Work Text:
He’s always known it would end like this.
He’s a Harbinger with a hero’s name, a villain named for someone great, someone worthy. Someone like him isn’t meant for happy endings, isn’t meant for soft smiles and gentle touch, for the tiny bit of peace he’d managed to claw his way into.
Someone like him isn’t meant to die any way but this, his own drive for strength being the thing that kills him and-
They were going to tear it apart.
A rogue group of skirmishers, planning on burning Mondstadt to the ground for reasons Childe doesn’t understand. They don’t matter though, and he doesn’t need to understand the way they think, not when their blood already stains his hands.
He went too far, the voice inside his head whispers, and Childe knows the voice is right, because no human, vision and delusion holder, could stand against a group that size.
Childe is no human.
He isn’t human, but that doesn’t mean that his body won’t break like one.
The best he can describe it is as a dull ache, or maybe a sharp throb, Childe doesn’t know. His limbs are lead, heavy and stiff, and his head spins, and oh, Childe thinks, he’s really dying this time.
Because his head is spinning and something about his body feels wrong, and he’s so, so tired, fighting just to open his eyes.
He finally recognizes his surroundings, and chokes on a laugh, because of course, of course this where he’d wind up in his final minutes. Dawn Winery looms ahead of him, and Childe’s body carries him forward, tripping and stumbling, and all that matters is that he gets there.
One foot in front of the other, doing anything he can to keep his head afloat.
And it’s slow, far too slow, and the thought of failure makes him feel like crying. Because he can’t fail, can’t miss the last chance he has to see his firefly’s face, can’t miss the last chance he has for that warmth, so different from the bitter cold of his home.
But that’s the thing, isn’t it?
Dawn Winery is some sort of home to him, too, and he doesn’t know why. It’s nothing like Snezhnaya, nothing like the seaside home he grew up in, but it’s his, somehow, just like their tiny home on the shore is.
He knows why, knows exactly why, and that’s why he pushes forward, ignoring the way his body protests, the way everything feels like it’s coming to an end.
Somehow, he manages to get to the front doorstep, barely able to knock on the door before his legs give out from under him.
Please let him be here, he thinks, and the words are almost a prayer. To the Tsaritsa, Goddess of Love, to Zhongli, who’d never let a promise be broken, to Barbatos, for the freedom his lover gives him. Please, I don’t want him to find me lying here dead.
He hears the door open.
“Childe,” someone says, “Childe, what’s wrong?”
There’s a hand cupping his cheek, a thumb resting below his eyes, and oh, when had he closed them? Childe blinks, and the smile he wears isn’t fake, isn’t even forced, because despite the lingering pain and all the aching in his bones, Diluc is here, and that means he’s safe.
He forces himself to keep his eyes open, to meet Diluc’s worried gaze with a smile. Childe leans into his touch, into the warmth. “You’re here,” he says, and the words come out breathless, “firefly, you’re here.”
Diluc’s look only grows more concerned, his brows furrowing and distantly, Childe feels his free hand pushing aside his jacket, looking for an injury he’ll never find and-
He’s tired, and that isn’t good, is it?
“Childe-”
“Watch the sunset with me, won’t you firefly?” Childe says, cutting him off. He’s dying, and there’s no saving him, he knows this, and Archons, he hates this. Hates knowing there’s nothing that he can do, hates that he’s leaving Diluc and all his family behind.
But he’s always known that he’ll end a tragedy, and he smiles. “I’m tired.”
His eyes fall shut again, and he leans more of his weight into Diluc’s hand. He hears Diluc take a breath, sudden and sharp, and then both of his hands are on Childe’s face, a featherlight kiss pressed to his temple. “Alright,” Diluc says, “anything for you, my love.”
And then there are warm arms around him, cradling him to Diluc’s chest, and it’s all Childe can do to try and get closer, to spend every second as close as he can because this is it for him, and the thought makes him bury his face against Diluc’s shoulder.
Childe feels Diluc shudder, feels him shift Childe’s weight, and then there’s a hand brushing something from his eyes, and oh, he didn’t even know he was crying. “Don’t fall asleep on me now, idiot,” Diluc says, sounding choked up, “you said you wanted to see the sunset, didn’t you?”
He opens his eyes, humming as Diluc runs his fingers through his hair, his touch warm and kind and loving, and Childe strains his mind, trying to remember, needing to remember if he’s ever said those three little words.
“Firefly, I-”
“Is the sunset as good as you thought it’d be?” Diluc asks him, “it’s beautiful.”
And it is, the entire sky painted in blues and pinks and golds. It’s one of the most beautiful sights Childe has seen in all of his travels, but Diluc isn’t even looking in that direction. No, he’s staring right at him, and it takes all of Childe’s strength to meet his eyes.
“Not as beautiful as you, sunshine.”
“Childe-”
“I love you,” the words spill from his lips before he can even stop them, “I love you, firefly, I love you.”
Diluc’s eyes are shining, crimson sparking far too bright, and oh, Childe doesn’t think he can stand to watch him cry. Diluc deserves better than that. He raises one shaking hand, brushes the tears away from Diluc’s eyes before they even have a chance to fall.
Diluc’s hand comes to cover his, keeping it steady. “Childe, you know I love you,” he says softly, and there was nothing in the world that could make him doubt those words.
But…
“Call me Ajax?” He says, and he doesn’t know where the words come from.
Diluc laughs, watery and broken, and yet, still warm. There’s another kiss pressed his forehead, and then a softer one to his lips, and “of course,” Diluc says, “Ajax, I love you, you know that right?”
And no one’s called him that in years, not since he became a Harbinger, not since he joined the Fatui, but when it comes from Diluc, it feels warm, feels right, and-
He closes his eyes…
“Love?”
Nothing.
“A-Ajax?”
Nothing at all.
Diluc’s hand slips to grab hold of Chi- of Ajax’s own, because he can’t be, he can’t be dead, he can’t be, and-
There isn’t a soul who doesn’t hear his scream.