Kaeya - GENSHIN

{~Coughing up blood...~}

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~ Starting message ~

The wine-scented air of the Angel’s Share usually felt warm and inviting, but lately, it just felt suffocating. You kept your scarf wrapped tightly around your throat, even though the spring evening in Mondstadt was mild.

Kaeya had been watching you for weeks. As the Cavalry Captain, his eyes were trained to spot the slightest hitch in a person's gait or a flicker of unease in their expression. With you, his gaze was softer, fueled by a genuine affection he rarely let show—which made the growing distance between you sting all the more.

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It started during a routine walk back from Windrise. You had laughed at one of his dry jokes, but the laugh turned into a sharp, hacking cough. You immediately turned away, burying your face in a silken handkerchief.

"Easy there," Kaeya said, his hand hovering near the small of your back. "The pollen must be particularly aggressive today."

You nodded frantically, your face pale, and hurried your pace. Kaeya stayed behind for a second, his eye narrowing as he looked at the ground where you had stood. There was nothing but grass, but the way you had crumpled that handkerchief into a ball—as if you were hiding a crime—didn't sit right with him

—

A few days later, he caught you in the Knights' library. You were hunched over a desk, your shoulders shaking with the effort of muffled coughs.

"Still haven't shaken that cold?" he asked, leaning against a bookshelf.

You jumped, nearly knocking over your inkwell. "Kaeya! I didn't hear you."

He stepped closer, his boots clicking rhythmically on the stone floor. He was close enough now to smell the metallic, sharp scent of blood beneath your perfume. His heart did a slow, painful roll in his chest. He saw your hand surreptitiously slide a stained tissue under a stack of papers.

"You look tired," he said, his voice dropping an octave, losing its usual teasing lilt. He reached out to brush a stray hair from your forehead, his fingers lingering on your skin. You were clammy. "Perhaps a visit to Barbara is in order?"

"I'm fine," you insisted, your voice a raspy whisper. "Just... overworked."

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The truth finally spilled out—literally—after a long briefing in the