#kaeya

It was one of those days for Kaeya. The kind where Rosaria gave him the look after another slurred sentiment betrayed him.

He never remembered what he’d said, but it was hard to forget her sharp eyes—or the stench of smoke clouding her.

But Rosaria wasn’t here tonight.

He was almost thankful for it, but even through the haze of wine he caught the blur of patrons around him.

There weren’t many, not at this hour. But gossip didn’t need a crowd.

He tipped his glass back, felt the wine on his tongue. Cool yet warm, sweet but bitter, delectable yet damning.

Sweet Death Afternoon, the perfect mistress.

He kissed her again, felt her warmth unfurl in his chest. She’d leave him a pounding head once this tryst ended, but that didn’t stop him anyway.

Let there be gossip about them. This week had exhausted all his cares.

He didn’t catch the first rap of your knuckles on the table. The second one was firmer and made them sting. Kaeya finally looked up.

There wasn’t any smoke clinging to you but he still squinted as if there was.

‘You look well,’ there was mirth in your words, but his smile didn’t come easily.

‘Well, well, well...’ The words slipped out lazily as he gestured to the chair. ‘Look who decided to join the menagerie.’

You settled across from him with your own poison.

He nodded towards it.

‘Apple Cider Vinegar,’ you said, raising your glass. He leaned forward and clinked his glass against it.

‘Such a saint tonight,’ he muttered, appraising you. ‘So, what brings you to my… humble table?’

You shrugged, raising the glass to your lips. ‘Can I not share a drink with a friend?’

‘Of course you may.’ He reached for the bottle, pouring a generous refill. He tipped it to you in question. You shook your head. He shrugged and took a long sip. ‘But if you’re here to sermonise on my liver, you should know I’m too drunk to pay attention.’

Charles coughed from the counter. Boisterous laughter erupted from the adventurers tucked in the corner.

‘You’ve been here longer these days.’

You cut him off before he got the chance to argue. ‘We’re worried about you. You know that, right?’

Kaeya’s tongue swept over his lip. ‘I thought I was clear on the sermonising bit.’

‘It’s not a sermon.’ You leaned back on the chair. ‘Just… thinking aloud.’

‘Are you? Funny, you share your thoughts with a lot of people.’ The scoff that left him could curdle milk. ‘Makes me think it’s more of a fact.’

Your blank stare made him sigh deeply, wiping at his damp brow. ‘Archons, I’m an ass tonight.’

‘When are you not?’

The half-hearted glare he shot you from under his palm made you grin. Reluctantly, he grinned back.

‘Work?’ you prompted.

‘Among other things.’ He agreed, settling back in his chair. ‘The Fatui are as prickly as ever.’

You nod, humming sympathetically. ‘They never got you this deep in the reserves though.’

Kaeya’s throat bobbed.

He stared straight ahead at the walls, his fingers tapping slowly on the table. The walls were plastered with posters, fresh advertisements layered over the older ones, collaborations, discounts… they reminded him of his board back at the office. Except of course his notice board advertised more murder and missing citizens.

He wondered idly if the dead drank too. It would certainly put them in better spirits.

‘Oh, so you smile over discounted wine but not a visiting friend?’ You shake your head, tutting. ‘You’re a cold man, Kaeya Alberich.’

His laugh bordered on a sigh.

He rested his arms on the table, looking down at his glass. It stared back, empty now. The bottle was exhausted.

He didn’t realise he was biting his lip until he looked up at you. His eye trailed over your expecting gaze, the slight furrow of your brows. He swallowed.

‘I haven’t…’ He began, but then he shook his head. ‘There’s… a lot, (Name). A good, heavy lot. I’m not a drunk, but this helps me. But I’m not … a drunkard.’

You set your glass down. ‘I never said you were.’

’Oh, but you thought it, didn’t you?’ His grin was sardonic. ‘Don’t deny it now.’

His sudden bravado didn’t last against your firm look. He looked down again, almost sheepishly.

‘Kaeya.’ You leaned closer. He didn’t look up.

‘I don’t know what’s going on. I’d like to, but you don’t have to explain it. You don’t owe me an explanation. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.’ Your hand inched closer, but it still lay a good distance away from his. You hadn’t intended to reach out.

Your jaw strained with how hard you’d been clenching it. ‘Just tell me what you need. Anything that’ll get you out of here.’

For a long moment, Kaeya sat slumped over the table without a word.

Downstairs, Charles called for the last order. The adventurers were stumbling out the door. You could see most everything from his usual spot.

Kaeya’s breath stuttered. You could swear his eye glistened when he finally looked at you.

‘What I need?’ The words were hoarse. He cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter. ‘That’s… very thoughtful of you, (Name).’

‘So what do you need?’ You clasp your hands together.

‘I think,’ he inhaled deeply, ‘I think I need to get out of here.’

You nod decisively. ‘Alright, then we’ll get out of here. I’ll walk you home. Make sure you don’t heave breakfast, lunch and dinner all over yourself. Then if you want, we can talk. If not… then we can just do this all night.’

‘And what is “this”, pray tell?’ There’s a quiet smile on his face, though it’s tempered by fatigue.

You shrug. ‘Talking? Reflecting? Not actively torturing our livers?’

He groaned into his palm. ‘Again with the liver…’

You rose from your chair, patting his shoulder while you collected your glasses. ‘Come on. Even the bards don’t sing this late.’

The chair groaned against the floor as he stood. Kaeya gently relieved you of the empty bottle as he followed you to the stairs— albeit slower.

He stopped near the landing, his free hand bracing against the wall.

Kaeya frowned down at the stairs.

In the dark it was difficult to tell one from the other. Worse, he couldn’t judge the exact depth. But then he saw you wait beside him, offering your shoulder without a word.

Ever so hesitantly, his hand came to rest on it.

‘(Name)…’ he began before you began your descent. ‘Thank you.’