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“Of everything I have seen,
it's you I want to go on seeing:
of everything I've touched,
it's your flesh I want to go on touching.
I love your orange laughter.
I am moved by the sight of you sleeping.
What am I to do, love, loved one?
I don't know how others love
or how people loved in the past.
I live, watching you, loving you.
Being in love is my nature.”
― Pablo Neruda
-
There are plenty of things Childe has learned not to take for granted away from home.
One, trust. The Tsaritsa might be powerful enough to hold the whole world in her frozen grasp, but no amount of money or influence could possibly erase the way everyone's eyes would follow her harbingers. Mothers and elders whisper about them in every corner, tugging their relatives close and their wallets closer.
Two, the biting cold he's learned to call home. From the scorching heat of Sumeru's lands to the humidity of the monsoon season in Liyue, nothing quite compares to his beloved Snezhnaya. Most recruits would sigh dreamily whenever they were sent to the camp at the skirts of Dragonspine, delighted to find themselves in a winter wonderland much like their own back home.
Not Childe.
Something dark writhes under the soil, trying to claw its way out of the innards of the mountain. Something wicked. The tremor under his boots and the disembodied heart at the core of one of its caves stank of the Abyss, beckoning him. Daring him to take just a step closer. To plunge his startlingly, suddenly gloveless hands right into that bloodlusting red and fulfill its darkest desire. All that power, ripe for the taking, and somehow-- somehow, his fingers don't itch for it the way they cradle his delusion.
Perhaps it is because another, much more alive dragon has already laid a claim over him.
Wariness, discomfort-- none exist here, wrapped up in the embrace of a retired god. He can feel a faint heartbeat under his cheek, slow and steady. Each beat of his heart makes his eyelids heavier, carefully dragging him off to join Zhongli in his dreams. It wouldn't take much. His arms are draped around his waist, keeping their sheets over their bare bodies so the morning chill won't reach them.
Childe tests their give, and snorts when all his efforts achieve is making the spot between Zhongli's eyebrows tight with tension, furrowing as he brings the harbinger even closer, tucking him under his head.
He's certainly happy to meet his voiceless demands; it is still early enough that they're both cast in shadows and fuzzy lines, and he can hardly hear his own breathing over Zhongli's light snores. He drifts in and out of consciousness for what feels like seconds but may be near an hour, he can't quite tell.
At least, until a ray of sunlight filters through the window and straight into his eyes, rousing him against his wishes. Childe clenches them shut, making a noise of protest in the back of his throat.
It is not the most elaborate prayer Rex Lapis has ever heard, but it works miracles.
A hand slips through his messy locks, dragging blunt nails against his scalp as Zhongli softly kisses his forehead. His movements are slow, paced, and the agitation in his muscles all but melts under his attentive touch. Soon Childe is calm, floating, and he feels as though his limbs might turn into water and seep right through the mattress, boneless as he is.
When the hint of a sleepy smile brushes against his ear, his own lips can't help curling into a stupid grin. This early in the morning, Zhongli’s voice is deep enough to make the back of his neck tingle.
"С днём рождения, Аякс." And oh, his breathing stutters. “Надеюсь ты и дальше будешь сиять ярче звёзд, что в смотрят на нас с неба сейчас.“
A geo construct sits innocently in front of their window, covering the gap completely until the light can no longer come in. Its cor lapis core pulses to the rhythm of its god's beating heart, lighting up the dark. There is no doubt their floor boards are ruined beyond repair by the weight of the monolith alone, and Childe can't imagine Ekaterina will be any happy to see the cost of the damages subtracted from his account, but what does it matter, here and now?
He is happy, and he is home .