Chapter Text
in a dimly lit mondstatian alley, the eleventh of the fatui harbingers leans against a cool brick wall with an unlit cigarette grasped loosely in his lips, hands rummaging through pant pockets for a lighter. he doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching him; his visitor is skilled enough on his feet that he can approach even the well-trained harbinger without alerting him to his presence.
“you shouldn’t smoke, you know.”
at these words, childe’s hands cease their futile search, looking up to find none other than diluc ragnvindr staring him down. as his red eyes trace the silhouette of the cigarette childe has resting between his lips, the corners of his own lips twitch down into something akin to a grimace. childe blinks, nearly owlishly at his sudden visitor, before he bites down gently on the cigarette in his mouth to grasp it no longer with his lips, but with his teeth. his lips, now freed, curl into a grin.
“give me a light, will ya?” he asks, words slightly muffled by the cigarette but not distorted enough that diluc misses the request. meeting childe’s expectant gaze, diluc hesitates for a moment before sighing and walking closer to the harbinger, pausing about a foot or so away. peeling the glove off of his left hand, diluc raises it so that his bare fingers hover directly below the end of the cigarette. snapping his fingers, a small flame ignites, dancing off the surface of his skin yet leaving behind no trace of a burn. childe leans in, towards the flame, inhaling deeply as the cigarette catches. diluc shakes the small flame on his fingers out, and childe raises his own hand to gently grasp the cigarette between two fingers, pulling it from his mouth and turning his head away from diluc before exhaling a hazy cloud of smoke.
[ he knows he shouldn’t smoke; knows that the sting in his lungs and nose and the back of his throat should bother him. truthfully, though, the sting of the smoke grounds him. reminds him that he is alive, that he is still capable of breathing air into his lungs, stained as they may be. for all of the cigarettes he burns through, and the near-constant ache he feels in his chest, childe never feels any anxiety that smoking could very well kill him. he knows that his lungs have been coated in black for far longer than he has been smoking; the abyss had torn and tainted and painted them the dark shade during his time there. while he knows the cigarettes aren’t helping, he also knows that if it’s his lungs that do eventually take him out, it won’t be because of them. ]
“my own personal lighter,” childe practically purrs, grin inching wider as diluc’s cheeks and ears flush a soft coral-pink and the bartender crosses his arms across his chest, looking pointedly away from the harbinger. “say, master diluc,” he says after a moment of silence passes between them. diluc does not shift his stance, but his eyes wander back to childe’s, eyebrows raised up ever so slightly, waiting. childe obliges. “you can control fire with your hands, yet you wield a claymore over a catalyst?” he asks. at this, diluc lets out a barely audible tsk.
“i’m surprised that you of all people are advocating for a catalyst over a blade,” he replies easily, finally shifting so that he is facing childe once more. taking a few steps back, he leans against the wall opposite of childe, eyes locked onto the harbinger’s and one eyebrow quirked in curious amusement. “besides,” he begins, “i could ask you the same. i’ve seen your command over hydro, and i’ve heard all about how you’ve mastered every weapon,” he jabs, and childe laughs, earnestly. “yet you seem to wield every weapon besides a catalyst.”
childe continues to laugh softly; diluc does have a point. taking a soft drag from his cigarette, he lets the smoke drain back out of his lips slowly, in tendrils. diluc’s eyes flicker down to watch the tendrils of smoke dissipate into the night sky, blown away by the gentle breeze. childe’s eyes never stop observing him. “you aren’t wrong, master diluc,” childe admits once the smoke has faded from his mouth, meeting diluc’s eyes as they once again return to his own. pulling the cigarette from his mouth with his right hand, he raises his left to his teeth and uses them to tug his glove off. diluc watches him like a hawk as he lets the glove fall to the ground. he knows he could have left the cigarette in his lips and tugged the glove off with his hand, but… where was the fun in that?
lowering his now bare hand, he upturns his palm. he does not miss how diluc’s eyes widen a fraction as hydro begins to drip, slowly, from thin air into his waiting hand. he lets it gather for a moment, before overturning his cupped hand and letting the small pool of water splash to the ground beneath him. “truthfully, i find catalysts to be the least satisfying weapon of all,” he says, “why would i willingly choose a weapon that can never be bloodied?”
diluc huffs out some mix of a laugh and an exasperated sigh at childe’s remark. opening his mouth to reply, diluc cuts himself off, presumably when he takes notice of the shit-eating grin that has taken residence on childe’s face. the harbinger notes how the bartenders eyebrows have furrowed and how his lips have twisted into impatient frown as he stares at childe, waiting.
“i wasn’t talking about my weapon preferences, though. i was talking about yours, master diluc,” he says, taking another drag from his cigarette. diluc cuts him off before he can continue with whatever dialogue he has planned, though, exasperatedly asking the harbinger,
“can you honestly see me wielding a catalyst?”
the mental image alone is enough to send childe into a fit of hysterics, choking on the smoke he had been midway through inhaling and causing the harbinger to cough between bouts of laugher. his eyes stung with tears – from the laughter or coughing or smoke he doesn’t know – but they drip off of his eyelashes and to the ground below as he struggles to catch his breath. managing to suck in a clear breath of air and regaining just enough composure to speak, he admits,
“no, i can’t.”
diluc hums in agreement but says nothing more as he waits for childe to recover. stealing a glance up, childe can see that diluc’s eyes are glimmering with amusement and a rare smile is dancing on his lips.
the silence that follows once childe finally composes himself stretches, but it is comfortable. usually, diluc would have left by now, but tonight his feet remain planted across from the harbinger. the smile has faded into an expression that childe is unable to decipher, and childe watches curiously as the redheads eyes flutter about, scrutinizing his face. while unable to tell what exactly he is feeling, childe does recognize that the look plastered on diluc’s face is one that is much, much softer than the looks the bartender typically shot him in public. he must know, he realizes.
“i’m leaving mond in the morning,” childe says, and diluc’s unchanged expression confirms childe’s suspicion. childe never would have expected much of a reaction from diluc regardless, but there isn’t even the slightest hint of surprise etched into his face; only the same indiscernible expression. his inability to decipher it is starting to irk him, and so childe throws out, “bet you’ll be happy, one less fatui in your hair,” in an attempt to provoke any kind of reaction.
it works, because diluc seems to nearly recoil at the words before fixing childe with a steady glare. annoyed. he’ll easily take annoyance over whatever the hell diluc’s other expression had been. it had been too… sad for childe’s liking. much too sad for diluc to be wearing. over him, no less. not that diluc would ever admit that he’s sad that childe is leaving. but he knows that diluc’s refusal to answer the question is as good as a quiet admission. it’s enough for him.
“i bet you’ll be happy,” diluc replies flatly, and childe stares at him quizzically.
“why would i be happy?” he asks, and finally diluc looks surprised.
“why wouldn’t you be? you’re going home, aren’t you?” he asks, genuine curiosity poorly veiled. childe nods. he is going home but, the more he thinks on it, he’d never mentioned where he was going. only that he’s leaving mondstadt. he must look confused, because seconds later – “i overheard some of your recruits,” diluc explains.
“so you were eavesdropping on my recruits,” childe corrects, and diluc has the audacity to look sheepish. childe chuckles and waves his the accusation away with his free hand. of course, he makes a mental note to tell his recruits to pay attention to their surroundings, but he knows as well as diluc does that even the most spatially aware recruit could not catch diluc if he was trying to stay hidden. sighing, childe thinks back on what diluc had said. “i suppose i will be happy,” he admits through a frown. “it’s been years since i’ve seen most of my family,” he muses, more to himself than anything. diluc stays silent, listening. he seems almost caught off guard when childe’s eyes flick back to his, “but i’ll miss mondstadt." it’s an open admission; he does not say that he’ll miss diluc, specifically, but the unspoken meaning lingers in the air.
childe takes another puff of his cigarette; it’s almost reached its end.
diluc stares into childe’s eyes for a while longer – searching – before he shuts his own and sighs. childe absently wonders if diluc is trying to commit the image to memory, and almost considers teasing him, but decides against it.
[ diluc was trying to commit his deep-sea eyes to memory. ]
when diluc reopens his eyes, they are once again guarded. masked. “well then,” he grunts, pushing himself softly off of the wall he had been leaning against, “have a safe journey, childe.”
“wishing me a safe journey, comrade?” childe jests, lips twitching into a teasing smirk. “don’t you want my ship to overturn? one less annoying enemy for you to deal with, no?” his words are soft, he doesn’t mean it.
a gentle smile fights its way onto diluc’s face as the redhead leans down and grabs childe’s discarded glove off of the ground. he holds it out towards childe, and childe hesitates before reaching out to retrieve it. their hands linger before childe grasps the glove and pulls it away.
“wish death upon my best paying customer?” diluc finally replies, shaking his head, smile only contining to blossom, “i could never.” childe cracks a grin and takes his final drag.
“until we meet again, master diluc,” childe says as diluc moves to leave the alleyway. the redhead hums in agreement, casting one last look at the harbinger, before turning and walking into the night. childe makes no move to follow. rather, he watches as diluc fades from his line of sight and eventually vanishes. twiddling with the short, now dead cigarette left clutches between his fingers, he cannot help but compare the fleeting spark to his experiences with diluc ragnvindr. childe’s chest tightens, and he knows it isn’t from the cigarette.
[ each cigarette he lets sit in his mouth burns to life as it does to death. childe ponders if he, too, will one day meet his end at the mercy of a flame – if one day he will be but ashes. he wonders if diluc ragnvindr will be the one to stomp him out - to grind him to dust under his boot. he wouldn’t mind, he thinks, if that were the case. ]
[ each time diluc had snapped his fingers together like flint and sparked a flame for the harbinger, he had done far more than ignite the cigarette dangling from his teeth. ]
with a sigh, childe tosses the dead end to the ground before squashing it under his boot for good measure. pushing himself from the wall and aiming himself in the vague direction of goth grand hotel, he already feels the aching desire to light another one – to experience the horribly addictive flame once more.
[ after all, he cannot have the spark he truly desires. ]
reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his half-empty pack and tugs a cigarette from its place. it’s when he grasps it between his teeth that it dawns on him that he doesn’t have a lighter. the realization stops him in his tracks, and he pries the unlit cigarette from his lips to stare at it. after a moment, he sighs.
diluc was right, he should quit.
he tosses the cigarette and the pack into a trashcan near his hotel. he could buy a lighter, but it would never be the same. he’d thrown his last one out after diluc had given him a light for the first time. decided that he didn’t need it anymore; it could never be the same.
quitting should be easy, he realizes, without his lighter.