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He was like winter.
Snow laden branches shuddering in the wind, white flakes sprinkling down to kiss the white ground. He was like winter.
Childe could see his own breath in this weather, gaze held to the covered sky. Cupping his hands in front of his mouth and breathing into his palms. It was cold. But Childe liked it. Cold. Beautiful. Home.
It was bold of him to think this way with someone who often avoided him as though Childe had countless diseases (he wasn’t going to deny it, though.)
Childe turned his head towards the cliff overlooking the snow covered forest that Snezhnaya bore, snow crunching underneath his footsteps as he slowly lowered himself to the ground. His feet dangling off of the slope, a breath from the cliff itself. He glanced behind him, exhaling deeply with the brisk winter air nipping his reddened cheeks.
Deep violet-blue eyes met his, like deep lakes that glistened from the reflection in the snow. Pale fingers tucked dark strands of hair behind his ear, “Tartaglia.”
“Scaramouche.” Childe felt his heart squeeze every time Scaramouche’s name squeezed through his lips, even more so when his eyes were on him of all people. Scaramouche tucked his hands under the Harbinger provided cloak, clearly not accustomed to the cold as his steps grew louder the closer he got. “So. You’re going to Inazuma, right?” He wanted to hear more of Scaramouche’s voice, even if it took horrible smalltalk.
“Mn,” a hum of agreement left his lips as Scaramouche to stand beside Childe. “And you’re going to Liyue. Not far off.”
Childe crossed his arms, glancing up at the orange stained sky as night slowly consumed it, “Sure. I hope to try all the sea food available.” He turned his head back to Scaramouche, staring at him through lidded eyes before a devious grin met his lips, “Why are you standing?”
“I’m not interested in si-- WAIT!!”
Childe grabbed Scaramouche by the wrist, snow flying as Scaramouche fell onto his knees. Palms digging into the snow as the Balladeer glared at Childe. Like the icicles that would surely injure someone hanging over Snezhnayan houses. “Ajax,” Scaramouche spat, “What the hell?”
“Oops.” Childe couldn’t help but choke back a giggle, an embarrassing snort leaving his lips instead, “I told you to sit down, just saying.”
“It was hardly a warning!” Scaramouche hissed, wiping his face with the dry part of the cloak and properly sitting down after some struggle. Pulling his knees to his chest rather than driving his heels into the snowy slope. “What if you fall? I hope you fall.”
Childe shrugged leisurely, humming, “You’d cry if I fell, you know.” He was like winter, beautiful, graceful, and somehow always haunting his footsteps. Snezhnaya was almost always snowing. It was beautiful like that, he guessed. His gaze trailed down to the glowing city lights tucked behind the mountainous region, a sigh leaving his lips. “I thought this day wouldn’t come any quicker.”
Scaramouche raised an eyebrow, “What?”
“Like, leaving. For some time yeah, but after Liyue I’m not confident where I’ll be stationed next and I can’t bear going days without seeing you.”
He was like a puppy, Scaramouche mused as he watched Childe look more and more dejected with every passing second. “You’re so annoying,” Scaramouche laughed softly, his smile nothing short of endearing. “Hey.”
Childe turned to Scaramouche, their eyes meeting and faces mere inches away from each other. Warm.
“It’s our last night together, let’s make the most of it.”
He loved Scaramouche.
Childe smiled warmly, resting his hand on the small of Scaramouche’s back as he dipped down to inhale his scent deeply. Scaramouche had a way of smelling so sweet, nobody would expect that of a harbinger.
“Dottore,” Childe glanced up from documents, calling his fellow Harbinger as the man lurked in the corners of the library. He glanced over, masked eyes pinned to Childe’s form shifting under the light of the flame.
“Yes?”
Childe frowned slightly, rubbing his thumb against the paper, “I need help.”
It was embarrassing how reliant on Dottore he was to get it across to someone as dense as Scaramouche that he was utterly in love with him. Childe had no idea how Scaramouche didn’t know in the first place, especially with Childe’s longing stares and yearning statements to anyone who bothered turn his way.
“Archons, do you ever shut up?” Dottore mused, pressing his mask against the table as he settled carefully on the chair across from Childe. Childe never shut up.
“Dottore.” Childe gripped the arms of the chair, “You don’t understand, I’m in love with Scaramouche. He’s so annoying, somehow louder than anyone in the crowd, abrasive, and cares so little for the sense of self. He cares TOO much about others, but acts like he doesn’t but archons he is so beautiful and behind every remark there is a hidden kindness.” Dottore was used to Childe’s incessant rambling over his ever-growing crush, nonetheless that never doused the fires of annoyance. But he supposed he couldn’t be upset that someone as young as Childe was deeply in love with Scaramouche. He crossed his arms, letting out a deep sigh.
“Childe.”
“Please, Dottore…” Childe pleaded, azure eyes glimmering with adoration as he spoke about the Balladeer. “He’s so amazing. I want nothing more than to be with him.”
Childe couldn’t believe he was dating Scaramouche now, truthfully. Late night conversations turned to almost hourly, they were glued to each other by the hip even if Scaramouche acted like Childe was irritable and unwanted half the time. Childe could see past that.
He liked moments where Scaramouche inevitably gave in, wrapping his arms around Childe’s waist as his lips slowly caressed his lover’s skin. It felt hot, unlike the winter air, yet comfortable. Childe tilted his head back with a soft sigh leaving his mouth, Scaramouche taking that as a sign to continue his doting.
Behind closed doors, they were nothing short of loving like any other couple. Though in this case, they were in the snow.
Childe pulled Scaramouche close, their breaths visible as stars glittered over them. He loved the way Scaramouche’s eyes were almost pools of stars, glimmering, his beautiful boyfriend. He dipped down, capturing Scaramouche’s lips in his as their fingers intertwined and limbs tangled in the process. He loved how soft Scaramouche’s hair was. He loved Scaramouche.
They held each other tightly, Childe fell backwards with the sound of crunching snow breaking their silence. Scaramouche settled on top akin to a cat. Though Scaramouche was always firm on him not being one, Childe liked that about Scaramouche though, incessantly tailing after his boyfriend and trying to convince Scaramouche to admit that he was the black cat boyfriend.
Childe fluttered his eyes shut with a soft sigh, even if he was confident he’d get hypothermia if they stayed out like this. But he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind so long as it was Scaramouche resting on his chest, their fingers remaining intertwined.
He was nothing like the winter.