Chapter Text
For the sixth time that evening, the pen rolls from Kaeya’s hand to fall onto the unforgiving floor with a clack. He groans, the noise surfacing from the bottommost depths of his chest to spill toxic on his tongue. There’s a strong urge to slam his laptop shut and crumple the multitude of sheets in front of him, but he’d rather not face the repercussions of such actions. They’re childish anyway.
A pair of heels click and clack behind him. Their owner sighs at the sight before her.
“You look worse for wear,” Rosaria, his best friend and roommate, says monotonously, because this is far from the first time she’s seen him like this. Kaeya finally lifts his head from his pillow of papers to frown at her, bleary eye trying its best to conjure up a glare.
“Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Rosie,” Kaeya responds sarcastically, leaning over to pick up the pen that had fallen.
Rosaria snorts, walking to sit down on Kaeya’s bed, long fingernails carefully moving his already messily strewn blankets to the side. The lamp on her roommate’s desk casts a dim light on his notes for nursing and every single scratched out mistake. After a brief moment of scanning over what he currently has, Kaeya lets another guttural groan break the silence. Rosaria pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Stop that,” Rosaria chides, “You’re as burnt out as that piece of shit you call a lamp.”
Kaeya can’t even deny that.
The truth is, Kaeya is about to break his back with how straight-edged he’s been since graduating high school to pursue a career he may or may not be too passionate about. Kaeya could almost laugh thinking about the days he would party all night, illegally drinking with other underaged teenagers during the weekends to fry whatever remaining brain cells he may have. It might have been the prime of his life, and now Kaeya fears that at the tender age of twenty-one, he will soon undergo a mid-life crisis.
Nursing is Kaeya’s way of making his dad proud considering he has quite the shoes to fill after his older brother, Diluc, graduated with far too many honors in his business major. Then, to add to his already hectic schedule, Kaeya took it upon himself to be a teaching assistant for a chemistry lab to beef up his somewhat shrimpy resume. He almost dreads meeting the current TA that will work alongside him tomorrow. He can only hope they don’t have a stick up their ass.
Kaeya sighs, perhaps for the twentieth time tonight.
It’s as Rosaria said; he’s completely and utterly burnt out. A drenched candle, if you will.
Rosaria adjusts her fishnets, letting the garter go with a snap against her pale white skin that is bound to redden, “Well, I’m really only here to let you know that I’m going out for the night.”
Kaeya stares at her incredulously, “On a Thursday?”
She laughs dryly, “I go out almost every night of the week. Do you really think I care too much about the religious studies my pious mother forced upon me in hopes that I become a nun or some shit? You’re funny, Kaeya.”
“Maybe you were one in your past life…” he jokes, tapping his pen against the side of his desk. Kaeya chuckles lowly.
“Probably a terrible one who didn’t even know the name of the god she was serving.”
“Fair enough,” Kaeya mutters, turning back to the notes in front of him.
A perfectly manicured hand makes its way to his stiff shoulder, patting him twice in sympathy. He wants to pull his hair out.
“Listen,” Rosaria begins, “I know your answer has been the same for this question every time but I have a hunch that it might change.”
Kaeya shuts his eye. He knows where this is going.
Rosaria places her hand on the table before leaning her weight against it, “Why don’t you tag along tonight? Let’s drink, get wasted, have fun or whatever. If you hate it, I won’t ask you again.”
Kaeya clicks his pen open and closed, and thinks really hard about it (but not too hard because otherwise, he would quite literally explode on the spot). His stomach sinks at the thought of waking up early after a night of downing as much cheap liquor as humanly possible. It’s even worse that he has to look his best for the TA he’s meeting.
Rosaria taps her nails. Kaeya looks up at her wearily.
“What will it take for you to say yes? For me to beg?” she rolls her eyes, “I mean I could, but I like when my men beg for me, not the other way around.”
“Not asking that of you,” Kaeya assured, “And Christ, I didn’t need to know that.”
Rosaria laughs again, though a more genuine one. She wraps her fingers around Kaeya’s bicep and tugs slightly, tipping him slightly off balance to get his full attention.
“C’mon, get ready, we’re going to go.”
Kaeya presses his lips together. One night shouldn’t hurt.
Right?
Kaeya can already see vibrant lights bleed into worn pavements just several blocks away from the subway. As they get closer, he can see how the stone is worn by constant foot-traffic, and he watches his step to avoid uneven ground. He’s bathed in a ruby hue as he faces the entrance of wherever the hell Rosaria thought was proper to take him to relieve some stress.
A red-light district? Kaeya ponders. He’s not that surprised; Rosaria is a fiend for the dirty scenes and the night-life is what she craves for on a daily basis.
Fingers snap in front of him, jewelry jingling together from the movements.
“We need to hurry,” Rosaria tells him, “These streets get very crowded fast and I don’t know if you’re interested in constantly bumping elbows with strangers.”
“Lead the way, then,” Kaeya answers as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.
The air is foggy with smoke of all kinds, the colored fluorescents from the various shops swirling with the vapors. Rosaria does as she’s told, walking confidently into the district like she owns the place. Kaeya follows closely behind, noting men and women alike waving to her like they’re all so familiar. Their sly smiles are telling. He won’t ask her questions.
As they walk through the strip, Kaeya is observant of many things. The first would be the peculiar amount of individuals that are simply having a chat and coffee near run-down stores, several feet from very public sexual engagements. The acrid scent of the air brings Kaeya back to more rebellious days when he’d fuck up his lungs under the bleachers with Rosaria and other kids that didn’t care about being caught or getting a proper education. Since it’s been so long, his nose scrunches a little, unused to the strong smell coming from all directions. He sort of misses it though. Then there’s scantily-clad women who would wave at him, and Kaeya finds that they have very charming smiles and very beautiful eyes. Lovely.
Rosaria eventually stops walking in front of a large venue where mint green neon signs cut violently through the red and pinks from all around them. Kaeya cranes his neck to read the sign.
Barbatos’ Angels.
“The most popular strip club here,” Rosaria says aloud, like she’s tapping into Kaeya’s thoughts, “Eula and Lisa are already inside, so let’s not keep them waiting.”
He’s immediately hit with a wave of loud music and the vague scent of alcohol mixing in with more smoke and a touch of sex. An interesting combination, but a likely one in a place like this. Kaeya and Rosaria weave their way through the dancing crowd, crossing through as though parting the red sea. They find their friends sitting at a booth relatively close to the main stage where a woman skillfully works the pole, legs parted as she soars through the sky with ease. Cash is thrown at her, and she too has a wonderful smile.
Lisa raises a brow at the sight of Kaeya, surprised that the nursing slave decided to go out for the evening. As they take their seats, a frazzled looking waiter comes to their aid, asking them for their poison of choice. Seeing that the two have already ordered whole bottles of tequila and whiskey for the table to share, Rosaria goes for a hard-hitter. Kaeya takes it slow with a green tea shot, the same as the one sitting in front of Eula.
“Alberich, it’s a pleasure to see you out of those textbooks of yours for once,” Lisa teases, resting her chin on top of her folded fingers, drunken flush evident even in the dark atmospheric lighting. Kaeya laughs, agreeing with her wholeheartedly. His shot comes quickly, hastily placed in front of him before the waiter immediately takes off without waiting for words of gratitude.
The stripper on stage eventually finishes her performance by blowing a kiss at the cheering crowd before walking off to disappear behind jet black velvet curtains. A couple of employees scurry to gather her earnings from the stage to prepare for the next dancer, whoever it may be.
The strip club is full of vivacity, a harsh contrast to the boring string of days that have made up the majority of the last three unfruitful years of Kaeya’s life. His eye roams the bustling joint, watching as strangers grind up on one another, hardly a care in the world as they get lost in the music and questionable fumes. The bar is filled with completely drunk patrons and people waiting to get whisked away by someone dangerously good-looking. Likely for a quickie in the bathroom stall.
A hotel, if they’re lucky.
Several throat-burning shots later and Kaeya feels buzzed to a satisfaction. Not drunk enough to see double and speak nonsense, but the perfect amount to feel great. Liberated, maybe, since those goddamn nursing notes and all of his responsibilities are tucked away in the back of Kaeya’s head. As they should be.
Then he sees a familiar face, dressed in a black uniform far in the back of the club near an exit that blares as red as the streets outside. Kaeya almost drops his shot glass.
“Diluc..?”
Rosaria tilts her head at him, blinking slowly in her drunken state, “Your brother?”
Kaeya doesn’t answer. He simply gets up from the booth, pushing his way through other club goers to reach his brother’s side, careful not to stumble over his own two feet or crush any toes that are unfortunate to be in the path of his boot.
He doesn’t even get there yet, but Diluc already sees him approaching, a scowl replacing the neutral expression on his face in an instant.
“Kaeya,” Diluc says, tone tight in his throat, “What are you doing here?”
Kaeya stands up straighter, the taste of alcohol in the back of his mouth growing sour, “See, I could ask you the same thing. I didn’t think I’d find the breadwinner of the family working as a security guard in a red-light district.”
Diluc narrows his eyes at the backhanded comment. The other security guard next to him, Zhongli, looks between the two of them with confusion. Feeling a bit awkward from the sudden tension, he chooses to glance down at his watch instead, waiting for the next performer to make their way to the stage.
“Fuck out of my business,” Diluc swears, body rigid as Kaeya gives him a certain kind of look. The kind that would mean they would need to talk soon. What a headache, Diluc can already feel.
“Hey now, let’s be civil,” Kaeya tells him, raising his hands in surrender despite the jeering undertones of his voice, “We have plenty of time to talk about-”
As soon as he says this, the music gets quieter and the sound of a finger tapping the top of a mic cuts through the atmosphere, bringing chatter to a low. Diluc turns away from Kaeya, crossing his arms over his chest as he focuses on the empty stage, now blacked out with a pole frozen in time. Kaeya rolls his eye at his brother’s immature behavior before peering at the stage as well. Waiting.
A high-pitched male voice comes over the mic, words bouncing off the walls in high energy. People murmur to one another, pulling wads of cash out in preparation. Kaeya keeps waiting,
“I know you’ve all been waiting oh so patiently for our next angel...” the man announces, which is met with a roar of enthusiasm.
Kaeya finally sees them on the other end of the stage, black braided hair tinged with green and a very cute face for a very X-rated environment. He looks like a stripper himself, dressed in skimpy white clothing that still manages to be elegant.
“The owner of the strip club,” Diluc tells him, like he knows he’s wondering, and Kaeya finds himself more dumbfounded. Noted.
Cute strip club owner continues, “Please, let’s all give a very warm welcome to our dear Kreideprinz!”
The cheers are deafening. Several arms go up with their shot glasses in hand, liquor spilling over onto dry laps and tables. Then bright lights flash on, casting a spotlight on the stage and the silver pole that glints with excitement. A dark, sultry beat comes on and then Kaeya sees him.
And his breath is already snatched from his lungs.
A white hand gingerly pushes the velvet curtains open before the dancer walks out slowly, right with the rhythm of the music. He’s dressed in a black pleather bodysuit decorated with gold accents that hugs his curves perfectly along with a white sheer robe with no hopes of hiding much of his modesty. Blond hair is tied into a ponytail that bounces with every step. Kaeya subconsciously licks his lips at the thigh high boots and sheer black pantyhose that hides the expanse of silky smooth skin.
Most of the stripper’s identity is concealed by a lace mask that covers the top half of his face, revealing the prettiest blue eyes, limpid ocean that dazzles in sunlight. He’s got an androgynous beauty that Kaeya’s never really seen before, and it’s got his heart racing.
Kaeya’s already wrapped around his finger before Kreideprinz can even take hold of the pole.
Diluc watches the dancer. Unmoving.
Kreideprinz doesn’t just dance, it seems. He puts on a show with a purpose, and each move is meaningful, like this is art to him. The sway of his hips is sensual, fluid and in harmony with the song that plays in the background. It’s evident that he has mastered the art of seduction, and there is a clear reason why everyone was waiting for him as the climax of the night.
As dirty as the beat is, the lyrics are strangely romantic, speaking of a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love one could never let go of. The story translates in Kreideprinz’s dancing, alluring and mesmerizing, making love to the pole in hand. Kaeya notices that he’s not even stripping; that captivating gaze alone could send blood down south for anyone watching. One can only simply imagine what it would be like to see him naked.
It’s pure sex for the eyes.
At some point, Kaeya swears they make eye contact, a connection that lights a spark in his blood. Kreideprinz holds it for a while, making sure Kaeya drinks up all of his essence and leaves him parched for more when he finally looks away.
In truth, Kaeya is completely enamored by this mysterious dancer.
Before he knows it, Kreideprinz is already finished with his show, smiling shyly at the crowd like he didn’t just give them a performance to die for. Kaeya can hardly hear his own thoughts as more cash is thrown at Kreideprinz who hurries off the stage, a Cinderella that he would search for his entire life, no matter the cost.
“Who is he?” Kaeya asks Diluc, who is staring at the curtains that are still swaying from the stripper’s exit, “What’s his name?”
Diluc grunts, “Kreideprinz is very meticulous about keeping his identity a secret and I am very keen on respecting such wishes.”
He pauses.
“He’s also quite elusive. No one seems to know where he goes after these shows. Both him and the other popular performer, Tartaglia.”
Kaeya frowns, though he can definitely understand why Kreideprinz would want such boundaries in place. He can already hear suggestive talks in ear shot, several men saying they would fuck him in a heartbeat if they had the chance. It makes Kaeya feel rather ill. Diluc seems to hear it too because he’s bristling by Kaeya’s side. Curious, Kaeya thinks to himself as his brother goes to tell them with a pointed tone that they had far too much to drink and that it’s time to leave. The aura is so frightening that the men do leave in a hurry, but not before spouting some more expletives that has Kaeya feeling kind of angry himself.
Kaeya already feels some urgency to be protective of the blond.
But he doesn’t even know him.
No one does.
Diluc suddenly seems like he’s getting ready to take his leave for the night, but not before Kaeya could grab his wrist to stop him. He ignores the red eyes that glare at him, almost like the exit sign a couple of steps away.
“We’re still not finished talking,” Kaeya tells him, but Diluc yanks his arm away.
“Then give me a call and we can talk,” Diluc sighs, “I’ve got important things to tend to.”
Then he’s gone, rushing to the back of the strip club where only employees have access to. Interesting , Kaeya muses, he leaves as soon as Kreideprinz himself is out of sight.
Why would that be?
It’s not too long until Kaeya and Rosaria quietly leave the district, the former having the ethereal afterimage of an angel he wants to see in his dreams.
And in his reality.
Kaeya doesn’t regret the forgotten papers and dead laptop on his desk. Not after getting the opportunity to see such a spectacle. Staring at the ceiling over his bed, Kaeya thinks about Kreideprinz all night, that pretty smile of his, and vows to do all that he can to see him again.
To know him the way no one else can.