[ for all that he's often accused of hedonism, usually by the man in front of him now, kaeya is a master at denying himself the comforts in life he truly wants - and that he wants them at all, for that matter. oh, he'll splurge on fine wines and fashionable clothes, but it's all hollow in the end; he still comes home at night to an empty apartment, still smiles distantly through any attempts at close companionship, still avoids the roads that would take him in view of dawn winery when he can. some might call it self-flagellation, but that would imply an awareness of longing to begin with, an awareness he suffocates with drink and distractions whenever it surfaces; what is want, what is desire to a mere mirror of a man, a glittering shell of lies that only reflects whatever it needs to pass as human? khaenri'ans may dream of dreaming, but kaeya dreams of dreaming of nothing at all.

and so he doesn't let his eyes linger on the way diluc is splayed across his bed like an offering, on how the moonlight softens his silhouette into some shimmering fragment of a dream he refuses to remember. he doesn't think about how the banked embers of diluc's eyes and the fire of his hair make his coarse sheets suddenly seem cozy and inviting, or how the last time he'd felt warm at all had been the night before that terrible birthday, tucked tightly together in a bed they'd both long outgrown. when he kneels down to help diluc fumble with his boots, he feels no urge to press his face into his lap to see if his heat will finally melt the ice cold that's settled deep into his bones; when he takes his overcoat, he ignores the way the residual warmth of the other's body curls around his fingertips.

it's fine. it's easy. it's nothing he's not used to by now. he's always been quick on the uptake at whatever he puts his mind to, and that includes putting his mind to having no mind at all. ]

Hey, I got you here in one piece, didn't I? With how much you and that sword of yours weigh, you should consider yourself lucky I didn't just dump you on the street. Ahhh, my back is so sore, how am I going to work tomorrow under the weight of all this ingratitude....

[ the banter is automatic, his mouth running on reflex while his brain tries desperately not to focus on how strange yet familiar the sight in front of him is. someone divested of their heavy outer attire should by logical assumption appear smaller, yet diluc clad in only a single layer somehow manages to fill the entire room with his presence, as if all that extra adornment and armor had merely been holding him back. for the first time, kaeya curses the overly observational instincts trained into him since birth; try as he might, he can't stop himself from cataloguing all the little changes from the years past, the scars now visible on diluc's hands, the extra freckles dotting his neck, how his shoulders are now so much broader than they'd been as a teen...

and that's his cue to leave. he stands abruptly, running a hand through his hair. ]

Well, I'm going to take a shower so I can soothe my aching back. Try not to drool all over my pillows, won't you?