![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
134 » i just need to hear the sound of you
[The more that Aether suspects that he's in love with Kaeya, the more he thinks that things possibly can't get worse. It's not as clean-cut as thinking that Kaeya doesn't love him the same way. Rejection would be a thousand times kinder than reciprocation, but Aether already knows that it's too late for that. It's things like thinking in circles. Wanting to say yes while wanting to be told no. Do I care about him? Deeply. Does he care about me? Yes, and if not, then probably. Is there anything either of us will do about it? Probably not.
You know, what do we really know about him anyway? Paimon asked once, and after all this time, Aether doesn't have an answer.
But — it's not as simple as saying that he doesn't know anything about Kaeya, either. It's not as simple as what Diluc's done: tell himself that his brother lied about everything so that pushing him away would be easier than accepting that words and deeds can never be entirely true or entirely false. Aether does know things about Kaeya. Knows that he likes wine, and merriment, and tricky games, and the intoxicating paradox of tempered hedonism. Knows that he smells seductive and bracing as fresh snow when he's put together, warm and vaguely laundered when he isn't. Knows that he likes to have his hair stroked — knows what he looks like when he's barefoot and bleary at the breakfast table, sweetly sleepy and improbably soft for a man who wears his heart in the steel spikes on his wrist.
Aether hates himself, but he hates all of it, really. The indecision. The yearning. Wanting someone who isn't quite a liar but wants to be a memory. Aether's the same way, and that's the problem. As a traveler of worlds, he can only ever promise to be a beautiful memory. He can't promise the future, or tomorrow, or forever, or the past.
So can we really claim to be in love if we each only know the other in the transient present? Aether wonders — and then Paimon chirps something about Mondstadt Grilled Fish for lunch, and the traveler obliges despite the fact that he doesn't particularly want to eat fish.
Anyway. Days later, it's an easy thing. Should be an easy thing, when everything comes down to it. A simple commission: Ruin Guards congregating in the Windwail Highlands, too far from Mondstadt to be a threat but too close to Springvale to not endanger the local populace. Aether isn't afraid, of course. He isn't the frail young swordsman who took a blow to the head all those months ago. These days, he could take an army of Ruin Guards all on his own.
Still, he asks Kaeya to come with him. Something about Honorary Knights, and Cavalry Captains, and the safety of Mondstadt, and the sanctity of grapes. It's all pretense. He wants to see Kaeya, that's all. Wants to hear his voice and see his pretentious smile and the way there's (sometimes, maybe, or else he's only deluding himself) a fond warmth in that icy blue eye ringed by dark lashes. It's been so long since their first adventure — since Aether first laid eyes on the knight who smiled like a wolf with a bloodied mouth and spoke of the scent of burning flesh.
Except when they get there, it isn't Ruin Guards they're facing. It isn't even a Ruin Hunter. The monstrous machines in question lie destroyed, turned into a heap of nonfunctioning junk and chaos pieces. Their conqueror apparent, an Abyss Herald, looks up from the wreckage and calmly brandishes its sword at Aether.
And then — and then they duel. With honor, and sometimes without. Aether is light on his feet, jumps and floats and stings and flutters; the Herald, much heavier yet somehow liberated from the usual laws of physics, manages to hold its own against his speedy strikes for a good long while before it is soon pinned down by a combination of Aether's attacks and Kaeya's own offensive.
The Herald's heel slips on the cliff's edge, and surely it knows that it no longer has the upper hand. It has no expression beyond its menacing helm, but one can intuit, somehow, that it snarls. "This won't end here," the creature rumbles.
Aether lunges —
The Herald snaps. Or at least it moves so quickly that something in the air resounds and echoes like it snaps, the whiplash crack of hissing air, and then Aether is a gold-and-white blur flying through the air and there's nothing to break his fall: no pillar to catch his ribs, no stone tiles to smack into his spine. He simply hurtles through the air, and for a moment it feels like soaring. Like all those years cutting through the infinite nothingness of space, flying past stars and moons and milky galaxies promising inevitable death.
On instinct, he reaches for his wings, but those aren't there, won't answer him anymore. Because they're gone because she took them she took her she took —
Oh, Aether thinks, and then goes tumbling down. Kaeya will be so —]
You know, what do we really know about him anyway? Paimon asked once, and after all this time, Aether doesn't have an answer.
But — it's not as simple as saying that he doesn't know anything about Kaeya, either. It's not as simple as what Diluc's done: tell himself that his brother lied about everything so that pushing him away would be easier than accepting that words and deeds can never be entirely true or entirely false. Aether does know things about Kaeya. Knows that he likes wine, and merriment, and tricky games, and the intoxicating paradox of tempered hedonism. Knows that he smells seductive and bracing as fresh snow when he's put together, warm and vaguely laundered when he isn't. Knows that he likes to have his hair stroked — knows what he looks like when he's barefoot and bleary at the breakfast table, sweetly sleepy and improbably soft for a man who wears his heart in the steel spikes on his wrist.
Aether hates himself, but he hates all of it, really. The indecision. The yearning. Wanting someone who isn't quite a liar but wants to be a memory. Aether's the same way, and that's the problem. As a traveler of worlds, he can only ever promise to be a beautiful memory. He can't promise the future, or tomorrow, or forever, or the past.
So can we really claim to be in love if we each only know the other in the transient present? Aether wonders — and then Paimon chirps something about Mondstadt Grilled Fish for lunch, and the traveler obliges despite the fact that he doesn't particularly want to eat fish.
Anyway. Days later, it's an easy thing. Should be an easy thing, when everything comes down to it. A simple commission: Ruin Guards congregating in the Windwail Highlands, too far from Mondstadt to be a threat but too close to Springvale to not endanger the local populace. Aether isn't afraid, of course. He isn't the frail young swordsman who took a blow to the head all those months ago. These days, he could take an army of Ruin Guards all on his own.
Still, he asks Kaeya to come with him. Something about Honorary Knights, and Cavalry Captains, and the safety of Mondstadt, and the sanctity of grapes. It's all pretense. He wants to see Kaeya, that's all. Wants to hear his voice and see his pretentious smile and the way there's (sometimes, maybe, or else he's only deluding himself) a fond warmth in that icy blue eye ringed by dark lashes. It's been so long since their first adventure — since Aether first laid eyes on the knight who smiled like a wolf with a bloodied mouth and spoke of the scent of burning flesh.
Except when they get there, it isn't Ruin Guards they're facing. It isn't even a Ruin Hunter. The monstrous machines in question lie destroyed, turned into a heap of nonfunctioning junk and chaos pieces. Their conqueror apparent, an Abyss Herald, looks up from the wreckage and calmly brandishes its sword at Aether.
And then — and then they duel. With honor, and sometimes without. Aether is light on his feet, jumps and floats and stings and flutters; the Herald, much heavier yet somehow liberated from the usual laws of physics, manages to hold its own against his speedy strikes for a good long while before it is soon pinned down by a combination of Aether's attacks and Kaeya's own offensive.
The Herald's heel slips on the cliff's edge, and surely it knows that it no longer has the upper hand. It has no expression beyond its menacing helm, but one can intuit, somehow, that it snarls. "This won't end here," the creature rumbles.
Aether lunges —
The Herald snaps. Or at least it moves so quickly that something in the air resounds and echoes like it snaps, the whiplash crack of hissing air, and then Aether is a gold-and-white blur flying through the air and there's nothing to break his fall: no pillar to catch his ribs, no stone tiles to smack into his spine. He simply hurtles through the air, and for a moment it feels like soaring. Like all those years cutting through the infinite nothingness of space, flying past stars and moons and milky galaxies promising inevitable death.
On instinct, he reaches for his wings, but those aren't there, won't answer him anymore. Because they're gone because she took them she took her she took —
Oh, Aether thinks, and then goes tumbling down. Kaeya will be so —]
no subject
It's so, so easy now, just to lie. They happen effortlessly.
Kaeya doesn't move with Aether's fluidity, he can't have the air backing him, no exceptional power or otherworldly swordplay angles his wrist just so, turns his shoulder to avoid filleting on his opponent's edge. Instead he has his years of training, a bit of ice, a cultivated flair and finesse, lies-made-strikes. Even on the best of days, the Herald would put up a solid fight for just the two of them. Kaeya spends his movements wisely, angling thrusts peppered with ice so they'll miss Aether while damaging the Herald as much as possible. He grins through a taunt or five, no matter how many blows he's taken in return.
For a moment it seems they have won. Empty air and nothingness reach for the Abyss Herald's teetering form.
Something snaps.
Kaeya screams.
Abyss Heralds? Combat? Threats to Springvale, to the trade routes with the Winery, to- it's gone, all of it, there is nothing but the sight of Aether launched into the air, no ground to catch him and no glider, no glider to slow his fall. Gravity and time.
Kaeya hardly hears himself, his voice going raw as it blends Aether's name and NO and just yelling, as his heart pounds and his legs go as fast as they can, faster than he remembers they can, it won't be enough, he's still shouting as he leaps off the cliff's edge.
He's frantic, his thoughts racing, pulling out every trick he can think of in order to move through the air faster, Aether's plummeting toward the ground in open air and he can see the shock on his face, there's that at least, he can get closer- his fingers catch, just barely, in the fabric of Aether's scarf. Kaeya is out of air with which to scream.
Later, he won't remember it in order: closing his fist around the scarf. Yanking as hard as he can toward himself, against the fall, gasping at the effort, but it brings them just that much closer. Just enough. Kaeya yells again, one awful short breath worth, closing his arms hard around Aether's body and activating his own glider.
Everything goes white.
Kaeya fights for himself back. They're still falling. The glider isn't meant to take the weight of two people, and they have hard ground under them and they're headed for it too fast still. His left arm wraps around Aether's back and his right hand has the traveler's head held against his chest. Wind rushes in his ears, throws a white scarf into his face; they're falling too fast. Slower, now, but still too fast for a safe landing. Fire blooms in his lungs and his shoulders, in his knees, but he can't let go.]
Just hold on. [His mouth is moving without his permission, really. Words? Might be spoken? He doesn't know if there's voice in them, the wind is too loud and he can't imagine he's managed to take a breath. But the word are for Aether as much as they are for Kaeya.] Just hold on, just hold on.
[The fall has some forward to it, now, as the glider's shaky speed evens itself out and Kaeya mumbles into Aether's hair. He can see the ground coming at them, the tops of trees. Water? There's a river nearby, right, it's shallow, a solid plunge into it from their height would do nothing, but... done right, it might just be enough. Kaeya sets his jaw and forces himself not to close his eye as he angles their flight to carry them toward the water in the distance.]
no subject
In the time that it takes him to stop trying to summon his lost wings and in the time that it takes his feet to leave the ground, he thinks of cats. The physics of cats, that is. It's a long way down and-so-but maybe he has just enough time to pull out his glider and right himself mid-flight, spine twisting the way paws always manage to find the earth in midair. He'll be upside-down when the wings come out but that only means he needs to twist himself right-side up and then he can land on his feet, soft-spry-kitten-hard-impact-absorbed, or if he can't manage that then he can throw himself into the ground and roll to transfer all that excess force into the grass and dirt before it rebounds into his bones. That's the plan. That's the plan. He has seconds to pull it off, and he'll probably fail, but if he's lucky, he won't die. If he's lucky.
He doesn't, at all or in any way, expect the tortured shout of his name, or the raw and primal fear in Kaeya's voice, or the sight of Kaeya throwing himself off the cliff, arms outstretched for the hand that Aether himself only has half-raised in front of him because he's thinking through a thousand walls of glass about the way cats react to gravity. It's the look in Kaeya's eye that'll stick with him later, the way that gorgeous star in his iris constricts in horror. It's this thought that'll stick with him later: I didn't think I was worthy of your fear.
He doesn't expect the way Kaeya's hands catch in his scarf, yanking almost hard enough that the metal clasp holding it together would have broken if it were made of anything that could be found in Teyvat, and then their bodies have collided and Aether feels — so many, too many things at once: Kaeya's hand in his hair, Kaeya's shoulders in his arms, Kaeya's arms wrapped tight around his body. Kaeya's skin against his, warm and solid when the air tugging Aether in every possible direction is cold, and all of it means more than love possibly could. Kaeya could be the only real thing in the world. Kaeya is solid and real where there's nothing else to anchor him and maybe it's too late for him to die. There's a distant shout in his ears, barely audible over the wind and rushing sky. There's a hold on and he doesn't care.
What matters is this: it was stupid to jump off the cliff, but Kaeya did it anyway.
They land with a splash and roll a short distance in the shallow depths and — and it's rough, but it's gentler than Aether expected, all in all. Water tickles his ears and seeps into his hair, but they're both alive and he escaped with barely any impact for the way that Kaeya or the shallow water must have absorbed most of it instead. Kaeya's body is heavy over his own and his hand is still cradling Aether's head like it's something precious and they're both alive. And the Abyss Herald is probably gone, but Aether can only think of the way Kaeya's eye looked when it was blown wide and full of fear for Aether alone. Maybe that's selfish. But they're both alive.
His lungs are screaming for air and he can't remember what it's like to breathe.]
...Kaeya.
[That's all that escapes him, in the smallest possible voice. Nothing is — nothing else could possibly encapsulate —]
no subject
He took what he could of the impact, let the water do the rest. Hopefully...hopefully Aether isn't...he can't make his hands let go. All of his muscles have tensed and if he releases them it's as if they will both, somehow, drown.
It was stupid to jump off the cliff.
Aether probably would have been fine.
He couldn't risk probably and he knew exactly what he was doing and he was ready with the glider and
Kaeya hears his name, somehow, cutting timidly through the thunder of his heartbeat inside his skull, through the hurricane wind that he realizes suddenly is just...him. Fighting to breathe. The wings of his glider (a brilliant Mondstadt green, just a little ethereal, the emblem of freedom, the thousand quills of lies) drape over them both, also soaked.
In response to "Kaeya", he draws in yet another hard breath; when he tries speaking, it comes out as- a cough? The opposite of a gasp. But he's better than this, damn it, he's a Captain in the Knights of Favonius and he's just done possibly the stupidest thing in his entire life, with the only witness the person he was doing it for. That's what it is, isn't it? The two soft, bare sounds of his name, ready to upbraid him for every decision he made from the moment Aether's feet left the ground?
For that person, he can scrape together saying something back.]
I- I know. [It comes out harsh, barking, but it's from effort more than temper. Kaeya squeezes his eye shut against the glare of sun on water and of his own mistakes against endless ice.] I- are- are you hurt?
[That should be his priority. They were fighting an Abyss Herald. He may have failed completely in that respect, but he can put some of the pieces back together, at least do something for Aether (haven't you done enough?) if...if the fight or the fall...did him harm.]
no subject
I-I'm fine...
[They're wet and waterlogged and the Abyss Herald is probably long gone by now, but he's fine. They're fine. Maybe he has a few gashes on his torso — it's fine, doesn't matter, surface wounds, Barbara will have them cleaned up in seconds. Something in the way Kaeya sounds makes Aether reach, reflexively, for reassurances. If he knew that Kaeya expected chastisement, he'd reach for love.]
I'm here. I'm fine. [His hands find Kaeya's shoulders, slide up to his neck, his jaw. He wants to look at the man, but looking at him would mean pushing him away, and Aether doesn't want that either, so he settles for cradling Kaeya's face instead.] Kaeya, I'm here.
[I'm here. Soft reassurance, an oath to stay. The promise of a promise. His fingers apply just the barest hint of pressure, coaxing Kaeya to tilt his head up and meet Aether's wide golden gaze. He was so worried. It keeps sticking in his throat. What would you have done if —]
I'm okay.
no subject
Kaeya draws back enough to look at him. Aether, lying on his back in just inches of water at the curve of the stream, wide-eyed, pale as he's ever seen him. (He has no way of knowing he looks much the same, practically grey, a snapped wildness in his eye while the fear and adrenaline still have footholds.) Despite the taut fuzziness across his body Kaeya makes a choked sound and pulls the traveler close again. Just for a few seconds. Just-]
Good. [It is as fierce as the grip of the hand tangled in Aether's hair. There's so much more running through his head. I'm glad you're not dead. That shouldn't have happened. None of this should have happened.
All of that is just too much for now. In painful increments, Kaeya finally convinces himself to relax his hold, fighting his own better judgment the whole way. They can't- they can't sprawl here in the water forever. Time does not freeze. His fingers slide erratically out of Aether's braid; one arm releases the traveler and Kaeya rolls to the side, onto his other arm, so he can rest his head on it and still breathe air.
His heart is still racing, and in truth his hand hasn't quite managed to leave off, he's holding Aether's shoulder with enforced gentleness.]
I'm...
[Okay too.
Sorry.
The next inhale, exhale, the ones just after that, rattle in his chest like an agitated snake. But it's working. He can feel the rush wearing away, little pieces of it eroded and carried downstream. Feel the cogs and springs of his mind winding back up into their proper positions, for all he doesn't want to set them turning again.]
That's...that's good.
[He's fine too. He is. He'll be fine in another minute. This is all so absurd. So foolish. Kaeya opens his eye just enough to make out Aether beside him.]
no subject
The Cavalry Captain sort of collapses and deflates onto his arm, still breathing hard, and it doesn't seem like the time to jostle him about getting back to town now that the danger has passed.
It's a mark of how preternaturally put together Aether often is that he's still calm. Surprisingly, despite the shock that has overtaken him, he still has working sensation in his limbs; he uses them to push himself up into a sitting position, and then he looks down at Kaeya as he lies sprawled in the water. Nothing like judgment, of course; nothing like disdain. That little flinch didn't escape him. Aether only reaches out and gently runs his hand through Kaeya's long hair, patient and unbothered and gentle.]
...I'm here.
[Truthfully, it's his impulse to brush the man's hair out of his eyes, but that doesn't make sense: Kaeya's likely more comfortable with his hair draped over his eye, so Aether brushes over his scalp and the back of his head instead. Didn't he seem to like that once, when he was sick...?]
no subject
In another lifetime, he might have found it in him to curl up and be comforted. The traveler seems fine. He sat up, he's moved around a bit, there isn't too-much-blood trailing off into the water.
But it rankles, too, that he's up and steady and consoling him with such soothing tones. That there is a gentle hand working its way through his hair, encouraging the desire to simply lie here uselessly until he feels like he can breathe again without trying. Kaeya is much much better than coming unstitched this way.
Isn't he?
He swallows and takes one last deep breath. He is better than this. And they're not necessarily out of danger, and who the hell knows how many people might have seen their impromptu tandem flight from the surrounding area. There could be questions. He'd better start piecing together answers.
Upon moving to sit up, a line of fire arcs through his back and shoulders, putting out painful branches, lightning blooms. Kaeya allows himself a grunt of strain. It'll pass, or he'll go a few days before it does, or Jean will catch him out and force him to get it taken care of, but they all amount to the same thing. Anyway, his arms work fine - they push him up out of the water with no real problems - they're just sore. It was a surprise.
Kaeya pushes his own hair out of his face and breathes out.]
I'm glad you're here. [This smile is usually smooth as cream. Today it's a little shaky. He leans forward onto one drawn-up knee, letting his fingertips trail in the water.] Think the Adventurer's Guild will care that you fulfilled your commission on a technicality? You're under no obligation to tell them that, of course.
[By the end he has his voice back under some control, and there's a bit of mischief in his eye. The mask just came off for a minute, that's all. It isn't broken. It isn't as though all the world will now only see something like the truth.
Aether should recognize his teasing as...genuine. He's trying to prove he's here, too. But Kaeya can't be sure of anything right now, not even his own responses to danger.
Very carefully, he wrings a bit of water out of the ends of his sleeves, and fruitlessly tries the same for the fur at his collar. Ah- the glider. That gets deactivated, vanishing and taking its faint glow with it.]
no subject
The traveler doesn't address the point of what he's going to tell the Adventurer's Guild. He is, in fact, not especially concerned about what he's going to tell anybody at all. Silently, he rises to his feet, still a bit shaky, but otherwise unbothered. He lets out a breath that lasts a little longer than it ought to. Standing prompts Kaeya to stand, too, if only to correct the height imbalance — and then Aether reaches up, stopping just short of the Cavalry Captain's face, as if he's remembered that the man doesn't like to be touched that way.]
Kaeya, bend down a little bit?
[His control over Anemo isn't quite as precise beyond the immediate range of his hands, hence the request. It takes a bit of concentration to pick out the breath of a warmer wind from the south — but Aether manages it in the end, channeling it up and over Kaeya's head, his fur mantle, the damp ends of his sleeves. Anemo reacts with Hydro as always it does, Swirling away on the gentle breeze. He's maybe not as gentle and controlled as Venti would be, but then he's never claimed to be the Anemo Archon.
As an afterthought, Aether sends the breeze twirling up and over his own (largely waterproof) clothing, patting absently at his thighs until the dampness behind his knees is gone.]
...There. Nice and dry now?
[His voice takes on a teasing tone.]
You look cuter when you're fluffy.
no subject
The cavalry captain is left blinking and no longer damp. Why is it that Aether so easily gets the upper hand like this? Why is he so damn good at taking him off guard? Kaeya ought to do more to stop it. Should marshal better self-control out of himself. He stops thinking this the instant he meets the traveler's lovely, sharp eyes. He looks cuter when he's fluffy.
Kaeya wants to smile and tease back.
Aether's feet leave the ground and he disappears over the cliff's edge without so much as a whisper.
All else vanishes - smile, tease, wind, light - overtaken by a memory just minutes old but years embedded in Kaeya's heart. He steps forward, fluffy ruff and all, and with a rougher tug than he'd like he pulls Aether close and holds on. Arms tight, face tucked against the traveler's hair. No thought is spared for what anyone nearby might think, for who might come across them on the road, for what this may mean in the long run to Aether or to Kaeya himself.
He isn't better than this after all.]
no subject
He could sink into this feeling.
He doesn't do any such thing, of course. Reliable as always, Aether treads water, staying afloat so that he can give Kaeya something steady and solid to hold on to. He's solid, he wants to say, and he isn't going anywhere. He presses his nose into Kaeya's neck, held in this tight embrace, then presses his lips there, too. The gentle softness of blond hair mixing into blue makes the traveler think, once again absurdly, of cats.]
...So fluffy.
[So fluffy. So cute. And maybe that's patronizing — but isn't it loving, too?]
no subject
He's a fool, truly and deeply. There's nothing left to deny about it. Maybe Aether doesn't care. Maybe he cares too much.
As the fierceness of the hug fades, Kaeya catches sun and water and stars in a sniff of the breeze, and one quick, soundless bark of a laugh escapes him. He pulls away, reluctantly, trying to find composure in straightening the line of Aether's scarf, in simply putting his hands on the traveler's shoulders.
He would be horrified to know that his usual carefree grin fails him here. It's too warm, too invested. Truer than he should want. Another mistake. Another leap from the cliff's edge. Another life spared - and how many condemned? - by his flaws and failures.
Kaeya lifts a hand and ruffles Aether's hair.]
So fluffy.
no subject
But he doesn't want to. Kaeya's fingers feel warm, caught in the roots of his hair and turning them every which way, and he just wants to linger here, stay trapped beneath that warmth. And it's a sad thing, really, that Aether can't even consider coming clean with the truth even now — what would he do, if they were just different people? Would he promise his love? Would he promise to stay? Is there room for an ending like that between the two of them? What if Aether stayed by Kaeya's side until the end of his natural life, ageless and undying, until Kaeya's dark hair turned silver and the beautiful star in his left eye closed, sightless at last? Fate has no such bliss in store for the both of them and he knows it. They both know it, surely.
So he doesn't move. He doesn't urge them back to Mondstadt. He only takes Kaeya by the wrist, fingers parted to accommodate those spiked bracelets, guides that one hand down; picks up the other hand, too, and presses both of Kaeya's palms to his cheeks. He stays like that for a moment, eyes closed. Breathes slow, ankle-deep in the water.]
...I really like you, Kaeya.
[And that's it — that's the most honest thing that he can say. Not love, because they're not meant for love. It will go unsaid and not unheard because they aren't meant for love.]
Sometimes I don't want to let you go.
no subject
Who said anything about letting me go?
[Everything that's happened today, from the moment Aether's feet left the ground, has been Kaeya trying to hold on. Kaeya not wanting to let another life he cared about slip through his fingers. Kaeya fiercely drawing to himself that which he refused to lose, by his inaction or his choices or...all of the things that tore his comforts away from him in the past.
It worked, for once. Aether's dangerous like that.
Kaeya would hate to go back to a life unseasoned by the risk.
He looks Aether in the eye, and the showy peacock, the hunting wolf, the cunning man all leave his features. Here in the middle of the woods, water limping past his boots, he is just Kaeya, cradling the beautiful features of just Aether. A tiny smile parts his lips.]
I'll keep holding on if you will.
no subject
[Aether acknowledges the reassurance with... something like detachment, at first. Something like distraction. Like it hasn't fully set in — like his mind is elsewhere, far from danger and risk, lost in the beautiful sea of Kaeya's deep blue eye. He's always lived for the present, but not like this. Not like clutching at the present that is rapidly becoming the past. He wants to breathe in the moment and never have to slide out of it.
But time keeps moving, just like the wind in their ears and the water at their feet, and with time, Kaeya's words, their gravity and weight, sink fully towards the bottom of Aether's heart. He brightens, then, in a way he's never brightened before — his heart swells with affection, with the relief of knowing that he isn't the only one who has to worry about holding on, or letting go.]
Mm! ♥
[He's boyish, then — half-tackling his showy peacock in earnest, squeezing tight around his middle, cheek pressed into his chest as he gives Kaeya the most ferocious hug he can manage. He doesn't say a word. The broad grin on his face says more than his voice ever could.]
no subject
Heh.
[It's what he can manage until he takes a proper breath.]
This is the opposite of letting go.
[The soreness in his arms and back didn't vanish. He's still kind of wild, uneven from the adrenaline of...all of it. If he closes his eyes the ground will come rushing up at him as the backdrop to Aether's utterly surprised silent stare.
Doesn't matter.
He settles into holding the traveler close again, more protection and care in it than ferocious yearning, and laughs into the pieces of hair that sprang loose from his braid in the scuffle.
This can never end well.
It's too easy, in the tumult of beginning, not to care about ending at all.
Kaeya moves his right hand, never quite breaking contact. His fingertips slide up Aether's back, across his shoulder, from there along his neck and under his chin. The cavalry captain whispers in the traveler's ear, breathless and affectionately disdainful and sweet:]
By your leave.
[If not now, then never, because he will lose the moment, it will bury itself with the rest of the past. Kaeya lifts Aether's chin, draws back gently, and silences any ensuing questions with a kiss.]
no subject
What a strangely perfect moment for two very imperfect souls. If ever he allowed himself the indulgence of imagining what it would be like to kiss Kaeya, Aether might have conjured up fantasies of a dark hall in the Knights of Favonius building, or perhaps some secluded corner of the Angel's Share; instead, they're here in the light of the sun, the stream burbling past their feet, and the kiss is feather-light, delicate as the edges of a forgotten dream. It comes to its end, as all good things must, and then Aether allows his eyes to flutter open. The expression on his face is nothing short of enchanted — and also strangely contrite.
His voice is small.]
...I didn't think I was worthy of you.
[And isn't that funny — that the otherworldly, golden hero, their wayward traveler, would think himself unworthy of Kaeya, and not the other way around? But he closes his eyes, buries himself into the crook of Kaeya's neck and collarbone. He lets out a long breath.]
Didn't think... you'd ever be mine.
[His arms wrapped round Kaeya's waist — they hold tight, as if he can prolong the moment just by pressing the knight's body against his.]
I hope you know I don't lose things that I intend to keep.
no subject
In truth, Kaeya thinks of almost nothing at all. Not until Aether draws away, not pulled by anything but a natural shift and possibly a need to breathe.
It wouldn't surprise Kaeya at all if the traveler somehow didn't need to breathe.]I hope you know, [he takes his time, his arms folded loosely around Aether, his cheek against sun-warmed golden hair,] that the only person who gets to decide what's worthy of me is me.
[He wouldn't have put it in those terms. Worthiness is a concept for other people altogether. Getting the job done, keeping his head above water, balancing between one act and the next, those are for him. But Aether started it, so he has to finish it.
This isn't about him.
Is it?]
And I'd say I made my opinion fairly clear. Wouldn't you?
no subject
[Aether's voice has turned soft and coy in a way that he rarely shares with others. He peeks up at Kaeya, and it's almost innocent, the wide-eyed admiration on his face, like he can't believe he can have the thing that he's wanted for so long. The thing he's craved for years, maybe even years and years and years, long before he arrived in Teyvat — long before Lumine's absence ever made him realize that maybe he's been aching for something like a love that wasn't just the love he shares (shared?) with his dearest sister.
Not the time, now, to think of things like that. Or to dwell too long on regrets, even if there's a part of his heart, too, that wonders if he should be allowed such happiness. Is this right, for the two of them? Won't this end in goodbye? But if Lumine has been here for five hundred years, then maybe he, too, can stay long enough to promise one mortal man a lifetime of loyalty —
Not the time to think of this. Aether forces himself to stop thinking. He looks up into Kaeya's one blue eye, and then smiles, and leans forward, and claims his lips again. Warmer, this time; more passionate. More promising. It's the kind of kiss where he gently cradles Kaeya's jaw throughout, not because he needs the man to be so close that their bodies meld into one, but because he just wants Kaeya to know that he'll be cherished.]
...I'm yours for as long as you'll have me.
no subject
I can't promise much. [He shrugs, a little, the fluff of his fur trim rippling. It's admission, rather than dismissal. There's some delight in his eyes still despite how serious he is about this one thing.] Just...one day at a time.
[That's a lot, from the right angle. A new promise, each day that they have. The chance retaken with every dawn. How poetic.
He could work that into a competition some day.And should the end of those days arrive...no further agreement. Nothing to bind Aether to what might remain of him, of the memory of them.Because it will be Kaeya, faltering first. The misstep will belong to him. He's sure of it. Nothing so tame as wandering eyes or hands or other manifestations of a moment's lust. It will be worse, when the walls crumble.
In the mute sunlight of the traveler's gaze it feels like those things can't come for him. Not now. He does feel...cherished.]
Will that be...enough?
no subject
Are any of them entirely wrong? Probably not. Are any of them entirely right? Well, it's hard to be entirely right about anything so subjective. Still, Aether isn't afraid, in the moment, of making mistakes. He wants to bask in the sun of Kaeya's affection, drink in the sight of his blue eye curved in a genuine smile.]
One day at a time is all we can ever promise. One day at a time is all I'll ever need.
[The wind picks up Aether's braid again, so he turns his head in the direction of the breeze, gaze carried over to Cider Lake, and past that, the city of Mondstadt.]
Let's go home, Kaeya.
[A little laugh, warm and forgiving and full of affection, and then he takes the Cavalry Captain by the hand.]
We have to tell everyone that we messed up.
no subject
[Let's go home. A place to which neither man can lay claim, not within the bounds of Mondstadt, not truly...but it seems they must try.
Kaeya wraps his hand around Aether's. He leans in, for another quick kiss, just in front of his ear, just to watch for whether the traveler can blush when it's warranted.
He'll do it again, too. And again. Until they're within view of the bridge over Cider Lake - until they're just steps from home.]