Chilled Grip (a chaeya fanfiction)

Chapter 2: Where Loose Ends Meet

SUPER QUICK CONTENT WARNING!
This chapter contains:
-heavy mentions of self harm
If this makes you uncomfy please don't  continue.
———————————————————————

Childe woke up to an empty bed. Stretching, he was startled by his unfamiliar surroundings. Remembering the night before, he was suddenly glad he was alone. Getting out of bed, he opted to borrow some of Kaeya's clothes. Realizing that the shirts were huge, he decided to pair them with an oversized coat. He glanced at the mirror. Pulling the coat tighter closed, he padded downstairs to the kitchen.
Kaeya was sitting at the table reading a newspaper. He was dressed in a dark sleeveless tank and a pair of grey dress pants. His cryo vision was thrown carelessly onto the table.
The scent of coffee hung heavy in the air, no doubt coming from the mug in the middle of the table.
Kaeya didn't acknowledge Childe's approach, and simply stared angrily at his newspaper.
Two can play at that game, mused the harbinger silently.
Completely ignoring Kaeya, he poured a mug of coffee and sat down across from him. Glancing up every so often, he would meet eyes with Kaeya, before the blue haired man would look away.
Childe snickered.
"So on a scale of one to ten, how mad are you?" He inquired.
"Twelve." Said Kaeya flatly.
The harbinger made a disgruntled noise.
"I was so nice to you though! I even-"
"Don't finish that sentence." Interrupted the knight, flushing angrily.
Childe rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee. It was extremely bitter, the strong flavor overwhelming his mouth. Swallowing painfully, he winced. It tasted like mud. Deciding to make something different, he opened the fridge.
"I'm making food. Would you like anything?" He asked Kaeya.
He was ignored.
"Fine then grouch, I'll make myself something." He said, pissed.
Letting the pan heat up, he diced up green onions and tomatoes. Dumping them in with the eggs, he whisked the mixture a few times before pouring it into the sizzling pan. Grabbing a spatula, he folded the omelette over gently. He flipped it again before placing it on his plate. He picked up a fork and headed back towards the table. Before he could take a bite, Kaeya grabbed his untensil.
Childe glared at him.
"Asshole! You said you didn't want anything!"

Kaeya chewed his food, staring smugly at the ginger, as if daring him to take it back.
"I never said I didn't want anything. I just ignored you." He said with his mouth full.
"Yeah. It's obvious you aren't a morning person." Childe muttered.
Kaeya managed to steal several bites of his food, simply stabbing Childe when he reached for it.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, dust notes falling lazily. Resting his head on his palm, Childe admired the man in front of him. Kaeya had pulled his hair down, and his hair was curled slightly from the braid the night before.
As he read, Childe watched him, studying the way his lips tilted slightly upwards as he read the next passage. Feeling as though he were watching from a far, merely an onlooker of the peaceful sight before him. Childe tended to darken everything in his path, his presence simply caused stress.
Within the walls of himself, he wasn't Childe, the name given to him as a mockery of his age, a name feared in the world of violence. He was Ajax, a name given to him by his gentle mother, a woman who he didn't dare to bring into the world he had formed for himself. She had cared for him as best as she could, sheltering his world. This had given him an ideal of life that wasn't true. He still remembered the plummet, the sickening thud as his body hit the ground. The next 3 months of unending labour that 14 year old Ajax endured. Self consciously clutching his wrist, he ran his thumbs over the thin scars there. Using a small pocket knife to lightly slice his wrist was the only way he had kept track of time. It had become habit, even after he was free, to pull out his blade as soon as the sun set. It was freeing to watch the blood drip slowly onto the floor, hissing as it hit the frozen ground. Touching those scars now, his only way of survival then, he felt better, knowing that whatever situation he would be put in, it would be better than being in that hell hole. He shook his head, trying to clear the bad memories from his mind.