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Diluc’s stomach had been unsettled most of the afternoon. Not nauseous exactly, but faintly unhappy. Given it remained at the same vague level of displeased, but not troublesome, he dismissed it as something he’d eaten earlier in the day, or even the night before not settling quite right and ignored it.
Diluc kept supper light and sipped on mint tea alongside it. If Adelinde noticed anything was off, she kept it to herself. … Which, given the woman’s tendencies to mother-hen despite being not very much older than him, was unlikely to say the least.
Her only comment had been that it was ‘a little early for supper’, but even that wasn’t particularly strange–tonight was a night he would be at the Angel’s Share, after all.
The thought of being behind the bar with the scent of alcohol all night wasn’t exactly pleasant and sent an uncomfortable twist through his already unhappy stomach. But schedules should be adhered to, and a little discomfort was hardly a reason to bother Charles to take over instead on his night off.
Diluc would be fine.
He was always fine.
Couldn’t be anything other than fine.
The evening wore on, finding Diluc exactly as he had intended. At least for a while.
Behind the bar, idly listening to patrons talk, listening for anything useful while he worked.
Still, it was impossible to put the state of his stomach completely out of mind. It happened slowly, the worsening of the disquieted sensation in his guts, slowly enough he didn’t notice, at first, that it had grown from vague discomfort to an unsteady churning.
Diluc became aware of this when a particularly strong scented drink turned his stomach abruptly. It was only iron control of himself that prevented him from gagging, though he was certain his expression darkened for a moment.
He took several slow breaths, while trying to continue to appear that nothing was wrong. The drink was finished with efficiency and handed over to the patron. Then Diluc glanced across the tavern slightly. For this brief moment, no one seemed to be demanding his attention.
A reasonable time, then, to step away and try to calm himself. He couldn’t go far, nor be gone long, but it was well within reason to step away and collect himself. Perhaps a glass of water to keep with him at the bar…
Diluc resolved to do just that, and stepped away for a moment.
In the back room, out of sight of the patrons, Diluc allowed himself to lean against the wall for a moment and breathed a little unsteadily as he took more careful stock of himself.
The earlier unsettled feeling had morphed into nausea, though it was still relatively light in Diluc’s estimate.
If he were home, it would be enough, perhaps, to wrap up paperwork for the evening. Since he wasn’t, though, the best he could do was grin and bear it, so to speak.
Cool water eased the worst of the feeling for the moment, and Diluc resigned himself to returning to the bar before any of the patrons became restless in his absence.
It was a quiet night, for the most part. He’d be relieved for that. At least he wouldn’t have to break up a brawl if things continued the way they were.
Diluc carried on like this for another hour, perhaps two. But the longer he persevered, the more unsettled he became. He continued to drink water, and each time, it at least temporarily helped.
Discomfort became nausea. Nausea intensified to a constant churning with sharp, spasmodic lurches that were doing their damnedest to bring back up what was in his stomach still.
He maintained control, but Diluc began to question how much longer he could pretend.
There was no room for weakness, no space for a mistake, not even in something so simple as an evening at the Angel’s Share, and yet… and yet.
A glance at the timepiece told him he needed to hold out for two hours before closing time came.
In… and out. Slow breaths remain calm and in control.
Two hours.
Diluc could do this. He’d done far more under far worse circumstances, after all.
But with each passing moment, the twisting nausea intensified. Diluc was left with flashes of hot and cold overtaking him sporadically.
Every whiff of alcohol, the too-loud voices of the patrons sitting at the table closest to the bar set Diluc on edge further and further.
There was an hour of this torture left.
Except. He wasn’t going to make it five more minutes.
Diluc became intrinsically aware of this fact as he was forced to turn slightly away from the bar and feign a cough to hide a barely aborted heave and left him with a mouthful of vomit that he was forced to swallow back.
After taking a moment to clean his hands, he finished the drink that he had been working on. It was almost finished anyway. He could manage this. He could. He did.
And then he excused himself without even bothering to glance up to see if there was anyone waiting.
He was not making a mess of the tavern in front of his patrons.
Diluc made it halfway through the backroom before the aborted heave came back to bite him, and before he can fully register that it’s already too late, he sprayed a puddle of watery vomit onto the floor in the walkway.
It lands with a sickening splatter, and he’s aware that a few crates were hit in the backsplash, never mind his own boots.
There was no space to think about it, to deal with it, as the next heave came right on its heels, not even giving him a chance to breathe in before liquid was forced from his mouth (and nose, a little-that burned). It left him choking and coughing while he tried to clear his airway.
The taste is acrid; the sensation leaves him feeling like his throat is on fire. But at least he no longer feels like he’s drowning.
And he knew dimly that he’s nowhere near done as a third heave came. The puddle on the floor spread alarmingly. Mostly water, tinted off color by the tea from earlier and his stomach acid. It was all he could see, all he could think about as he stood there still feeling so sick.
Between the third and fourth wave, Diluc found enough space to breathe in properly, and the presence of mind to reach his original goal–the back alley behind the Angel’s Share.
He’d figure out clean up when this nastiness was over.
The thought of even what to do with the lingering patrons was too much to bear.
Diluc braced his arm against the icy cold stone of the building. It felt good. He felt like his vision was trying to burn him alive even as his body was clearly preparing to attempt to turn inside out again.
Twisting cramps hadn’t let up, leaving Diluc to curl his other arm around his middle. The pressure didn’t help, but there was something to be said about the primal urge and inherent comfort in the action.
This series of heaves was harsh, and at first nothing came up at all. Diluc thought, perhaps, he was already empty and his body simply hadn’t gotten the message yet.
(Mostly) dry though they may be, he can’t stop heaving. Diluc could barely choke in air between them, and had begun to feel lightheaded already.
Diluc remained braced against the wall, occasionally spitting out mouthfuls of acid and the remnants of the water-and-tea he had consumed that afternoon.
It hurt, like his insides were going to rip themselves into pieces. His lungs burned with the effort of breathing. His stomach muscles tightened and convulsed violently over his churning guts.
Finally, there was a reprieve.
Diluc sucked air into his burning lungs, and rested more heavily against the wall, laying his cheek against it for the moment. Everything felt strange, distant, almost… floaty.
His pants were clinging strangely to his legs, and it’s about then that Diluc realized that somewhere among the deluge of sickness he had voided his bladder.
Another embarrassing failure to add to the list for the evening, it would seem. The darkness of the night, and the fact that they were black, would hide his shame. But… Diluc knew. And that was more than enough.
There’s a sound that Diluc’s sick-hazed brain processes as a scoff, and he jerked his head up slightly, forcing himself upright and pushing off of the wall.
The wave of dizziness that slammed into him almost sent the fiery ex-knight to his knees.
Kaeya’s voice came from somewhere behind him-a string of swears and little else. But Diluc felt the other’s hands on his arm, ensuring he didn’t fall.
“Easy, ‘luc,” The voice is quiet now that they’re standing so close, as if Kaeya remembered how sensitive Diluc could be to sounds when he was unwell.
That was ridiculous. A lifetime ago. They were nothing to each other now. There was no reason for Kaeya to hold on to such extraneous information.
And yet.
… And yet.
“Go home, Kaeya.” He snipped, pulling his arm free of the other’s cool hands, despite how comforting it was.
It shouldn’t be. He’d burned that bridge long ago.
The floaty feeling is back, along with the dizziness.
And he feels sick again.
“I’m not going to leave you to pass out in an alley behind your tavern,” Kaeya retorted, unflinchingly cutting to the heart of the matter.
Normally, the directness would have been a relief. Diluc hated wasting words, disliked small talk. Right now, it only made Diluc feel more defensive.
“I don’t need your help, Alberich.”
Kaeya needed to go, before Diluc lost the tenuous hold he had on his nausea.
They weren’t brothers. They weren’t friends. They hadn’t been since that awful day when they parted ways, when he left Mondstadt.
(But Diluc had kept Kaeya’s secret, reasoning that he had been away for so long by the time he returned he could no longer be certain of anything. And Kaeya had returned his vision. And they had fallen into this… cold stalemate).
This was the part of being ill that Diluc hated the worst, he thought. The way he could no longer keep his thoughts at bay. The way the past swelled up around him. It didn’t make his resolve waver, but it did make his heart ache with a grief he had burned away long ago.
He had missed something Kaeya said, clearly, because he was being given an acidic-but-concerned look.
Diluc didn’t have a chance to ask what he’d missed before his reprieve was over, and the best he could do was push at Kaeya as he lurched forward to heave again.
It’s far more productive than he would have thought possible, given how violently ill he had already been and how little he had consumed since noon. Partially digested chunks of dinner splattered to the cobblestones along with a disgusting mix of stomach acid and who-knew-what.
Diluc wasn’t sure what he expected, but Kaeya stepping closer to him and pulling his long, red hair out of the way (despite the fact that it was already partially soiled from the first wave in the backroom) was not really on the list.
He heaved again, and another wave of this thicker vomit comes up. Diluc jolted slightly as his knees gave out amid the wave of dizziness, but Kaeya surprised him again, steadying him and guiding him to sit on the steps that lead back into the tavern.
“Lean forward, head between your knees a bit. Try to breathe.”
The instructions are precise, with nothing wasted in them.
Diluc… obeys. There’s little else he can do for the moment.
And then he was left alone as Kaeya stepped into the tavern despite the former’s previous words about not leaving him to pass out in the alley.
He’s wet and uncomfortable, and there was vomit in his hair. And he was so incredibly exhausted already. Diluc wanted nothing more than to clean up and lie down somewhere in private, preferably in his bedroom at the winery.
It’s not really an option, he’s in no shape to try to return to the winery. There was space upstairs, above the Share where he could rest, at least. But the thought reminded him that there were still patrons inside that needed attending to and that he would have to pass to get where he wanted to go.
Diluc vomited again abruptly. The scent rising from the ground beneath him was only making him feel sicker. But he didn’t feel strong enough to try and rise again yet. By now, he was drained.
“I sent the handful of remaining patrons home.” Kaeya’s voice was behind him again, and Diluc started again and choked on a mouthful of stomach acid in the process because he hadn’t expected the other to return to him. “…I also cleaned up the backroom as best as I could. Apologies for the wait.”
He… what?
“Rinse your mouth out.”
Diluc realized he was being handed a glass about then and eyed it dubiously, still attempting to process what Kaeya had said before.
Still, he obeyed eventually. It was nice to get the taste out of his mouth, though he rather doubted it would last.
“Kaeya-”
“Don’t.” The word comes out sharply, is perhaps the most harsh tone Diluc has had Kaeya direct at him since that awful night. “Don’t ask me to abandon you while you’re this sick.”
The follow up is–again–not anywhere on the list of expectations that Diluc had. Kaeya was full of surprises tonight.
“When this is over, you can… pretend it didn’t happen. It’s fine. I know how much you hate me,” bitterness was low in that voice, but even in his addled state, Diluc couldn’t miss it. “But don’t ask me to walk away from you when it’s like this. I can’t, ‘luc. And I won’t.”
There’s part of Diluc that wanted to protest. He didn’t hate Kaeya. They didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. But the hate-if it ever was hate-died long ago, leaving a cool distance.
What had been never could be again, that was all.
Diluc had resolved never to look back, only forward.
But, any words that might have come in this strange hazy state are difficult to form, and are lost entirely when Diluc’s breathing hitches slightly. The awful full sensation was back in his stomach, which still roiled angrily. There shouldn’t have been anything left, but that didn’t stop his body from torturing him with another series of weak gags.
A sigh from Kaeya. “Come on,” he said gently, as he tugged on Diluc’s arm.
Too tired to protest, and too weak to pull away, Diluc allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and led down the alley.
He’s not sure, at first, what Kaeya has in mind.
Out of the sheltered alleyway, Diluc feels exposed. A razor edged breeze cut through him, making Diluc shiver. It reminds him of his sodden pants; it blows his dirtied hair into his face, where it sticks slightly to his skin.
The sensation alone is enough to send Diluc into the next series of dry heaves.
“It’s not far.” Kaeya promised. He paused only when the heaves were bad enough Diluc doubled over and spat another mouthful of stomach acid onto the road.
The short set of stairs that Kaeya eventually led him up are tortuous, but then they’re inside, and Diluc is immediately grateful for the fact that they’re out of the wind and it’s warmer, at least.
“Wait here a moment.” Kaeya said, after leading him into a small room.
It takes Diluc a moment to realize that it’s a bathroom, which makes perfect sense, all things considered.
In his defense, the light is off and his vision is a little hazy.
By the time Kaeya returned, Diluc was on his knees in front of the toilet, heaving again-persistently, if a little weakly.
Kaeya’s lips pressed together in a tight line as he set down the clothing he’d gathered on the counter to move closer to Diluc and move the tangled red hair out of the firing line again, before he rested a hand between Diluc’s shoulders.
“… I know words aren’t your forte, but I really need to know if you have any idea what made you this sick.”
He got a muffled “mmph” and another wave of vomit in answer, at first, which was far from encouraging. When that was over, though, Diluc shook his head. “No clue.”
So they couldn’t rule anything out–including some sort of poison.
It wouldn’t even be the first time Kaeya had found Diluc near dead from a poisoning. … Not that Diluc knew that.
He should have taken Diluc to the cathedral, Kaeya knew that. He also knew that it was a much longer walk, and Diluc wouldn’t have managed under his own power. Kaeya would watch over him for the night. If he worsened, or hadn’t improved at all by morning, then he’d ask Barbara, or one of the other healers, to come here.
A plan formed in his mind, and Kaeya busied himself with filling a cup with water.
Diluc took it gratefully and rinsed his mouth out before chancing a small sip of it despite how wildly unsettled his stomach clearly still was.
It was for the best. At least Kaeya wouldn’t have to fight him about dehydration, too.
Clean up was a rather arduous task, thanks to Diluc’s continued heaving and the fact that he was actually rather more soiled than Kaeya had initially realized. Kaeya caught the scent of urine under the smell of sickness, finally, and understood. The flash of sympathy was pointless. He’d never say a word about noticing it.
They’d been at his apartment for about thirty minutes when Kaeya decided he’d gotten Diluc as cleaned up as was possible until he was steady enough for a full shower (and lamented, a little, that he didn’t have a tub, just the shower stall).
Kaeya returned from dropping Diluc’s soiled clothing (and the towels he’d used) straight into the wash to find Diluc right where he’d been left.
Slumped there against the toilet, scarlet eyes half lidded with exhaustion. All the fight had drained out of Diluc at some point. It was… a little unsettling.
Kaeya hadn’t seen Diluc like this in a long time, and it was hard to watch.
By now they were approaching three am, and the illness only barely seemed to be letting up.
Kaeya privately wondered if it was only letting up because Diluc had absolutely no energy left. As if on cue, the redhead jolted just slightly and a mouthful of sick (just off-clear, water discolored with stomach acid and bile, it seemed) just sort of trickled out to splash into the water below.
Kaeya grimaced slightly and weighed their options for a few seconds before sitting down on the cool tile beside Diluc and leaning against the wall. Once there, and as comfortable as he was going to get, he tugged Diluc closer to him.
He was rewarded with the redhead practically collapsing against his side in an exhausted heap.
They sit like that for a while, in silence except for the occasional sound of Diluc heaving. Kaeya helped Diluc lean forward over the basin of the toilet when he needed to, but otherwise, the other remained leaned against him, as if seeking comfort-or the coolness of Kaeya’s touch. Perhaps both.
Kaeya had long since lost count of how many times Diluc vomited. Sips of water were taken (and subsequently lost) every so often.
It’s not a good sign, and Kaeya is weighing on if he should send for a healer now.
But Diluc had started to fall asleep against Kaeya’s shoulder, and he’s reminded of a time in their teenage years where Diluc had brought home some sort of norovirus from training with the Knights, and then proceeded to give it to Kaeya.
They’d had help, but they’d taken care of each other, then.
Those days were long dead. Diluc would never allow anything else.
But Kaeya… missed his friend–his brother.
Going back to the way things were meant to be would be a bitter pill.
“Come on, ‘luc. Let’s get you in bed.”
“Still feel sick,” he mumbled miserably, with a shake of his head.
“I’ll put a trashcan close. Come on, you’ll be more comfortable.”
Diluc protested again as Kaeya first pulled away, and then tugged him to his feet, but sleepily, Diluc allowed himself to be led through the small apartment and into the bedroom.
Dawn was breaking. … He’d better send something to headquarters about taking the day off.
Diluc all but fell onto the bed while Kaeya shuffled around, bringing the trashcan from near his desk to the side of the bed that the other had claimed for his own.
He draped the covers over Diluc’s prone form.
He waited for a moment, but it seemed that Diluc had fallen straight to sleep. With that certain, Kaeya retreated from the room to send a message to Jean and collect himself.
It had been a long night, and there was no guarantee that it was over just because Diluc was sleeping now.