Sisyphus is happy : Zhongli x reader

Sisyphus happy

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"One must imagine Sisyphus happy"
- The myth of the Sisyphus
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Zhongli doesn't know nor understand what you hold beneath your skin, that draws him like a moth to a flame. He is a god and you are nothing but a mere mortal who will wither like the herbs in your small garden come winter; destined for death and to be forgotten in the long history of mankind.

He cannot help himself but love you with his every being.

He could watch you a hundred times, the way other humans do with the setting sun and fall in love even at the promise of a heart break then to do it all over again come morning.

Amber eyes commit to memory every flutter of your lashes as you open those (e/c) eyes when waking from a deep slumber, unfocused and unmoving as you simply feel the warm grass beneath your palms.

Zhongli sighs, a breath filled with fulfillment and adoration. If there was anything that could describe perfection for him, it is simply this exact moment: you slowly sit up, disoriented from a long dream, then immediately turn to him with a smile of recognition and pure warmth.
"I felt like I had a really long dream," you would say with a small voice, sleep laced and full of curiosity.

He longs to touch, to be part of this perfection that laid before him, the way Icarus longs to touch his beloved sun. But his hands remain in his lap, unmoving like the mountains and rocks that would not bow to any.

"What was your dream about?" He asks, voice firm and automatic. Zhongli knows that gods are nothing but selfish in their own ways, for he too is.

He simply does not long to touch, to put that stand of hair that has strayed to your face.
He simply does not long to touch, he wants you to be in his arms and feel you near the very heart that you hold in your palms. It took a minute or two for him to gather the courage of putting thoughts - moments of one heart beat and the next.

"I don't know. I already forgot, just that it was very exhausting," you are no longer looking at him, rather at the cloud covered sky that your eyes have reflected, eyebrows scrunched and drifting through memories that have long passed your fragile fingers like sand.

Zhongli doesn't know nor care to understand what allures him so; only that it is with you he finds perfection embodied.