Childe always knew that his foul legacy damages his health, and physical body every time he uses it. Causes him to slowly die.

Using it in mindful situations always happened, little situations too.

Yet every time he used it, new scars would form from it, leaving you to take care of them each fucking time it happened.

Sitting on his bed while you tended to his wounds, “Listen.. it was necessary.. what am I supposed to do when you’re in danger huh?” Childe stated.

He flinched slightly when the bandage was tightened, even though the injuries on his body seemed little, the ones to his health were fatal.

“I’ll be fine.. when will you stop caring so much? You’re just a stupid skirmisher who is forced to go on assignments with me.” He grumbled, scoffing as he looked down at his lap.