Breaking the Collar

Breaking

Childe is broken.

That's the only way to explain it, really.

Something in him seemed to change after his meeting with Diluc and Kaeya. The lazy smiles, playful grins, and rugged charms that Childe used to project as naturally as light off the sun have evaporated into thin air, leaving nothing but a shell of a man you once thought to be so powerful.

"Ajax," you whisper, calling his name to wake him up. All he really needs to do is open his eyes. You know that he's already awake, long used to how rhythmic the rise and fall of his chest is from months of sleeping by his side, but the redhead ignores you, pressing his head deeper into the crook of your neck.

"Ajax," you repeat, frustration beginning to drip into your tone. "Ajax, you have to wake up."

Except that he doesn't actually have to.

The man received an onslaught of calls the day after his meeting with Diluc and Kaeya, all of which he answered with varying degrees of frustration, but ever since then, his phone has been radio silent. Where Childe used to be out of bed every day by eleven and in his office by twelve to attend to his meetings, he's now done nothing but stay in bed all day—and the worst part is that no one seems to care, his phone completely silent save for the daily calls he's been avoiding from Scaramouche.

Where a few days ago, you were annoyed with the fact that he forced you to do nothing with him for hours on end, not even fucking you at night the way he always used to, now, you've begun to grow concerned.

"Ajax, get up."

You try to pull his head off your shoulder in hopes that you can force him to at least look you in the eye, but the way he instantly stiffens and burrows deeper into your shoulder is proof enough that he's not going anywhere.

You sigh.

This marks the third day where he's refused to even brush his teeth in the morning, the fourth where he's refused to speak. If your life were anything normal, you'd have forced him up long ago—but you're hardly in a position to pretend you have any authority over him. It's clear that he knows that, too.

"Ajax, I really need you to get up..."

—which is a true statement, surprisingly.

The plan you'd developed to initiate your escape, perfected over the car ride back from Childe's meeting with Diluc and Kaeya, was simple: snag a knife from the kitchen in Childe's apartment, sneak into his office, use said knife to tear open the briefcase you know must have your documents inside of it, and then start running to the hotel Diluc and Kaeya said they'd be in.

You spent hours perfecting this: figuring out where Childe would be most likely to store the kitchen knives, what time of day will be best for sneaking out, and even what clothing you'll wear when running away, since you can't exactly run through the streets of Snezhnaya in your usual birthday suit, and for once, it seemed like the stars had actually aligned for you.

Unfortunately, when you developed your plan, you hadn't accounted for Childe's sudden change in behavior.

"Ajax, please..."

But the man barely even shifts in response.

Hours later, after you've long given up on waking him and have instead decided to join him in his slumber, you both wake up together to a voice much louder than either of yours.

"What the fuck," Childe groans, throat hoarse from not speaking for days on end, "is that sound."

In your opinion, it's pretty clear what that sound is: Scaramouche's aggressively loud shouts of "Open the fuck up!" and "Stop dodging my calls!" and "Get out of bed, asshat!" accompanied by a nonstop banging that makes you grateful no one else lives on this floor doesn't leave much to the imagination.