Chapter Text
For all the years Jean had known him, Kaeya Alberich simply did not cry. Not when a group of vicious kids bullied him at school when he was eight years old, or when he emerged from a fight with twenty or so treasure hoarders with a stab wound so deep he still occasionally felt its effects decades later when he was thirteen, not when his entire world collapsed at seventeen years old, nor when he bore his heart to Jean at twenty-three. Kaeya did not cry the day his past came back to haunt him when he was just twenty-five years old.
Instead of crying when in pain, he always laughed, cackled and giggled in delighted glee to cover up the bleeding of his heart. With a tongue made of silver, Kaeya was the master of language, able to twist anything into anything he wanted it to be, the intention behind every word hidden with such ease it lying was almost instinctive at times. She eventually learned to treat his silence as confessions and his laughter as tears streaming down his face. And how she wished to see him shed a tear.
They were twenty-five when her wish was granted, when the burden on his shoulders finally was lifted and she asked him to marry her. In a private tent, Kaeya, freshly awoken, unable to even lift his hand without suffering excruciating pain told Jean he would love to marry her, and the tears did not stop from the dream come true.
“You’re going to be a father,” Jean told him when they were twenty-seven, and Kaeya took her into his arms and cried for what he thought was impossible for a sinner like him for twenty years.