noble aspiration you held: to become a knight of favonius. And surely enough, you were recruited during your fleeting adolescence.

As a new member, you made it your mission to get to know each and every knight. There was Godwin, who seemed to be so lovesick for Glory that he had no control over the words of love that spilled out of his mouth. There were also delightful minds like Jean, whose unerring determination sometimes put your own to shame.

As for the knights you couldn’t meet during the day, you decided that the tavern would be the optimal place for chance encounters. The smell of alcohol hit you the moment you stepped foot inside, chatters and laughter stacked upon each other. You gave Charles an acknowledging nod before looking around.

Here was your first impression of Kaeya Alberich: marked and distinctive. With his fancy outfit (an eyepatch? Fur collar? Why was the chest window even there?) and the sure way in which he carried himself, he stood out like a delicately-cut lapis in the crowd of sandstone. 

Even amidst the drunken hollers and chortles, his voice, smooth as silk, drew you closer. You cleared your throat behind him, and he whipped his head around—

His flowing hair hit you square in the face.

You shut your eyes, smiling solely out of courtesy.

“Oh, how terrible of me. I’m afraid I’m a bit tipsy,” his gaze focused on you. “Have we met before or am I just exceptionally fortunate tonight?” 

Second impression: a smooth talker, and an overly confident one at that. His voice was akin to waves lapping at the shore, gentle, but cold. Had the wind not been in his favor and carried it everywhere it went, you might’ve missed his words. 

“We’ve met, though we never introduced ourselves. I’m one of the newly recruited knights.” You gave your name.

“Kaeya Alberich. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He held out his gloved hand, a courteous gesture, and you shook it. “Which company are you under?”

“Calvary,” your voice was coated with pride you couldn’t suppress. “I hope to be captain one day.”

Something close to recognition dawned on Kaeya’s face. A few knights who had been listening in nodded meaningfully. It seemed that the term ‘calvary captain’ carried some sort of meaning to them.

At that time, the role of captain had been vacant long enough that people were starting to speculate about what might have caused the delay in a new assignment. You knew that the previous captain was Diluc Ragnvindr, born into noble status. You also knew that he was Kaeya’s brother. Other knowledge you held of him were all rumors and hearsays. 

His sudden withdrawal from the post had been one that shocked the city, but compared to the news of him leaving Mondstadt altogether, it caused mere ripples.

Regardless, the position was empty, and you had your sight set on it. 

“Captain, huh?” Kaeya pressed his lips to the side, long finger tapping the edge of the bar as the gears in his head turned. “To become one, you must possess the strongest will and the utmost loyalty. Not to mention outstanding combat skills and work efficiency. You sure you’re up for it?”

Your brows twitched, a barely concealed frown. “Sure I do. I’ve been training my whole life for this.”

“Your determination is admirable,” another knight said. “But I think the Grand Master already has a pick.”

Following his line of gaze, you realized that he was referring to Kaeya. 

“Nothing is set in stone yet, but it'd be nice to have competition; makes it all the more satisfying when I crush you." There was an attempt to give a wink, but due to his eyepatch, it just looked like he was blinking aggressively.

To define it as a declaration of war might be an exaggeration, but at that moment, his words inflamed a torch deep inside you. 

Following your initial meeting, the need to prove yourself would become your motivation for the next few months. After all, you would be nothing if not the best. During training, you often found yourself pitting against each other while others spectated with curiosity. You had your fair amount of wins, but they were always outnumbered by your losses. 

It stung to admit, but Kaeya was a force to be reckoned with. His swordsmanship and agility worked hand in hand to corner you until you were staring at the end of his blade. His movements were elegantly choreographed, and he dodged your offenses with such swiftness that he was able to leave snarky remarks in between.

In one match, you managed to parry his blow and force the sword out of his grip. Taking advantage of his moment of shock, you pushed him back onto the parched ground. But even with him pinned to the ground with your elbow and your knees caging his middle, to assume your victory and let your attention waver would be an amateur mistake. Until someone from the watching group announced the winner, you refused to take your eyes off him.

"This is quite the position." He said, and you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore his lopsided smirk, but it was hard to ignore something when you were staring directly at it. You definitely weren't fooling anyone with the way your attention darted around in a frenzy. 

"I like you so much better when you're not talking," you mustered as much strength as possible as you spoke those words, but archons — your mind wavered— the way his hair spilled out on the ground like waves and the way his chest heaved with every breath he took were nothing short of distracting.

Focus, focus, focus.

"So you do like me?"

"Dream on."

He moved his head to the side to squint at you, revealing the soft flesh of his neck. With an audible gulp you pushed yourself off of him, patting the dust from your clothes. 

Amateur mistake. You let out a short-living gasp as you were literally swept off your feet, your rear taking the blunt as you landed. The sun glaring at you when you opened them, and you had once again lost.

"Alberich, twenty. Y/N, thirteen." Miles announced. Kaeya bowed flamboyantly to the clapping crowd and turned to offer you a helping hand.

All the training and you got sidetracked by trivial things. You ignored his outstretched palm and hoisted yourself up.

Perhaps that was why you could've never been captain.

The day Varka called for the both of you, autumn was in the air, and so the breeze carried forth fragrances of flowers as you marched towards his office. The excitement in your chest dwindled when you saw Kaeya standing outside, staring down at the floor in deep thought.

Hearing your footsteps, he raised his head and cracked a smile. "So the Grand Master asked for you too. I wonder what this is about."

He was just teasing, of course. Both of you knew what this was about. Taking up the spot beside him, you could feel your heart beating in your ears. 

An hour or two later, the two of you emerged from his room, and were immediately surrounded by clamoring knights. Kaeya waved at them dismissively with a breath of lightness in his voice as you pushed your way through the crowd.

If you'd had to listen to his voice for a second longer, you would've let the anger crawling under your skin break free. Cavalry Captain , the words rang true and clear in your head. And the second in command . 

Your head pounded with fury as you sank onto the floor, fists so tight that your nails were digging into your skin. Atop you, the birds chirped and danced around each other, not a care in this world.

Here's a secret your pride would never let you know. In those moments of pure redness, your anger was neither directed at Kaeya nor the Grand Master. It was disappointment mixed with infuriation rumbling inside you, because you knew exactly who was to blame. You'd never been angry at Kaeya for being better, you were angry at yourself for not being enough. 

At the celebration feast, Kaeya managed to slip into the vacant seat next to you, a glass of wine in hand. You pointedly ignored his presence, but he paid no mind, instead opting to sit in silence. It was you who finally gave in. "What do you need?"

"Why so cold?" He propped his head up on his fist, observing. Beats of stillness passed with decades packed in each of them. Then he said in a matter-of-factly tone, "You're upset."

You'd always been an open book— or perhaps he was just a fast reader.

"Thank you for noticing," you grumbled. "Enjoying the party?"

"It's also yours, you know?" He dodged your question. "It's uncommon for a captain to have a second in command. Varka must’ve seen something in you that couldn't be wasted."

"Something, sure, but not enough."

He didn't say anything to that. For the first time after the conferment, you took a good look at him. While there was mirth smeared across his face, especially prominent in the corners of his lips, his eye was as pensive as a blackhole hoarding thousands of secrets. He didn't look half as happy as you would've expected him to be.

"I bet you knew all along. To be honest, even I myself was not surprised," you began, testing the water. 

"I had my speculations," he chuckled. "Funnily enough, I was still taken aback when I heard the news. Kaeya Alberich, you have proved your competence on numerous occasions, and so it is my greatest pleasure to bestow on you the title of Cavalry Captain ." His imitation of Varka was spot on, down to the very gasp he would take before each sentence he said. It made you wonder just how observant he was.

Once again, something you lacked.

"Perhaps I was taken aback because I didn't really want to be captain." He said. You waited for more, but it never came. 

"Why?" You insisted. It ached seeing someone dismiss the very thing you'd been wanting your whole life.

"...Who knows?" The ghost of the truth dimmed his eye, and then he was back to beaming again. "Do enjoy this evening, my dearest second in command. After all, it's not everyday you get a promotion."

The Kaeya that had just talked to you was a shell of memory now. Moments like that, when he let his vulnerable side show, were always too fleeting for you to hold on to. With an offended expression, you watched him return to the people, once again radiant. If anyone else had been around to hear his words, they would've thought him considerate, but you knew that it was his way of mocking you.

Why he didn't seem at all elevated escaped you– there was too little for you to work with. Yet for some reason, you had a hunch that it had something to do with the previous captain. Diluc Ragnvindr, his brother in another land.

Your pondering was interrupted by a clap of hands and the hushes that befell the participants. Kaeya had somehow gotten himself a stool and was standing tall. "I suppose it's only fair that I say a few words?"

A weaver of words, he satisfied his audience with ease. From a distance, you made a show of rolling your eyes skyward, bitter. Always so dramatic and conceited .

"...and of course, I have to thank my fellow colleagues, who have been absolute joys to drink with," a few of them chuckled. "But most of all I have to thank our lovely Y/N—"

The sudden mention of your name almost had you choking on air. You glared at him, flabbergasted and irked by the fact that he was forcing you under the spotlight when all you wanted was to wallow in your own failure. "--who has time after time pushed me to become the best version of myself. Without them, I doubt I'd even be standing here."

His gaze bore into you, arrogant. Patronizing, even. "With you as my subordinate , I dare say there'll be nothing I cannot achieve as captain . A toast, everyone!"

The crowd turned to you with terrifying synchronization. With a strained smile pasted on your face, you nodded at them before downing your own drink. Soon the crowd returned to chit-chatting, but your eyes were still fixed on the captain. Your veins blazed with the desire to wipe that permanent sneer off his face, chagrin morphing into the comfortable disguise of distaste.

Years later, Rosaria would find herself a frequent listener of your retelling of your relationship. You would ramble for hours and hours on end, about how he was always driving you up the wall, about the time you almost pushed him off a cliff because he wouldn’t stop shoving in your face the fact that he cleared more hilichurl camps than you did. Rosaria might not care, but even through her nonchalance, she saw one thing clearly.

You spoke of distaste and detestation, yet it was apparent that the anger was a shield. More often than not, your opinions of Kaeya hinted at respect instead of genuine contempt. The person you were mad at was yourself. The anger stemmed from the shame you felt at being inadequate, which was so great that you could barely live with it. It was much easier to assign blame. So you did.

The funniest part was that Kaeya just played along. He had absolutely nothing against you, but once he’d learnt how to ruffle your feathers, he wouldn’t give it up. It was yet another mystery why he enjoyed teasing you so, but Rosaria wasn’t going to probe. She already knew more than enough.

In her eyes, Kaeya Alberich wasn’t that good of a pretender after all.

—

Outside the sun dappled through trees, and the streets buzzed with activity as the early merchants set up their stalls. Remnants from yesterday's hangover had long dispersed, courtesy of the infallible cure. 

It occured to you over breakfast that you had no idea what kind of signs you were looking for. Love was not a myth, that much you knew, but it was foreign. You could scarcely recall the last time you felt it, so how were you supposed to recognize it all of a sudden?

Your mind wandered to the lovebirds in town. Beatrice, whose obsession was crystal clear as she chatted Quinn up basically every day, though the latter couldn’t be more blind. Raymond, who would incessantly speak of his wife when he’s drunk. There’s always this tender look he reserved just for her. And then there’s Nimrod, who had been trying hard to treat his alcohol addiction for his wife.

These were all sweet people. But when you tried to imagine Kaeya being as lovesick, it was like trying to dress an adult in toddler-sized shirts. It didn’t fit him. The mere thoughts of it made you flush from embarrassment. Chances were you were going to die from cringe.

As much as you’d like to run from the problem, you had a job to finish. Every step you took toward the city gate, where you usually rendezvoused with Kaeya, was tentative. Your eyes darted around as you looked for signs of him, hoping that you would at least have some time to prepare yourself.

“Why are you sneaking about?” 

Your breath jolted. Every hair on your body jerked up.

“Very nice of you, Alberich.” You snapped, hand hovering above your racing heart. He gave a hum of a laugh as you calmed down.

(That was the first sign you missed— the way his eye lit up when he saw you from behind.)

Right, your secret objective. You scanned his face briefly. Nothing seemed out of place. He wasn’t giggling like a teenager experiencing romance for the first time, neither was he throwing himself at you like a clingy kid—

“So, dear partner,” he swung his arm around your shoulder. Your brain sputtered. “Are you ready for our little date?”

Well. Shit.

Panic took over your limbs. You jabbed your fingers at his side, and he curled away with a gasp. 

“Don’t make me punch you in the face when we’ve barely started. I still haven’t held you accountable for the pain you put me through yesterday.”

“Right, yesterday. Thank you for the cure, by the way. Still waiting for the recipe though,”

“Too bad I’m taking it to the grave.” The two of you marched out of the city. “Say… aside from the hangover, did you feel weird in any other way?”

Something indecipherable passed across his face. “No. Should I have?”

“Not at all,” you rushed to answer. 

He might’ve been a little touchy, but that didn’t automatically mean that the potion was behind it, and you were no stranger to his flirtations. If the teasing bore any genuine feelings at all, then he would’ve been in love with you since forever.

"If you're worried that I'm not in tip-top condition, you can rest assured. I'll protect you from any harm that may come your way, as usual." 

This was going to be a long day.

—

"I think we should do plan K," Kaeya said while you were making your way through the green plains.

"What plan K?"

"Kitty cat?"

It took you a few seconds to catch on to his meaning. "No." You refused curtly.

Unlike their owners, your visions worked in perfect harmony. There was no enemy you couldn't freeze with a slash of your respective swords. Still, you were only two people. When confronted by mobs of enemies, trapping one or two of them in suffocating ice couldn't really help. The key was to gather them so you could drench them all at once.

It was only one time– the group of hilichurls on the cliff was truly too overwhelming for you. Even hot-headed as you were, you still knew not to go out without a plan. In the heat of the moment, you decided that the best way to grab their attention was to pretend to be a cat. After all, who wouldn't respond to their mewls?

You could still recall vividly the look on Kaeya's face as you forced the sounds out of your throat– like something had cracked him open. Surprise smeared his countenance even long after he'd turned the enemies into a dense pack of ice statues. It was one of the few times you got him to be speechless, which was in itself an achievement, but considering the context, it only made you want to crawl into a burrow.

"I didn't know you had such a knack for imitating animals. Can you do Rishboland Tigers?" He'd said. You proceeded to throw him a few insults before tying up the loose ends of your job. 

You should've known that he wouldn't let it slide that easily. This was Kaeya you were talking about. When had he ever passed on a chance to make your skin crawl?

"Come on, it was so effective last time." He pressed.

"Do slimes even recognize cats?" 

"Sure,"

"Bullshit." You said, and that was final.

Soon the striking windmill came into view, a silent indicator of your destination. Most of the residents had left the village for work, and the remaining ones were mostly lounging around. 

A man with hair the color of autumn spotted you first. Light steps brought him closer, and soon he was standing before you. 

"I’m Allan. You're from the knights?" 

"The Cavalry Captain, in the flesh," Kaeya said with just a hint of pride. You barely held back your snort. “Where may the reported problem be?”

“Just down the road.” Allan pointed. “We would’ve taken care of them ourselves, but a lot of us have gone far to hunt and have not come back.”

“Noted,” you said. “How many slimes are there?”

“Twelve, give or take.”

Your eyes rounded. Twelve is quite a large number, even for limbless balls of elemental energy. Kaeya moved in and whispered, “Kitty cat?”

“Not a snowball’s chance in hell.” You hissed, hating the way he always managed to send chills down your spine when he spoke in proximity, even more so when his words were thick with meanings. You turned back to Allan. “Alright then, we’ll go take care of them.”

“Yea,” Allan nodded, a bit absent-minded. “While you’re at it, can you look for Myweiss? Short hair, probably with a lyre. She went out this morning and hasn’t been back since.”

His words had a certain ominousness to them, though as a knight you still had to maintain a mask of nonchalance lest you reinforce his worry. “We’ll look into that too.”

It was just as Allan had said. A few turns later you found the road blocked by a pack of pyro slimes. From where you were hiding behind a rock, they formed a circle, bouncing in sync and looking awfully like they were holding a ritual. A figure in the middle drew your eyes.

“Is that Myweiss?” Your hand found its way to the hilt of your sword, body inclining with the urge to strike. Warmth enveloped your knuckle, and you looked down to see Kaeya pushing you back down.

“Don’t be rash,” he said.

“But someone’s—”

“— in danger and as knights we have to save them, yes,” he stole the words right from your mouth. At your slightly astonished gape he winked, “I know you more than you think.”

…Well, friends pay attention to each other all the time. You didn’t even like him one bit, yet you were still familiar with his patterns, from silent body language to layered words. So this was not enough proof that he was under the influence of a love potion.

Kaeya proceeded to lay out his plan, which was really just charging in head-on, but you were too busy ruminating on his words to call him out. 

He sprang out first, flitting through the air weightlessly. The slimes jolted in recognition and fled toward him like magnets. You seized the opening to rescue the trembling woman who’d curled into a ball. She flinched away when you put your hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, you’re alright. We’re here to save you.”

She peeked out from behind her crossed elbows. Your attire must’ve given your identity away as she grasped your hand in relief.

“Duck!” 

Your body responded quicker to the shout than your brain could register it. Ice spikes shot through the air, impaling the slime hovering above you.

“A hand would be nice,” Kaeya said. 

“Why, can’t handle a few slimes?” You cooed. Whipping out your polished sword, you slipped into a comfortable spot behind him. One man might still be prone to blunders, but two could form an impenetrable defense. There wasn't a single way to lay a finger on you without being struck down by some frigid ferocity first, and in return you covered all the spots Kaeya's eye couldn't track. You knew each other's patterns like the back of your hands. You scythed your swords with such fluidity that you were like comets weaving through constellations– ruthless, unfaltering, yes, but never once did you collide into the other's trajectory. 

You made quick work of the slimes without breaking a sweat. The last one exploded as a final attempt at retaliation, and all's left was scorched grass and your stiff pants.

"You got quicker," Kaeya stated as you approached Myweiss again, picking up the broken lyre on the ground. 

"Thank you, good sir, your compliment means an awful lot to me," you playfully bowed before turning back to the bard. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"My… my ankle," she stuttered. You leaned forward and found her skin glaring with an angry burn. It wasn't severe, but it would probably require a few days to heal completely.

"We'll bring you back to Springvale," Kaeya offered his hand. Myweiss glanced at it before opting instead to loop her arm around your elbow, the action surprising you for a moment. The blue-haired captain had a comically puzzled frown on his face as you hoisted the lady up. You stuck your tongue out at him as you passed.

Allan jumped into action as soon as you came into view, taking her away to the village’s healer. As soon as you're alone, you tilted your head at Kaeya. "Seems like you've lost your charm."

"Or you got more alluring," he bent and wrapped himself around your arm, "Ah, I'm feeling a bit worn out from all the fighting. Mind if you carry me back to Mond, dear knight?"

"I'd rather leave you in the wild."

"Hurtful. Very hurtful," he feigned a pained expression. 

The sun swam overhead. By the time Myweiss had been fully bandaged, you'd already finished your quick lunch. She limped out with urgency, and broke into a smile when she realized that you hadn't left.

You, of course, failed to notice it as you walked up to her. "Feeling better?"

"Oh, a lot better. May I just add that you were phenomenal just now? I've never seen anyone fight as gracefully as you."

You flushed. "You're too kind. I was only doing my job."

"Well, consider it a job well done," she fidgeted a bit. "Say, do you have other business to attend to? Would you like to stay for a while? I can play you a song if you like– ah, nevermind, my lyre looks pretty worse for wear."

A break out here sounded pleasant enough, but you still had to report back to the headquarters. Before you could reply, Allan butted in despite the sharp glare Myweiss gave him. "Speaking of other business, I heard from others that there have been some treasure hoarders roaming around Dragonspine lately. Shouldn’t the knights do something about that too?"

"Certainly. I'll let the situation be known as soon as possible." Swiveling, you noticed Kaeya chatting with some other villagers with an easy curl of a grin. His eye was already on you when you regarded him, and he gave you a little wave.

Your hand was raised mid-air when Myweiss rapped, "That can wait, right? You should really stay. Perhaps I'll show you around, we've just had some fruitful harvests too." 

Even oblivious as you were, at this point you were starting to catch on to her desperation to keep you around. She reached out gingerly for your arm, lashes fluttering in a way that conveyed attraction. It was the first time in a while that you'd been hit on, and you found yourself at a loss of words.

"What's going on?" Kaeya must be addicted to putting his arm around your shoulder, though his presence made you somewhat more at ease. His eye traveled down to Myweiss' bandaged ankle. "You look better already."

"I could always use some assistance," she eyed you, begrudgingly withdrawing her hold.

"I'm sure Allan here is more than willing to provide it," he never wavered in his smile, but you couldn't help but note that it was the one that he used on people he didn't trust. His arm was also unusually tight around you, as if desperate to ensure that you wouldn't be snatched away.

Allan clicked his tongue. "Fine, whatever. Just go deal with the treasure hoarders as soon as possible, okay?"

"It's not like the knights are short on manpower, why can't you lounge around for some more?" Myweiss argued.

You sucked in a breath. "We aren't, but–" 

"But it'd be irresponsible to let the problem fester. In fact, my partner and I are going to eradicate it right away." Kaeya said.

"The enemies are on Dragonspine. We can't just charge in like this." You said.

"Why not? We've never failed a mission before."

"That's because we had prior preparations!"

"We can prepare on the way, or I'll just do all the work if you want."

After watching you two with enough intensity that the air crackled, Myweiss huffed in defeat. "Fine. Go do your job, I give up."

You offered to help her back, but she waved you off. "It's fine, I know I can't compete. Love is pointless after all. I should've known better than to hold out hope…"

Her words faded into the wind as you watched her leave with Allan, lips slightly ajar in confusion. Kaeya's arm slipped away, his warmth lingering on your skin like a ghost. "Let's go."

He really knew how to put his long legs to good use. You jogged to match his strides. "You mean to Dragonspine? Weren't you just making it up?"

"Why would I? It's just a mountain, nothing we can't handle."

There's an edge to his voice. It was like something grand had happened in the span of a second without your participation– Myweiss' abrupt drop in attitude, the lump in Kaeya's throat as he spoke. 

"Well, maybe hydro and cryo aren't the best combination when you're surrounded on all fours by snow."

Silence was all that greeted you.

Great.

There was another thing that bugged you– the way he put extra stress on his tongue when he said 'my partner'. While it wasn't unusual that he referred to you as such, he'd never named it with such sternness before. It was like he was trying to make an irrefutable point.

You'd heard the same tone somewhere else. Back when a foreigner had come to Mondstadt and unwittingly flirted with Quinn, Beatrice was all but fuming when she stepped in. That's my– my best friend, she'd said, ignoring the stuttering. It didn't take you long to put a name to the emotion smeared across her face. Jealousy.

"Were you jealous just now?" You let the words go, nevermind how ridiculous you sounded. Kaeya pursed his lips, as if considering, before exhaling sharply through his nose, "So what if I was?"

That was most expected. Of course he wouldn't answer you directly, only swerve around your question. 

"I was just trying to bail you out of that situation, that's all," he added, unprompted. "Though I can't deny that seeing someone being lovestruck before you put me down in the dumps for a bit. You know how much I adore you.”

You tried to fight off the weird tingling feeling in your stomach. His words had planted the root of something unnamable in you. It was not new– in fact you found yourself feeling it quite often when you were around him– but still considered a strange feeling.

Jealousy, a sure side effect of affection. The potion might’ve really kicked in then. Good news for Sucrose, but it was going to be a problem for you.

–

To pocket more time, you had to stray from the main road smoothed by feet that had come before. In short: less walking, more climbing up short cliffs and jagged rocks.

It must've taken you no less than two hours until you smelled frost in the air. The immenseness of the snow-capped mountain loomed before you as you entered the camp set nearby.

"Knights of Favonius," one of the people donning adventurers' attire greeted you. Iris, her name was. "Heading into Dragonspine at this hour?"

"We heard there've been some treasure hoarders in the vicinity lately, and our reliable captain here decided to nip them in the bud." You sprinkled your words with sarcasm.

"If you're really that afraid of the cold, I'm sure I can handle this alone."

You snorted, "Afraid? It seems that you're underestimating me."

"Well, uh," Iris dug through the pile of necessities laid out on the wooden bench. "We only have two overcoats here. Perhaps I can pack you some warm rum as well. Wait a sec,"

As she ran off to the chef, you examined the overcoats. They were huge even for Kaeya, and made out of wool. As warm as it seemed, it would probably restrict your movements as you mounted the sloped hills.

Still, it was better than freezing to death.

Something fluffy was draped around your shoulders. You turned and found your face buried in soft, white fur. Usually ostentatious, this ridiculous collar finally proved to be useful.

"I don't need it." You stated as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of the coat. It looked ridiculous on him. 

"Shh, just take it," he dismissed with half a heart. "What kind of partner would I be if I just let you turn into a frozen sculpture?"

"Are you saying you won't turn into one?"

"Of course not," he held up the remaining one and hugged the fabric around you, tugging it towards the middle. You glimpsed at him, the lower part of your face hidden behind the layers of fabric. The gesture warmed you more than the coat ever could.

Iris came back with the bottle, and off you ventured into the depth of the snow.

–

"Shouldn't there be torches nearby?" Kaeya mumbled, teeth clattering as he ran his hands up and down his arms. At this point, after eight refusals, you'd given up on putting the cape back on him.

The bottle of rum was effective, so much so that you already finished most of it. Every blow of the wind felt like spikes stabbing at your exposed skin, and snowflakes descended into your line of vision the further up you went. You tipped your head back and inhaled. A mistake. The cold invaded your airway and made you wheeze. You sought comfort in the fur again.

Dragonspine was not a place for wandering. All around you was plain white covering grey rocks. Even the knights would be hesitant to come to a place like this– devoid of life, harsh, unforgiving, a weapon forged by nature itself.

"Why aren’t you more resistant to the cold, cryo user?" You mumbled.

"If you threw Diluc into a fireplace, he'd still scream in pain."

"Touche,"

You pressed on doggedly. Naked branches and worn stones rolled past you. Finally, Kaeya sighted a glimmer of hope. It was a torch near the cliff, its branches stuck steadily into the snow. You both raced forward, only to realize that the fire had long gone out.

"It would be a good time to reveal your box of matches," he looked to you expectantly. You strained your mouth into a smile that said what do you think .

"This is pointless," you started pacing. "The sky is dimming, there's not a single sign of life within a ten miles radius, and we can't even light a dumb flame."

"Would you rather we head back?"

Your body screamed affirmative, but your determination was unflinching. You'd always despised giving up halfway, even in situations brought about by hands other than your own. Leaning forward to observe the gaping depth, you shook your head. "Let's… let's go a bit further. Ugh, what are the thieves even doing this far up–"

The moment you turned on your heels, the small piece of ground behind you gave way, crumbling into ashes. Your arms flung wildly in the air as you sought purchase, but the closest tree was already pulling away from you. 

Your breath suspended in your throat. Moments before you could feel the plummet, icy fingers grasped around your wrist and sent you lurching back to stable ground. Had your heart not been pumping at light speed, you would've noticed the shake in Kaeya's hand. You opened your eyes and found yourself pressed flush against him, like vines to a pillar. For the first time since you'd started walking the snow-covered paths, warmth enveloped you from head to toe.

"I know this circumstance is less than ideal, but did you really have to throw yourself off?" Kaeya forced a chuckle. His breaths were heavy, almost anxious, his cheeks raw and windblown.  "Or have you finally fallen for my charms?”

“What charms?” You faked confusion. “You’re not even my type,”

“Pshh, I’m the embodiment of your type,” he locked you even further into his hold, and blood rushed to your face.

After some shuffling, he hummed. “This is quite nice, don't you think? Works ten times better than this mess of a coat."

You kept your arms around him, not by will, but because every muscle in your body had been petrified by your closeness. If you were to cut your heart out and put it on the torch right now, it would probably blaze all night. 

“I… I suppose it’s not so bad.”

"Then let's stay close for a while." You could hear the satisfied smirk in his voice.

Your limbs relaxed with each passing second, fitting into him like you were two pieces of a shattered jade. Even under layers of covers, you could still feel the sinking and heaving of his chest, matching your own gradually. When he felt your hands grab at the fabric on his back, he moved to tug them inside his coat. If you felt the weight of his head atop yours, you didn’t mention it. He had always been warmer than his icy appearance would have people believe, and soon you found your energy recharged.

“We’d better get going,” it was you who decided to ruin the comfort. His head nudged against yours, a nod.

Neither of you moved. You had to count to three internally to peel yourself away, and even then you did not part until the very tip of your finger was too far away to linger on.

You didn’t find the tenderness rolling off him unfamiliar at all, contrary to what you’d believed in the morning. For a moment, you even felt a hint of sorrow knowing that it was all chemical reactions. You promptly ignored the weird ache behind your ribs. “Should we head up?”

“After you.”

As you braved the gales with revived strength, you had a hunch that the rest would go smoothly.

—

The road only grew narrower as you neared Skyfrost Nail. The cold had seeped into the gap of the wool again, and you resorted to walking side by side like twin popsicles. Soon, the torches you passed by were no longer bleak and vacant, but instead burning with newly-lit flames. Someone must be nearby.

Frigid fingers grazing your sheath, you pulled each other up broken steps until you found a boulder big enough to fit behind. Not too far away, the camp was set up on open ground with nary a disguise. It was almost like they were hoping to get caught. 

You counted six treasure hoarders, all armed, as they counted the valuables they’d managed to snatch from innocents today. As if dissatisfied, one of them threw a string of jewelry onto the ground.

“Think we could ambush them?” You suggested, turning back to Kaeya.

“Sure. Alternatively, you could distract them with Ki-”

“Oh my god. Give it up!”

“Over my dead body,” he said sheepishly. Shrugging off the heavy wool, he flexed his limbs, rigid from the cold, and stepped up. “Take the ones on the left.”

“Got it.”

As expected, the treasure hoarders were entirely unaware of your presence until Kaeya decided to give them a jumpscare by commenting on the poor quality of their loot from behind. Even then, they were no match against your quick strikes.

The remaining two were tougher, having had time to prepare, but lacking nonetheless. You dodged their clumsy arrows and harmless rocks, scythed the hilt of your sword onto one’s back, and he dropped with a loud thump.

Incapacitating them would be effortless, but it wouldn’t be very knightly to leave them to freeze up here. The standard procedure would be to teach them a lesson and chase them off, then record their information in the archive. Holding your sword before you, you inched closer toward the last enemy, face tight with warning.

His eyes darted between you and his affiliate who got the short end of the stick. Kaeya had been taunting the latter for the past few minutes, encouraging him to land a hit on him and then swerving away in the last second. Typical behavior. 

“Ugh, fuck it,” the man before you drew out a round device from his pocket. Your eyes rounded, brain screaming for action, but his thumb was faster as it pressed down.

Nothing happened. “What did you do?” You demanded.

“A reminder not to stick your nose into others’ business,” he smirked unnaturally, which fell when the ground rumbled. He grabbed his fallen comrades and scrambled away. Another quake came. Kaeya mirrored your look— confusion mixed with horror.

The next time the earth trembled, you realized it was not the earth at all. The thing you’d been standing on rose shakily. Kaeya darted forward to grab your arm before the two of you were thrown onto the ice-paved path, knocking the air out of you.

It was a ruin grader, bulkier than the usual machines scattered across the wilderness. Branches stuck out of its back like horns, and its four limbs were enhanced by an extra layer of metal. Its dull, lifeless eye scanned the both of you before a beam shot out, leaving a puddle of water and burned crisp between you.

“Since when do treasure hoarders know how to control ruin machines?” You yelled as you rolled away from the following beams, struggling onto your feet.

“Since today, apparently. What do you say we make this interesting?”

You already had a guess as to what he intended to propose. “Enlighten me,”

“First one to strike it dead in the eye wins.”

The murderous orb focused on you. An arm flung out. You barely dodged it. “And how shall the loser be punished?”

Kaeya sent an ice spike into its side, but it was in vain. “Pay for drinks for a month?”

“Deal.”

As though irritated by your lack of regard, the machine turned around and crouched, a telltale sign of the attack it was about to unleash. You ran for the spot behind a tree. The whole world shook as the missiles wrecked the land. Snapped branches and ravaged sunsettias tainted the carpet of snow.

As the machine turned its focus on Kaeya, you thrust your sword into the crack between its joints. Hydro swirled around the blade, threatening to drown the machine from the inside out, but it only sputtered a little before its leg reached up, hovering over you. You barely managed to get out of the way. The place you’d been standing just a second ago was now a dent.

“Think we could freeze this thing?” Kaeya shouted from the other side. It sprang into the air and created another cave in the ground. It was restless energy, programmed to only attack whatever was in sight.

“What makes you think I can drench this metal giant in water with just a sword?” You asked, once again dancing around its offenses. Though it was relentless, you still managed to notice a few weaknesses and swung your sword at them. But without destroying the core, obliterating this thing would take a dangerously long time.

“Alright, fine. I have an idea,” the wind brought his voice closer. “Distract it for a bit, will ya?”

“Just do it quickly!” It aimed its giant fist at you, and for a lack of time, you could only counter it with the flat of your sword. Reverberation spread from the point of impact to your hands, like vines overtaking a host. The force sent you flying into the snow, and you groaned at the pain exploding through your back. 

“Oh, come on!” You quickly got up as it prepared to throw up some missiles again. All the running had depleted your stamina, and your throat was as parched as sandpaper. Outside, the cold continued to slice its sharp blade at your ribs. You made a note never to come to Dragonspine again.

A figure behind the machine caught your eyes. Kaeya had managed to climb onto higher ground. With a huff, he pointed the tip of his steel at the machine beneath and leaped into a graceful arc, using the velocity of the fall to penetrate into the robot. The bright eye flickered, and its legs gave out.

All you could feel was your own panting and the light bruises burning all over your body. He crouched and landed in front of you with a flip. Surrounding you was a ruckus— everything shattered and coated with the juice of squashed sunsettias. It looked like a bloodbath.

“I won.” His mouth curled into a victorious sneer, but he had fatigue written all over him, from the pale lips to the slightly inclined posture. His left sleeve had been torn, and an angry wound opened its mouth greedily. Worry rose within you.

“We have to get it bandaged as soon as possible, come on.”

“Aw, are you worried about me, partner?”

You rolled your eyes at him. The sun had long drowned under the horizon, and the air was growing thin with each passing second. At night, Dragonspine would be even more unbearable. You had to leave as soon as possible.

Your lips parted, but then you paused. For a moment you almost thought you saw the grotesque blink of the cracked machine’s core, but it vanished just as abruptly as it’d come. It must’ve been your imagination—

It wasn’t. With its last dying force, it came alive with the intention to kill , kill , kill . It lifted its only unbroken arm, recharged, and swung it at the human who’d disabled it.

It was almost a reflex, the way you grabbed Kaeya’s arm and shoved him to the side. You didn’t even realize what you’d done until the fist came directly for you before the force of a meteorite had your body crashing into the side of the hill. 

The world slowed as Kaeya watched you fall limply to the ground. You were still, unmoving, quiet. His vision went white.

Tingling numbness possessed your body, then came the pain blossoming all over. A persistent ringing haunted your ear. You breathed and felt your ribs crack.

For a moment you thought you were going to die right there, but then the pain ceased amplifying, and the ringing began to subdue. You knew because you could hear Kaeya again, screaming the same words over and over again. It took a while to register them— your name in repeat, like a broken record.

“No, no no no no no,” he mumbled, a shaky hand reaching behind to hold your torso up. His other hand was pressed on the area below your aching ribcage. Once you felt strong enough, you lolled your head to the side to regard him.

“Just-just stay awake, okay?” His voice was strained with fear. You reached out to touch his hand, ignoring the brutal gash on your own. The side of your arm felt sticky. It could’ve been blood, you weren’t sure. You wanted to tell him you were fine, but your voice had been choked out of you the moment you were slammed.

His torso shifted, but his knees stayed grounded. Words spilled out of him like a waterfall, barely comprehensible. Meanwhile you were trying to make sense of why he was so on edge, because despite the injuries here and there, you didn’t feel like you were on the brink of death yet. 

That was until you looked down, wondering why he’d been exerting pressure on your stomach. Then you turned to the side and scanned the place you were lying on. There was red all over, on your clothes and on the ground, bright and sticky and… it didn’t make any sense. You hadn’t heard any tear in your flesh, nothing that could’ve made your blood spill.

“K-Kaeya—” 

“I’m sorry,”

You froze.

“Please, just- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have let it happen again, please- this can’t be real,” 

You’d seen him waver before, losing his footing during battles, donning shock while ambushed, face tight in face of a dilemma. But not like this. Not like the whole world was crumbling to ashes in his hands. His confidence, which was usually indivisible from him, had long vanished. In its place was terror. The horror in his eye was a living thing, gnawing at him. Possessing him. It twisted his face into a portrait of agony.

He had never acted like this before. Even then you knew that this image would be seared into your brain forever as a painful thread of memory. 

You loosened your hold on him and touched the ‘wound’ on your stomach. A press. Nothing. Gingerly you brought your wet hand to your face. It smelled sweet and fresh.

Smashed sunsettias. Their color was less deep than blood, and the texture was stickier. You’d mistaken it for your own life. The absurdity was almost hilarious.

“Kaeya,” you called again, but he wouldn’t face you. Flakes had collected at his lashes, and tears were threatening to break the dam. You put your hand to his cold cheek. Finally he looked at you through a haze. “I’m fine, this- this isn’t blood,”

“What?” He croaked, still as a statue. There was an attempt to collect himself when he gazed around. He did the same thing— feel the texture, the smell, albeit with a lot more hesitation.

Realization, acknowledgement, relief. Wave after wave of emotions sprayed across his tight features like a slideshow. When his brows finally let loose, you half expected him to scoff, or maybe crack a joke about the ludicrousness of it all, but instead he sank his head onto your shoulder and held you like a fragile statue. 

He was trembling, you figured, with the effort he took to control the tears. Your heart lurched, and you wrapped your arms around him within an instant.

You’d done it. You’d scared the cavalry captain to the point of crying. Yet every gasp that came was a stab to your guts. His back shook against your hands, and you had this terrible thought that he was about to shatter into thousands unretrievable pieces.

Time passed without a sound and eventually dried his tears. You stayed still, holding onto each other, clinging onto life. The air was filled with your 

“Archons,” he breathed, slowly beginning to build up that wall around him. When he pulled away it almost sucked all the warmth out of you. “That was- that was scary,” he placed hand on his chest. “Why did you do that?” He reprimanded.

“Oh, I don’t know, I just really wanted to get punched by a ruin grader,” you chuckled in an attempt to draw at least a smile out of him, but it only resulted in a pained wince. “I think my ribs are broken.”

“Yea, and your hand.” He jutted his jaw at the wound.

“Aside from that, I’m as good as new,” with his help you sat yourself up, taking breaths as slowly as possible. Remnants of that broken expression were still lingering on his face. Pinkness surrounded his eyes. “And you? Are you alright?”

He scoffed. “Of course I am. Come on, I’ll help you down.”

“Sure you can do it?”

He nodded and let you sling your arm around his neck. You were both shivering. From the chill or fear, you weren’t sure, but with you leaning your weight on him, you leeched the warmth off of each other, a reminder that you weren’t alone. 

As you limped back the way you came, you almost lost his words to the wind: Please don’t do that again , they said. Kaeya’s face was as unreadable as ever, but his tight clutch around you said more than enough.

—

The adventurers all but scrambled towards you when they saw the ghastly states you were in. It felt like burning when you sat near the bonfire to thaw the cold clinging onto you. You flexed your limbs once they’d been bandaged. None of the wounds were too serious, and your broken ribs would probably heal after a few restful days.

Yet the night was no longer young, and it would be unwise to set out when you could barely breathe without wincing, so you decided at last to stay till the following morning. An hour or two must've gone by with everyone fussing around you. It was only after a brief dinner that Kaeya managed to steal a moment with you after all the stolen glances from a distance.

"A mora for your thoughts?" He claimed the spot next to you, overlooking the tranquil river and the moon, swaying among the waves like a sunken piece of jade. Met with a lack of response, he continued, "Two moras? Ten? My whole life-saving?"

"That's not really an upgrade from ten moras, is it?"

"Sounds like you are underestimating my financial well-being." 

He was not without injuries. With his sleeve rolled up, you could see the thick layer of bandage wrapped around his arm. There were a few bandaids decorating his skin here and there, but what really gave his fatigue away was his bleary eye. 

Images of his torn expression resurfaced. “I feel like I should apologize.”

He reclined, gaze elsewhere. “What for?”

“For giving you such a scare with that sunsettia stunt,” you waved at the stubborn stains on your clothes. 

“It won’t be that easy for your apology to be accepted.” He quirked his brow. “I’m going to need something more sincere.”

“Don’t tell me you want me to cover your drinking expenses for two months.”

“Tempting, but no,” his airy chuckle filled the air. “I just want you to answer this mystery that’s been plaguing me.”

You sighed and nodded.

“Why did you jump in to save me? You know what it could have cost.”

There were mysteries in life that just had no answers, and you were sure this was one of them. It was more of an instinct than an act of reason. The image of the metal fist coming down on him had planted a fear enormous enough that it’d swallowed your senses.

At last, you settled on: “I’m a knight. Saving people is kind of my job.”

“Yes, but aren’t we supposed to be rivals? Competitors? Something like that?”

“We are ,” you rushed to answer, though the word rang hollow in your head. “That doesn’t mean I have to watch you die.”

“It’s kind of hard to believe that when you seize every chance to make your loathing be known-”

“I don’t loathe you. You’re being dramatic”

“Right. We just don’t really see eye to eye.”

Your face tightened. There was a significant beat of silence where you could feel his eye burning holes on your back. 

The next time he spoke, his voice sounded almost foreign. “I don’t hate you, in case you think I do.”

“Then why do you keep getting on my nerves?” 

He shifted, huffing a little when he had to strain his injured arm to push his body up. You anticipated the possible answers: because it’s fun, because it’s entertaining, and just a tad bit cute. Because it fed his ego.

“Because I want to keep you around, and annoying you seems to be the key,”

You looked for the usual mischief on his face, anything to prove that he was joking, but to no avail.

“And… if I have to be absolutely honest, I quite like you.” The words rolled out of him like waves, descending into the river. Your mouth ran dry. Something was restricting your airway, and it wasn’t your broken bones. Not even in the most peculiar dreams would you have imagined him saying those words to you. 

But it was just the potion at work here, wasn’t it?

“You sure do an awful job of showing it.”

“You’re just awful at noticing it.” 

“Fine,” you scooted towards him pointedly. “Prove it then. Tell me just one thing you like about me.”

“That’ll be easy,” he said, tapping his chin. “Firstly, your hangover cure, the recipe of which is still hidden from the world”

"And it always will be,” you thinned your lips, feeling disappointment creep up on you. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Secondly, you’re one of the most competent knights I’ve ever known. There’s rarely a situation you can’t get yourself out of, and you handle my trials without fail.”

“Ah, yes. Your trials. Like that time you had us trapped in that labyrinth of a domain?”

“And you were the first to get out.”

You hadn’t thought that an acknowledgement from someone whom you’d always felt inferior to would mean anything to you, but it stirred your insides anyways, toying with the threads of your emotions. 

“The third reason, your unrivaled courage shines as brightly as the sun. Never once have you backed out from a challenge, although in exchange you’ve sustained quite the amount of injuries and put me in cardiac arrest.”

Evidently.

Carefully you asked, unexpected even to yourself, “Anything else?” 

“Your sense of responsibility. Your cat imitations-” he ignored your pointed look. “- the way you sometimes draw words from me unknowingly. Your silly habits, the way your words slur when you’re tipsy. And you wear your heart on your sleeve too, did you know that?”

You shook your head. “How so?”

“Do you remember the time Fischl invited us to some kind of Immernachtreich feast? And we thought it was going to be fine because Fischl usually isn’t that bad of a cook, but…”

“But she decided to create dishes that shouldn’t even exist and called them local cuisines? Yea, I remember,” you chuckled at the memory.

“You were trying really hard to finish the dishes— and you actually did, you have my respect for that— but everyone could see that you were struggling.”

You grimaced. “Even Fischl?”

“Especially Fischl. I had to comfort her and lie about you being sick prior to the feast to make her feel better.”

“Wows. Now I feel like a jerk,” you buried your head behind your folded arms, overriding your memories with the accurate one, until your chest jolted with laughter. Everything about that day was so ridiculous it’s funny, though further reminiscence would probably give you a stomachache.

Something light flitted across his face, a spark of recognition. The moonlight was fond of its favorites; it shone a round, silvery arc behind him, limning every strand of his hair. “Your laugh, too. That’s what I like about you, even though you rarely direct it at me,” he bowed his head. “You’re so clever, yet so oblivious. I always get sidetracked by the sound of your laughs, but you never noticed.

“You wanna know something else? You're unwavering, constant, like the sea. Doesn't matter if you're a tempest or calm water, I feel grounded just by looking at you." He breathed a laugh. "You know… I never know how to make people stay. Perhaps that's why you couldn't see how much you mean to me."

He lifted his head again, though his gaze escaped you. Instead, he watched with a lidded eye as his hand inched toward you, slowly, timidly, like a ghost creeping into the light. Slender fingers wrapped around yours, warmer than his vision would have you believe. 

“I really hope I’m right about this, but surely you feel the same, right?”

A part of you still adamantly wanted to say no, that you disliked him with every fiber of your being, that his teasing and self-assured ways irked you to no end, but you knew it wouldn’t be true. The truth lay dormant within you, lodged in your spine like a ragged dagger. You weren’t so unabashed that you would deny its unquestionable existence.

You never did hate him. It was just so much easier to be furious than to admit how badly you longed to have him in your heart. From the very beginning, you’d simply been a blind chaser of the unattainable moon, frustrated by the emptiness that greeted your grasps. 

“I do.” You admitted, quietly but surely. He smiled.

Air was zapped between you, an invisible string pulling him in, pushing you toward the precarious edge. He was so close you could feel the warmth of his breath, clouding your senses. There was no denying the eager jump in your throat, the blood pumping in your veins so vigorously it hurt. 

He reached for your cheek, palm resting there like it was made for him to hold.

Now, this moon was right in front of you, face bare and open with hope.

But you didn’t want it.

The bushes rustled, and out came one of the adventurers. “We’ve already set up the- oh. Oh, sorry-”

Both of your heads snapped towards him, and you tore yourself away, restoring that precious distance between you. “Be there in a minute.”

“Okay.” He looked pointedly between you and the quiet captain before scurrying away.

Your heart had not ceased trampling. You got up on your feet, “We should head back.”

“So soon?”

His hand, you realized, was still placed where you’d wrung yourself from him. Downcast was his eye as he waited for your answer.

You nodded, knowing better. It was all a cruel joke played by the hands of some mindless concoction. Even without everything he’d said, you’d already noticed the effects; fondness laced in his actions, tenderness in his words, everything fragile that you would lose in a blink. 

“…You’re right. We should get some rest.” was what he said, but the frozen hurt on his wound of a face told you otherwise.

Without surprise, you were the one who walked away first.

—

By the time the knights arrived it was already past noon. Your ribs got better in a flash, courtesy of the healer that came with.

Kaeya stuck around for the trek back to the city, but he was uncharacteristically quiet save for the short and light-hearted exchanges he shared with others. When you shot him a probing look, he only flashed you the usual smile, charming to most, hollow to you. 

“I was going to ask you to come grab a drink with me, but then I figured you’d better take a long rest,” he finally said when the windmills came into view. “Actually, you should take a few days off too, just in case someone accuses me of exploiting my partner."

"I could say the same about you," you referred to his bandaged arm. The truth was, it would really help to have something to numb yourself after spending an entire night rolling in a less than cozy tent while trying to ignore the obvious lumps against your back.

That, and the infinite train of thoughts running through your head at lightspeed.

No matter- you were going to find Sucrose and have her prepare an antidote and put your mind at ease. Case closed.

There were only a handful of places Sucrose could be, and you got it right with your first guess. Muffled chatters dropped silent as you knocked on the door to the laboratory, and out came a curious Sucrose. A smile graced her face as she took you in, and she opened the door to reveal Lisa, head swiveled around to meet you.

"Here you are, dear. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, right! How are your injuries? I could see if there's any medicine lying around," Sucrose followed you back into the room. On the table were several open books, filled to the edges with incomprehensible scribbles and complicated diagrams. Beakers and test tubes were set up on another bench, a sign that they were probably on something important.

"I'm already feeling as good as new, don't worry. I see that words spread like wildfire around here,"

"Pretty hard to ignore when you work inside the headquarters," Lisa said. A moment passed as she observed your facial expressions. "So? How did your little expedition go?"

You knew what she was hinting at. Heaving a sigh, you instead turned to Sucrose. "So, remember a few days ago when you gave me a bunch of potion samples?"

She nodded sharply. 

"Well… someone accidentally drank the love potion, and I'm pretty sure it took effect–" Lisa hummed meaningfully. "-- so I was wondering if you could make a cure for it?"

"Oh," realization dawned on her face, morphing into worry as she moved to flip through the worn, yellow pages. "That sounds awful, but just for science purposes, what symptoms did they show?"

"Flirting, being touchier than usual, unexplained jealousy, this and that." You chewed the inside of your cheek, decidedly leaving out the scene on Dragonspine. "And verbally expressing affection."

Her pen moved like lightning as she wrote. "I see… alright then, I'll make it right away!"

"Oh, thank you so much. I was worried that that pink stuff would have no antidote."

"There's always a solution to a problem," Lisa stated, a mischievous glint flashing in her eyes. "Maybe you would like to share more about the symptoms, you know, for research purposes?"

You were about to retort when Sucrose turned to you, confused. "Sorry, but…you’re sure it was a love potion?"

You nodded.

"But it was pink?"

Another bob of your head.

"That's weird. Love potions aren't pink, they're green."

"What?" You croaked. "No, that was– I mean, pink's for love, right?"

"Alchemy doesn't really care about sentiments. Or color theories, for that matter," she murmured. "If I remember correctly, the pink one should be a… truth potion. It forces someone to tell only the truth. Are you sure about the symptoms?"

"WIthout a doubt."

"Mm. But then that would mean…" she trailed off as the gears kicked off in your brain. Lisa looked as unfazed as ever, simply watching on with a knowing grin. 

That doesn't make sense. If Sucrose was right and it'd really been a truth potion that Kaeya had drunk, then it meant–

– everything he'd said was true. And if he had indeed been displaying signs of interest, then– 

"No," you muttered. "It's not possible."

"Darling, it's right in front of you," Lisa shook her head incredulously. "I'm surprised it took you this long to figure it out."

Figure what out? That Kaeya fricking Alberich actually, honestly, truthfully liked you? Not in the friendly kind, but in the romantic kind?

It’s not… possible. Right?

You started to rewind. Every single year you’d spent knowing him, every snippet of memory too short to hold onto…

It all sounded like a joke, but it only took a little thinking to realize that the clues had been there all along, scattered across time and space. Teasings you’d always mistaken for playfulness, gestures that could very well be genuine in their nature. And the things he said— all this time —

“If, um,” Sucrose grimaced at the blank state of your face, “If it’s a truth potion, you can just wait for it to wear out. The period of effectiveness is rarely long…”

“Okay,” you managed to utter a single word, because- damn it , the way you walked away last night after everything that had happened was nothing short of cruel.

You turned on your heels, desperation setting in. Lisa’s confused question hung and faded in the air as you excused yourself out of the room, a single motive standing out among the cluster of thoughts.

You had to fix things.

—

Kaeya’s office being vacant was nothing out of the ordinary, but when he was neither at the tavern or at home, you found yourself walking in circles through the streets, looking for just a brief sign of his whereabouts.

Muscle memory led you back home in the end, but as you turned the corner, you found the man you’d been searching for lingering in front of the door, now dragging a loose sack on the ground.

“Kaeya!” You called, picking up the pace. There wasn't anyone else around this neighborhood. He whipped his head around and, at the sight of you, bloomed into a smile. 

How could you have ever missed that?

“I thought I told you to get some rest. Where did you go wandering off to?”

“It’s not important. I need to- wait, why are you here?”

He clicked his tongue, lifting the sack by a mere inch. “Diluc ambushed me out of nowhere and chastised me for putting you in danger. And then he threw me this ugly bag and told me to deliver this to you,” he put a hand-sized container in your hand. “It’s an ointment. Works magic for cuts.”

“I’ll thank him later,” you pocketed it. “What’s in the sack?”

“Oh, you know, bandages, medicine and whatnot. I was expecting wine, but I guess this will do.”

Despite his offhand shrug, he donned a smile that warmed your heart— but that wasn’t why you were here. You shook off the distraction and sucked in a breath. “I need to tell you something.”

“Alright. But you should first know that I have very high standards and won’t accept just any love confessions.” He moved to lean against the wall.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure. It’s not gonna stop me from trying though.”

His smirk drooped. You were once again reminded of the eternal satisfaction of being able to catch him off guard. 

“It’s gonna sound totally absurd, but… I do like you. And it’s not as a friend.” The words stumbled out of you. Your heart was in a frenzy, jumping on a trampoline.

“As a colleague then?” He snickered at the irritation showing on your countenance. “Okay, sorry… You really mean it?”

“Absolutely.”

“I see,” his voice dropped in volume. “Then why did you leave me hanging last night?”

“I didn’t think you liked me.”

“I told you-”

“I know! But I thought you were…” you grimaced.

“Drugged?”

You froze. He spent a torturous moment confirming his theory before sighing. “I don’t usually get drunk, you know. Even if I do, I recall everything. I remember what I put inside my body. So what kind of potion was it?”

“A truth potion.” You murmured.

“And… you thought it was a love potion?”

“Congrats, you got it right,” you pursed your lips, the ordeal entirely too embarrassing for you to deal with. Your eyes dashed around, anxious for a response.

It was an ill-contained snicker. You frowned as laughter bubbled out of him, crinkles forming around the corner of his eye. “You really took the long way round, didn’t you? I can’t believe it took you this long.”

“Yea, go ahead and laugh. As if I’m not embarrassed out of my mind already.”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” he dropped the bag and cut off the distance between you with a bold step. “Although it is frustrating to watch, I can’t deny that it’s a bit endearing.”

You tilted your head up, “Is this you being honest or has the potion already expired?”

“It’s just me. Promise,” he cupped your face between his palms, playfulness smeared across his expression. Years of partnership, and this was the first time you saw him in a way that was true to your heart. You wanted to ask him about when he first fell for you, what all those words he’d muttered when he thought you’d been facing death meant, and many many more mysteries that coated around him. 

“You know,” you pulled back just as he was about to lean in. He looked offended at being rejected a second time. “About what you said last night…I’ll stay even if you don’t ask me to.”

He scoffed lightly, face softening. He didn't need to say anything for you to know what he was thinking.

–

Satan had to admit that he was getting a real kick out of this situation.

For the past week, he'd been sneakily commenting on anything and everything in the language only he could understand, a dictionary in hand and a proud smile on his face, and today was no exception. 

"Satan, look at me when I'm talking to you," Lucifer ordered with a scowl, looking down at the demon who was flipping through his book idly. You stole a glance at the two of them before returning to your phone, pretending to be invisible.

" I'm not looking at you and your receding hairline ," the grin that came with the insult was hard to conceal. Lucifer unfolded his arms and plucked the book out of Satan's hand.

" Asshole !"

"I'm going to figure out what you're saying to my face, and then you'll be up on the ceiling for a whole week."

"What if I'm actually saying something nice? Something like, stop frowning or those wrinkles will become permanent ?"

Lucifer scoffed. "Do you really think I can't tell from your tone?"

There he went again, acting like he knew everything. Satan was about to throw out some foul words from the ancient age when Belphie yelled from the other room. "Luciferrrrrr!"

"What is it now?" Lucifer sighed and threw the book onto the space next to Satan before walking away. "Don't think that I'm done with you."

The two of you looked at each other with excitement and turned to watch him head for the door. Every step he took was a heavy thump against the floorboard, every second agonizingly prolonged. With anticipation, your eyes widened simultaneously as he crossed the threshold–

BOOM ! Satan's carefully concealed spell went off, and a glitter bomb exploded right on top of the dark-haired demon, staining him with colorful sparkles from head to toes. You screamed out in victory and went for a high-five with Satan that left your palms red and stinging. Belphie's cheer could be heard from a distance. It was a rare win for the Anti-Lucifer League.

After your ecstasy'd died down, the two of you looked to Lucifer, who was still frozen in his spot. His shoulders seemed to be trembling. 

With slow deliberation, he turned on his heels. The moment your eyes met, a chill ran down your spine. The air around you seemed to have dropped by ten degrees, and you felt yourself shrinking under the looming rage of the firstborn.

"You have five seconds to run. Five,"

It was a cruel trick-- letting you flee, even though there was no way you could actually escape him. You could run as much as you wanted, but you couldn't hide. He was giving you hope and then snatching it away from you.

"Four,"

"Let's go!" Satan grabbed your hand and pulled you up with ease, darting for the other door in the room. You ran like your life was on the line– no, your life was in fact on the line, but for now, you were just happy that the prank actually worked.

"Threetwoone."

"Shit!" You could hear Lucifer's wings flapping from corridors away, catching up with terrifying speed. Satan stopped abruptly in his tracks. 

"What are you doing– woah!" 

Your heart leaped in your chest as he hoisted you up in his arms, bridal-style. "Hold on tight!" He shouted before breaking into another sprint. Without having to drag you, he was significantly faster, adrenaline pumping through his veins like he'd never run out of it. And all the while, he was laughing like a little kid.

He was only brave enough to stop outside the house, where Lucifer couldn't be heard anymore. He put you down promptly and doubled over. "That was," he panted. "That was–" his throat felt like the Sahara desert, parched and rough like sandpaper.

"Fun?" 

He nodded. You took the word right out of his mouth.

It was a whole five minutes before he could calm down. You laughed and slumped to the ground next to him. 

"We're not gonna get out of this one, are we?" You said.

"Definitely not." 

"Do you think he'll starve us?"

"I'd be surprised if he doesn't."

"Yea."

You sat in silence for a while, feeling a moment of tranquility even though a raging demon was probably upending the whole house just to look for you. When you looked at Satan, his eyes were already on you.

"What?" Your lips curled. 

" You make me so happy ," he said, the smile giving way to a serious expression. " I feel like the happiest demon alive when I'm with you ."

There was a moment of suspended silence as you watched his face, then you raised your brow, "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," he smiled bitterly. His hand reached for your hair and gave it a brief ruffle before he stopped himself. 

He wanted to tell you directly how he felt, but he would need some more time to build up his courage.

–

"Those bastards!" Satan hissed as he stormed into your room, throwing the first aid kit onto the table. The blow it made would've startled you had you been unaware of his arrival. One by one, he slammed the bandages and bottles against the wood like he had a vendetta against it. You could see that his demon form was already creeping up on him, threatening to burst out.  "Those inconsiderate, brainless bastards–"

"Satan," you called out. He stilled, as if he'd just been woken up, and looked down at the tools in his hands. He couldn't face you for a second, mortified at the idea of you looking at him with disappointment, or worse, fear.

"Satan?" You called again, and he swiveled around. You had a comforting smile on your lips, one that always lit up the room you were in. You gestured at the spot next to you, and he complied.

"Show me your hand." He said, and made sure to handle it with gentleness.

The cut on the back of your hand had already stopped bleeding, but it didn't look like it was going to heal any time soon. With a shake of his head, he grabbed the ointment and scooped it out with his finger.

Mammon and Asmodeus had suggested a pillow fight, and everyone was on board at first, except that it soon turned into anything but a pillow fight. There were books and shoes flying in the air, and when Levi launched the bunch of flowers into Beel's plate, the latter was so furious that he swung the plate away, only for it to head directly at you. Had you not reacted in time, it would've got you square in the face.

Not that cutting your hand was any better.

Rage shimmered under his skin just at the memory of your pained hiss. If it hadn't been for you, he would've gone into a real fight with his brothers. 

As if noticing the cold, steely look on his face, you leaned into his line of sight. "Are you okay?"

"I should be asking you that." He muttered.

"Well, you look more shaken than I am."

"I was scared, okay?" He frowned at you before resuming his work. 

"I know. I just don't want you to get riled up because of me. It's a small cut anyway."

"You were on the brink of tears."

"Wounds hurt."

"If it hurts, it's not a small–"

"Alright, alright," you said, chuckles filling in the gaps in your words. "Sorry for worrying you."

He stayed quiet, his sole attention focused on getting the ointment evenly spread around your wound. After it's done, he reached for the roll of bandage and started wrapping it around your hand, ensuring that it was neither too loose nor too tight.

"You're good at this."

"I read my first aid manuals."

"Of course you do." You flexed your hand after he's done. "See? It's good as new. Don't take it out on your brothers, alright?"

"Well, it's hard not to." He got up to put back the items.

"Mm. Why?"

"Because–" he trailed off, not a single word willing to come out of his hanging mouth. "Because I… damnit. Because I care about you, and seeing you get hurt hurts me too. Is that so hard to see?"

He must've sounded frustrated by the end, because you caught his hand and pulled him toward you, even though he couldn't face you with his face flooded with blood. 

"I hope you weren't cussing me out," 

He scoffed. As if he would ever do that. 

Then you brought his hand closer to your face, and his hope flew up as it inched towards your lips, but you stopped right before his they could kiss his knuckles.

"Thank you for caring about me, Satan."

He swore, there were times when he thought that you could understand him regardless of the language he was speaking in. It was both a warm and terrifying thought.

–

Cats and you. These were the only two things Satan needed to stay alive. And right now, he had both. 

"Oh, he's such a sweetheart!" You cooed as the black cat bumped his head against your face, trying to squeeze himself into your arms, which were already full of other kittens. 

You were a cat magnet. The moment you stepped into the cat cafe, the little fluffballs were already swarming toward you, so excited that you couldn't even move your feet. If it had been any other, Satan would've felt jealous. After all, he was the regular of this cafe, and he was the one who had previously met these cats! How was it that they would abandon him for someone they'd never met before?

Well, it was you, so perhaps it was just your natural charisma at work here. And to think that he'd stayed up all night imagining how he would act like a gentleman and share his cats were you to be neglected... he hid his blush behind the teacup.

"That's Mr. Cow," he said after composing himself.

"What? Him?" You nudged at the same black cat, and he nodded. "That's a… unique name."

"To be fair, I have no idea how they were named. The owner probably just spinned a wheel of random words–"

"We dedicated time and consideration to each and every cat during the naming process!" The owner yelled from behind the counter.

"Sure you did." Satan retorted, then waited for your reaction. He was obvious, sure, but his goal was always just to make you laugh, which you did. He was satisfied.

Leaning back in the fluffy chair, he closed his eyes and drank in the moment. Just him, you, and cats. What a perfect day. The air smelled like freshly made tea and tooth-rotting pastries, with the purring of cats and your voice as the cherry on top. What's more, his brothers were nowhere to be seen. They would never find the two of you here. There was nothing that could ruin this perfect moment, and nothing that could top it.

"Are you sad?"

His eyes shot open. "What?"

"Are you sad because the cats aren't giving you attention?" You teased.

"That's nonsense. The cats here have mood swings quite frequently. It just so happens that they are shy around me today."

"Just admit that you're losing your charm!" The owner yelled again.

"Hey!" 

The peal of laughter coming out of you was like honey to his ears. "Lucky for you, I don't mind sharing. Come on," you moved to one side of your king-sized seat. "Come on. What are you waiting for?"

"Fine." Satan mumbled and walked over, squeezing himself into the space. It might've looked real big at first, but when there was already a person and a bunch of cats occupying it, it suddenly felt crammed. 

"Here you go," you placed Thyme– white cat with bright green eyes– onto his lap. 

"Just one?" 

"Now you want more?" You shook your head, and moved Mr. Cow into his outstretched arms. His heart melted as they curled in his embrace, looking for a comfortable position.

He really should take the opportunity to play with the cats while they were still giving him attention, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from you. Your hands were busy scratching their heads, an innocent smile was spreading across your cheeks, and you were just glowing, so purely happy, and–

"I can never get tired of looking at you."

Your head whipped towards him, and he panicked internally. Did he just say that outloud? Was that in dead language? Why did he have to blurt out like that? What–

"Mm?"

He exhaled in relief. So you couldn't understand after all. 

"I hope that was something nice." You gave him a side glance.

"They're always nice when they're about you."

And that was the closest thing to a confession that he could say.

–

Satan had made up his mind. He had a plan, he'd done his research, read dozens of romance novels, and wrote a bunch of scripts.

Today was the day he would confess to you. In a way you could understand.

His foot tapped impatiently on the cobblestone as he scanned the leaving crowd, trying to pick you out. Seconds passed, then minutes, then he started to worry that you weren't coming at all.

A hand landed on his shoulder. He jumped a great height in the air, and heard you laughing at his reaction.

"Geez, what were you thinking about?" You walked around him, hands balled inside your pockets. While his head felt light just by seeing you, his chest was suddenly so heavy that he couldn't mutter a word.

"Satan?" You waved your hand in front of his face.

"There's something I have to tell you."

"Okay," you mirrored his solemn expression. Even when you were doing barely anything, you still looked as radiant as ever.

He shook his head. This was not the time to get sidetracked. He had some serious business to do. 

"I've been meaning to tell you," he's taken aback by the slight tremble in his voice. "That I… we've been spending a lot of time together, you know, and I enjoy your company."

You waited.

"I enjoy your company more than I do others'," 

You nodded unsurely. His shoulders slumped.

The scripts he'd prepared were slipping his mind, and so many things were swimming inside it that it felt blank instead. What was all that reading for if he couldn't even elicit a single word of his own?

"This has no reason being so hard," he said.

"Do you want to write it down instead?"

"No, no. I have to say this face-to-face. It's important." He stopped pacing, something that he didn't realize he had been doing. He grabbed your shoulders so he was forced to look into your eyes.

"The truth is, I-" he paused. "I… Ugh! The words are right at the tip of my tongue." He pulled away and buried his face behind his hands. It was embarrassing how he couldn't even be honest about his love. "I just– I love you. Perhaps I just can't say it because I'm scared that you'll reject me, but I love you. I don't know if I'll ever be enough, but all I can give you is my devotion."

He was so caught up in wallowing in his feelings that he missed the way your brows went up. A beat of silence passed, then the next, before you spoke up.

" You'll always be enough for me. "

" I could only –" he stilled. "What?"

You laughed at his reaction. "I said, you'll always be enough for me, Satan ."

"...Have you always known what I was saying?"

"Nope." You said. "Only just now. I told Solomon earlier about how you kept talking in a foreign language, so he concocted a potion that made me fluent in all the languages in the world,"

"But it's a dead language," He said, as if bargaining with reality.

You squinted. "Is it still dead if you're saying it?"

"Okay, that's a good point." Satan sighed, running his fingers through his bangs. The tips of his ears were burning bright red. They looked like they could burn you upon touch. "And you meant what you said? That I'm enough for you ?"

"Of course. And also, I love you too ."

You loved him.

Relief filled his chest, and the grin that broke out on his face was impossible to hide. Without another word, he swept you into his arms with such eagerness that revealed just how long he'd waited for this. You yelped as your feet were lifted off the ground and threw your arms around his neck. He had this fantasy of living in this moment forever.

"Sure, whatever you say." You said with a hint of teasing and let silence fall over the room again. The piano tunes coming from the far corner of the room did nothing to ease his mind.

You had been caught up in his brothers' trifling matters the entire day. Every time he ran into you, one of them was guaranteed to be hanging out by your side. It wasn't something he could prevent, seeing as they'd grown to be dependent on you, but he still couldn't help letting his gaze linger. It was often accompanied by a feeling akin to envy– an emotion that he was almost ashamed to have.

He just wished it wasn't so hard to spend time with you. He wished he didn't need to concoct pretexts just to see you. He would give everything and anything just to be able to wrap his arms around you, to have you whisper sweet nothings to him, but he wasn't entitled to any of those. He had no right. The moment he came up to you, honesty failed him, and another lie had already escaped him.

It was pathetic beyond belief. Even in this moment, when you were alone with him, head propped up on your fist, the better part of your body hidden under his coat, a war was still raging inside him. It was the same war he'd been fighting for months, the same war that left his heart aching.

And the most ludicrous part? It could've ended so easily. It would only take six words. I am in love with you . Or five, you have captured my heart . Hell, he could condense them into three syllables: I adore you .

The only thing standing in his path was his pride.

"No mistakes in this one, as expected." You shrugged his coat off and walked towards him. Your hands didn't even graze when he took the paper from you.

"Is there anything else?" Your eyes darted to the wall to check the time. His heart jumped in panic.

"I may have one more," he flipped through the miscellaneous documents on his desk and pulled out a random piece. "Last one, I promise."

You examined the page, and hummed. "It seems that a promise is unnecessary. I've already proofread this," you raised your brow at him. "Are you sure you're alright? You seem a bit restless tonight."

"It's nothing." He heaved a sigh, but it didn't lessen the weight on his chest. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't think of a sensible reason for you to stay. Not when it was already past your usual bedtime. "Thank you for your help."

As if he wasn't already tormented enough, you smiled at him and turned. "Of course. I'll be taking my leave then?"

"Wait!" He called out before his brain could register it. Maybe you would desire some demonus before sleep. Maybe he could show you more of his favorite records. Anything to keep you by his side longer, to keep his feelings at bay. A goodnight kiss, perhaps? That would surely do the trick. Among all the late night hours he got to spend with you, there wasn't one where he didn't wish for it.

You waited. He teased the words on his tongue. It would be a short, simple question. He would handle it with grace.

It was unutterable.

"...Rest well," was what he settled on.

He must've imagined the disappointment flitting through your face before you left. If anything, he should be disappointed with himself. Perhaps it would've been better if he'd never figured out that he loved you. He'd only trapped himself in this personal hell, stuck with all these stupid feelings, unable to do anything about them, doomed--

You couldn't make it far before you heard a loud thud from Lucifer's room. Sticking your head back inside, you didn't see anything out of ordinary. Lucifer waved you off absent-mindedly.

Childe

he’ll write on his skin whenever he so much as thinks of you, which means pretty much all the time

throughout the day you’ll receive all kinds of messages, from ‘work is boring, i miss you :(’ to ‘OMG i just saw a hilichurl pet a squirrel’

of course, it’s not just words. sometimes he’ll doodle something silly in the centre of your palm (like his face). if he’s sure that you’re just lounging around at home, he may grab a marker and start doing makeup knowing the lines will transfer directly to you

most of the time it ends up with his enemies looking at him with a half puzzled, half amused face

aside from that, he also begins to stay more alert during missions. the thought of indirectly scarring you because of his carelessness or thirst for battles fills him with guilt he can’t quite stomach

Kaeya

exploits this ability with every chance he gets. nothing can stop him from putting his love for you on display, and the fact that the marks show up on both of you just makes it all the better

you’ll be walking down the street when someone hesitantly taps your shoulder and gestures vaguely at your face

now this isn’t a rare occurrence. you’re already muttering under your breath as you find the nearest reflective surface- there it is, a badly drawn peacock head under the corner of your eye, winking and holding a rose in its beak

at the same time kaeya is actually quite a decent painter. sometimes when he’s bored, he’ll sketch the scenery before him: the knights’ headquarters, the tavern, bennett as he runs away from a flock of seagulls. as he draws, you watch the lines appear on the canvas on your skin, and it’s almost like you’re following his train of thoughts

sometimes in the morning, when you have your attention on something else, he throws his arms around you and plants a biggggg kiss on your cheek. for some reason it feels a bit… wet… and sticky-

“did you just-” you rub your face and finds, to your horror, lipstick smudged on your fingers. “kaeya, i swear to barbatos, i’m going to set your wine on fire.”

that does give him quite the fright, but knowing you, it doesn’t really stop him from leaving trails of kisses all over you

Thoma

thoma doesn’t really leave anything for you that often, because he’s worried that they’re ill-timed

what he will write though, are grocery lists. almost every evening, you’ll find a list of products scrawled on your forearm.

it’s not only for convenience, but it’s also an invitation in a sense. he just wants you to add whatever you want him to get for you, whether it be snacks or household items

the first time you found a map of scratches on your arms, you were petrified, thinking that thoma had got into trouble. in the end he had to apologize profusely and explain that he was just trying to befriend some local strays

since then he makes a note to be more careful when he plays with the more feral cats on the streets