Archive of Our Own

It was difficult to forget, easy to remember.

An obnoxiously bright day, only made more so by the fact it was noon. The blazing sun would burn the pavement of the street, reflecting itself on the windows of the dinner.

Childe remembered because he was sitting right next to one. They let in all hot during the day, and all it's cold at night. That day, in particular, it was so bright it blinded him just to sit.

Why he stayed, he didn’t know. Boredom, maybe. Or the need to make sense of the assignment given to him. A combination of both, yet he was at his limit.

That’s when he heard it.

A chime by the door, a little bell that rung as it opened. Loud enough for Childe to notice. He didn’t bother looking up. The scribbled pile of paper on the table took priority. Absent-mindedly, he tapped his pen on the table, hoping to make sense of Signora’s report, without much luck going his way.

The murmurs around him bled around, and he barely acknowledged the chatter. It wasn’t until then, that he recognized her annoying trademark lingo, and he finally deciphered her stupid message. For a moment, he allowed himself to relax and caught the static of the radio. It only soured his mood.

Tumultuous and loud, Childe frowned.

He was just about to get up and furiously leave. He already had the five-dollar bill crumbled up next to the black coffee - that would be enough for the tip, he guessed - when a peal of soft laughter came through the air.

The rough sound of wheels against tiles, then the radio’s sound turned into a song.

And then a voice.

A cheesy song, one he’d heard. Maybe it was in one of Tonia’s old movies, or maybe Teucer had hoarded it in one of the million tapes Childe had burnt for him. From wherever it was, it was familiar. Catchy and contagious. The light tapping of his pen unconsciously matched its rhythm, and despite himself, the corner of his lips tug upwards.

It was not enough to call it a smile. But it was more than Childe had felt in a long while.

And through its sound, a voice. Happily singing, without a care in the world. A hum, easily missed through the loudness of the speakers, of the busy kitchen, and the few commensals chatting away among the dinner.

Yet it rang loudly in Childe’s ears, because it was perhaps, one of the softest sounds he’d heard in a while.

Without meaning to, he turned his head, catching sight of brightly coloured band-aids and a white apron. The boy passed through, the sounds of his rollerblades blending in the background.

“Hello!” Bright green, clear like the summer grass. A smile, wide and cheeky. Boyish, full of life. Childe has no idea how someone could be so happy. “May I take your order, Sir?”

The boy's face was flushed. Shouts from the kitchen told him the boy was late for the shift. The owner was angrily telling him to pick up the slack. Instead of being annoyed, the boy laughed it off with a bashful smile.

Without a word, Childe tapped the cup in front of him. He tried his best to show a happy expression, ease the boy’s nerves as he surely felt on edge. But, knowing his reputation and his face, Childe wasn’t sure such a thing could be achieved.

Much to his delight, however, the boy beamed. He refilled the cup and continued on his merry way across the diner. The sound of his rollerblades accompanied him.

For a few seconds, Childe let himself stay there. Basking in the seconds, the moments he had, as he watched the boy dance. His movements were agile, moving through the dinner like it was second nature. No hesitance, no shyness.

He continued to sing, a little hum that only became noticeable when he passed Childe’s seat to get to the kitchen. But it had stuck him in place, enjoying that moment, like it was the only thing that mattered.

And knowing his life, knowing everything that had happened – maybe it was.

Those moments where he could breathe in, pretend to be normal and feel alive, were rare and far in between. They were the only thing keeping Childe standing up. Keeping him from collapsing on the spot, letting the pressure of the world swallow him whole.

He scribbled the lyrics on top of Signora’s report. He tossed another five dollars to the pile and walked out of the dinner.

If he found himself humming the song as he took a step inside the quarters, no one asked why.

When was it that the sky turned dark? An abnormal hue of red, and clouds that never left? When was it that he stopped hating those bright days, and began to wish for them again?

Maybe, if he had stayed in that dinner, if he hadn’t gone back to the Fatui that day – if he instead had asked the boy his number, and they chatted. If he’d forgotten about his appointment, and he’d been kicked out of the group.

Maybe that way, they would’ve had more time.

And Ajax wouldn’t be running towards that place like his life depended on it.

(It did).

Despite his best efforts not to, Childe found himself going back to that dinner. If asked, he would lie. He would laugh. A fake, dry laugh, and say, ‘yeah, I go there once or twice, their coffee is good.'

Their coffee sucked. And Childe couldn’t tell you how many times he’d gone after that. He’d lost count. But it was more than twice by the time he’d actually worked up the courage to have a conversation with the cute boy in rollerblades.

And it wasn’t even because he worked up the courage.

The only reason they even began to talk, was because the poor boy tripped and fell right next to Childe’s table.

From the recurrent visits, Childe had seen how unfortunate the boy was. Broken plates, messed up orders, a situation with a raccoon, and that one time the coffee pot caught on fire. The boy was resilient, and he seemed used to scratches and scrapes.

Yet, when he heard the loud crash right next to his table, Childe freaked out. He quickly reached out to help the boy get up. An extended hand, meant to offer help.

However, just as the words were about to come out of his throat, they got forcefully stuck. His breath hitched, and Childe’s hand twitched in its place.

The boy laughed, little giggles from his lips, rubbing his head with bashfulness. From where Childe was standing, he could see his chipped tooth, which made a small whistling sound with his laugh. On his right cheek, a dimple showed, as if it existed just to tease Childe’s already fragile heart.

“Just my luck, haha,” he said. “Thank you, sir.”

And then, with no fear, no hesitance, no nothing, the boy touched Childe’s hand.

A buzz of electricity ran through his body. He pulled the boy up, and they finally saw each other face to face.

Holy shit, Childe realized. He felt his face get flushed, as he looked down at the boy. He reached his chest, even with the rollerblades on. This had to be a crime, how could anyone be this cute?

He’s sooo tiny.

Childe realized the boy was blushing too. And, all too late he realized –

He said that last part out loud.

The loud screams of Scaramouche ‘you’re a fucking idiot’ echoed in his head.

Childe was, indeed, a fucking idiot.

His cheeks were burning.

“Sorry about that,” Childe said.

“I-It’s okay!” the boy answered, voice stammering as he laughed. “I know I’m not exactly tall.”

“Still a bit rude,” Childe continued. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Not uncomfortable,” the boy said. The light pink dusting his cheeks was so cute, Childe wanted to touch his cheeks so badly. “You just caught me by surprise!”

“Does that mean I can say it again if I warn you?” Childe said, unconsciously once again. He only realized he was being stupid again when the boy’s eyes went wide.

“I-!”

“Childe!” he interrupted before he could continue making a fool of himself. “My name is Childe, sorry. I-, uhm, what’s your name?”

The boy relaxed slightly.

“Bennett,” he said. “My friend’s call me Benny!”

“Can I call you that?” Childe asked.

“Sure!” Bennett said, his tone so excited it made Childe’s heart ache. “We are friends, then!”

Friends. The word was unfamiliar to Childe. He hadn’t had a friend in a long time. Back home, he’d been considered a weird kid by his peers. Here, he was nothing more than ruffian. He had colleges, he had family, he had people he respected, and people he worked for. But a friend was something he’d struggled to get.

With Bennett’s stretched out hand offering such a thing, Childe reached out without thinking twice about it. Surely, someone like Bennett had tons of friends. A bright, happy personality like his, attracted others.

Much unlike him, whose mere existence seemed to be constantly shrouded in misery and misfortune.

He smiled at Bennett.

“It’s my pleasure, then, Benny.”

The time he spent at that dinner increased. It shouldn't have. Childe should have gotten his fill out of his curiosity and left. But every couple of days, he would come back around. At the same time, asking the exact same thing, simply to stop his curiosity. But day by day, he goes back. And day by day, it gets harder to stop.

Bennett laughs at his awful jokes and tells him all about his day. Each story is an entire journey. Childe never knows how it'll end, or in what new way things will go wrong. But perhaps, his favourite part is watching Bennett's eyes fill with enthusiasm whenever he recounts his stories. 

"That sounds amazing," Childe laughed. "You have a knack for getting in trouble, huh?" 

"It's not intentional," Bennett replied with a small bush on his face. "I'm just really unlucky". 

Childe tried not to think how, yeah. Bennett meeting him was probably unlucky for him. But to Childe? It was the best thing to ever happen. 

They chatted for what felt like hours, always up until Childe had to work. As he was leaving, however, he would always let his gaze linger. Across the big windows of the dinner, he would see Bennett for a few more seconds. While always smiled, there were moments that Childe would catch him looking at the horizon with longing. 

He always wondered what Bennett was watching.

Much later he found it was the horizon. 

With that toothy grin that made Childe's knees go weak, he exclaimed, "someday I'll travel so far, I'll even catch up to it!" 

Childe wondered if he could take him there. 

Things had gotten out of hand.

Childe still felt himself buzzing with energy, the bloodlust seeping from his fists as he walked a familiar street.

It was late. Night. The dinner was empty, barely anyone still there. Only a couple of workers, and even fewer customers. Each looking more depressed than the last.

There was no reason for him to be there. Nothing other than his incessant, helpless need for comfort. His steps had brought him here, but it was all a null effort.

Every time he visited Bennett, it was in the morning, maybe noon. Every time, with a brightly coloured sky surrounding them. Every time, before he went to work.

Because, after it was all done, Childe didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel human.

He felt like a monster, covered in blood that wasn’t his. His fingers twitching, heated up from the gunpowder, and fire still staining his clothes with its smell.  

He wanted Bennett to see him and see someone. A weird guy, a slightly frightening man, even a pervert.

Right now, he wasn’t anything like that.

He was a bundle of nerves and bloodlust, nothing more than a monster. Couldn’t even call him someone.

But things had gotten out of hand that day. Childe grew used to killing, that wasn’t new. He’d grown used to Dottore’s unholy experiments on people who didn’t deserve their fate. He’d grown desensitized to the smell of sex that clung to Signora’s body, and the cruel laugh from Scaramouche.

They were far from something that could affect him. He’d grown used to putting on a mask, ‘Tartaglia’ wasn’t scared. He didn’t care. Everything was for a cause, and for that cause, he’d swallow down the pungent nausea of the crimes the Fatui committed.

But that didn’t mean the mask didn’t crack.

That night, the particular cries of a mother begging to save her child rung loud in Childe’s ears. She was part of the underground mafia, wife of a drug dealer that owed too much money to the Fatui. To pay the debt, Childe had to kill her. He did.

The man had trembled in fear because he knew he’d be the next if he didn’t hand over the money. Signora had praised him.

He hated it when she did. And at the same time, he wanted it more than anything. Reassurance that what he was doing was the right thing. That his blood-stained hands were of use for the Tsaritsa. That like this, his family and his homeland were safe.

He wasn’t a hero. He did the dirty work, so innocent people didn’t pay the price.

But it still ached. Having to watch a mother beg him, having to watch someone who was nothing more than a pawn in a game of chess, die helpless by his hand.

Childe felt his whole body shudder. He needed to come down. Stop the bloodlust seeping from his wounds, stop the ringing in his ears. He wanted so badly to listen to Benny sing.

Just like when he first saw him – happily dancing to a song playing on a broken radio. His smile, easily shared, brightening up the room.

All he needed was a glimpse.

From the alley, he watched the dinner.

There he was. By some miracle, Benny was there. Clocking out, a helmet in his hands, waving at the people still working. His rollerblades, a bright cherry red worn out from use, with his kneecaps to match.

Childe didn’t say anything as he stared. He rested his head against the wall, watching – was he humming a song again? Childe wanted it to be that same song from when they met. He could still hear it in his mind, catchy and sweet.

A sigh escaped him. Longing, as the boy began to move.

As long as Bennett was fine.

As long as he was.

Childe’s eyes widened.

Drip. Drip.

Blood.

A single drop fell to the pavement, and Bennett’s lips trembled.

Childe saw red.

Bennett’s luck was a curse. One he’d grown used to having. Broken glass, broken bones, broken hearts. It was easy to acquire them all when you had such a curse.

He was used to being lonely. No one cared to hang out with someone who only ever brought the worst. He was used to losing jobs, each time something so horrible happening that he was forced to quit by his boss.

 ‘Stardew Dinner’ was different. He was allowed to keep his job, even if he messed up a few times. His boss was always angry but never fired him. Maybe because Bennett was such a cheap hire, who knew?

But, perhaps the best part of the job, was Childe. The one regular customer, who always came during his shift.

And one of Bennett’s only friends.

The man was everything Bennett wasn’t. He looked put-together and strong, an aura of confidence surrounding him everywhere he went. Hard to imagine why someone like him wanted to hang out with someone like Bennett.

Someone clumsy and unlucky, who messed up his orders a few times, and had tripped on their first meeting. Childe had only laughed, reassuring him that it was okay.

Bennett would have cried on the spot, had they not been in public.

So far, however, Childe’s image of him was manageable. Clumsy, a bit annoying. Nothing too bad. A friendly waiter, who he could chat with before work.

He didn’t have to know about his home. He didn’t have to know, how truly fucked up Bennett’s life was.

But, just as his luck would have it, he couldn’t even have this. He couldn’t even have Childe believe he was a normal person. The debt collector just had to catch him right outside the dinner, and Childe just happened to be nearby.

“Benny?”

Bennett wanted to cry. His face was bloody and a big bruise began to form on his cheeks. The shame quickly rose up, making it hard to breathe. He was used to the pain, a few bruises wouldn’t make him cry.

But the knowledge that Childe had seen him in such a pathetic place –

He felt the tears well up on the corner of his eyes.

“A friend of yours?” Viktor asked. “Is he here to pay your dues?”

“Don’t hurt him!” Bennett screamed; terror quick to spread in his body. “He has nothing to do with this! Please!”

He couldn’t let Childe into this! Bennett opened his mouth to tell Childe to run, please. He could handle it. He was used to the pain; he was used to this. He got paid a few days before, he could hand over that and had this dealt with after a few punches – Childe didn’t have to get involved-!

Before he could say anything, however, Childe shoved the man to the side. Almost like Viktor was made of paper mache, he swayed to the side

“This enough?”

“You got to be joking,” Viktor sneered. “This guy owes-”

“It’s enough,” Childe said. Bennett felt a shiver up his spine. Childe’s tone was…odd. “Take it, or I’ll make it enough.”

“Big talk for a guy with no backup”.

“Back up?” Childe asked. His eyes had lost all shine they once had. Through the darkness, Bennett could barely see a thing but knew something was off. He could feel as much. “Don’t see yours either, my friend.”

Silence stilled. For a second, it was a stalemate. Bennett was terrified. His hands grabbed unto Childe’s coat unconsciously. Ready to pull the man behind him, and protect him. Never mind the fact he was the smallest of the three. He couldn’t let Childe get injured for him.

“You’re crazy,” Viktor finally said. “This is no-fun. Keep the runt, freak”.

It wasn’t until Viktor’s steps faded into nothingness, that Bennett finally let out a relieved sigh. His eyes travelled to Childe, who was frozen still in place. His eyes remained lightless, and he seemed out of it.

Without thinking twice, Bennett got up – ignoring the pain in his ribs – and grabbed Childe’s face.

“You okay?” he asked.

He wasn’t. That much was obvious from the look he had. It broke Bennett’s heart to see Childe like this. The usually bright and chatty man who always hummed that song under his breath, now turned into a lifeless doll that didn’t respond.

With the utmost care he could muster, Bennett began to stroke Childe’s cheeks.

“It’s okay,” he said, bringing the man down. “It’s okay, you’re safe”.

Childe didn’t answer. He didn’t open his mouth, and he didn’t even fully look at Bennett. Instead, his arms reached out to bring Bennett into his chest. A hug. Tight, enveloping him completely, and burying him so deeply he could drown.

Bennett returned it. All he could smell was blood, likely from the split lip he had, and a strange smoky one that clung to Childe’s clothes. It was a warm hug, even if Bennett felt guilty for dragging his friend into his mess.

He hoped Childe could forgive him.

He breathed in, hoping time would freeze in that second. So it would last forever.

“One of my dads got sick”.

The night air chilled one’s bones, and the sky was empty. Lights from the city kept the stars from showing above. Yet, in the small run-down park, the streetlights were broken. A single light came, not too far from the swings, flickering in intensity. The sand was littered with trash and said swings were dirty with neglect.

Bennett swung his feet idly, causing the seat to move with him.

“We don’t have much money,” he confessed. “My dads are old and retired, so what I earned was all we could use to get by. When he got sick, I didn’t know what to do…They helped me out so much, I didn’t want to lose them”.

“So, you borrowed the money?” Childe asked.

“I’ve been paying it back though!” Bennett quickly added. “It’s not much, but the dinner pays. Had to drop out, but it’s not like I could have used the degree for much”.

Bennett continued to swing, very slowly. His eyes were staring at the sky, the crescent moon a bright Cheshire grin, as he kicked the dirt beneath his feet.

“And the beatings?”

“Started a few months back,” Bennett said with a shrug. “Change of management, I think? Some people called the Fatui at the top. Dunno what’s their deal”.

Childe’s grip around the swing’s chain tightened.

“Oh,” was everything he managed to say out loud. His mind was buzzing. Noise, loud and without reason echoing uncomfortably inside.

“But things like this always happen to me,” Bennett said, his tone cheerful and full of life. As if the world’s weight in his shoulders weren’t slowly sinking him into decay. “It’ll be fine! Just wait, I’ll get through this, and when that happens—”

His smile was wide, fluorescent like the lights all around them. Childe wanted to keep it on him, forever.

“I’ll leave!" his eyes shimmered like stars. " I’ll travel so far away, I'll be known as the greatest adventurer there ever was!”

Childe stared. He wished; he could give him that. He wished, for the first time in a long while, that he wasn’t such a terrible person. Because then, maybe he could give Bennett that. He could give him the life he wanted.

"Someday," Bennett promised, to himself, to Childe, maybe even to the world.

Bennett always knew he was unlucky. He was used to getting scratched by animals, missing socks, accidents making him late for work, and close encounters with deadly situations. It was safe to say, he’d grown used to them. Even came to expect them, really.

So, imagine his surprise when for the first time in his life, he felt lucky.

Childe made him feel lucky.

The man came every day to the dinner. Always ordering the same black coffee and staying until well into the afternoon. During weekdays, the dinner was mostly empty, so Childe would take time to chat.

With Bennett of all people.

The man had seen the world. He came from Snezhnaya, had travelled through so many places, many countries, and seen so many sights. At least, more than Bennett had.

Part of him was jealous.

The dinner barely left him with enough to pay for his dads’ bills, and his own expenses. Never mind travelling, sometimes Bennett wasn’t sure how he’d survive till the end of the month.

But mostly, Bennett was impressed. When he heard about Snezhnaya’s snowy white mountains and the animals that hid on them, he yearned for nothing more than see them too. He wondered if, once his debts were paid, Childe would be nice enough to take him with him, so they could travel across the globe together.

“Eh?”

Bennett blinked awake. Childe’s face in front of him was dusted pink on his cheeks. His eyes crisscrossed as if he’d overloaded or something. Bennett touched his mouth, suddenly realizing he’d said that out loud.

He wanted to hide.

“N-nevermind!” Bennett said. He turned around, feeling his cheeks burn in shame.

How could he say that?! Childe had a life – such a silly wish, how could he indulge him in that?

Someday, Childe would go and return to Snezhnaya. When that time came, Bennett would be lucky if he still kept in contact with him. He should get high hopes, he shouldn’t-

“Would you,” Childe interrupted his thoughts “like to come with me to Snezhnaya?”

Bennet’s eyes widened.

Childe’s whole face was bright red, eyes darting to avoid looking at Bennett directly in the eyes. His voice trembling, and nervous laugh escaping him.

“I-I’d take you to explore the entire place! I’ll take you to meet Tonia, and you’ll love Teucer. And Fontaine is nearby! If you don’t mind me running around and getting in trouble, then we could go…”

Childe stopped when he realized Bennett was staring. Not doing anything, just staring. No smile, nor happy laugh. He was just staring at him

With the widest eyes, filled with so much excitement it could be felt.

“Yes,” he breathed out. “I-I’d love to!”

“Really?” Childe asked, equally as excited. “I get in a lot of trouble, though…I’m quite a handful to be around”.

Childe could still remember accidentally picking a fight with a high official in Inazuma. He’d won of course, but Scaramouche had been so irritated it had almost cost him his job.

But Bennett laughed.

“I should be saying that to you!” Bennett confessed. “I’m also a handful! I bring bad luck everywhere I go. We’d definitely end up losing our maps or having to camp out because the hotels ran out of rooms.”

“We’ll be a mess, no doubt” Childe conceded as much. “But, hey, a handful and a handful, that makes a set, right?”

Bennett’s smile was pure, filled with adoration and happiness. As if this were the happiest moment of his life.

Maybe it was.

“Yeah,” his hand reached out to intertwine with Childe’s “A set!”

Childe didn’t want to let go of that hand. He grasped it tightly and pretended not to notice when it stayed that way until Benny’s shift had to end.

If asked by the people he loved what he did for a living, Childe would always answer “toyseller”. He didn’t them knowing the blood that had stained his hands. It was a small, white lie. One that he’d told Teucer, one that he repeatedly told Tonia (even when she didn’t believe him, and she probably knew the truth too), and one that had slipped out of his lips with Bennett.

It had come up once, and now Childe couldn’t come clean. The idea of Bennett’s betrayed eyes when he told him he that, actually he was part of what was classified as a terrorist group in Mondstadt, had him lip-sealed.

And that guilt only became reinforced when Bennett tripped once, while on his shift.

Childe was quick to hurry and help him up. He heard him mutter ‘I can’t afford any more bandages’, low underneath his breath. Worry kept Childe from saying something.

Despite that, after making sure there was nothing broken, Bennett laughed it off.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t even hurt!”

Just as he said so, he took a new stride and tripped again. This time, Childe caught him, preventing a new accident.

“I think something got stuck,” he said.

And when he went to check his rollerblades, he realized it was a keychain. Childe frowned, but Bennett burst out in an unexpected laugh.

“What’s wrong Benny?”

“I-It,” he said between huffed breaths. “It reminds me of you!”

Childe felt offended.

The keychain was roughed up, covered in scratches and had orange marker scribbled on its side. The actual figurine was a narwhal, with its horn slightly crooked, and paint chipped from its eyes.

Childe pouted.

“I’m not that ugly!”

“It’s cute,” Bennett said with a grin. “How about you keep it? A toyseller needs toys to show off.”

That last part had him halting. He didn’t dare say the truth.

“Not taking it,” he insisted.

“Well, I guess not everyone likes roughed up stuff,” Bennett said.

Childe flinched. His tone was obviously dejected, and the words kept ringing in his ears.

“It’s nothing a paint job can’t fix,” he said, taking the narwal into his hands. “I’ve had my fair share of roughed up toys. Hard to get new ones with five siblings and a lumberjack’s income”.

Childe sighed.

“If you really like it, I’ll clean it up for you,” he said. “It won’t look like new, but it won’t be sticky”.

“Wait,” Bennett said. He reached through his things. He took out an old charm. It wasn’t attached to anything, but it seemed well taken care of. “Can you clean this one too? I found it on a bus station, and I wanted to keep it but-”

It was a bunny. It was in far worse condition than the narwal was. It at least had its horn intact, but the bunny had an ear missing, and almost all the paint had chipped off.

“I can fix it,” he said, but he said as much with a smug grin. “If I get to keep it!”

“What?! Why?” Bennett frowned. “You didn’t want to keep the narwal.”

“The narwal is hideous,” Childe said without missing a beat. “The bunny’s cute.”

“It is?”

“Yeap,” he said, and held the charm in between his fingers. He placed it side by side with Benny’s face. “It reminds me of you!”

Instantly, Bennet’s face grew bright red.

“Hey!”

“It’s the truth,” he confessed. “Benny is the cutest little rabbit in the world!”

“I changed my mind I want them back!”

“Nope,” Childe said with a wink, finding Bennett’s cute angry face almost too much for his heart. “Leave it to the best toyseller in Snezhnaya! They’ll be brand new, don’t worry!”

Even if it was a little white lie, in that second Childe really wished he was one.

Ever since that day, and until the very end, Bennett carried that ugly narwal charm on his rollerblades. No matter how many times it got stuck in the wheels. He didn’t take it off, almost as if he was showing it off to the world.

And when Scaramouche frowned at the bunny charm on his phone, Childe smugly announced it was a gift. He felt pride on the annoyed roll of the eyes of his co-workers.

Things weren’t supposed to get like this. Childe was bleeding, with a gun to his head. Tiredness washed over his body, as he tried to keep his eyes open.

It wasn’t working out all that well.

In his mind, the quick image of Benny smiling flashed over.

God, he wanted to see him again.

“You’re useless,” Signora said, snaring at him. “I told you to ‘no survivors’”.

He tried. He really did. But among the crowd, he’d seen a boy. One that came oftentimes to the dinner, and Benny always gave food to. A homeless guy, Razor, Bennett called him, who seemed to be his friend.

The thought of Benny crying when the boy didn’t show up in two days-time to get his plate of meat made Childe hesitate. Hesitation turned into an opportunity, and the boy bolted.

He was fast, Childe could give him that.  

But because of that, now Signora was glaring at him. He’d pissed her off. That never ended well.

“I gave my life for the Fatui,” Childe told her. “You’ll dispose of me because of a mistake?”

“I’ll dispose of you because you’ve turned weak,” she hissed out. “Falling in love with a pretty face? You know what it’ll do to you.”

It was personal. Signora and her weird complex for love. Always denying it, always saying it was a weakness. Her jealousy was palpable. Childe simply huffed.

“Do it then,” he prompted. “Lose your best asset because it dared to have a crush”.

She stared long and hard. A subtle smile rose to her lips. She turned the gun around, handing him the trigger.

“No,” she said. “How about an out, Childe?”

Childe despised it when they used his codename like that. Child.

“If you haven’t gone soft, kill him,” she said. “If you can’t, fine. Can’t ask much from a child. We’ll dispose of him ourselves”.

Childe immediately got up. Forgetting tiredness and dismissing the blood loss he’d suffered. He glared at the woman, feeling his anger rise up.

“Unruly,” she spat. “See? Weakness. You’ll turn on us, Childe. And for what? A kid?”

“Leave him alone,” he said. “And nothing has to change”.

“The Fatui doesn’t need…hazards,” she said, lowering her eyelashes to look at him. “What if one day we ask you to dispose of him? Would you follow those orders? Would you be able to concentrate if he’s in danger? Answer me, Childe.”

“I-,” he hesitated.

And that much was enough for Signora.

“Kill him,” she said. “Then the boy”.

With that, she left the room.

It was by a pure miracle that Childe managed to escape the Fatui headquarters. By an even bigger miracle, the fact he was able to reach the dinner once more. He was bleeding, about to pass out, but at the very least, he wanted to see Benny one more time.

Before he cut it all off.

The second Childe saw Bennett, he smiled. All tiredness and all pain suddenly caught up to him. As if he’d finally put his guard down and could relax in his arms. Bennett paled, rushing to grab him before he fell to the ground

Childe wanted to tell him he was sorry. That he was in the wrong. That he lied, and that Bennet should leave. He should escape and never come back. Go to the police, because soon Childe would be gone. And he had to be safe.

But instead, he closed his eyes and passed out. Benny’s arms were warm and comfortable. His body just begged him to take a nap.

So, he did.

That proved to be the worst mistake he could have made. Or his only saving grace, depending on how you looked at it.

Childe woke up in a bed, covered in bandages, and a familiar scent in the pillows around him. His entire body ached, and his eyes could barely focus on the figure by his side. But he didn’t have to.

“Benny,” he called, feeling his eyes swell up with tears.

“You okay?” he asked. Childe felt the warmth of a cloth cleaning the injuries on his face. “You got beat up real bad, gave me a scare back there!”

Childe grabbed Bennett’s hand, stopping him on the spot. Childe’s throat ached.

“I’m not a good person,” he said. “You’re in danger”.

“I’m always in danger,” Bennett laughed.

“No!” Childe felt the nausea and rage bubble up inside of him. This was all his fault. “This is real danger, Benny- I’m sorry. I mixed you up into this, I’ll fix it. Please, just-”

“It’s okay,” he said.

“It’s not okay,” Childe said. “I lied. I’m not a good person. If you stay with me, you’ll only get hurt, I’m-”

‘A monster.'

“I know”. Childe flinched. “You…You never talk about your job, and always come back injured. You’re not unlucky like me, I…I could always guess why”.

“And you still stayed?”

Bennett broke free from Childe’s grip. He moved his hand and continued to clean his wounds.

“You’re a good person,” he said. “I trust you”.

I stole. I cheated. I lied. I’ve committed crimes and will again. I’ve tortured, I’ve hurt.

I’ve killed.

I-

“I’m a monster,” Childe said, forcefully taking away his arm from Bennett’s band-aid covered hand. “I could hurt you, I really could.”

“Childe!”

Bennett’s hands were warm. He wondered if he’d ever held fire in them if he’d ever gotten burnt. The mere sensation, of those tiny hands, holding his face so firmly, unwilling to let go, had Childe’s throat closing up.

“I love you,” he said, and his voice cracked. Childe watched. The way Bennett’s watery smile spread through, contagious and so beautiful, had him gasping and in love. “Wherever you go, I’ll go”.

Childe had never been good at impulse control. Things which he hated; he couldn’t stand being near them. And things he loved; he’d keep close – never willing to part.

It had taken so much of his self-control to keep Bennett at arms’ length. To stop himself from hurting him. Because Bennett, happy and carefree Benny, didn’t deserve whatever fucked-up things Childe had going on.

But at that moment, it didn't matter. He didn't care. He couldn't even think. His heart, his mind, all he knew was that Bennett was right there. At the reach of a hand, precious and willing. And Childe was only human - less than that. He just wanted…

His hands reached out.

“Ajax,” he said. Bennett looked at him with curiosity. “My name. Ajax”.

Childe carefully stroked Bennett’s cheek. It was warm and soft; he could spend what little was left of his life like this.

Bennett’s smile softened. A hand reached up and rested on top of Childe’s.

“Ajax,” he repeated. His tone was full of love, full of care. Like he was breathing out a soft plea. A wish. A prayer. “Ajax…”

Before his mind came to its sense, Ajax leaned down. A kiss, chaste and sweet. The first for both, clumsy more than anything.

It left them both, tingling on the tips. Bennett’s heart raced so loud he was scared Ajax would hear it. Oh, how he wished time would stop. That he never had to pull away, that Ajax would never let go of his waist, and they could feel the soft brush of their lips’ phantom breaths.

Bennett bit his lip, too shy to steal another kiss, much less ask for it. Instead, he rested his head on Ajax’s shoulder and breathed in. The familiar smell of the sea breeze and sweat. Underlying, the faint scent of blood. Maybe he should have found it gross, but such a thing was perhaps even more familiar to Bennett.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeper. He smiled. It felt like home.

Their plan was simple. Runaway.

“We’ll make a stop at Fontaine,” Ajax promised. “Then, I’ll take you to Snezhnaya. My family can take us in a few days, and we’ll figure it out from there.”

“My dads will be really surprised,” Bennett said.

“You sure they won’t mind?”

“They’ve been begging me to move out,” he said with a grin. “Don’t worry, we’re all adventures at heart. They’ll be thrilled!”

Ajax wasn’t so sure. What kind of parent would be excited to have their cute little son hitchhike with a criminal? Especially when said criminal was someone like him.

Still.

Ajax wanted that future so badly. One where he could travel with Benny, where they could listen to an old radio song, and drink shitty coffee from a cheap dinner. That much, to him, was enough.

First, however, he had to clean up his trail.

Unsurprisingly, Signora sent many agents to take care of him. Ajax would have felt bad for killing them, people he once knew and chatted with if their target wasn’t also Bennett. For someone who once bore the heavy weight of heartbreak, Signora was far too keen on inflicting the same on others.

Most days, he came to Bennett’s roughed-up apartment, with fresh blood still on his coat, and underneath his fingernails. He didn’t like to be seen like that. At first, that hesitance was from fear. A fear that Bennett would see him and realized ‘he’s dangerous.’ That he’d realize just how fucked Ajax truly was. Afraid that, the moment it happened, Bennett would turn around, abandon him. Call him what he felt like.

But he never did.

Those last days they spent in the apartment, Ajax avoided being seen like that, entirely out of worry. Bennett fuzzed over his wounds, no matter how minor. Even when his scars and his cuts were far smaller than Bennett’s own, the boy hurried to treat them all with the same care.

Ajax didn’t want to worry him. Didn’t want to see Bennett’s eyebrows furrow as he commented on how he was running low on bandages, on medicine. He hated the fact that Benny was considering an extra shift on weekends, just to cover those expenses.

As consequence, he became less reckless. No less violent, and no less strong, but at least he stopped throwing himself head-first into avoidable danger.

It felt like he was back in Snezhnaya, avoiding fights just to keep Sister Tonia at ease. Ajax wondered if Bennett and Tonia would get along. He liked to think they would.

“I can’t wait for you to meet everyone,” Ajax said one afternoon. A rare occasion when Benny wasn’t working a shift. The cramped apartment had a single couch, worn out and in a horrible green colour. It was barely enough for both of them to sit on it. “They’ll love you”.

Ajax had his head on Bennett’s lap, his favourite place to rest. He had the perfect view of Benny’s laugh when he said as much, and his soft smile once he stopped.

“I can’t wait either!” he said. “I’m a bit nervous though, you sure they’ll like me? I’m a bit of a mess”.

“I love messes,” Ajax said, like the lovestruck fool he was. “And they do too”.

“Cheesy,” Bennett said, playfully tugging at Ajax’s nose. “Your pinkie will fall off if you lie”.

“That’s not how the rhyme goes!”

"So then?" Bennett asked with a smile. "When are we leaving?"

Ajax loved the way 'we' rolled off his tongue so easily. 'We' Always, 'we'. 

"Tomorrow," he said. "What do you say, then?" 

"I say," Bennett moved his face closer, letting their noses touch. "I'm in!" 

Ajax closed the gap, and kissed him. 

Ajax knew something was off as soon as he stepped out of the building. The streets were too quiet, almost deserted, and the people were jittery all around. His steps hurried, and down three streets the anxiousness grew.

The quiet turned to murmurs, which quickly grew in intensity. The louder they got, the faster Ajax ran. He noticed the police; he noticed the stuck up Favonious patrolling nearby.

“You can’t go through!” someone yelled at him.

Ajax pushed them aside and ran through the yellow tape.

The radio had been playing that song when everything started. Such a cheerful song that had Bennett singing and dancing, as he placed the coffee on the table.

Then, the sound of a gun, clicking right next to his ear. The strangled gasp of horror from the staff, and the faint cry of a child in the background. Bennett stiffened in his place.

“You must be Childe’s little toy,” an unfamiliar voice said. Bennett’s grip on coffee pot faltered. “I must say, I kinda get it now…Such a shame that your boyfriend pissed off the wrong person”.

Bennett didn’t answer. He was used to staring death in the face, but it had never been like this. Never having his life at the hands of a stranger who would end it with the pull of a finger. He was frozen in place, barely able to react.

“There’s a bomb in this mall,” the man said.

Bennett’s eyes widened.

“You’d better stay put and behave, else that thing is going off,” he continued. “As for you…Better hope that traitor comes soon, or else”

The click of the gun rang loudly in the dinner.

“Scaramouche,” Ajax called the man’s name.

“Ohh, so you really came?”

Bennett let out a sigh of relief as he looked up from the place where he was forced to kneel. The terror kept strumming underneath his skin, threatening to make him lose his mind. Many were already crying, sobbing and shaking in their place. Bennett couldn’t blame them. The only reason he had yet to break down, was because of how used he was to dangerous situations. He knew a clear mind was more helpful.

But that didn’t mean his body caught the memo. He was still trembling, cold on his fingertips and nerves on the edge.

It was only the sight of Ajax’s dark blue eyes, that Bennett felt his whole body relax.

“Let him go,” Ajax all but growled.

“Or what?” Scaramouche laughed. “You can’t fight me, Childe. You know that”.

Despite their banter, ease filled Bennett. After all, Ajax was safe. He was here. That was all he needed. That much was enough. Their eyes locked for a second. Bennett’s hope-filled eyes met Ajax’s terror-struck ones. For a split of a second, Ajax relaxed. After all, despite the light injuries, Bennett was okay. Unscathed, even, compared to the times they’d run into trouble.

The following second, however, something cracked.

First, it was the sound. Loud, booming. The sound struck Bennett’s chest, making his heart accelerate in pure fear, before his ears had the time to register what it meant.

Ajax had better reflexes. As soon as the sound came through, his expression shifted, and began to move his way. The man next to him, didn’t react so quickly. Completely caught off guard, he turned his head and cursed.

Bennett felt the impact from behind him. He heard the gun going off, and he closed his eyes just in time for his body to collide with Ajax’s.

Everything was loud, and the debris flying off, began to scratch and tear at his skin. Vaguely, he felt how Ajax guided them to the counter, where the structure gave them enough shield to avoid major injuries. Pieces fell down, the shockwaves dragged them, it all felt disjointed.

Everything blurred out afterwards.

When the noise finally stopped, all Bennett felt was a loud ringing in his ears. Ajax was holding him in his arms, and everything around was foggy. Bennett couldn’t make out anything in front of him.

In an instant, the pain rushed into his body. All at once, bright and searing itself into his skin. Bennett barely managed to muffle down the scream that tried to rip apart his throat.

He clung tightly to Ajax’s shoulders.

“Seems like some idiot miscalculated,” Ajax said. “How are you, Benny?”

Bennett tried to open his mouth an answer, but he was frozen in place. Even that felt like too much. He was tired. His eyelids felt heavy, and even moving his fingers felt like too much.

“Benny?” Ajax’s voice came again. It was trembling, filled with fear. Bennett wanted to reach out, reassure him that it was fine, he was fine. He’d had worst. But the ringing in his ears didn’t let him concentrate. “Benny? Answer me, baby…”

Weakly, Bennett clenched his hand. I’m okay, he hoped Ajax heard the message.

Ajax brought the boy’s body closer to him. He felt warmth, but much to his horror, it didn’t come from Bennett’s skin. Blood trickled down from his head. The familiar sound of a gun going off echoed in his memory – had it…?

Tremors of pure fear began to shake his body. All Ajax could do was hold Bennett’s body as close to his as he could. His legs had been caught in a stone. Even if he got it out, moving was neigh impossible. Likely, it was broken.

The police would be coming soon, right? The Favonious would come if they didn’t. Ajax may be a criminal, but Benny was innocent. A bystander. He would get medical treatment, he would be rushed out, he would-…

From far away, the sounds of gunshots began to ring. The Fatui were still in the surrounding era. Scaramouche had been caught in the crossfire. They would try to get their superior out, and the police would try to catch them.

No emergency aid would come in a while. The sounds rang close, were they incompetent enough to shoot so close to such a place filled with injured civilians?

Ajax simply brought Bennett’s body closer to him. He was scared. An emotion he thought he’d tossed aside long ago. After all, he was strong. He could defeat a guy in less than a minute, he could pull a trigger, he could end a fight.

But in that moment, he was nothing. Nothing more than a scared kid, holding tight to his precious one, hoping for someone to save him.

“It’s okay, Benny,” Ajax managed to say through broken sobs, stroking his hair as gently as he could. He distantly remembered Benny would do this to calm him down. He had that first night he lost control. “Everything is okay, you’re safe”.

This was his fault. Everything was his fault.

Bennett breathed out. Using all the strength he had, he whispered.

“Ajax?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you”

“I love you too, Benny”.

“Ajax…”

“Yes?”

No answer came. Ajax felt Bennett struggle in his arms. His small body was struggling to muster up the strength to breathe, let alone speak. Ajax soothed him, running his fingers down Benny’s hair. He was relieved when Bennett stopped trying. His breathing evened out and stayed still. He had to save up the energy.

Ajax found reassurance in those seconds. It felt like they were back in the apartment, sitting on that awful couch, listening to the radio play a stupidly cheesy song.

But then, it all stopped.

Just like that.

One second he breathed in, but Ajax never felt it go out.

“Benny?”

His body had gone stiff, and then-

“Baby?”

Nothing.

Ajax felt like it was stupid. Benny was fine. He shook his body, begging him to wake up. It had been a split of a second, he could still be here. He could still breathe. He had to -, Benny couldn’t-

No matter how much he shook the body, no answer came. Ajax shook him harder and begged him to open his eyes. Benny couldn’t be gone, no. Bennett…Bennett was strong. He was good, he didn’t…

‘Clink’ something hit the floor. Ajax watched the keychain drop to the ground; the one Bennett carried with him all the time. Right until the end, he had held on to it.

‘It reminds me of you!’

Ajax felt something inside him snap. He forced himself to move, despite the broken bones and the bricks holding him down. The pain was excruciating. Like every single movement had his muscle stabbed a hundred times. His own body stopped him from moving too much, the pain blinding him.

He couldn’t even stand up. All he could do was kneel, hugging Bennett, hoping for a miracle. For help. For anything to come.

The sounds that came out his mouth could only be described as hellish. From the pain in the flesh, ripping his own bones and standing on its pieces, to the one in his heart – which felt as crushing as the sun. It was torture to even breathe.

A stray bullet.

Ajax didn’t even feel it. Nothing more than a small sting, in the sea of what was already coursing through him. The only thing he noticed, was how slowly he felt himself grow tired. He guessed it was from crying. He figured he was just tired from the pain.

‘Maybe if I close my eyes,’ he thought to himself, holding on tightly to Benny’s hands. ‘Everything will be a dream’.

I’ll wake up, and I’ll be back at the dinner. Bennett will be there, in his rollerblades and apron, singing loudly a cheesy song that always gets you to dance. He’ll joke about me falling asleep, and he’ll ask for my order. ‘A black coffee’ It’s always a black coffee, yet he asks like it’s news. Then he’ll smile at me, that precious dimpled smile, with a chipped tooth to the side.

He'll call my name, ‘Ajax’.

Then we’ll get in a car, and drive. First, a stop at Fontaine. Then to Snezhnaya. Tonia will have a warm bowl of soup, ready for when we arrive.

She’ll love Bennett, Ajax assured himself. Because I love him, so so much.  

And with that, he closed his eyes. Letting the tiredness wash over him, fall asleep. All with an innocent smile on his face.