[ hadn't it always been? some vile thing reminds him, struck stark against the blackness at the inside of his ribs. like dampened flint, the ache of knowing the darkness won't break for what remains of them never quite leaves as much as it on some days subsides. a weight in the pocket of his memory, a dull sword in the hand, diluc knows these things to be more dangerous the sharpened edge of a knife. at least, diluc thinks hazily, you know when it'll cut you. you know when it will make you bleed.
it wouldn't be this nasty, opened thing that is left upon what kaeya has deigned to call furniture and left to ooze in the wreckage of his own stupidity and the overlay of days spent in the barracks. back then, kaeya had deposited him with the same sort of roughness. he'd never been as able to support him for long distances, made more for the grace of a ballroom and the true artistry of sword form. he'd always made an attempt. foolish as he was too, even knowing — diluc's eyes flutter shut, for just long enough to pull syllables together in the dry of his mouth. ]
Adelinde needn't keep tabs on everything I do anymore, [ diluc gives, grouses more. he bats at the hand that comes up to touch about his forehead, seconds off the mark. instead, what occurs is more of an impotent threat of a waving hand, fingers uncertain of what happened to their target. he heaves a breath, though it's more of a huff. for what he can manage to crystallize into thought, it is just more of the same. familiar, he'd guess now. old and flat and acerbic — ground down by the state of his body, the hot flush of his skin and the parting of his lips. ] Don't bother. [ and still, his eyes fix on the weighted swing of kaeya's earring, the bell curve of a distant star. he'd given it to kaeya on the cusp of seventeen, turned over to the warm cup of his palm. he'd thought of putting it in for him, thumbing against the lobe of his ear. peach flesh and downy, he'd thought of holding the delicate edge of unbitten skin and punching it through.
even now, the memory of it tumbles down the steps of his spine. it terminates at the pit of his stomach, heats him further from the inside, and with it too is the crowding sense of nausea that crests against the back of his teeth and comes out coughing. words, he thinks. defensive and wounded little things, more for his own darkness he cannot burn away through the use of his vision — the endless striking of matches. ]
You've already gone above and beyond, haven't you? [ so stubborn, his father would say. so stubborn, kaeya would have once told him. he feels the bite of sawdust at his back, the poor padding of whatever kaeya's dropped him on. he feels his gradual slip, though he attempts to blindly shove himself upright. ] I can manage.
[ kaeya doesn't want him here, not really. he doesn't want the charity of some misremembered repayment. he doesn't want this looming, the little teeth of his scent at the back of his throat and his lungs full of it. and still, and still — something instinctual and ugly simmers up behind his eyes. it looks out at kaeya, looks out at the gem that stays fixed in the dark of his hair like some guiding light. he'd put it there, he thinks. once upon a time.
once upon a time, he thinks as he leans forward and senseless, he'd have pressed his forehead to the ridge of his hip. he'd have stayed there until kaeya indulged him, idle strokes at the wild curl of his hair. he'd have told him he was tired and diluc would have fallen for it. again. he would have done anything for kaeya back then. the blue nail of his beauty lodged still in his heart, he'd have bore any ache for him. but — that was a lifetime ago, he thinks.
and still, the crown of his head somehow brushes forward enough just to touch him. half-aware and half-alert, knowing distantly that this the closest they been of diluc's own foggy volition, for whatever it's worth. ]
no subject
it wouldn't be this nasty, opened thing that is left upon what kaeya has deigned to call furniture and left to ooze in the wreckage of his own stupidity and the overlay of days spent in the barracks. back then, kaeya had deposited him with the same sort of roughness. he'd never been as able to support him for long distances, made more for the grace of a ballroom and the true artistry of sword form. he'd always made an attempt. foolish as he was too, even knowing — diluc's eyes flutter shut, for just long enough to pull syllables together in the dry of his mouth. ]
Adelinde needn't keep tabs on everything I do anymore, [ diluc gives, grouses more. he bats at the hand that comes up to touch about his forehead, seconds off the mark. instead, what occurs is more of an impotent threat of a waving hand, fingers uncertain of what happened to their target. he heaves a breath, though it's more of a huff. for what he can manage to crystallize into thought, it is just more of the same. familiar, he'd guess now. old and flat and acerbic — ground down by the state of his body, the hot flush of his skin and the parting of his lips. ] Don't bother. [ and still, his eyes fix on the weighted swing of kaeya's earring, the bell curve of a distant star. he'd given it to kaeya on the cusp of seventeen, turned over to the warm cup of his palm. he'd thought of putting it in for him, thumbing against the lobe of his ear. peach flesh and downy, he'd thought of holding the delicate edge of unbitten skin and punching it through.
even now, the memory of it tumbles down the steps of his spine. it terminates at the pit of his stomach, heats him further from the inside, and with it too is the crowding sense of nausea that crests against the back of his teeth and comes out coughing. words, he thinks. defensive and wounded little things, more for his own darkness he cannot burn away through the use of his vision — the endless striking of matches. ]
You've already gone above and beyond, haven't you? [ so stubborn, his father would say. so stubborn, kaeya would have once told him. he feels the bite of sawdust at his back, the poor padding of whatever kaeya's dropped him on. he feels his gradual slip, though he attempts to blindly shove himself upright. ] I can manage.
[ kaeya doesn't want him here, not really. he doesn't want the charity of some misremembered repayment. he doesn't want this looming, the little teeth of his scent at the back of his throat and his lungs full of it. and still, and still — something instinctual and ugly simmers up behind his eyes. it looks out at kaeya, looks out at the gem that stays fixed in the dark of his hair like some guiding light. he'd put it there, he thinks. once upon a time.
once upon a time, he thinks as he leans forward and senseless, he'd have pressed his forehead to the ridge of his hip. he'd have stayed there until kaeya indulged him, idle strokes at the wild curl of his hair. he'd have told him he was tired and diluc would have fallen for it. again. he would have done anything for kaeya back then. the blue nail of his beauty lodged still in his heart, he'd have bore any ache for him. but — that was a lifetime ago, he thinks.
and still, the crown of his head somehow brushes forward enough just to touch him. half-aware and half-alert, knowing distantly that this the closest they been of diluc's own foggy volition, for whatever it's worth. ]