[ one of the few luxuries kaeya allows himself in his apartment is his shower, hooked directly to an underground furnace so the water comes out piping hot whenever he wants. strictly speaking, it's not exactly necessary; the resistance granted by his vision coupled with his naturally low body temperature means that a cold shower feels rather balmy to him and a lukewarm one positively toasty, but he's always been addicted to greedily absorbing whatever heat he can get, as if letting enough of it sink through his skin will somehow melt the core of ice he carries in his heart.

tonight, he cranks the heat up to maximum. it's hardly comfortable, the near boiling temperature of the water already too much for anyone normal, let alone a cryo wielder, but he bears the torrent without flinching. drops of molten fire sluice down his body, burning away filth and grime and extraneous thought, leaving searing trails of white-hot pain behind; when they lick across his burn scars, he presses a hand to them closer, as if trying to recapture that startling bright moment of their creation. if he closes his eye, he can almost pretend he's back there now - rain dripping down his hair, the acrid stench of smoke and scorched flesh in his nostrils, an agony that has nothing to do with his wounds pulsing in his chest, a surety and a relief that the next blow would finally put a permanent end to all his lies.

(he has dreams still, of burning to death in a magnificent blaze borne of betrayal and broken promises. he wishes he could call them nightmares.)

the pain is a penance and a reminder, that regardless of whatever strange circumstances has led to diluc being in his bed once more, they can never go back to what they were - their bridges have been burnt, their paths diverging with no hope of reconnection. it's a reminder he tells himself often to no avail; for all that he attempts to treat their relationship as one of near strangers the way diluc clearly wants, his feet still take him to angel's share every night as if a man possessed, his silvertongue still teases and mocks before he can coil it back. it's pathetic, really, how he vies for whatever attention he can scrape like the child he never was, and yet no amount of pain or willpower or self-loathing recriminations get him to stop.

it's tempting to just stay in the shower until he either boils alive or diluc sneaks out the window and they can pretend this never happened, but he's already gotten more than one complaint about his amount of water consumption. it's when he's drying his hair that he realizes that one, because he normally sleeps shirtless he completely forgot to bring in a change of clothes aside from his usual pair of loose pants, and two, the shower also must have washed away all of the omega pheromones he'd applied, leaving only the neutral scent of a godless creation with no secondary gender behind.

well, it's not like diluc hadn't already known he's unnatural to this land, or that he can possibly do anything to drive the man away further. with a grimace, he slips on his undershirt - it's a bit too tight to be comfortable sleepwear, but it's not like he's going to be falling asleep any time soon with diluc still in his room anyway. taking a deep breath, he pastes a smile on his face before heading back into his bedroom, plunking a glass of water on the stand beside diluc's head. ]

Drink. If you need anything, I'll be on the couch - but don't expect service to the extent of Adelinde's chicken soup, I can't work miracles.