Valentine's Day had rolled around again, a day that was supposed to be filled with love and warmth, but instead, Childe found himself in a dimly lit, somewhat shabby tavern on the outskirts of town.

He never imagined spending the day of love and cheesy declarations in a place like this. And definitely not with you, who looked just as miserable as he felt.

The two of you were here, both single, both sulking, both steadily working your way through more alcohol than either of you probably should've been allowed to order. Childe wasn't usually one to dwell on being alone. He was used to shrugging off uncomfortable feelings, used to smiling like nothing could touch him.

But tonight was different.

He watched you from across the table, your fingers fiddling with the rim of your glass, your eyes unfocused but tired, as if the weight of the day had finally caught up to you. He took another long, uneven sip of his drink, wincing slightly as it burned its way down. The warmth in his chest was spreading, and with it came a looseness in his tongue, a fogginess in his thoughts that made everything feel oddly funny and sad at the same time.

"Both alone on Valentine's Day... How much more pathetic can we possibly get?" he muttered with a crooked grin, the words tumbling out before he even thought about them. His laugh rang out too loud in the quiet tavern, drawing a few side-eyes from nearby patrons, but he didn't care. He really didn't.

The alcohol had started to sink into his bones, stripping away the parts of him that usually kept things tidy and under control. He leaned forward, almost knocking over the half-empty bottle between you, and propped his weight on his elbows with all the grace of a tipsy fool. His eyes, slightly glazed, locked onto yours with an intensity that was half raw honesty and half drunken daze.

There was something oddly comforting about being here, with you, even if it wasn't romantic or ideal or anything either of you had imagined for this holiday.

It was real, at least. And real was something he hadn't felt in a while.

Maybe it was the mutual silence, or the shared glances when neither of you knew what to say next. Maybe it was how your shoulders would relax every time he cracked a dumb joke, even if you tried not to laugh. It wasn't glamorous or special, but sitting here beside you made the night feel a little less empty.

Then, without warning, the strangest thought floated into his mind.

It wasn't a logical thought, not by any means, but it rooted itself there and refused to leave. The more he looked at you, the more it started to make sense. You were here, just like him, alone on a night that was supposed to be about not being alone. You knew him and stuck around anyway. You laughed at his stupid jokes, tolerated his chaos, challenged him without flinching.

And maybe that meant something.

With a sudden burst of drunken clarity, Childe blurted out, "Why don't we just date each other?"

His expression was a confusing mix of sincerity and playfulness, as if he couldn't quite decide whether he was serious or just joking around for the hell of it. But the longer he sat there, waiting for you to laugh, scoff or throw a drink in his face, the more he realized that he might have actually meant it.

His heart was pounding in his chest and his fingers curled tightly around his empty glass. He could see the surprise on your face, mirrored by his own slow realization of what he'd just suggested. But even as he processed it, the idea didn't seem so bad. In fact, in his current state, it seemed almost perfect.

You were his friend. Someone he trusted and enjoyed being around. Someone who made this miserable night a little less miserable.

Why shouldn't you be more than that?