Consider this me repaying the favor, then. In fact, I'd say I'm going above and beyond seeing as how I'm not just dumping you onto the cold, hard, cruel streets by yourself.
[ not that he would have ever expected diluc guiding him back to his place, not that he would have ever accepted it. he's almost never as drunk as he acts, after all, and no amount of wine could ever get him to forget that he cannot allow this man back into his home. he's reminded viciously of why, as they make their way further into the apartment and he lets diluc slide off his shoulders onto the uncomfortably stiff couch, the blaze of his hair blinding enough to leave afterimages dancing in his eye. diluc's always burned bright, too bright, so much so that the bare walls seem to almost reflect his glow - a fire crackling warmly in the hearth, a candle flickering in the window to welcome him home.
it's awful. it's hideous. it sets his skin to prickling a thousand ice shards deep until he wants nothing more than to rip it open and crawl out of himself to escape, a strange metallic taste coating his tongue as he fights back the urge to bare his teeth like some small cornered animal. he's always been a fast learner, after all, and this particular lesson he's had hammered into him twice over: to drift like a ghost within these walls, shedding no slip of his soul behind, because nothing in his life worth keeping ever stays. if, when, he's forced to leave mondstadt, he wants nothing that'll draw his thoughts back to the place he once called a home - no shelves stacked high with tawdry romance novels, no photos of idyllic memories lining the walls, no sweet scent of calla lilies and soft glow of jars full of crystalflies...no blazing sun in human form tempting his tired feet back to a place he never truly belonged.
it's temporary, he reminds himself, fingers restlessly dancing a coin through his knuckles to try to rid the excess energy flowing through him, the instinct to lash out or flee until he's safely cocooned in a shell of his own making again. it doesn't matter, none of this matters - diluc is sick, the unnatural flush of his cheeks and glaze of his eyes painting an all too familiar portrait, and kaeya isn't so coldhearted yet to abandon his, his, his whatever to sweating out a worsening fever in some dirty alleyway alone. of course the ideal would be dragging the stubborn fool to barbara's tender care, but the church is up a thousand flights of stairs and some people here don't have the muscles of a claymore-wielding ox! he tossed aside the concept of manly pride the day he decided to parade around in a half-open shirt, he's fine admitting when he's physically beaten! ]
I'll get you some water. [ unable to stop himself, he reaches out to place a hand over diluc's forehead, hissing dramatically when it burns so high he swears he can feel his palm blistering even underneath his glove. ] Just how the hell did you manage to sneak past Adelinde in your condition, anyway?
no subject
[ not that he would have ever expected diluc guiding him back to his place, not that he would have ever accepted it. he's almost never as drunk as he acts, after all, and no amount of wine could ever get him to forget that he cannot allow this man back into his home. he's reminded viciously of why, as they make their way further into the apartment and he lets diluc slide off his shoulders onto the uncomfortably stiff couch, the blaze of his hair blinding enough to leave afterimages dancing in his eye. diluc's always burned bright, too bright, so much so that the bare walls seem to almost reflect his glow - a fire crackling warmly in the hearth, a candle flickering in the window to welcome him home.
it's awful. it's hideous. it sets his skin to prickling a thousand ice shards deep until he wants nothing more than to rip it open and crawl out of himself to escape, a strange metallic taste coating his tongue as he fights back the urge to bare his teeth like some small cornered animal. he's always been a fast learner, after all, and this particular lesson he's had hammered into him twice over: to drift like a ghost within these walls, shedding no slip of his soul behind, because nothing in his life worth keeping ever stays. if, when, he's forced to leave mondstadt, he wants nothing that'll draw his thoughts back to the place he once called a home - no shelves stacked high with tawdry romance novels, no photos of idyllic memories lining the walls, no sweet scent of calla lilies and soft glow of jars full of crystalflies...no blazing sun in human form tempting his tired feet back to a place he never truly belonged.
it's temporary, he reminds himself, fingers restlessly dancing a coin through his knuckles to try to rid the excess energy flowing through him, the instinct to lash out or flee until he's safely cocooned in a shell of his own making again. it doesn't matter, none of this matters - diluc is sick, the unnatural flush of his cheeks and glaze of his eyes painting an all too familiar portrait, and kaeya isn't so coldhearted yet to abandon his, his, his whatever to sweating out a worsening fever in some dirty alleyway alone. of course the ideal would be dragging the stubborn fool to barbara's tender care, but the church is up a thousand flights of stairs and some people here don't have the muscles of a claymore-wielding ox! he tossed aside the concept of manly pride the day he decided to parade around in a half-open shirt, he's fine admitting when he's physically beaten! ]
I'll get you some water. [ unable to stop himself, he reaches out to place a hand over diluc's forehead, hissing dramatically when it burns so high he swears he can feel his palm blistering even underneath his glove. ] Just how the hell did you manage to sneak past Adelinde in your condition, anyway?