DEAD TO ME [tartaglia]

007 - THE TIDE

WHEN YOUR MOTHER leaves, the walls you tried so hard to put up come crashing down at the pressure of harsh winds. You were doing so well, you think. You had wiped the annoying smile off of Scaramouche's face and you stood your ground. But when your mother arrived, you could do nothing but gawk at her, scared stiff.

Scaramouche is willing to stretch this divorce process for as long as it takes you to come back to him, and Childe looks determined to keep the firmest hold on his chosen marriage candidate no matter what the cost. You don't think you've ever seen either one of the two back down before. Your younger sister, a person you have loved all your life, wants your husband, and your mother and father want you to stay with a cheating bastard.

You have never felt more alone than you do right now.

"Tell my lawyer I needed to attend to something." You ground out, grabbing your bag and the bouquet with every intention of leaving this place. At this, Scaramouche stands alert. "We aren't done here!"

"We're done." You shoot back, practically shaking from your rage. And you don't look back as you storm out of the conference room, a pair of footsteps following behind you. This goes on until you're outside the office building, and into the dark and rainy night.

You're alone, panting heavily before the automatic doors whoosh from behind you and the sound of footsteps echo in your ears. It's not long before you feel a presence behind you, and an open umbrella is held over your head.

"You'll get sick if you go on like this." Tears fill your eyes, and you think Childe is aware from his position behind you.

For the few minutes you stood there, you cried silently and he waited, continuing to hold the umbrella over your soaked head. As you cry, you realize this might be the first time you've cried in front of anybody since you were eleven, and the man behind you was not berating you nor shaming you— only staying as silent as you were as he held the umbrella over your heads in an attempt to keep you sheltered from the pouring rain.

When you finally finish crying, he's calling up the chauffeur, still refusing to look at you until you finish scrambling to improve your soaked appearance. He does not mention it in the car, nor does he mention it back at his home, just as if your breakdown was your little secret. It's almost as if he's aware of your reluctance to share your emotions.

And as you lie in his bed that he offered to you once more, you are still not sure if you can trust him completely, but you're sure that whatever side of him he showed you back in the rain was not the one that he normally did, but the version of him that stuck by you as your childhood companion— the version of him that wordlessly cared for you and never asked for anything in return.

You suppose that when the thrashing wind comes  and you feel like you might just break down, you can always rely on the tide to catch the pieces that fall.

[A/N] i love this pair😋