happy birthday, kaeya!
the disappointment he feels startles him; fingers twisting in the cool, empty sheets while your perfume fills his lungs, apple and cecilia, and coats his tongue. an ache follows, one he hides beneath layers of fur and leather.
his manor echoes in the silence. there is no paimon chittering away in his kitchen, or you to bid him good morn with a kiss. there is nothing. there is no one.
(he thinks of his first birthday alone; the air frigid with the winter’s first snow as he waits like a fool for what he knows will never happen again. his vision flashes blue.)
the people of mondstadt greet him with varying well-wishes, and sara is kind to send him off with a slice of warm fisherman’s toast.
“for the good captain.” she says with a wink, and the weight in his chest grows heavier.
“thank you.”
his fellow knights are more rambunctious in their well-wishing; hearty slaps to his back and cheeky requests for a night at the tavern. he leaves them with vague promises and an even vaguer plans; eager for the comforts of his private office and private decanter.
“paimon still thinks we should’ve gone for a cryo slime.”
he stops short at his door.
“we already put ningguang through that culinary catastrophe, paimon.”
“‘culinary catastrophe’!? paimon will have you know that only the finest ingredients went into that sugared slime!”
“methinks you should start barring your kitchen doors at night, diluc.”
“mhm.”
“shut it, tone-deaf bard!”
he exhales, hand tight around the handle as your chatters washes over him like a cleansing wave. if he could guarantee your unawareness, he would laugh.
or maybe cry.
with a final breath, that sounds too close to a gasp, he turns the handle and sweeps through the door.
it’s comical, how you all freeze; klee in your arms with a match to light the various candles on a chocolate cake. in her trademark scrawl, he sees ‘happy birthday kaeya’ written in blue icing.
“my, my,” he purrs; coming to a rest against the doorframe. “and what do we have here, hm? mice in the grain?”
diluc jolts, eyes narrowing into a glare while jean puts out the match in klee’s hand.
“uh,” paimon stutters, “happy birthday?”
he hums, unimpressed, and you cough.
“yes, happy birthday, kaeya.” you set klee back down. “we were going to surprise you, but it seems, once again, you’ve beat us to the punch.”
klee huffs; cheeks puffing out as she crosses her arms with a pout.
“no fair! i wanted to jump out and shout ‘surprise’.”
it hurts, the size of his smile, and he doesn’t miss the softness in your eyes when he comes up to slip an arm around your waist. at his legs, klee continues to pout even as jean and lisa promise her the lion’s share of his cake. slowly, the others come back to life; venti taking a swig from an awfully familiar looking decanter while diluc bears the weight of paimon’s motormouth with the patience of a saint.
“i missed you this morning,” he noses your hair; pretending not to feel the last knot in his chest unravel as the sweetness coats his tongue.
“i’m sorry,” you tilt your head; lips grazing under his chin. “i finished the cake late last night, and promised klee she could help decorate in the morning. we wanted to finish before you came in.”
for the first time in six years, kaeya spends his birthday in the company of others, and there’s a strangeness that he can’t quite name. diluc must feel it too, considering his contemplative stares and occasional drifts in conversation, but for once kaeya can’t be bothered to puzzle out the mystery in front of him.\
you’re a warm weight in his lap as you both watch klee and paimon put away a terrifying amount of cake. on the other side of the room, lisa and diluc do their best to keep jean from witnessing the same spectacle.
“happy birthday, dear.” you murmur; fingers entwining with his. he squeezes your hand in response.
“a happy birthday, indeed.”
that night, you taste of chocolate and coffee and wine. that night, the man he once called brother gifts him a vase as ugly as sin, and he laughs until his ribs threaten to crack.
that night, his vision dulls.