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Kaeya Alberich is a fucking liar. Some are more aware of this than others. Jean, presumably, along with other high-ranking members of the knights. Diluc knows too. He knows all too well. Despite this, it is not shocking when nearly every other night Diluc finds Kaeya spouting nonsense beyond his usual lies.
Tonight is no different. Kaeya is drinking, much more than what is considered healthy for the average person. But who is Diluc to tell him no? Who is Diluc to watch over the man he has long forsaken? He has no right to involve himself with Kaeya’s life. Yet, on these nights, when one of them is far past lucid, it is not uncommon for them to interact when all of the other patrons are gone. The days after these interactions make Diluc believe Kaeya has no recollection of their conversations. By far, this is the more.. honest side to Kaeya.
“Another one, D’luc,” Kaeya slurs, almost as if reading Diluc’s thoughts. “Give me a stronger shot this time.”
“We closed seventeen minutes ago. Leave.”
Kaeya is silent for a minute. His breathing slows, almost to a complete stop. His lone eye is staring off into some distant place that is just beyond Diluc’s reach. He’s so out of it that if he tries hard enough, Diluc wouldn’t be surprised if he disappeared.
“Where d’you suggest I go?” he finally asks. “Jean doesn’t want me around. Says something about me being too– too irreparable. Irresponsible. Something like that.”
“That doesn’t sound like her,” Diluc replies, taking the glass from Kaeya’s hands. The fingers clenched around the glass reluctantly loosen their grip. “Are you sure it’s not one of your delusions?”
“No, not really. I don’t think she actually said that. Maybe I am delo– delusional.”
“Or a drunk,” Diluc says pointedly. “Charles tells me that he sees you throughout all of his shifts. Do I need to take your incompetence up with Jean?”
“Noooo! Jean is very tired. She works very hard. Don’t wanna bother her.”
Diluc sighs at the drunken man’s words. Kaeya probably hasn’t even started his paperwork. Not if he’s drinking this often.
“She does a lot. I don’t think she likes me being Cavalry Captain,” Kaeya continues, “M’ useless. No horse, no people, nothing. Sometimes I try to get Jean to do something else. Doesn’t listen to me.”
“Yet you refuse to do your own work? Please make sense of that.”
Kaeya scoffs, dropping his head on the counter.
“I work.. S’metimes. A lot of times, actually,” he whispers, small. “Not everyone can deadlift two-hundred pound wine barrels.”
“My strength isn’t the reason I am able to work, Kaeya. I have my priorities set straight. The question is, do you?”
The answer that comes is too quick, too honest for Diluc’s liking. It’s not quite the answer that he is expecting.
“You sound like fa- Master Crepus. S’mething s’mething responsibility. You look like him too, y’know? Just without the beard.”
Diluc stops all movement and glares at Kaeya. He is not in the right state of mind. He is drunk, it is late, they are both tired, so why does it hurt so much? Why does Diluc feel his stomach drop to his feet? These words should be meaningless, yet–
“What makes you say that?” he asks, finally settling down.
“Look at yourself, D’luc! Big red hair, deep voice. The resemblance is uncanny!” Diluc opens his mouth, but Kaeya continues, “you act like him too. At least you used to. I r’member when you copied his every footstep. You snuck behind his curtains whenever he had a business meeting. You wanted a turtle because you heard that at some point, he had a pet turtle. Funny.”
“I didn’t know you cared about these things. Why bring it up now?”
“Feeling honest. Tired.”
Diluc huffs, sliding out from behind the bar. He takes the barstool next to Kaeya out and sits.
“These conversations would be easier to have if you were sober. You do realize that, right?’
“Don’t think so. You get angry.”
“Angry you say?” Diluc questions. His face contorts into something akin to shock. No, disbelief would be a better term. “I can assure you, Kaeya, it is not anger. I apologize if it comes off that way.”
Kaeya raises his head, eyeing Diluc suspiciously.
“I don’t believe it,” he says, dropping his head back down. When Diluc does not reply, he continues, “you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“I am not, but I understand why you feel that way. Must we always argue?”
“It’s the only way I get you to talk. Don’t think you’d want to otherwise.”
That’s it. That’s all there is to it. Kaeya, in all of his lies and wit, is scared. Scared of what he cannot control. Scared of something– someone he cannot predict. Because Kaeya’s mind works in ways that even Crepus could not comprehend.
“I see. I’m sorry, Kaeya.”
“‘M sorry too. Forgive me?”
Without hesitation, Diluc concedes. “I did a long time ago. Long before I came back to Mondstadt,” he mutters. Kaeya’s full attention is on him, and that distant look in his eye is no more. “You were a child. Sixteen no less. How could I not?”
“If you say so,” Kaeya mumbles in turn. When Diluc looks at him, Kaeya is gone as quickly as he came back. He isn’t too mad. He isn’t mad at all. A little disappointed that their conversation ended so soon, but he can’t blame Kaeya. Hell, the man is already asleep.
Diluc travels to the other side of the bar and resumes cleaning. He’ll set Kaeya down later. Or–
“Master Diluc,” a voice, too familiar shouts. “Are you done speaking with Sir Kaeya?” A person dressed in green appears before him.
“We’re closed. Escort yourself out of my tavern, bard.”
Venti chuckles, grinning too mischievously, “that’s no way to treat a god! An Archon at that. Where are your manners?” His lyre is nowhere to be found. “Besides, I’m only here to bring Sir Kaeya home. You don’t get off for another, what, hour? Two hours? He isn’t going to get much beauty sleep around here.”
“Oh? You wish to bring him to headquarters?”
“Master Diluc, please!” Venti says, giggling. “I watch over all of the children of Mondstadt. Sir Kaeya is no exception.”
“I see. Take care of him, Barbatos,” Diluc replies, the frustration immediately evaporating from his tone. He eyes Venti as the shorter man throws one of Kaeya’s arms over his shoulders. Kaeya wakes up, enough so to get out of the tavern. When the door finally slams shut, Diluc does something he hasn’t done in a long time.
He prays quietly, but he knows the wind is strong. As immature as Venti may seem, he is still a god. One with more experience than Diluc will ever have. He is good at what he does.
“Thank you,” Diluc murmurs, and the winds hit the tavern windows a little harder than they normally do.