FIRE IN YOUR VEINS
Excerpts from incomplete fanfiction based on characters from Genshin Impact
There’s something different about him, Thoma realizes, as he stares at him across the table. He’s back and–don’t get him wrong–Thoma is elated. But Diluc was supposed to go away to get better, to figure his shit out. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the man across from him just feels wrong. Maybe it’s because he’s known Diluc for a little over a decade at this point, but he notices how Diluc’s smiles don’t shine in his eyes like they used to. He notices the rigidness of his spine. He notices the way he keeps scanning the room as if he’s paranoid, as if one of his friends is going to lunge at him.
Thoma hopes it's just awkward. It’s been a couple of years since everyone was in the same room; things are bound to be uncomfortable. He can hear Amber’s laugh in his ear, as she snuggles into her girlfriend, Eula. He watches as Kaeya refills Rosaria’s once more, ignoring Mona’s passive-aggressive comments suggesting they slow down. Even Albedo’s identical twin– who almost always creeps Thoma out with his unsettling staring– is putting Thoma more at ease than Diluc is.
Maybe it’s the man that Diluc has with him. His laugh is loud and his smile is wide, but there’s something odd about him. It’s not the fact that he’s obviously not from Mondstadt; if his attire didn’t tip him off, the unusual curl of his thick accent would. It seems that Diluc picked up a pet in Snezhnaya. Thoma loves people, loves making new friends, loves meeting the people that his beloveds consider important, but as he stares into the deep, ice-blue eyes of this stranger, he can’t help but break his pattern.
Still, if his mother taught him one thing, it was manners. He’s a great host, especially after taking up ownership and management of the Angel’s Share in wake of Diluc’s absence. It’s quite odd to be on the other side of the bar; he spent years of his life sitting at the bar stools, entertaining Diluc as he tended to guests. That’s probably the reason why the Angel’s Share fell into his hands–he was constantly around. Before Kaeya and Rosaria took up residence at the two corner chairs at the bar, Thoma was the most frequent guest. Any free time he had was often split 50/50 with the Angel’s Share. Whether it was him splayed out on the bar from too many glasses of wine or from when he was in school, spreading his notes all over the counter to help him study, he was a fixture of the favored tavern.
Normally, one might be concerned about an underaged boy predominantly spending his time in a bar, but after Crepus’ passing, it was an accepted fate. Diluc, freshly eighteen, took over it all. Thoma thinks he took it over as something to do, something to pour himself into, something to distract him from his father’s death and his subsequential fallout with his adopted brother. He would polish glasses until he could see his reflection and until his worn out knuckles cracked and bled, but Thoma held his tongue at the time. He didn’t know how to deal with it all, caught between the undertows of his two best friends, being pulled in opposite directions. At least they didn’t make Thoma feel bad for splitting his time between the two brothers like he was the child of a nasty divorce. In some ways, he thinks that wasn’t far off. But then again, endure your brother burning half of your face past recognition and then come back and say if you would want to stay around him.
Reflecting back on it, as Thoma often did, he wonders if he should have intervened in the beginning of the end. Maybe taking on the Angel’s Share–in addition to having to deal with the Dawn Winery Estate– was the first chip in the foundation. Sometimes, especially when he’s up in the wee hours of the morning tossing and turning, Thoma wonders if he should have stopped Diluc. Maybe that responsibility, plus the guilt and sorrow, was what wore him down beyond repair. Maybe if Thoma had tried to stop him, tried to help him, tried something, none of this wouldn’t have happened.
He doesn’t know all of the details, still to this day, years after the whole fight. All he knows is that Diluc was nowhere to be found and Kaeya with a bandage covering half of his face, wincing as he tried to flash Thoma a watery smile. He remembers his best friend avoiding every frantic question he threw his way, instead, pulling out a glowing, blue orb.
“Wasn’t fun, but at least I got a Vision,” Kaeya had joked.
Fortunately, Kaeya didn’t go blind. His golden eye (different than his normal, deep winter blue color) was unharmed, though the area around it was completely marred. It was weird to see Kaeya wear an eyepatch again after so many years without. When they were kids, Kaeya was self-conscious about his amber eye, so he hid it behind an eyepatch. It wasn’t until their friendship established years of trust and support that he stopped wearing it, embracing the peculiar beauty that was his heterochromatic eyes.
The eyepatch is what clued Thoma into the suspicion that Diluc was the one who caused Kaeya’s injury. He didn’t need to wear a covering, just like before, but he reverted back to old practices, especially around his older brother or in the public eye. Thoma knows that Kaeya wanted to lay it all to rest and thinks that Kaeya doesn’t want people to look and ruminate, so he covers the scarred flesh instead. It’s not unsightly–just in case you were wondering. The bright pink that had contrasted against Kaeya’s darker skin has faded into a mass of discoloration. The bumpy texture has smoothed over the years. The only thing that has persisted is the lack of a full eyebrow, the scar preventing a majority of the hair from growing back. He swoops his hair in front of it instead; a mimicry of the angsty hairdo he sported back in school.
Kaeya has long been adapted to the eyepatch, and Thomas has been too. He always takes to sitting at Kaeya’s right side. Kaeya always used to joke that it was because Thoma was his “right-hand man” and Thoma will laugh at it every time. Only they know about a small and scared Kaeya asking Thoma, when they first became best friends, if he could stick to his right side. He told him that he trusted Thoma, that he wanted him on his right side because he couldn’t see and he trusted Thoma.
As he sits to the side of his best friend, he looks across the table to see his other best friend, if he can even call him that anymore. His bright, red hair is still the same, albeit more unruly. Diluc has always had so much of that thick red hair and Kaeya used to always tease that he could tell Diluc’s emotions by the state of his hair. If it was wild and untamed, Diluc was either stressed as hell, or he was angry. Thoma has only heard stories about an angry Diluc, never witnessing more than strong agitation and annoyance (usually directed at Kaeya), but Diluc has had a Vision for much longer than the rest of them and knows that fire chose him for a reason.
Today, his hair is pristine, styled in a high ponytail. Thoma’s never seen his hair that high, let alone that tame. It’s not a bad look. Frankly, it is quite becoming of him, highlighting the sharp jawline that has emerged from the pudge of youth. His smile is reminiscent of what it used to be. Anyone else wouldn’t notice a difference at all; Thoma was his best friend after all. There was an odd sharpness to it now, bordering onto a snarl at times. It wasn’t something that ignited light inside of you, like it used to. Instead, it fosters dread, like Diluc knows something about you that you won’t even know yourself.
Thoma settles with watching; he’s not the most gregarious person. Thoma is friendly and enjoys being social, but everyone knows that his ears are the best. He finds comfort in being able to sit and listen now, not expected to take part in the conversation. He takes stock of what is the same with Diluc, but mainly, what is different. It keeps coming back to that smile. Thoma’s mind will move on, but then Rosaria or Amber makes a lighthearted comment and the twitch of Diluc’s lip brings Thoma right back in.
It’s just…not the same.
It takes Thoma almost three hours to realize that it mirrors his companion’s.
