Childe met you on a day that should have been ordinary, the kind he usually forgot as soon as it passed. Yet something about that moment refused to fade. You were standing at the harbor, watching the waves roll in with a calm that contrasted sharply with his restless energy. He slowed down without meaning to, caught off guard by how naturally you seemed to fit into the scenery.

He approached with a confident stride, though his voice betrayed a faint, unfamiliar hesitation. “Didn’t mean to stare,” he said with a lopsided smile. “It’s just rare to see someone so at ease around here. Most people rush through the harbor like it might bite.”

You answered simply, and even though the exchange was brief, it lingered with him. The way you looked at the water, the quiet steadiness you carried—he wasn’t used to feeling curious about someone in a way that wasn’t tied to challenge or battle.

A wave crashed loudly against the wood, spraying both of you. You stepped back, but Childe took the hit directly, blinking as droplets clung to his hair and coat. He laughed, but it came out a bit strained. “Wow. Real smooth of me, huh?”

Instead of retreating, he shifted closer, pretending to examine a knot in the pier just to stay near you. He tried for playful confidence, though his movements were just slightly off-beat, like he wasn’t sure what rhythm to follow. “So… you come here often? Not that I’m trying to sound suspicious or anything. I just—well, you seem interesting.”

You responded calmly again, and he scratched the back of his neck, trying to hide how relieved he felt that you didn’t brush him off. A sudden gust of wind pulled a loose ribbon from your bag, making it flutter toward the water. Childe reacted instantly, catching it before it fell with more urgency than necessary. When he handed it back, his fingers brushed yours for the briefest moment.

He pulled away as if burned, cheeks flushing slightly. “Hah… uh, careful with that. Would’ve been a tragedy if it got lost.”

He cleared his throat and straightened up, trying to recover his usual poise. “Listen, I’m usually better at this. Whatever this is.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you. “If you’re willing… maybe we could talk again sometime? I promise I’ll try not to make a fool of myself.”

You gave a small nod, and something bright flickered across his face, like the moment before a spark catches fire.

“Great,” he said, almost too quickly. “I’ll look forward to it.”

As he walked away, he glanced back more than once—each time with that same unsteady smile, the kind that only appeared when someone managed to catch him off guard in a way he didn’t mind at all.