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At night, Liyue Harbor is awash with light and life.
It’s a pretty usual fare for the bustling portside metropolis; wherever one ventures upon the golden terraces, the lamplit archways, and the gilded rooftops that overhang the various buildings that line the wide streets, they’re bound to find something that suits their fancy.
If some should argue that Liyue has the most colorful of cities, let them not be wrong; amongst the teahouses, the restaurants, the stairways, and the various shops the richest of palettes enrobe them all; scarlet, gold, sage, and ivory, among others, vibrantly coalesce in such masterful painted intricacies.
Merchants holler behind stands of steaming food and shimmering blocks of jade. Some sell richly furbished books, others sell ornate pottery.
The city is alive. The people wander it in droves, marveling and talking and laughing. Beyond the long wooden docks lies the sea, glimmering beneath the moon’s silver-pooled blessing.
Kaeya just so happens to be in Liyue — on business for the Knights, of course. Overseeing some issues the local businesses have had with receiving their casks of dandelion wine; come to find out, it’s a complicated affair involving a slew of highway robberies.
Thus, he must turn the remainder of the investigation over to the Millelith and the Ministry of Civil Affairs. Done and done.
He’s no stranger to these matters; wherever the Knights send him, there’s usually something deeper beneath the initial complaint. But it’s no longer his problem, and he knows when to step back. The report is written and sent. All’s well that ends well.
But there’s other reasons why he offered to take the trip to the harbor. And it’s not for all the excitement the city has to offer.
As the Cavalry Captain slips out the door of the extravagant Baiju Guesthouse, his uncovered eye does not gleam in the delight of the sights around him. He does not smile, does not carry himself with his typical confident swagger.
He just wants to be alone. Needs to be alone.
There’s a deep, resounding heaviness that sits in his chest as he blankly wanders the streets. He sweeps his gaze over the glowing scenery around him, but there’s absolutely nothing. Not a flicker of happiness. Not an ember of joy.
Years of carrying around unspoken secrets — burdens — will do that to someone.
He’s not sure where he’s going, but he passes the well-lit terrace just to pass through another archway leading into a quiet pond. Without the evening’s bustling noise, the static that crowds his head can amplify.
All Kaeya can think about is how dark it is. How utterly dark it’s become. He watches the pond’s barely rippling surfaces, the flowery candles floating placidly, and all that’s consuming his thoughts are how tired he is.
How the sickening, wrenching sensation of being crushed by the weight of all that sequesters itself inside him is so profound it’s tangible. When they say time heals all wounds, he has to disagree; his wounds have only festered throughout. Grief and guilt, in tandem, have eaten away at his cursed flesh. It’s been like this for years.
It’s been years since his father died.
It’s been years since he and Diluc have even looked at each other.
It’s been years; a slow, steady downward spiral and not a single person has taken notice. Nobody has bared witness to his lies, the soul-shattering truth that huddles in his soul — unsaid, unheard — for the last time he spoke of them his brother nearly killed him.
And the next thought that slithers upon his mind chills him. And yet, it seems so fitting.
He should’ve slain me that night. Spared me the burden of playing a part I never deserved.
It’s exhausting. To act unbothered, devil-may-care, a smirk on his lips and a drink in his hand. To act as if there isn’t some heaviness dragging him down, clawing at his shoulders and threatening to wrap its tendrils around his neck. To act as if his brother’s averted gaze and blunt comments didn’t drive deep into him, like shards of broken glass.
To act as if the nation he’s adopted into wouldn’t discard of him just as quickly if word ever got out.
He’s been treading on thin ice since he was a child — it’s about time all his tightly wound secrets, with all their intricate wrappings and chains, came loose and cracked through the surface.
Except that he can’t let it happen. He won’t.
Because the secrets will stay with him. With nobody to confide in, nobody he can trust — not without perceiving him as a traitor — he will take them to his grave.
Kaeya finds the static is overwhelming, clouding his thoughts, muddling them. Crackling in his ears. He shudders, as if willing away the harsh, hissing whispers that crawl beneath his skin. It’s too loud. It’s too dark.
As he crosses the walkway of the pond, his eye catches a glimpse of a large building on top of a hill, and dozens of steps leading up to it.
It’s up high. Kaeya glances around, as if wondering if anyone would notice, and begins ascending the stairs. It’s really high.
As he reaches the top, he notices the building seems closed for the night; not a single light is on inside.
Good, he thinks. No witnesses.
Nobody to stop me.
The static enshrouds him. His burdens run so deep, there’s nothing he can do to loosen them anymore. They’ve bound him. Torn him apart. Carrying this since he was a child, cursed with the allegiances of two nations; one destroyed by the gods and one ruled by them. The curse of being tasked as the last hope for one, and a treasonous spy for the other.
His soul has been tearing itself apart, and it has costed everything.
And it is entirely his fault.
And it’s exactly why he’s peering over the balcony behind this building, staring into the rocky abyss below. He can’t even see a thing.
Kaeya’s never been afraid of heights — but he’s never liked them, either. Perhaps it’s best he’s unable to see what lies beneath as he swings one leg over, then the other, until he’s just standing on the stone ledge, arms still gripping the railing.
His breathing becomes a little more rapid now, and a multitude of thoughts come rushing into his head like tidal waves, crashing over him. Chanting, encouraging, screaming. Gods, he’s dizzy.
Just do it
Just go
Nobody needs you
Nobody sees you
Go
Go
He just needs to push off.
Just a little push.
Kaeya squeezes his eyes shut, takes a deep breath. He just about loosens his vice grip on the ledge when a soft voice breaks through his tumultuous cloud of static.
”Are you alright?”
It catches him off guard, but not enough to spook him and lose his grip. Kaeya stays where he is, unwavering, but turns back his head towards the voice he’s heard.
A man stands there, emerald locks loosely woven into a waist-long braid and robed clothing as intricate and colorful as the city itself; just in hues of violet and pale blue and mint.
His glasses perch the bridge of his nose, the lenses reflecting the oil lamp he carries in one hand. A white, shimmery coil curls around his neck and shoulders; a sudden appearance of beady pink eyes and flicking tongue tells Kaeya it’s a snake, of all things.
”May I ask what you’re doing?” The bespectacled man asks, but it’s not interrogatory. No, his tone is as gentle as silk, and soothing as honey. He speaks as if he’s careful not to frighten him.
Kaeya doesn’t move as he glances below, gritting his teeth. Shit. He’s been found out.
”I..” He begins, but he realizes he doesn’t have a clear answer. Just how does he begin to explain his intentions — which, as he now realizes, now seem quite apparent.
The mysterious emerald-haired man doesn’t leave. Instead, he introduces himself.
“I’m Baizhu. I’m a physician and owner of the Bubu Pharmacy, which stands right behind us.” He pauses, glancing towards Kaeya’s hip. ”I see you aren’t from around here — that’s a Mondstadt Vision, is it not?”
He’s trying to talk me down. Kaeya just wants him to leave him alone — leave him be to the mercy of the depths below the railing. Still, despite everything still crackling and humming and hissing in his mind, he nods.
”Yeah.”
Baizhu remains intrigued, but Kaeya isn’t sure whether it’s genuine curiosity or if he’s alarmed, considering how the physician has gingerly stepped a little closer this time.
”What might be your name? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting someone from Mondstadt — at least, not a Vision holder.”
The Cavalry Captain hesitates for a few moments, as if he’s unsure it really matters who knows his name at this point. He just wants to be forgotten, lost to time.
But he’ll indulge the doctor’s question, at least for now.
”Kaeya.”
“What brings you out to Liyue, Kaeya?”
“Business. With the Knights.”
”A knight in shining armor!” Baizhu smiles. ”Must be some heroic business, then.”
Kaeya snorts. ”Not really. Just..business.”
“I see. It sounds important, regardless.”
There’s a brief pause — albeit a tense one, as Kaeya still hovers over the ledge, until the physician places his lamp on the ground and approaches even closer. He offers out a hand.
”I’d love for us to continue this conversation, Kaeya, but it might be easier if you stepped back onto my side. I fear you might slip and fall, and from such a height that would be, well..”
That’s kind of the point, doc. Kaeya bites back his retort. It’s too late. He’s already been found out, and he has a feeling another chance will not present itself so easily. Especially not with this man; of all the people he could’ve encountered, it just had to be a doctor.
Kaeya curses everything. Curses the fact that he’s driven to this. Curses the fact that he can’t even be truly, completely alone. Curses the fact that this Baizhu guy is so damn persistent and won’t leave him to—
He’s seething, jaw tightening as he grabs the hand offered to him. Still, from the way the hand trembles it’s clear the physician is not of the strongest condition — thus, Kaeya pulls himself back onto the other side of the railing without a problem.
”That’s much better,” Baizhu says gently. ”Now we can talk.”
Kaeya shakes his head. ”Listen.. it’s been nice to meet you, Doctor Baizhu, but I really should go.”
He needs to be alone.
He has to be alone.
He’s past the point of talking — his life experiences have shown him in the cruelest of ways that his burdens can only be shouldered on his own. It’s better that way.
Please, just leave me alone.
But it’s almost as if the emerald-haired doctor sees right through him, right through whatever superficial bravado he attempts to display.
”Kaeya? Forgive me, but I simply cannot let you go out like this.”
Kaeya just barely brushes past him, stopping. A scoff escapes his lips as he looks back to meet his gaze.
“What, you’re going to stop me? How? I’m fine.” No, that’s a lie. A blatant, in-the-face lie.
An expression of deep concern crosses Baizhu’s face. Brow knitted and eyes scanning him over, he says, ”You say you’re fine, yet you climbed over to stand on a ledge.” He pauses, almost pleading in his expression. “As a doctor, I cannot, in good conscience, simply leave you alone.”
“Why not? You’re not my doctor. And you don’t even know me.” Kaeya’s tone leans towards incredulous, and his frustration is bubbling over.
“I’m concerned you are in imminent danger of hurting yourself, Kaeya. I just ask that you sit with me for a while,” Baizhu explains. “I took an oath to care for anyone who needs help, regardless of who they are, or where they’re from. I don’t judge others or their actions — I wouldn’t call myself a doctor if I did so.”
The physician steps a little closer to him; offering a bubble of space, yet also offering to be a buffer between Kaeya and the railing that surrounds the pharmacy.
“We can talk about anything you’d like. As little or as much as you wish; or even nothing at all.”
Kaeya knows he has every opportunity to rush past and leave. To shrug away everything the doctor’s told him. Disregard it all, and let himself be consumed by the static that crackles in every crevice of his thoughts. Let it pollute him, let his own secrets and lies and false nothings unravel him as they’ve always threatened to.
But there’s something about this doctor that seems..genuine. He’s not asking for payment for a service. There’s nothing malicious beneath his serpentlike eyes, either — perhaps some mystery, and perhaps even some secrets of his own.
And it’s that theory that makes him reconsider. Along with the soft pattering of rain that begins to tap on the roof overhanging above them.
Kaeya didn’t realize Baizhu lived in the pharmacy — but it makes sense, he supposes. It’s his business, his livelihood. And he’s closer to the patients he’s monitoring, as well.
I guess I’m one of those patients now, then.
The doctor’s room is a decent size, warmly lit in a soft golden hue. Kaeya sits in a small armchair, facing what he assumes to be Baizhu’s bed. The soft scent of inscence comes from a small copper and jade bowl on the nightstand, a graceful whisp of smoke dancing from it.
He’s almost entranced by it as Baizhu pours some tea for the both of them, the rainfall outside reaching a crescendo as it thrums against the building.
”Nothing like a rainy night to make a cup of tea more inviting, hm?” Baizhu asks, offering Kaeya a steaming cup.
He thanks him, looking down at the herbal brew. Perhaps Kaeya analyzes it too thoroughly, because Baizhu chuckles softly, glancing over at him as he settles on a corner of his bed just across from him.
”It’s only tea, Kaeya. I can promise you, it hasn’t been spiked.”
The Cavalry Captain smirks a bit, wondering if his stare has been so obvious.
”Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you would..”
”Not at all." Baizhu mantains his soft smile. ”I wouldn’t be much of a physician if I forcibly drugged my patients. I firmly believe in the philosophy that treatment should integrate a patient’s input as much as their provider’s.”
Kaeya ponders, taking a sip of tea before nodding in agreement.
”Not that I’m officially in your care but..does that apply to me also?” He pauses, glancing about the expanse of the warm-paneled room before adding, “The whole patient gets a say thing, at least.”
Baizhu nods softly. ”Of course. Patient or not, a discussion can ebb and flow any way you’d like it to.”
It’s in that moment the still and silent coil that wears itself around Baizhu’s neck begins to stir. Kaeya doesn’t wish to speak of anything, really, but this intrigues him.
”Is that your..pet?”
“Pet?!” The snake hisses angrily, raising its head. ”Is that how I am perceived?! A mere pet! I’ll have you know—”
”Now, now, Changsheng,” Baizhu replies, soothing the creature with a gentle pat upon its head. ”You know Kaeya didn’t mean anything by it.”
Kaeya squints, as if at a loss as to how exactly he should wrap his head around the talking snake. Emphasis on talking.
”Sorry. My mistake.”
”Hmph! Mind you, I am more than some pet — you humans..always the same..”
“No need to apologize. This is Changsheng; she’s more of a companion, really. She’s always with me.”
”She means a lot to you, it seems.” Kaeya watches as the snake grumpily flicks her tongue, slowly slipping down Baizhu’s outstretched arm and off his shoulders. Clearly she isn’t keen on engaging in their conversation — not anymore, anyways.
”In some ways, she’s family to me.” Baizhu replies, shifting his gaze from the snake now curled up on his desk to Kaeya himself. ”What about you, Kaeya? Do you have family back in Mondstadt?”
The Captain’s throat suddenly tightens, like a phantom hand is grabbing him, squeezing.
Could he say he even has family anymore? After all that’s happened? After all the pain and grief and suffering brought upon by his own hidden truths? He might as well have been the one to murder Crepus that night, from the way his brother looked upon him with such a fiery, hell-wrought wrath.
Come to think of it, his brother disowned him, too — whether officially or not, he’ll never know. And he wagers he’ll never find out, at this point.
Family once conjured an image of home. A place of belonging. Where he was loved and treated as if he was of Crepus’s own blood. As if he was truly Diluc’s baby brother. As if he was born and raised at the Winery itself. He had family, and family loved him. Cherished him. Adored him.
But what does he have now to speak of?
Nothing.
And if anybody deserves such a fate — to be ripped away from the idyllic life his childhood garnered — it’s him.
It’s entirely, utterly his fault.
”I apologize..family seems to be a difficult subject for you,” Baizhu frowns, as if he truly feels he’s slighted Kaeya by mentioning the topic to begin with. ”Forgive me, Kaeya, I meant no harm from it.”
Kaeya shakes his head, swallowing back the tightness, as if resetting himself from the tension that’s knotted itself into his shoulders and chest.
”No, no, it’s alright. I was adopted, actually. I had an older brother and a father who raised me.”
”I see. What was that like?”
”It was..nice.” Kaeya mentally scoffs at himself for such a trivial statement. It was blissful. It was kind. And above everything else, his childhood, spent in the company of those who accepted him without any qualms, was everything he could’ve asked for.
Without his own prompting, memories flood back to him. Memories he’s suffocated, pressed down somewhere deep and forgotten. They come back to him, like sunken objects surfacing a pool.
Crepus’s smile. His carefree laughter. The way he ruffled his hair with one hand, and Diluc’s in the other. His kind eyes, sparked with warmth and pride for the two boys he raised into young men.
He taught them both the wine business, from the vine to the bottle. Ensured they knew everything about the trade. And when Diluc got in trouble for sneaking a taste of the alcohol — Kaeya took his punishment upon himself. Crepus, having noticed, fixed him his very own drink to enjoy.
”I call it Cider Lake,” Crepus says, pushing the glass towards him. His smile speaks volumes; he may be stern, but he’s generous and kind where it is due. ”Go ahead, Kaeya, you earned it; try it.”
When young Kaeya drinks it, he barely tastes the drop of wine his father’s added to it — only the lilting, lush notes of apple cider and a culmination of other fresh fruit juices that only a master of the bar could accomplish.
It is among these memories that Crepus continues to shine. His true father. His guardian.
In these memories, Crepus is alive and well. He is not tarnished with rivets of his own blood, choking on it as he breathes his last.
In these memories, Kaeya does not bear the weight of his burdens because his father would understand, and love him unconditionally regardless.
Kaeya snaps out of it, albeit slowly. His throat is tight, but this time it’s in combination with the misting of his eyes that he furiously blinks away.
”Yeah, my father, he was..really kind to me. Treated me like his own.”
Baizhu nods as he speaks, his own eyes sparked with sympathy. He’s quiet — almost too quiet — as if he’s continuously opening a stage for Kaeya to continue talking.
Kaeya doesn’t want to say more than he feels he needs to, but at the same time, there’s a cathartic sense in letting trickles of his life loose; slowly, carefully. There’s no judgement, no threat.
He realizes that the strange sensation in his shoulders is relaxation. He’s..relaxing.
Has he been tense for so long — keeping up his defenses, his hackles raised against a world he fears would chew up him up and spit him out if it knew what he knew?
”Your adoptive father..sounds like he had a big heart. To take in a child not of his own kin and raise him with such love.” Baizhu furrows his brow at the suggestion of the past tense, adding, ”Did something happen to him?”
Kaeya swallows thickly, maintaining his composure. Maybe he shouldn’t be so shaky, so teary-eyed as he speaks of Crepus’s demise. After all, the grief should be Diluc’s — having been the witness to their father’s final moments. Alone.
Still, the pain that encapsulates him is near suffocating as he speaks, his voice even quieter now. Strained, barely pulling back the tears.
”He died.. was murdered, actually. My older brother held him in his arms as he passed.” He clears his throat, cradling his cup of tea like its miniscule warmth will soothe the turbulence in his mind. ”I..was too late. Too late to save him.”
”And you blame yourself for this?” Baizhu leans forward in his seat, as if offering physical support without being too close. ”How long ago did this happen?”
”Over 4 years ago now.”
”With how young you seem..you must’ve been just beyond a child’s age, Kaeya. You were still a child. There is no blame in it.”
You were still a child.
His hands begin to tremble. Kaeya sets his teacup on a small table beside him, unable to quell the shaking. He can’t stop swallowing as his throat seems constricted by a phantom hand, pressing and crushing.
He was a child when the weight of two nations’ fates were shoved into his tiny hands.
He was a child when his biological father turned his back on him, leaving him to the mercy of the pouring rain amongst the winery vineyards.
He and Diluc were both children, barely above the age, when Crepus was torn from their lives in such brutality.
And he and Diluc were both children..when they..
”Baizhu.” Kaeya’s voice is just a cut above a whisper.
”Yes, Kaeya?”
”Will you keep a secret, if I tell you one?”
The pelting rain outside roars in its tempestuous swells. It’s a stark contrast to the inscence-laden serenity of the room.
Baizhu’s silence lingers until he nods — not because he’s hesitant, but because he is patient. Not tugging him, not forcing the words. Just..letting him speak freely. As much or as little as desired.
And then the emerald-haired physician smiles again.
”Of course. Your secret is safe with me.”
Kaeya sucks in a deep breath, wondering if this is wise. He barely knows this man, if at all. There’s nothing compelling him to say anything — it’s entirely open. He could remain mute, as he has for the last few minutes now.
But there’s nowhere else he can turn. And nobody else will listen.
His hands continue to tremble. His breathing shudders. And there’s a weight pressing down on his back, foreboding and dark and malevolent. He stares down at the wood paneled floor, as if what he will say is nothing short of shameful.
Perhaps he should be ashamed.
It is a secret, after all — well-kept, well-tethered to his consciousness. If he speaks of it now, he cannot anticipate the consequences.
But when a secretive man sits just across from him, it makes him feel just a little less alone. Share the burden, perhaps, rather than sequester it.
”Baizhu..” Kaeya murmurs shakily. He wrings his hands, over and over, as the words pry themselves from his tongue. “What do you know of Khaenri’ah?”
There’s a pregnant pause, and Kaeya’s heart starts thumping like hoofbeats, thrumming beneath his ribcage.
He wonders if he’s said the wrong thing. Made the wrong choice. That perhaps this mysterious doctor has put him too much at ease, and he’s said more than he can possibly backpedal.
”Admittedly, very little,” Baizhu speaks at last. Calmly as ever, with nothing in his tone suggesting disapproval. “I know of the disaster that occurred several hundred years ago, but that’s about it.
”Since you’ve asked, Kaeya, would you mind enlightening me?”
It’s not the response he’s expected; yet, it’s the response he’s hoped for all the same. The physician does not pry, does not interrogate. He offers a metaphorical hand to him, offering the stage for a solo performance under his control.
It’s what he’s asked for. And he will take it.
The very same Kaeya who sought to close himself off from this man, the world, and the entire universe now begins to tell a story of his early memories of Khaenri’ah; from his eye, to his father’s words, to his abandonment.
Right as he speaks of being left at the Winery, on a night much like this, he takes a chance to glance up to the doctor, in hopes of observing his reaction. Baizhu’s leaned forward, propping his chin in one hand and expression wholly sympathetic. Or perhaps it’s pity.
”That is an immense amount of pressure upon your shoulders, Kaeya. To be expected to spy upon Mondstadt for a despised nation, yet also attempt to enjoy your childhood under some guise? It’s a conflict of the most burdensome kind..and not something you should’ve been forced to undertake.”
"It was a secret I held regardless," Kaeya speaks, finding his tone wavers. His vision blurs, and he blinks furiously again to quell the threat of a downpour. There’s a lump in his throat now, one he can’t seem to swallow down. "I could not fathom how anyone could respond if I were to say anything. Until I told my brother on the night of our father’s death."
"How did your brother respond to what you told him? Of Khaenri’ah, of your origins?"
The dam is cracking. The storm Kaeya barely holds back looms over his eyes. His gaze trails back down to the floor as he hitches out a few breaths. He’s not sure why this very thought has him so emotional, so wrenched about with sorrow and anger and grief — until it does.
Because it all flashes in his face.
The flames that lick his exposed arms, hissing, half vaporized through the pouring rain. Scarlet hair, gnarled and curled about like the snarl on Diluc’s face as he swings his white-hot claymore towards Kaeya’s chest.
The screams that tore from his lips involuntarily from the shock of his burns and the terror that belies him that he is going to die and nobody is there to stop them. The way he feebly waves his own sword in an attempt to mount a defense but it’s no use, because nothing compares to the well-controlled fury of the Pyro that surrounds him in a hellish ring.
The older brother that protected him like shade against the sun, like a shield against an arrow’s path, no longer grants him even an ounce of mercy for the words he’s spilled. Kaeya’s confession will be his end. Kaeya’s confession will bury him like their father soon will be.
When his Cryo vision was bestowed, it spared his life. But he did not know if the gods were making a mockery of him, with two wings inlaid upon the metal frame instead of three, or if they truly had a plan for him in store. Poorly-tempered shards of ice destroyed the onslaught of phoenix fire in the form of a shield.
Instinctually, Kaeya wanted to live.
Mentally, he begged for death at his brother’s hand.
To end his suffering. To sever the cord that’s tied him in two places at once; between a world destroyed and a world his biological father wished to vanquish.
He wishes he’d never said a thing.
"How did my brother respond, you ask?" Kaeya’s voice quivers. The storm that rages outside the window has now found itself pooled beneath his eyes. Trickling, trailing down his cheeks as he looks up with the intensity of that night — he is in a warm room and he is also on his knees in the mud, clutching a vision he did not deserve. He is here, and there. Ripped to shreds in between as he shakily smiles.
"He tried to fucking kill me."
Not another word escapes his mouth. He spurts out a wry chuckle — his own defenses attempting to cope — which is a futile effort as he suddenly finds himself sobbing. Gasping, shuddering, weeping. He sobs as if his heart is being pulled slowly from his chest, strings and all, as if the static that’s hovered about him like a dark aura has now consumed him entirely. Tears pelt the floor beneath him as he hunches inward, arms clasp about his sides in a self-embrace.
I can’t do this anymore.
I can’t go through this again.
I spoke the truth and he nearly killed me.
He tried to kill me
He tried to kill
He tried to
He tried
He tried
He
Through the storm he’s brought upon them both, pelting down in rivets down the face he buries into his own lap, he barely hears Baizhu rising from his seat. But he does feel a hand on his back, and the sensation of warmth — not fiery heat, but a soothing halo akin to the dappled rays of sun amongst a forest’s leaves. A weight sits next to him; perhaps at any point prior to this Kaeya would’ve brushed aside any attempt for physical contact. But in this wave of sheer emotion; of everything he’s locked up inside, thrown away the key, remembered, suffered, ruminated, experienced — he’s desperate for something to save him. To help.
Gods, he needs help.
To pry him from this darkness that so tightly ensnares him.
They remain this way for a while — both of them. A long, long while. And when the sobs have run dry, only some sniffling gasps leave him.
"Kaeya?"
A trembling sigh parts his lips.
"Can you take a deep breath for me?"
A drawn out inhale. A shattering, breathy exhale. And a sniff.
"That’s good."
Another set of breaths leave his hunched chest before he mumbles, soft and slow and congested.
"Doctor Baizhu?"
"Hm?"
"Can you stay with me a while?"
The pelting storm has reduced to a smattering of isolated drops against the walls. The hand remains, softly placed upon Kaeya’s back.
The oil lamps flicker. The inscence whisps into thin air.
"I will stay as long as you need, Kaeya. I’m not going anywhere."
A sniffle.
"Thank you."
When the rays of morning sun rise upon the horizon, basking the golden cliffs of Liyue in their welcoming glow, two souls emerge from the pharmacy’s side room.
Kaeya steps out the door, splashing as his boots meet the puddles not yet pulled back into the atmosphere. His hair is a mess, his eyelids are swollen and rimmed with red. One could say it’s a case of insomnia, but he knows better.
It’s release.
Baizhu accompanies him a moment after, watching him as they both witness the beginning of a new day. That’s it. A new day.
"How are you feeling, Kaeya?"
The Cavalry Captain straightens his shoulders, inhaling and exhaling deeply with a newfound composure. It will not be a bygone, forgotten afterthought. What he’s endured has permanently woven itself into the fabric of his past. He cannot wish away what has scarred his flesh and burned itself into his core.
But the burden he’s let nearly crush him is now shared.
Someone else knows his secret — without hatred, without flames and anger and judgement and disgust. No, the physician who calmly stands beside him, talking snake curled about his neck like a scarf, has walked through the darkest corridors of his memories with him.
That’s a lot to ask of somebody, he realizes.
"I’m feeling..lighter."
And it’s the truth. Not a half-truth, not a lie veiled in charm and bravado. He does feel the weight shifted tremendously, now sitting upon Baizhu’s shoulders, too.
The doctor smiles, eyes closed as the rays become too bright for either of them to see.
"I’m glad to hear, Kaeya." There’s a pause, and then, "Do you still feel like a risk to yourself?"
The Captain squints at the incoming rays, cerulean hair embraced in light. There’s a breath of fresh air that fills his chest this time. It’s not so dark and it’s not so loud. He shakes his head.
"Not anymore."
They finally turn from the sun, approaching the long staircase that Kaeya feels is utter irony, considering most who seek a physician’s attention are too weak to ascend such steps. Baizhu hovers next to him, but not in the concerned manner as the night before; no, instead, he turns towards him, serpent eyes now sparkling with hope.
"Kaeya, return to Mondstadt, your home, your nation. Your pain may never truly cease, and your burdens may never fully leave you. But if you may heed my words..you are whole. You are courageous, despite everything life has thrust upon you. Let the Knights support you as you have them. Let your friends surround you with happiness, love and light. And whether or not your brother is forgiven — or if you even wish to speak to him — let not his words trouble you." Even Changsheng raises her head, blinking softly as he does. "Your future is yours to hold, Kaeya. So is your destiny. Not your biological father’s. Not Khaenri’ah’s. Yours."
It’s his.
His to hold, his to cherish.
Go forth and see what he’s built himself up to, and onwards.
Kaeya’s eyes mist a little as he realizes Baizhu has done his duty as a doctor — he’s saved his life. Not enough thanks would begin to show his gratitude.
"Baizhu..thank you. I’m ever grateful, I don’t know where to begin—"
The emerald-haired healer raises a hand softly. "I should thank you, Kaeya. For opening up to me. For trusting me with your burdens."
"Will my secret be safe with you?"
Whatever fleeting concerns about his truths is abated with Baizhu’s gentle tone.
"Always. For all time. And Kaeya?"
"Yes?"
"If ever you should find yourself troubled, do not hesitate to pay another visit. I would rather sit with you as long as you need, to listen to your worries, rather than stumble upon an obituary."
"Thank you..I’m forever indebted to you."
Satisfied, the Cavalry Captain begins to descend the steps, glancing behind him to see his savior standing there, smiling softly. He waves goodbye, and turns back to enter his pharmacy. To help others as he has helped him. Not a single Mora is asked for, and he wonders briefly if it has been as helpful for him to hold his secrets as it’s been for Kaeya to be brave enough to speak them aloud.
And as Kaeya crosses the path towards the quiet terrace, the events of the night before now tossed about in a new perspective, a new light, a new hope, he realizes just how colorful Liyue Harbor is in the glow of the day’s sun.
Scarlet, gold, sage, ivory.
And a splash of blue, too.