Work Text:
Childe smiled as he stocked shelves– another holiday season vanquished. It had been rough, the customers coming in like waves of enemy forces, but his stores had survived. REI was set to, once again, make money. Delightful. As one of their regional managers, he was pleased.
Life should have been perfect; however, he had a certain personal issue. This was unusual for him. Usually, he just let life take him wherever it pleased in regards to his personal relationships, but this philosophy had finally led him to a dead end.
“Childe? Are you alright? You look a little–”
Olive, one of the newer employees, gestured vaguely at his face. Childe gave her a somewhat strained smile.
Olive had taken a part time job at this store in order to make a little money while she worked on her PhD. He liked her. She was not above resorting to extreme measures in order to increase revenue. This was a trait he appreciated in his employees.
“Do you know Dainslief? He's the manager at the flagship store.”
“I don't think so,” Olive said. “Why do you ask?”
She was smart enough to deduce that he wouldn't talk about a work related issue with her– he took such things seriously– and so took on more of an affable tone.
“He's in love with my ex,” he said.
Olive’s eyes widened.
“Let me guess– he doesn't think he should date her because doing so would break ‘bro code’, or whatever he calls it?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” Childe said.
In truth, there was a bit more to it than that. He'd dated Lumine for quite some time, but also what they had could hardly have counted as a relationship. He wasn't straight, and she didn't like him, and they'd only been dating for appearance’s sake. It's a wonder they didn't get unhappily married, but Lumine had eventually been brave enough to call it off, and they had both been happier since.
“The same thing happened to me!” Olive said excitably.
“Really?”
“Oh yeah? How’d you manage it?”
He could use the advice. It was not a particularly pleasant situation to be in, and he could not find the words to express to Dainslief that he truly did not care who he dated. He wished the best for Lumine too, he supposed.
“It’s very simple,” Olive said. “You have to date someone else. Then they’ll know you’ve moved on, and won’t feel bad about dating your ex.”
“Date someone else?”
It wasn’t a terrible idea. He’d had worse, like the time he considered hopping into the gorilla exhibit at the zoo to see if he could knock one out barehanded. He couldn't, because security removed him before he could throw any punches. Still, there was a central problem– who would he date?
He was aware that he was not particularly sought after. Lumine had assured him of such. People who spent too much time with him tended to realize that there was something wrong with him, that he spent too much time polishing his knife collection and not enough doing whatever it was that ordinary people did.
“It doesn’t have to be real,” Olive explained. “I fake dated my boyfriend.”
“Fake… dating?”
He was unfamiliar with the notion, but it was self-explanatory. It was, perhaps, somewhat akin to a standard sale presented as a black friday special– a trick for the benefit of the company, or in this case, one’s own self. Childe could perhaps manage this.
“Where did you find your fake boyfriend?”
“My lab. Is there anyone at– oh, I guess he works with you, so it might be a little awkward to date a coworker.”
This was reasonable advice. He could not expect anyone else to care about maintaining the lie for the whole of their shift. One of his friends, perhaps, could help, but there was the small issue of his friends all being terrible, self-absorbed people.
Especially– yes, Dottore. Now that he thought of it, Dottore, despite like him appearing fundamentally unlovable as a person, had acquired a boyfriend recently. Perhaps Childe could seek advice from him. This location wasn't too far from Crumbl, so he could bribe him rather easily if necessary.
“I'll ask around. Thanks, Olive.”
A customer entered the store. His eyes locked in on them like a hungry hyena catching sight of an injured gazelle.
“You take care of them, would you?”
Olive nodded. She was indeed a good employee. She had, perhaps, earned the right to participate in the mutual combat ring he enjoyed. He would sponsor her entry into it if she so desired, but per its rules he would have to wait until she broached the topic with him. Only the worthy few who discovered the secret of its existence were allowed to join.
He headed to the back to fill out some paperwork. It wasn't anything too difficult, leaving him with plenty of time to ponder potential boyfriends.
Dottore and Pantalone were out, obviously. Pierro and Pulcinella were both busy, while Capitano was too good for him. Scaramouche, the last of his guy friends, was perhaps the worst option. He was both obnoxious and straight. Childe shuddered, and crossed him off his mental list.
There weren't a lot of other people he knew. Most of his time in school he'd spent with Lumine, so he preferred not to recall those memories. They were not pleasant.
Now that he thought of it, though, there had been someone. They were just on the edge of his memories, so he couldn't recall their name, but he thought they'd had brown hair. They'd been nice to him, he thought, when he'd dropped all his books in the library once.
He wished he could remember them more clearly, but he had a job so he didn't have time to worry about that right now. He had more important things to do, like figure out how to ask Dottore about getting a boyfriend and also the job he was being paid to do.
The rest of his shift rolled by smoothly, held up only by some annoying returns. After clocking off, he checked his phone.
The local gun range, who he followed on Instagram, had posted while he was working. Excited, he checked the notification, and was delighted to find that they were hosting a Lana Del Rey themed event.
“Hey,” he texted Dottore. “Do you want to go to the Lana Del Rey event at the gun range with me?”