"What's your favorite thing about me?" he'd asked that jokingly, expecting you to laugh or blink confusedly at him in that sweet way you always did, and he'd get to savor your flustered expression. but instead you tilted your head, thinking for a moment before you lit up with a smile. "Your hands" then it was Childe who laughed in surprise, curious and intrigued with your answer. his hands? what were so special about his hands? he didn't particularly like them, with how much blood they've spilled and how many scars litter the skin, only hidden by the gloves he always wore. so he asked you why, playful grin hiding keen, genuine interest, then wavering slightly when you intertwined one of your hands with his. "Because I can hold them!" oh, how his heart had melted, your gentle hold on his fingers softening even the most battle-hungry of the Harbingers, and he'd thanked his lucky stars that he'd been blessed with someone like you. now his claws shiver from chill and fear as you stand before him, unable to meet your gaze as he's filled with shame. it's his fault he's like this- how could he be so careless? how could he become stuck in this form, it's as bad as throwing away your love because obviously no one can love an Abyssal monster like him, and Foul Legacy whimpers, hiding his hiccupping sobs behind his talons. delicate fingers wrap around said talons, pulling them carefully away from his face, and Childe looks up into your soft, worried eyes. with two hands you cradle one of his, gently massaging the back of his bruised knuckles, trying so hard to not let your tears of concern fall. "See...? I can still hold your hands..."