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It’s quiet, throughout the home.
Each room blanketed with a steely silence, its warmth icy and its thickness suffocating.
He sits alone, head in his hands. A near unnoticeable tremor shakes his body. Masks undone, laying on the old nightstand, pushed away for now but never forgotten.
The air around him moist with unshed tears, no thanks to the inactive azure stone permanently attached at his hip. Because even at his weakest, his most vulnerable, he cannot let his guard down.
Or perhaps, it is the only thing that allows him to feel safe enough to do so.
He is Tartaglia, youngest and most bloodthirsty of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. He is Childe, foreigner to Liyue, and friend to Zhongli. He is Ajax, a brother, a son, and a boy who found himself lost to a world far beyond, far more dangerous than his own.
He’s everything, and it is too much.
He lets out a shuddering breath. Struggles to reel it back in.
Faintly, he registers the soft click of a far off door, and the shuffling of feet to follow it. He wonders what will happen when he is discovered. Hopefully nothing rash, for he doesn't, for once, feel up to fighting this particular person.
Maybe it's unfair of Childe to ask this of Celestia, because maybe he is undeserving of what he hopes for. He doesn't want to be the bad guy, even though he knows that's the path he will inevitably end up on.
His hands have been stained by the blood of others, the innocence of his victims ranging from debatable to certain. His very soul has been tainted by that of the dark Abyss, the sins of its past infiltrating his own, altering his entire being on his command. He wonders how worthy he is of a sinner’s redemption, when he himself considers him far past that.
Yes, he is already the bad guy of this story, dare he even say the villain. But for once, he wants to be intentionally selfish.
Dear Celestia above, let him be selfish, let him choose this, let this choose him back .
His hands are shaking again, he knows. He prays and prays, to any God that would like to bear witness to his pleading, that he isn't kicked out for this .
The bed dips slightly in front of him, though he doesn't look up. Out of fear, or exhaustion, he knows not. An exhale of breath can be heard over the blood roaring in his ears, and it is calm, it is fond.
Shortly after that, the glide of an ungloved hand finds its ways around his own. The touch is slow but deliberate, as most things are with the other, and it calms Childe down, soothes his rapidly beating heart, his frayed nerves.
Hesitantly, he chances a peak up at the man, feeling the steady, patient gaze on him as he does so. Resting his chin gently on his knees, he grips the hand in his tighter for a fraction of a second, and looks down again.
“Ajax,” the other says, voice as alluring and comforting as ever, though Childe is sure he doesn't know what he comforting Childe for .
Perhaps he should be comforting Childe because of how he simply says Childe's name. A name that doesn't, that shouldn't , belong to him, not anymore. Not after what he has done, what he has become. Perhaps it is the softness, the sincerity of the man’s gaze as he says it that he should be comforted for.
Because it is this name that is of a broken boy, a lost son of Teyvat. But with Kaeya, Ajax is created anew. Broken and mended all together, all at once.
Ajax finds himself lost within Kaeya’s eye, the star pupil shining bright as if it were the sun to Ajax’s dark world. He is broken, but with every second he is with Kaeya, the pieces of himself that he believed to be forever lost, have been found once more.
The man moves slowly, gently, like they have all the time in the world to be doing this. To be together.
Kaeya shifts his place on the bed in front of him, and folds his legs into a criss-crossed position, making sure to keep their hands intertwined. Ajax stays where he is, unmoving, save for the hollow eyes that follow the other's every move.
The man’s other hand is brought up to catch Ajax’s other in his own once more, encasing them gently in his deceivingly warm palms. For a cryo user, Kaeya is nothing if not the warmest person Ajax knows, has ever known.
With his hands, he leans forward ever so slightly, the ghost of a smirk gracing his lips as he undoubtedly notices Ajax’s eyebrows furrow at the motion.
“Ajax,” the other says again, and his voice is smooth, it is molten gold, it is fresh honey. It lines the cracks in Ajax’s broken self, the glue to hold him together.
Vaguely, he remembers some ancient practice in Liyue that Zhongli had rambled about one time. Broken plates, cups, and bowls, not thrown away, but mended with gold.
Gently, Kaeya places a kiss to one of his knuckles, lips upturning more clearly at the warmth that Ajax feels enveloping his face. The man places another, and then another, one for each knuckle, each piece of Ajax.
So carefully and so elegantly does the Captain handle his affairs, and it seems this particular case is not one he puts aside either, it seems.
A Fatui Harbinger sitting alone in a nation, a home, that is not his.
A lone, lost, and scared boy, wandering in the dark, looking for a light source to guide him out.
Ajax huffs quietly as Kaeya continues to kiss his hands, palms upturned and peppered with them generously. He tries not to think of what he has done to deserve this, what he has done to be undeserving of it.
Then, the other stops his ministrations, much to Ajax’s displeasure. He feels his features twist into a light pout before he can stop himself, but the Captain only smiles at him.
His hands, his dirtied, bloodied, and tainted hands, are brought to rest and cup the cheek of one Kaeya Alberich.
Unconsciously, it seems, does the other lean into his palms, eyes fluttering shut, a wave of contentedness following soon after. The man's cheek is warm against his palms, as all of Kaeya is, and it grounds him.
Now, he looks at the man, he looks at his hands, and what he his holding with them.
Hesitantly, he swipes a thumb against the other, right below the uncovered eye. He meets the gaze of the man who manages to break him apart and put him back together again, the man to which he owes Ajax to.
He takes another look at the man in front of him, is met with patience, and love, and understanding, all of which he doesn't deserve.
He holds him gently, the hands cupping the other's face steady and confident, as the other moves closer and closer, until Ajax's knees rest beside him, until Kaeya is nestled close. Until their foreheads are touching, and their breaths mingle.
Kaeya places another gentle kiss on the palm of his hand, and Ajax closes his eyes, the meekest of smiles touching at his lips.
Perhaps, his hands can be used for good things, as well.