𝘿𝙀𝙑𝙄𝙇'𝙎 𝙎𝙉𝘼𝙍𝙀 ! genshin impact

────── 05.

C H A P T E R  V .
ʳᵘⁱⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ

【✧】

YOU DIDN'T HAVE TIME TO REACT WHEN HE APPROACHED YOU.

Without warning, he swept you up into his arms, easily spinning you in the air before pulling you to his chest. You couldn't help but hug him back, burying your head in the fur that lined his collar and feeling the knot of tension inside you dissolve instantly. He smelled like sea salt and crisp snow, mixed with a foreign cologne that definitely wasn't Snezhnayan but felt so right on him.

Childe let his hand run through your hair, marveling on how soft you managed to keep it despite the harsh weather. He missed you. He missed you more than he realized, until you were really there and nestled in his arms. He hadn't seen you for a while -- kept away on official duties in Liyue, forced to watch over the harbor's god -- and he had forgotten how comforting you felt.

You had always been someone he could rely on. You were there when he cried, you were there when he was injured, you were there whenever he was in the lowest of lows. Even when everyone else refused to approach him, you still did, offering a hand of companionship whenever he needed it.

It wasn't long until he didn't want just your companionship.

But you were always so oblivious to it. Even when he'd confessed to you, on that bleary day in front of that crystalline cathedral, you were still confused, questioning why he'd told you that without warning.

It hurt. It hurt more than the wounds he sustained from fighting, more than any physical injury or mental relapse could. But your rejection helped encourage him to become stronger, to do something big enough to make you notice him. Childe would make you consider him, even if it was just for an hour, a minute or a second. He would, with enough time and energy and work.

For now, though, he was content with playing the role of your best friend.

You drew back, and he immediately missed the feeling of your embrace. Quickly, he captured your face in his hands, pinching your cheeks with rambunctious zeal.

"How are you, my ангел?" He grinned, watching your countenance pucker in annoyance.

You pulled his calloused digits off you, rubbing your face tenderly as you shot him a glare. "I was doing fine until you pulled that on me. I'm not a child anymore, Ajax."

"You sure still act like one." He teased, cocking his head to the side charmingly.

You felt heat rush to your throbbing cheeks. Stupid attractive men with their stupid attractive voices, you thought bitterly, kicking a pile of snow by your boot with unexpected anger.

You sighed, taking a few seconds to calm down before speaking again. "Why are you here?"

A faint smile ghosted his lips as he rummaged through his pockets, soon emerging with a small box. It was delicate, with a thin layer of velvet the color of Tartaglia's eyes encompassing the outside, and could easily be held in the palm of your hand. You took it from him curiously, effortlessly popping open the lid with your thumbnail.

There, nestled within layers of decadent silk, lay a beautifully crafted ring. Slowly, you picked it up from its satiny resting place, gaze skimming over the jewelry with wonderstruck awe. Silver curved and twisted in ornate patterns as tendrils of the same metal wrapped around a crimson gem, as pigmented as paint and clearer than Mondstadt's sky.

"It's gorgeous," You whispered, before shooting him a devious look, "Are you trying to propose to me?"

With satisfaction, you watched Childe's face glow a light pink. "No, no, of course not! I was just...I thought you might like it. Remember what you said to me?"

"Red represents courage. It reminds me of you." You recited fondly, turning the ring between your fingers. The midday light reflected off the vermillion jewel's glassy edges, making them sparkle brilliantly under the clouded sun.

You quickly noticed the scarf hanging loosely around his shoulders. The once vivid red color had been dulled by the passage of time and strands of yarn had become undone, yet he still wore it like it was his most prized possession. You put the ring back where it belonged and stepped closer to him, tugging at the end of the scarf with mild amusement.

"You still have this old thing? I can easily make you a new one." You laughed, rubbing the worn material between the pads of your fingers.

Tartaglia shook his head, his gaze lingering on the scarf fondly. "No need. This one does its job perfectly."

"Whatever you say."

A comfortable silence befell the two of you. Your hand let go of his scarf and fell limp by your side as a question bubbled in your throat, demanding to be let out into the cold atmosphere. You suppressed a sigh. You gave in.

"Please tell me that you aren't here to convince me to join the Fatui again."

The question stood stagnant in the air, drilling into the quiet and forcing it to buckle and fold. Tartaglia does not say anything. You tried to examine his expression, but it's unreadable -- you couldn't pick out a scrap of distinct emotion within the mask he suddenly donned. You shook your head, a look of disbelief crossing your features.

"You're lying. You have to be. Why do you keep pushing for something that isn't going to happen? I won't be valuable to the Fatui at all." You protested, your voice wavering with every syllable you enunciated.

"_____," Tartaglia spoke seriously, gripping your hands with his own, "You're valuable to me. I can't protect you when you're all the way out here, and the only way I can do that is when you're close to me."

You yanked yourself away from him, stumbling a few steps backwards. Your heavy footfalls left deep imprints in the snow, marks that would undoubtedly fix themselves up again like skin-deep wounds. "But joining the Fatui? I can't, Ajax. I have a whole life here, and I can't just leave that behind because you want me to. There's nothing waiting for me at Zapolyarny Palace."

You're the only one who called him Ajax. He liked whenever his real name escaped from your lips, but the way you said it now, with desperation and fear dripping from it like thick blood, it made his heart clench unpleasantly more than anything.

"Ангел, I..." Childe trailed off at your hurt expression. He hated seeing you upset, especially if it was his fault. He couldn't help but apologize first whenever the two of you fought as children, regardless if he was in the wrong or not.

You turned away from him, protectively crossing your arms across your torso. "Just...leave me alone. Please. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

As you moved to enter the school again, you didn't notice the pained look that festered on Tartaglia's countenance.

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[ yeah u can see my writing deteriorating,, i wanted to finish the chapter so badly but i'm so tired aaa i might edit this to be a bit longer in the morning :")) anyways yes childe is whipped for u bc i said so,, he cooks he cleans he calls u angel what else do u need ]