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It’s always the mornings, she thinks. When the sunlight touches him and she opens her eyes, her gaze landing on his face.
He looks peaceful in his sleep. Nothing like the fearsome Harbinger he actually is. She reaches out, lets her fingers graze his cheek.
When morning comes, when the light is soft and gentle – the harsh set of his mouth, the lust for battle in his eyes, they all melt away. It makes him look young, and she can almost convince herself that nothing is wrong; that they can stay together, wrapped up in bed, not a care in the world.
It’s rare that she stays over. She usually doesn’t care to, especially not in the past. Once they were done, she’d slip her clothes back on and he would usher her out, promising her dinner some time within the week.
Of course, they never actually eat together. He’s always too busy, and she’s too…afraid.
Just then, his eyelids flutter, slowly opening to reveal placid blue, and she hesitates, unable to look away as he yawns and smiles, all soft and drowsy. Still not fully awake. “Good morning,” he tells her, and she nods, swallowing, her voice lodged in the back of her throat.
His eyes remind her of the ocean on a balmy summer’s day.
“Do you want pancakes?” he asks, pushing up from the bed. His hand reaches for her face, as natural as breathing; she exhales, shaky as his thumb glides across her cheek. “I can’t promise that they’ll taste good, though. We’re out of sugar.”
She blinks. “What about sunsettias?” And immediately she regrets speaking when her voice trembles, almost cracking in her nervousness.
Childe raises an eyebrow. “Not too sure how that would work, but you’re welcome to try.”
She doubts he failed to notice the hitch in her breath. He’s always so observant, and it frightens her sometimes. Makes her wonder how much he sees, how much he tracks and remembers behind that casual, flippant façade.
“Is this really okay?” The question slips out without her thinking. He stares at her, cocks his head, and now she feels compelled to elaborate. “I mean, you and me. Pretending this way.”
Pretending everything is fine. Pretending they can be friends when they both know they are anything but. This didn't mean much to her, in the beginning – he was nothing more than a casual distraction, a warm body to fill her bed when the nights grew lonely.
But now, she's starting to get attached, and that makes her nervous. She doesn't want to be attached.
His brow furrows, blue eyes darkening slightly – an ocean turned grey by clouds as they roll across the sky. “Who said anything about pretending?”
She bites her lip, forces herself to look away. He sounds so earnest, it makes her chest twinge. “We’re not friends, Childe. We’re enemies. Rivals, at the very best. We can’t play around forever.” Not like this. Not even if they want to.
He doesn’t speak for a while. She can almost feel him thinking – his hand drops from her cheek to glide down her arm, resting on the blanket. She doesn’t try to stop him as he slips his fingers between hers. “Aren’t you thinking too far into the future?”
She frowns at him, narrowing her eyes. “I’m just being realistic.”
“Too realistic.” He laughs. “Love isn’t meant to be so honest. We need that element of whimsy in our lives, don’t you think?”
“I’m being serious, Childe.” She sighs. “It would be…nice, maybe. To stay with you. But the more I think about it, the more I feel like it’s just not possible.”
His smile fades. “Because?”
She doesn’t answer immediately, and he shifts closer, the warmth of his body pressed against hers. She can’t help but shiver. He’s so hot it burns, and she remembers the way he hovered over her last night, blue eyes searing, his hands and his lips and his voice –
“If you’re going to tell me it’s because we’re enemies again, ojou-chan, then I don’t want to hear it,” he murmurs.
Heat pricks at her eyes. “You’re so selfish,” she says. It comes out more like a sob.
Childe sighs and wraps an arm around her. For a moment, she’s smothered – she nuzzles in, suddenly afraid that he’d disappear if she ever looks away.
There’s something about him that’s so transient, almost otherworldly. He’s a man touched by the Abyss, by a force even out of her control, and the unknown frightens her.
She’s already lost so much. Her wings, her powers, her brother. She can’t lose Childe too. Yet, the possibility lingers on the fringes of her consciousness, reminding her of how impermanent everything could be. Once upon a time, she and Aether promised they’d be together forever.
How the times have changed.
“I think that between you and me, we should be more than capable of handling our unhappy friends. Don’t you agree?”
Still, right now Childe feels solid, present. The steady beat of his heart in her ear is undoubtedly comforting, and she finds herself relaxing, sinking against his chest. “You’re so optimistic,” she mumbles, turning her face towards him. “That’s not the only issue, you know.”
He laughs, his hand sliding down her back, a single finger tracing the length of her spine. “Well, any other problems that may arise, we can just face as they come. No need to think about that right now.”
His hand stops near her hip, ticklish, and she flinches. Twisting, she brings him down for a kiss, and he goes willingly – his lips are the softest part of him, and she moans, letting her eyes close at his touch.
“You can’t leave me,” she says, pulling away, his face still trapped between her hands.
He hesitates, his gaze darting between her eyes and her mouth. Then he relaxes and sighs, lips curving into an all too familiar smile.
“I promise I won’t,” he answers. She believes him.