Childe didn't have any words to say.
If he did, then none of them were actual words.
Instead, he threw himself into the room, crossing the distance.
Because he found it so hard to believe that this was real.
Childe didn't care about helping the Firefly up.
He dropped to his knees beside him and dove in for a hug.
With Diluc's unsteady balance and Childe's weight, they both collapsed to the floor.
Like an undignified mess.
Never mind the fact that Diluc spluttered.
Wondered out loud, "Ajax? Wait— you're heavy— can you— get off—"
He probably shouldn't have done that.
But Childe could only focus on how warm Diluc felt in his arms.
How Diluc's heartbeats were steady, and strong.
How Diluc's chest moved with every breath.
How Diluc's hands tried to shove him away.
How alive Diluc's voice was despite the rasp.
Childe only hugged him tighter.
Buried his face in the crook of the Firefly's neck.
Relished the soft crimson curls.
And muttered Diluc's name over and over.
Because he was alive.
Because Childe thought Diluc died in his arms.
That he led the other to his death.
Childe barely stopped when he felt a hand lightly pat the back of his head.
Diluc's hand was a little small, but so kind, so endearing.
"It's not your fault," Diluc said, voice soft, "I'm here now."
It was then that Childe realized that he blabbered out loud.
Like a wailing child that had something dear taken from him.
He didn't realize how he cried into Diluc's shoulder.
All of his emotions were an utter wreck.
Completely unsightly of him as a Harbinger.
He didn't know which to focus on—
To be happy or struggle with his conflicting grief that wasn't needed anymore.
And yet, through it all, Diluc was still calm.
Still wrapped his arms around him so kindly.
"I'm right here."
Childe gave up right then and there.
Gave up thinking who he needed to be.
Who he was supposed to be and do.
Ajax cried into Diluc's warm, warm shoulder.
He didn't let go of Diluc.
And Diluc didn't let go of Ajax.
._._._._._.
Diluc's back was getting sore.
The floor wasn't exactly comfortable.
Even with all of his shoving, Ajax just refused to move.
So, Diluc gave up.
Resigned himself to being pinned on the floor with the weight of the other.
He wanted to sleep.
A dreamless sleep to banish the exhaustion and aches in his body.
But not on the floor with Ajax soaking his clothes with his tears.
Ajax, on the other hand, was not fine at all.
He still held on to Diluc like a lifeline.
As if he couldn't bare the thought of letting him go.
It made Diluc want to apologize for worrying him.
But the words were stuck in his mouth.
As if to say that an apology was the last thing Ajax needed at the moment.
He wanted to ask what happened, because even he couldn't seem to understand what did happen.
Instead, Diluc laid there, holding Ajax like he always did when Kaeya used to have nightmares.
He didn't have anything to say anymore.
Nothing he could say would assure Ajax.
So, he began to hum.
He remembered how the bards in Mondstadt would always play.
Day and night.
In the midst of a rowdy tavern.
In the quiet afternoons.
Diluc knew hundreds of songs.
But there was one he heard from his father.
One that was never performed by anyone but Crepus.
A song his mother used to sing, his father would always say.
A song that Diluc used to sing to Kaeya after every nightmare.
Diluc hummed, running a hand through Ajax's ginger hair.
They were still on the floor.
And Diluc's back was definitely sore now.
But he only closed his eyes.
Hung on to Ajax.
And hummed.
The melody danced in the air.
Just like Diluc had taught himself to master.
For the sake of comforting those he loved.
Those he dearly cared for.
Ajax stopped crying.
Only dead silent in Diluc's arms.
But Diluc knew he wasn't sleeping.
He patted the ginger hair twice, "You alright?"
There was only a small grunt.
Ajax was clearly worn out.
It almost made Diluc laugh.
"Good. I'm not sorry."
"Wha—"
Without another warning, or remorse, Diluc kneed him in the stomach.
Ajax yelped, rolling off of him in an instant, "What the hell, Diluc!"
It was probably mean.
Very impolite.
But Diluc was a big brother.
So he had no qualms of kneeing Ajax.
"That's for crushing me when I asked to be helped up."
He held his hands up in the air.
His request obvious and clear this time.
Ajax looked at him, playfully appalled, "You could've just asked."
Strong hands pulled Diluc to his feet, "I did."
His feet planted on the floor, but his legs shook.
And his back practically screamed at him with the floor aches.
Ajax's hands stayed as his support, even as they both settled themselves in the soft linen.
When Diluc looked up, Ajax's face looked rather horrible.
Baggy, bloodshot eyes and still runny nosed.
"I'm sorry for worrying you."
The words dropped out of Diluc's mouth faster than he could think.
But he didn't dare to take them back.
Especially since Ajax had a shaky frown on his face.
There was something that he wanted to say.
Something Diluc knew he didn't want to hear.
So he spoke first, "I caused quite a scare, didn't I."
It wasn't a question.
It was a fact.
A brutal one that Diluc acknowledged.
He gripped Ajax's arms a little tighter, "Ajax—"
"Childe," Ajax cut in, "Call me Childe here."
Diluc didn't question it.
Not with the look on Ajax's face.
"Childe," he began again, "What happe—"
Diluc wasn't fast enough.
Ajax covered his mouth.
Clammy hands shook against his face.
As if to beg him not to start now.
"Don't. Not right now."
Ajax's voice shook so much.
"I just got you back. Let me have this."
Diluc didn't understand.
He felt that he needed to understand.
There was also a truth weighing heavily in his chest.
He wanted to tell Ajax everything.
Because he knew how silence caused Ajax nothing but pain.
Just this once, Diluc swallowed back his words.
About the question he so desperately wanted to ask.
About the dream he had.
About a grand fire.
About the ashes he could still taste in his mouth.
Instead, Diluc gripped his hand.
Pulled it away from his face.
And pressed Ajax's hand against his chest.
Against his beating heart.
Because Ajax looked ready to cry all over again.
Diluc smiled then.
Just to ease the other's heart, "Okay."
Ajax beamed then, "Hey, did you know that snow—"
Diluc did nothing to stop Ajax from ranting about anything and everything.
Ajax kept a hand pressed against Diluc's chest.
Would it be strange enough for Diluc to admit of how it lured him in a haze?
Of how Ajax's voice was ever lively, and so comforting?
Diluc rested his head against a shoulder.
Half listened to the stories of snowball fights and wild adventures.
And dozed off with a smile on his face.
._._._._._.
Childe clung on to Diluc.
Still reeling in his disbelief that yes, Diluc was alive.
Real.
And most certainly alive in his arms.
He couldn't lift his hand away from that chest.
Because the last time he felt it, it was so, so cold.
So, so still.
His mind couldn't let go of the picture that burned in his memory.
Of that beautiful Pyro Vision flickering out.
Of how Diluc stilled without so much as a sound.
Of how cold his pale, pale skin felt within seconds.
Right in his arms.
Childe wouldn't deny it.
He was downright scarred for the rest of his life.
(As if the Abyss wasn't bad enough.)
There was one whole truth that he knew to be certain.
Once the light of a vision fades, it never, ever returns.
The Pyro Vision wasn't anywhere in sight.
The Tsaritsa last held it.
Childe wasn't about to march out the room just to see.
No.
His hand wouldn't move away from the beating heart.
The very evidence that Diluc was really here.
He didn't want to leave just like this.
Because, yes, he was scared.
He was scared to walk out and find nothing but a cold body waiting for him.
It struck Childe then.
As he ranted on and on about anything.
The words his Tsaritsa spoke in those very last moments.
It echoed loudly in his head, almost overpowering his own voice.
"Before a Phoenix revives."
"And I forgot about the ice underneath—"
"It needs to die first."
Childe felt the Firefly drift off mid story.
Felt the deep, evened breaths of sleep.
Heard how he didn't struggle for a single one of them anymore.
Childe pressed his hand a little harder.
Just to feel Diluc's heart beat against his palm.
Just to feel that warmth that was Diluc.
Childe nudged his cheek in the soft, crimson locks.
"Phoenix or not," he whispered, knowing that Diluc was in too deep to hear.
.
.
.
"Don't ever die on me again."
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