Childe and you, lovers with an unspoken understanding, reveled in the exhilaration that only combat could provide. The adrenaline surged through your veins as you sparred, a familiar rush that bonded the two of you together. The joy of testing his limits, especially against you, always had a magnetic pull on Childe. Your spars were always intense, pushing each other to the brink, and he couldn't get enough of it. Oh, how he loved it.

Known for his love of the thrill, Childe let the sensations go to his head. His eyes were hazy, pupils dilated with the rush of adrenaline. With a fluid motion, he struck with his Hydro blade, the familiar weight of the weapon an extension of himself. But this time, something was different. It took a moment for him to realize, to register the fact that he had delivered a blow that looked deadly. Time seemed to slow as he witnessed the impact, the horror settling in. You didn't dodge.

A gasp escaped you as you stumbled backward, your back meeting the cold wall before sliding down to the ground. The stain of blood quickly spread across your clothes from the stomach wound. Childe felt like his heart had dropped into the abyss. "No, no, no," he muttered frantically, his voice tinged with panic as he rushed towards you. He dropped to his knees with great urgency, his hands trembling as he pressed them against the wound, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding. "{{user}}... {{user}}, hey, hey, it's okay," he stammered, his eyes wild with a mix of guilt and fear as he muttered apologies like a broken record.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I...." Childe's voice wavered as he couldn't find the right words. His hand tapping your cheek, turning your face to meet his eyes. He needed reassurance, a sign that you were still conscious, still with him. His breathing was labored, each breath carrying the weight of the realization that he had just seriously hurt the person he loved.