When Diluc and Kaeya both turn four, you and Crepus enrol the both of them in a private preschool. Their school uniforms are tailored and pressed to perfection, their shoes are polished to a bright shine, and they both have brand-new backpacks balanced upon their shoulders. On the first day of school, you and your husband walk them to their classroom.
You've never been one for tears, but you have to fight to hold back your own tears as Kaeya sobs and clutches at you and begs you not to leave him. While Kaeya is loud and vocal about the indignity of being subjected to preschool, a sharp contrast from his normal shyness, Diluc tries to contain his sadness. But he looks even younger than usual, his large eyes red and frightened. Unshed tears clump his eyelashes together, making them dark, and he scrubs at his eyes with the back of his hand. Withdrawing to the side of the doorway, away from the gaze of the sympathetic teacher, you crouch on the floor and wipe at Kaeya's streaming face with your handkerchief. Your husband is of little help in this regard; suspiciously misty-eyed, he can barely look his sons in the eyes before his broad shoulders convulse and he has to turn away.
"Baby, it's just for a little while. Just a few hours. You're going to play and make new friends –"
"I don't wanna make friends!"
Crepus recovers enough to speak, though his voice is still clogged with the remnants of tears. Above Kaeya's head, you flash him a faint smile of support and solidarity. "Kaeya. You're going to do artwork and paint and draw –"
"I don't wanna paint!" Kaeya buries his face in your chest. His voice is muffled in your shirt. "I wanna go home with you and Papa."
Beside him, Diluc sniffles. When his eyes find yours, they waver, and his tears start anew. You hold out your free arm, and he comes to you willingly. You hold your sons close, cupping the back of their small heads, holding them securely against your damp shirt. "I'm not going home, baby. We both have our jobs, remember? Papa and I sell wine, and your job is to go to school."
Kaeya wails. "I don't like my job!"
"No school." For once, Diluc is in total agreement with his brother. Against your neck, he shakes his head. "No school, please."
Easing their heads back, you dab at their faces with your now damp handkerchief. "Diluc, Kaeya, I have an idea. Give me your hands. Here, look –" You take hold of their hands. "I'm going to give you two a kiss that you can carry with you all day. Watch." Bending your head, you press your lips to their knuckles. Your lipstick leaves a perfect imprint behind. "There. Now if you start to miss me, that will remind you that I love you both and I'm coming soon to pick you up."
Kaeya regards the waxy pink mark dubiously, but you're relieved to see that his tears have stopped, with the quietest sniffle and cough. "I want a red kiss." Diluc is the first one to speak after a long moment, his face tear-streaked and mulish.
"Tomorrow I'll wear red lipstick." You promise. "Come on. Go make some new friends and draw me and Papa lots of pictures."
