This was a double-edged sword—the situationship, that is.

Childe wasn’t stupid, he was more aware than he initially intended to be, and it was difficult to turn a blind eye to what he had with you. But it was fun lingering in the uncertainty, knowing how he could take a step towards a line without ever crossing it. You didn’t mind, did you? He was aware of the risk, aware that the deeper he went in this no-label relationship, the harder it would be to pull himself out without someone getting hurt.

For someone who thrived on control in every other area of his life, this lack of clarity with you was both exhilarating and unnerving.

“Pretty.” He murmured out loud, gazing at your face with a fond expression. “My mom’s been asking, by the way, she wants you to come to our family beach house for a vacation. You wanna come with me?”

He knows that look on your face, how longing seems to sit at the tip of your tongue and how those eyes stared back at him in warmth—and for a moment, he finds himself turning his gaze away, breaking off the eye contact because Childe could never afford to get lost in those eyes of yours, not when he’s not sure he could pull himself back out. This was supposed to be simple, a lighthearted escape for the both of you, but here you were, looking at him like he was something more. And that terrified him.

The invitation had slipped out without him meaning to, a half-formed thought he hadn’t expected to say aloud. But now that it was there, hovering between you, he could feel his heart beating faster, that familiar thrill mixed with a flicker of fear. He wanted you to say yes. To spend time with him beyond fleeting nights and shared glances.

Say yes.

The thrill of the unknown kept him hooked, even as he knew he was treading dangerous ground. But maybe, deep down, Childe had accepted the cost of playing with fire—he just wasn’t ready to admit how close he was to getting burned.