sorry for not posting and then returning with an oc fic :’) i swear i have other stuff in progress that will get done soon i just have brainrot
friendly reminder you can always ask me about my sona i will gladly talk about her for hours
⭒
pairing: platonic(?) brynn & childe
characters: brynn chanté (oc), childe
genre: fluff with a hint of a hint of angst
word count: 849
⭒
They lay side-by-side, reclined in the grass on the hills above Liyue Harbor. While most would sit where they are to enjoy the view of the glittering city—the whole thing visible at this height—they keep their eyes on the sky above. It’s a clear night, not a cloud in the sky, but the gentle breeze carries a sharp chill; though he’s used to it, she shivers and buries her face further into the red scarf stolen from him.
They don’t need to talk; they’re not there to talk, so they don’t. It’s quiet for once, no playful bickering or the ringing of metal on metal brought about by colliding weapons. They’re in the city for business—a statement that’s only partially true—but why not enjoy their time there? A moment of peace, away from the lights and the sounds and the smells and the crowds in the city. A moment away from violence and orders and duty.
A moment of silence.
He breaks it first.
“Do you miss them?”
Brynn responds with a lilting hum, a curious sound that wordlessly asks for clarification. It had been her idea, to go outside Liyue Harbor at sunset and watch the stars appear one by one; and Childe had snorted, saying it was a weird waste of time, but he had nothing better to do. So he followed.
They had stayed out much longer than they’d originally planned, laying there and watching and not talking as the nighttime chill began to set in. The cold had eventually grown too much for Brynn, but instead of standing and making her way back to the city, she’d reached over and silently tugged Childe’s scarf away from him. He let her take it.
“Do you ever miss your family?”
Silence.
He turns his head slowly as the silence drags on. Through orange bangs, he sees Brynn hasn’t moved, her bright blond hair splayed across the green grass, her face turned to the stars above. She’s closed her eyes, but he can tell she’s not asleep; she wouldn’t, couldn’t fall asleep out here. Childe thinks maybe she won’t respond. As he parts his lips to tell Brynn to forget it, her eyes open and she too turns her head, just enough to meet his gaze.
“No.”
For a moment, he feels like he’s looking in a mirror. Eyes dull, expression even, Brynn gives no hint as to what she could truly be feeling, or what more she could possibly want to say. Her gloved hands curl tighter into the scarf—his scarf—around her neck.
“My family doesn’t deserve to be missed.”
She adds it so quietly, but Childe watches an anger flood her eyes; her already rosy cheeks seem to darken further, her eyes narrowing in a miniscule glare.
“Oh.”
And they go back to silence.
Neither moves from their new position, blue and violet locked on the other.
He blinks. She blinks.
“But family can be more than just blood relations, right?”
Any remaining anger quickly melts, washed away by her soft voice. Her eyes are searching, as if silently begging Childe to confirm something. He’s not sure why Brynn needs his validation, assuming she already has an answer of her own, but he responds regardless.
“Isn’t that why you’re here?”
He watches her eyes widen, as if surprised by his answer; he figures it’s what she’d wanted to hear. She seems to think for a moment, before letting out a huff of amusement. Though she still has her face partially buried in his scarf, Childe can see the corners of her mouth lift into a smile.
“I suppose.”
He snorts, echoing her words back with a light scoff as Childe rolls onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow. Brynn tries harder to bury her growing smile in his scarf, shaking as she tries to contain muffled laughter. She shrieks and attempts to scramble away when he reaches a hand forward to ruffle her hair affectionately; he flashes her a grin, and that’s all the warning Brynn gets before Childe lunges. One of his hands grabs a fistful of her—his—scarf, both of hers wrapping around his other wrist—the one still trying to tousle her hair—as she kicks and yells and laughs, their struggle sending the two of them rolling further down the hill.
Neither seems to be budging, so eventually Childe gives up. Sitting back, he pulls Brynn with him, his one hand still gripping the scarf that miraculously stayed around her neck during their playful scuffle. They both heave gasping breaths, interrupted by the occasional giggle.
“I really hate you, y’know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Still tugging her with him, Childe stands to his feet. Brynn winces as she rises, no doubt aching from laying down for so long. He finally lets her go, groaning as he stretches. She readjusts his scarf.
“Ready to head back?”
“Yeah.”
He leads the way. She follows, yawning.
Carefully picking their way down toward the city, he feels her brush against his arm. A hand slips into his own; without looking, he squeezes it gently.
They return to silence.