[He knows that the prince desperately doesn't want him to go, and there's a part of him that feels like it's being tugged down into the bed, under the covers. He knows it's a bad idea, but at the same time, his mind drifts to waking up next to his lover in the morning. It would be nice, and he longs for it, wishes for it.

Childe lets go of the prince, sliding down and letting the blankets envelop his body, his head resting now on the pillow. The bed was truly made for royalty, not even his mattress was nearly as nice.]

Come, lay with me.

[He doesn't answer the prince's question, only seeking his warmth and closeness, his arm extended upward and out so Aether could slide in against his chest.]

Let's not think too heavily on my departure right now. Just be with me in this moment, so I can etch it into my memory.