diluc and kaeya and kaeya and diluc, waiting in the stretch of the other's shadow for all they might later cool or thaw. he'd known from the beginning that there would be no other that might temper him, no other who might stoke the bright idealisms that boiled through his blood. with him, diluc thought he might have once done anything. with kaeya, who grew in the absence of all that diluc was, he thought perhaps they both might yet be able to. and now?
he knows this shape, this form. he knows the way it rests along a knifepoint, the soft skin at the ribs. that it stings is no surprise to him. but, it was meant to. and for all that he thinks he's deserving of it, kaeya isn't. kaeya isn't, as much as he thinks he must be and should be and (mistakenly, always) is.
diluc doesn't grab for him. he knows the distance is another way, another barrier, another wall. but, it doesn't mean that his hands don't linger in the residual warmth. it doesn't mean that his fingers don't curl in against his own palms as if to hold what remains — as if to steady himself against what kaeya will say, his gaze flicking up.
and for all that diluc attempts to piece together language, it crowds up. it trips over his teeth in the sudden onslaught of absolute refusal. kaeya can't insist on that. he won't let him. not this time. ]
You shouldn't! [ you idiot, he wants to say. you absolute moron. why do you always — he takes a breath, mouth twisting about the heat of his own assertions, but knowing it won't get him anywhere. his nails bite against the rough flesh of his palms. ] You shouldn't be.
[ why do you always get to decide for me? he wants to ask. but, he knows. he knows and so — he takes a half-step forward.
his voice comes firm and low and devastatingly sure. ]
When I came upon you like that — I would have done anything. [ wasn't it obvious by now? isn't it? look at me, he wants to say. but, he doesn't. he knows the line, where not to cross it. no matter how tempting, he knows the consequence. ] I still would.
And so, you can rebuff me. You can ignore me, you can do whatever it is you need to about it — but, how couldn't I? [ how couldn't i worry? do you think you mean that little? he takes another breath. ] What value you hold with me, you can't decide it.
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diluc and kaeya and kaeya and diluc, waiting in the stretch of the other's shadow for all they might later cool or thaw. he'd known from the beginning that there would be no other that might temper him, no other who might stoke the bright idealisms that boiled through his blood. with him, diluc thought he might have once done anything. with kaeya, who grew in the absence of all that diluc was, he thought perhaps they both might yet be able to. and now?
he knows this shape, this form. he knows the way it rests along a knifepoint, the soft skin at the ribs. that it stings is no surprise to him. but, it was meant to. and for all that he thinks he's deserving of it, kaeya isn't. kaeya isn't, as much as he thinks he must be and should be and (mistakenly, always) is.
diluc doesn't grab for him. he knows the distance is another way, another barrier, another wall. but, it doesn't mean that his hands don't linger in the residual warmth. it doesn't mean that his fingers don't curl in against his own palms as if to hold what remains — as if to steady himself against what kaeya will say, his gaze flicking up.
and for all that diluc attempts to piece together language, it crowds up. it trips over his teeth in the sudden onslaught of absolute refusal. kaeya can't insist on that. he won't let him. not this time. ]
You shouldn't! [ you idiot, he wants to say. you absolute moron. why do you always — he takes a breath, mouth twisting about the heat of his own assertions, but knowing it won't get him anywhere. his nails bite against the rough flesh of his palms. ] You shouldn't be.
[ why do you always get to decide for me? he wants to ask. but, he knows. he knows and so — he takes a half-step forward.
his voice comes firm and low and devastatingly sure. ]
When I came upon you like that — I would have done anything. [ wasn't it obvious by now? isn't it? look at me, he wants to say. but, he doesn't. he knows the line, where not to cross it. no matter how tempting, he knows the consequence. ] I still would.
And so, you can rebuff me. You can ignore me, you can do whatever it is you need to about it — but, how couldn't I? [ how couldn't i worry? do you think you mean that little? he takes another breath. ] What value you hold with me, you can't decide it.