◇𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗◇||long term story||zhongchi

Chapter 3-Where the ocean meets the coast

The light slowly comes to view, and the first thing Zhongli feels is the warmth of a small body against his. He instantly recognizes it as his sleeping daughter while he tries to blink back his consciousness, and his own body wants to curl up towards her in search of comfort.
The second thing he realises is the depth of his own chest, as if he had a hole of nothingness extending across his bones, eating up anything on his way until the vessel of his soul disappears. Zhongli takes a shaky breath, and when he senses himself laying in a bed, he looks around, confused at his surroundings.
When did he get back to his house?
There’s unfamiliar rustling outside of the bedroom, a sign that more than one is walking around his home. Zhongli tries to get up, but the length of his tail has him awkwardly tangled up in the blankets, and the weight of his whole body seems to press against the mattress unwillingly.
There’s a heaviness that doesn’t allow him to breathe properly. His hands tremble, and he sees the black and gold running through his veins covering all human skin that he had created for his appearance. Zhongli reaches a hand towards his head, touching the horns that came out without his intention.
When he hears footsteps coming towards the bedroom, the dreadful realisation that he cannot come back to his human form settles in the pit of his stomach.
The door opens, and doctor Baizhu walks in.
Zhongli sits in a quick movement, ignoring all pain as he holds Hai Yu close to him, his glare pressing the other to stay back.
“Wow, do not worry, Mr. Zhongli, I am not here to tell on anyone,” Baizhu says, lifting his arms in innocence, “I am only here to take care of you and your daughter, you do not have to be afraid.”
Zhongli squints his eyes, feeling Hai Yu shift on his side, quietly waking up. He doesn’t think Baizhu is lying for now, so he asks;
“How did I get here?”
His voice doesn’t come as hostile, but his gaze pierces through the doctor, leaving him no other choice but to stay as far away from him as possible.
“Mr. Childe brought you here and desperately called me,” the man replies, “He is taking a breath outside, seemed a bit feverish. Do you want me to call him?”
Zhongli feels the strings of his heart tug, his body tensing at the sole thought of him . He does remember now— the desperate love dying in his hands, and his remaining sanity following after the void.
Zhongli looks at his hands. He sees the golden crack near his wrist, and knows that the most fearful thing is already happening within. How did he not notice how near his ending was?
He shakes his head at Baizhu’s question. Meeting the ocean eyes in this state would create another wave of uncontrolled pain, yet knows it is unavoidable. He at least wants to prolong this calm before the storm unleashes. He wants to hold Hai Yu a little bit more, before anything else happens.
If time could stop. If everything would pause and give him a moment to recollect himself. If only—
Zhongli reaches for Hai Yu’s hair, caressing her head, noticing the glowing of her hair is stronger today. She has woken up already, clinging to him, but no words leave her mouth. Zhongli knows why, and hates it so much that the void in his chest gets bigger at the knowledge.
He lowers his body towards her, petting his daughter with utmost care and gentleness, shaky hands touching the toddler’s pale face.
“Does it hurt again, darling?” he asks in a whisper.
Hai Yu just nods, her limbs trembling from time to time. Her face is scrunched up, and it is painfully obvious that she is trying so hard not to cry. She’s such a brave, strong girl, and it breaks Zhongli’s heart how she has learnt to suffer in silence at such a young age.
The tears collect in the corner of Zhongli’s eyes, but he doesn’t let them spill. The agony that he feels for her, the despair of their life— it all transforms into hatred towards anything . Zhongli cannot think straight, only sorrow clogs his mind, desperately wondering why, world, why can’t we be happy. Why can’t he see his little girl grow up to be a beautiful woman, why can’t he live to see her smile as she ages, why can’t they have a normal, human life just like any other person in this damned world. If she were to die, the life that Zhongli dreamed of living would become just a dream, and the times he imagined seeing Hai Yu finding a passion, love, happiness, it would all dissipate into rubble. The same rubble that he would perish on.
He wants to rip his throat in a scream, hoping his voice will reach someone in the skies that could help, but the thought quickly leaves his mind knowing they are all alone in these lands. This solitude spreads through him just as he holds his dear daughter to his chest, rocking her as she trembles and tugs at anything she can reach.
“My dear, my Hai Yu,” Zhongli mumbles, the shaking of her body crumbling down his mind, “I’m so… I’m so sorry that I couldn’t give you a better life… That I couldn’t protect you from suffering.”
Zhongli hides his face in his daughter’s shoulder and squeezes his eyes shut, hugging her tightly and wrapping his tail around them, scared to let go.
“P-papa,” the child mutters, her voice only but a fragile whisper, “Don’t say that… You always protected me.”
She hugs him back as she can, patting his back with her tiny hand, imitating the times Zhongli had comforted her in the same way. He feels the child’s heartbeats go slower, her breathing harsher, but always gifting her own gentleness. Another crack breaks Zhongli’s skin on his right eye and he shakes his head frantically, whispering for Hai Yu to hold on, to keep breathing, to stay conscious.
They have gone through this enough. It has to stop one day, they must move on. Zhongli can’t allow this pain to go through his daughter any longer, not when she looks like she’s about to die in his arms, her soul vessel slowly emptying itself. The commotion eliminates the thoughts surrounding his persona, and the only thing that resists is the exuberating resentment towards the earth underneath. He is unaware of the earth grumbling and the walls shaking. His geo energy begins to exude from him in waves powerful enough to shake the population of the city.
“Mr. Zhongli!” Baizhu screams, but Zhongli ignores him.
The doctor cannot do anything else for his daughter. He is as useless as anyone else, and Zhongli can’t pay any mind to anyone anymore. The only thing he sees viable is to keep Hai Yu in his arms and calm her down like a father always should.
I will protect you. I will keep you alive.
“Mr. Zhongli, let go of Hai Yu right now!”
Baizhu is holding his weight against the furniture, the earthquake not ceasing. His eyes are fearful, but he’s extending his arm towards Hai Yu, and Zhongli only sees red.
His body instantly creates a shield around him, and his gaze turns deadly once more— his mind is clogged with danger and fear, instincts kicking off.
“I will turn you to ashes if you dare take a step forward,” Zhongli’s voice rumbles in the same way the earth does, creating echo within these walls.
“Is most likely that… you’re the one hurting her! Let her go, please!” Baizhu manages to scream.
Zhongli’s breath becomes erratic and his eyes turn a glowing gold, his hate and corruption growing bigger.
How dare he, spreading lies on his name and the child of his own blood. Zhongli cannot allow any mortal to speak about his family as if they knew anything. The pressure in his chest expands, the burning of his limbs sharpens and his sight becomes blurry, but his objective is not lost from his vision. He can’t accept the insolence of such words, and his conscience only tells him to end him for his sins.
So Zhongli lifts a hand in the air, pointing at the doctor with a darkening stare. The earth stops shaking in seconds, but the silence that follows is just as terrifying. Zhongli will eat anyone’s soul away to protect his daughter.
“Zhongli, stop!”
Zhongli’s body stops any movement, yet his eyes stay locked in Baizhu’s. The voice that emerges sounds distant as if it were underwater, slowly coming up to the surface.
“Zhongli! Zhongli, calm down, please!”
He feels his throat clench as he drifts his gaze towards the desperate man. Those ocean eyes are full of terror, angst deepening in his heart, clear in his expression morphed in anxiety.
Childe puts his hands on the shield and Zhongli flinches, glowing eyes scanning the man. He is accompanied by the adeptus, Xiao, who seems just as consternated as the harbinger.
“Can you listen to me?” Childe desperately asks.
Zhongli notices how Childe goes from looking at him, to looking at Hai Yu in his arms. The sense of protectiveness returns like a sudden hit, and Zhongli growls while enveloping his daughter and himself even more on his tail.
“He wanted to take my daughter from me,” Zhongli says, not sparing even Childe from his deadly look, “ Leave! You cannot take her, I must protect her!”
“Master Zhongli,” Xiao says. The adeptus’ face contorts in horror as he speaks, “Master, you are near erosion.”
Childe must feel whiplash from the way his head turns, eyes going bigger and legs starting to shake.
“No, no, there’s no way,” Childe mutters, shaking his head. “Zhongli, please, Hai Yu is--”
Zhongli stays in place, his arms never letting go of Hai Yu. He doesn’t register what has been told, only the voices becoming white noise from time to time, distorting in irregular moments.
“Leave us alone,” Zhongli warns another time, “Or else--”
“P-papa!”
The screaming comes from his own child, wriggling in his hold. The sound she makes erupted in a sob makes Zhongli flinch, just now realising that she has been crying in his arms.
“Y-you’re hurting… me!” she cries, trying to get away from him.
Zhongli blinks, his breath getting caught up in his throat, suddenly letting go of the fragile arm that has turned red from his grip. Hai Yu rubs at the place he had physically hurt and weeps, curling on herself.
“I wasn’t-- I-,” Zhongli begins to mumble, words stumbling on his tongue.
He hears it all more clearly now— the crying of his daughter, the begging for him to surrender, the noise that Childe’s daggers make while trying to break his shield.
This isn’t you, this isn’t you. Wake up!
His senses begin to come to light ever so slightly, enough to comprehend his own standing in the world. The crumbling of his heart seems too real right now, and as he tries to figure out how to voice again, the shield breaks under his own command.
Zhongli watches as Childe almost runs towards Hai Yu, grabbing her and holding her with utmost care. He takes a look at her arm in case it is broken, and then his eyes land on Zhongli, who remains in place with shock.
His own erosion had been affecting his child all this time. So many questions asked, so many wonders that he thought would be unresolved forever. So many times he had blamed the world, when the one to blame was his own corrosive vessel and mind. The grasp of truth stabs him as deep as it can, almost leaving him with no room to breathe.
Zhongli himself was the one to put his daughter in a hell through all these years, while Hai Yu’s own instincts were to protect her father from any pain, until she couldn’t any longer.
“Zhongli—”
“Take her,” Zhongli manages to blurt out, the lump in his throat contracting his voice. Everything in him trembles, and this time, irremediably so, he cannot stop the way his tears fall in defeat. “Please, please, take her far away from me.”
Childe only seems confused, terrorized, tears forming in his eyes.
“I-,” Childe shakes his head, hugging and letting Hai Yu cry in his shoulder, “What does this mean?” Childe wonders, his lips trembling, gaze near a heartbreak, “Please, Zhongli, don’t-”
“I can’t see properly,” Zhongli whispers, trying to blink away his tears and the darkness that shifts in front of his eyes, like the corrosion wants to come back, “I cannot stay in Liyue. I cannot stay near you.”
Childe walks up to him and plops his weight on the mattress whilst holding their child, sitting near the god. He opens his mouth, but Zhongli takes a deep breath, feeling the cracks in his body setting ablaze his skin.
“I’m sorry,” he says, crying, “I’m sorry, my Hai Yu. I’m sorry, my Ajax. I… must go, while I still can decide for myself.”
When Childe’s face is stained with the rain pouring from his eyes, Zhongli dares to reach lightly towards his face, holding a hand on his beloved’s cheek.
“You can’t leave like this, there must be something we can do, this can’t be it,” Childe breaks into a sob, holding Zhongli’s wrist. Hai Yu moves in his father’s hold and turns to stare at Zhongli’s golden gaze.
She knows, as well. Even in her early years, she always had a way to comprehend things better than anyone surrounding him. Perhaps she always knew deep down that the pain that her father had wouldn’t be cured by her love only. Perhaps, unconsciously, she tried to soothe a soul that was mostly lonely and yearning endlessly, breaking itself. Hai Yu always took good care of Zhongli, even when she was hurting from it, even if she was meant to live happily as a carefree child— In her three years on this earth, her heart hoped to help cease just a little bit the corruption that was dawning within Zhongli’s universe.
Zhongli can’t regret enough that he did not notice the intention of hopeless salvation in Hai Yu’s blood, and will beg the skies until his last moments that she is able to move on and finally find health on herself.
With a soft movement, Zhongli reaches for his daughter’s face and caresses the hair off her eyes. He leans forward, and leaves a teary kiss on Hai Yu’s forehead, lingering on her warmth for what he thinks will be the last time. When he lifts his face, he meets the owner of his stone heart and moves closer, kissing Childe’s cheek with the same undying love he could never let go of.
“Will you two please take care of each other?”
The panic in Childe’s expression breaks his heart, but he cannot persist in this stay as much as he wants to.
And gods, does he want to stay. His limbs tremble, his eyes pour the heart’s commotion. Zhongli wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around his daughter, around Childe. To tell them he will be okay— but he doesn’t believe so. And so again, he falls in the limbo of hopes and wishes, where his dreams are bigger than himself, and his universe begins to shrink until there is nothing but a dark hole. When did it all begin? When did his expectations turn against him, pushing him off a cliff in his distraction?
Zhongli feels another rush of pain strike across his body, specially the cracked parts of his skin. The end is near, he knows it, and he, for once, has to let go for the sake of others.
“Xiao,” Zhongli says abruptly. If he speaks once more, the lump in his throat will make itself bigger, and so will his erosion.
He never drifts his gaze away. He has his eyes locked into Childe’s, letting the silence whisper the things he had always wanted to tell him, to let him know that love hasn’t died on his end, and it’ll never will even when he’s already gone.
Be happy, Zhongli wants to say. Take care of Hai Yu, he tries to beg.
Don’t forget me, please.
But his own sight gets once again blurry enough for him to lose focus, and he cries, because even when Xiao touches his shoulder and teleports him far, far away, Zhongli cannot even see for the last time when his daughter cries out his name.
✧⋅◈⋅─────༺✾༻─────⋅◈⋅✧
Childe isn’t sure how long it passes until he comes to his own senses.
He’s sitting on a rock in the high fields of Mt. Aozang, accompanied by a soft breeze and a pair of gentle voices not too far away. The sight of Hai Yu sitting on the grass with Ganyu on her side as they chat and look for more bugs on the ground clutches his chest, but there is relief in knowing she is feeling better and less feverish than earlier, at least enough for her to stand up and talk properly.
Childe doesn’t know if he has said anything at all on their way here. Ganyu and the rest of the adepti had appeared not long after Zhongli had vanished, and they accompanied both Hai Yu and Childe to the place they’re resting in right now, where the divine energy surrounding them must be able to calm down the anguish in their hearts (in Ganyu’s own words).
Childe lacks comprehension— on what has happened, why, and how. How could no one see what was really happening, how no one could save Zhongli of his destiny. If this is really the end, if he will never see Zhongli again. The sole thought seems unrealistic, because even if they were apart for three years, the knowledge that Zhongli was alive opened the possibilities of seeing each other again. But now— now that he might be gone, what is left in this life for him?
Nothingness settles with an ugly feeling on his stomach, yet at that moment, the giggles of a child ring on his ears, and his eyes fill with tears once more as he follows Hai Yu with his gaze while she plays around.
“Her health will periodically recover, though she mustn’t forget to rest as the corrosion she consumed will take some weeks to ease,” someone speaks beside him. Childe glances sideways to Cloud Retainer, and turns his attention back to his daughter. “One must… apologise, since one did not perceive the gravity of the situation, thus reaching this breaking point.”
Childe swallows the lump in his throat, clenching and unclenching his fists. At his silence, Cloud retainer continues to speak.
“The adepti mourned for our lord three years ago when he orchestrated his death for the citizens of Liyue and we believed lost his soul. It is no less heartbreaking to know that in present time, soon he will come to join the ones that fell due erosion,” Cloud retainer mutters, her voice tinted with regret, “We have and always will be loyal to our Rex Lapis, to his offspring and to his loved ones. One offers one’s condolences, human, as one knows you still harbour feelings of love for Rex Lapis… No. For Zhongli, one must say.”
Childe’s lips tremble and he bites it, trying to contain the tears to erupt once more. He’s already receiving condolences, huh? He doesn’t really want to accept them, yet the pain that extends makes it inevitable, and he hides the sob that explodes from him behind his shaking hands.
Is this really it? Will Zhongli really die somewhere alone without a single soul to help him out? Why is nobody trying to find a solution? How is he the only one crying his heart out, trying to wrap his head around the idea of a world without Zhongli in it?
He has so many regrets. So many things unsaid. So much inside him that will die alongside his heart. Childe feels it creeping up his throat— the cold panic that blooms after the realisation that he is losing, if not lost already, the love of his life. He couldn’t be truthful to Zhongli, not even when he saw him crying and cracking down to pieces. To think that Zhongli may fall asleep forever thinking he is not wanted, not loved--
His cries stop as he flinches when a hand lies on his head. It is a soft, tiny touch, that makes him lift his sobbing eyes to meet one's much more like his own.
“I… found a beetle,” Hai Yu tells him, showing him the insect almost shyly. She sees his tears, and shifts in her place as if nervous for it, “Are you sad, Mr. Chai?
Chai. A nickname she has found easier to pronounce instead of Childe, or so Childe had believed until he realized she was only struggling the first two times, and the rest were said on purpose even when she knew how to say his name perfectly. The innocent teasing of a child, his child, makes him smile even through the tears.
“I’m… yes, Hai Yu, I’m a little sad,” he manages to say, wiping his red face with his shirt. “Waah, what a beautiful beetle,” he then comments, glancing at Ganyu standing near them, and then turning back his gaze to his daughter, “You really like insects, huh?”
Hai Yu nods quietly, lifting her hand in the air, letting the insect go. She looks tired, rightfully so. She must feel weak, wanting to lay down and sleep for as long as she can, to recover her energy back. But even if her eyelids turn heavy, Hai Yu stays awake, as if waiting for something.
For someone.
Her silence makes Childe worried, and he leans towards her just slightly to see her blue eyes a little bit better.
She then says, “I don’t want my papa to be alone.”
Childe holds his breath in, and gently touches the child’s back, encouraging her to continue.
“He will be sad, just like you…” she mutters, and she struggles with a pout that threatens to turn into tears. Hai Yu sniffs and rubs her eyes with her little fists, fighting away her cries, “Papa doesn’t like to be alone. He will cry. I wanna be with him.”
But as every child, who cannot control the commotions of their heart, Hai Yu ends up crying for her father.
“I-I’m scared,” she sobs, and Childe doesn’t waste any second to hold her and embrace her against his chest.
And he wants to cry again because what else can he do— what more can he say but share tears and hold desperately to the only other thing he loves dearly.
Hai Yu pats with a small, fragile hand on his back even when she cries, just like she did with Zhongli. Childe pets her hair, and shushes her, hoping the hurt in her will find a way to cease, at least for now, at least for a moment.
Childe sees Ganyu wiping away her own tears, and then she steps up closer, yet keeping her distance for respect.
“I am so sorry,” Ganyu mutters, hands clasped together on her chest, “Mr. Childe, if you… need anything, please let us know. It is our duty to protect and help those who Rex Lapis adored.”
Childe presses his lips in a thin line, rocking Hai Yu in his arms.
“I want to see Zhongli,” he says.
Cloud Retainer and Ganyu look at each other, and Ganyu’s nervousness slips through her expression.
“I don’t… think that is viable, Mr. Childe. He’s…”
“I just want to know where Xiao took him,” Childe frowns slightly, looking at Hai Yu. She has her little fingers clasped around his thumb, searching for comfort quietly. “I have the right to know, as well as Hai Yu does.”
Cloud retainer sighs, and walks to stand beside Ganyu like a protective mother of her own.
“He resides inside the Realm of Madame Ping’s teapot. The flow around it helps cease his pain— Mountain Shaper, Moon Carver and the Yaksha Alatus are sharing their own strength to keep Rex Lapis’ erosion at bay. This is allowing him to leave this world with a better peace of mind, or so we hope.”
Childe blinks a few times, wiping finally the last tears that remained on his face.
“Keep his erosion at bay? So… you’re saying they can control the chains of his contamination? Can they eliminate it if they try hard enough?”
“One does not deem it possible. Unfortunately, Rex Lapis’ vessel carries more energy than any of the Adepti can handle. Even with the power of the illuminated beasts all together, his own contamination would end up consuming the bodies of the immortal and possibly turn them into stone.”
Hai Yu looks between the adepti and Childe, and she clings to him with a trembling pout.
“What does that mean, Chai? Will… will papa not return?”
Childe bites his lip hard, threading his fingers on the child’s hair.
He stares at Cloud Retainer and then at Ganyu, hoping to feel some sort of relief in their eyes. All he sees is people that have given up on their lord, and are letting go of him just as Childe himself tried to do three years ago once they parted ways.
He doesn’t like to be alone.
Letting go— Childe could never really do it. He thought forgiving him would allow him to forget, yet the only thing that did was remind him of how much he missed him, how much he misses him, and how he can never lose the love that has settled down for good in his chest.
He can’t let go of him now, not yet, not ever.
“What if… what if there’s someone that can handle such a thing?” he wonders out loud, frowning, “Someone that has cleansed powerful creatures already? With the Adepti’s help, she could...”
“Are you speaking of the traveller?” Ganyu asks, her eyes wide, “We… haven’t seen her for quite some time. We don’t even know if she’s still in Teyvat.”
“And we do not know for sure if that would even work,” Cloud Retainer adds, “We are speaking about the oldest God in the whole Teyvat, once the most powerful amongst The Seven. What do we know if even the traveller could handle such power?”
Childe clenches his fists. He opens his mouth to speak again, but Cloud Retainer stops him in his tracks.
“Yet everything is worth trying if for our lord Rex Lapis,” she then says, nodding slightly. “Human, one will make sure to search and bring her to us. However, he is weak and will get weaker each passing day. One cannot promise time will be on our side.”
Childe knows the hope he feels should be stopped unless he wants a heartbreak, but he cannot help the smile that creeps up his face and the sigh that escapes him. They can try. They can do something to help Zhongli, and it could work. He could have him by his side once again, and everything would be okay.
“What more can we do to extend his time until Lumine arrives?” Childe asks.
The Adepti share a thoughtful silence, yet Hai Yu is the one to interrupt this time.
“Make him laugh!” she points out, her red, teary eyes, seeking for hope as well.
Childe blinks at her comment, and then lets out a shaky, heartfelt laugh, nodding eagerly.
“Hmm, sounds good,” he says, “What do you think I should do?”
“Uhm…” Hai Yu sniffs and wipes her eyes, thinking her answer very thoroughly, “Ah!” she lifts a tiny finger in the air, “Gift him a pretty flower! Papa will be happy with that!”
Having this little ball of fluff makes Childe so much more at ease. His heart might handle the pain for the moment, only if it is because of his daughter’s smile.
Childe leans in and kisses Hai Yu’s forehead, smiling at her.
“Then so I will.”
✧⋅◈⋅─────༺✾༻─────⋅◈⋅✧
Getting in wasn’t easy.
Childe had to convince the whole group of Adepti of letting him in the Realm, even when he was told that he could die inside if Zhongli were to erode fully in his company. Even though Childe didn't fear death and the ending of it all, he couldn't allow himself to leave Hai Yu alone if Zhongli were to really die. Yet, there was something within him that set an odd calm in his mind, and so he was convinced to visit the ex Geo Archon without a drop of doubt.
He didn't know how he imagined the world inside of a literal teapot, but he didn't expect it to be like this.
He appears to be in the middle of mountains and clouds, painted with the world’s sunset. He sees no ending anywhere— the large landscape is only followed by an eternal sky full of orange and pink, no walls of a teapot visible anywhere. This place must be indeed infinite. There are barely trees, mostly big rocks, some of them floating in the air with plants and flowers wrapping around it, and a river passing by, falling towards an eternal path.
Childe is not interested in the scenery as of yet, though. His attention remains in the big antique mansion at a distance, the only construction around. He tries to keep his feelings at bay, to control the turmoil awakening in his stomach and up to his throat, and starts walking towards the place where his beloved must reside.
The silence of the surroundings exalt his own heartbeat resounding in his ears. His steps feel heavy, heading towards the entry of the home. There is a little bell that rings with the breeze on top of the door, and Childe looks at it before he dares to slide the door open, walking inside the house.
There is barely light inside; only some candles illuminating the corners, yet most of the lighting inside comes from the windows and open doors in the backyard. Childe breathes in the scent of perfume, the smell of flowers, hints of tea, and feels a tightness around his heart because everything is so purely Zhongli that he wants nothing than to stay and melt in this remote corner of an upside down world. This is the place that Zhongli wanted to die on.
“What are you doing here?”
Childe flinches and turns around, finding quickly the owner of the voice. Zhongli still has his half dragonic form, apparently not able to turn back to whatever he pleases, but seeing Zhongli again, even if only three days had passed, feels like meeting him once again for the first time— the thought of his uncompared beauty crossing his mind, the idea of holding his body, the fear of falling and perishing in his eyes. Childe has the same heart as he did three years ago, but it seems to break a little as Zhongli steps back and stares at him with a frown.
“Who let you-- How did you get in?” Zhongli asks again, his voice distant and almost angry, “Childe, why the hell are you in here?”
“I… came to see you,” Childe swallows the lump in his throat, giving steps forward, “I couldn’t leave you alone in this state, you--”
“Stop. Leave right now,” Zhongli puts a hand on the air, the tranquillity of the place withering away. His chest heaves as his breath hitches, and his face turns red in anxiety.
Childe’s shoulders fall, his disappointment showing as his own hands fall for a moment. Yet he shakes his head, and walks towards the other once again.
“I can’t leave. I can’t leave you ,” Childe says, frowning, “I came to take care of you.”
“I do not want you here,” Zhongli declares coldly, clenching his fists, “Go away before I make you.”
“Zhongli--”
Childe gives the last step forward before a hand is pushed fiercely against his chest, and he almost trips and falls backwards. He’s so startled he can’t even stop the second push, and it doesn’t intend to end there. Zhongli pushes him again, but Childe catches his arm, which is hit and made to let go.
“Go away! Leave!” Zhongli yells, struggling with the harbinger.
“Z-Zhongli, stop!”
“I do not want to see your face, I don’t want you around, just leave!”
The earth beneath them shakes just a second, but everything seems to stop when Childe manages to catch both of Zhongli’s arms and push him against his own chest, caging him in a tight, desperate embrace. The breathless gasp that escapes from Zhongli’s lips is entwined by a struggling noise, and his hands keep trying to resist Childe.
“Let me go,” Zhongli says, and even if he were to try, the slightest tremble in his voice wouldn’t be able to hide his vulnerability. “Childe--”
“I won’t,” Childe squeezes his eyes shut, holding so strongly onto the other that Zhongli can only breath the scent of his neck against his face. “Don’t push me away, Zhongli, I beg you. Please, please, don’t make me leave you.”
His throat constricts and his chest hurts so much he feels all his life tears will pour right into this single moment, but he holds it, he holds everything as much as he can, he holds Zhongli with all his might and he begs until Zhongli’s hands stop trying to push him away.
“I don’t wanna go,” Childe whispers with a shaky voice, sinking his face in the crook of the god’s neck, “Make me stay, Zhongli, please.”
He sounds pathetic like a child begging for their mother to not leave them alone in the darkness of their room. He doesn’t own pride, dignity, nor anything else but the most urgent feeling that only Zhongli owns of him. He has come all the way here, fighting to be by his side, running behind the possibility of saving him. He cannot let go, even if Zhongli does not want him here.
And finally, soft hands find their way to Childe’s back, and when Zhongli dares weakly to return the hug, Childe allows himself to cry on his shoulder in relief. There is no pushing, no struggling anymore. Only their bodies intertwining like they were meant to be, their breathing accompanying the silence that reigns within these walls. Zhongli doesn’t say anything, yet his arms tighten around Childe as if he had wanted to do so for so long, finally letting his emotions turn into actions.
Childe lets out the air trapped in his lungs with a long sigh, quietly calming his tears down, and letting their bodies slowly swing as they keep their arms around each other. He wants to keep Zhongli here forever, turn their warmth into love and let their hurt hearts mend in it. Yet, as seconds pass by, Zhongli lets go of him still in silence, and parts his body from Childe with his eyes on the ground. Childe opens his mouth to say something, but the god walks away in slow motion, his shoulders still slumped in bitterness.
The harbinger follows him with hesitation, words stuttering in his tongue until he can say something proper and coherent.
“Your- I mean, Hai Yu is feeling better, she’s under Ganyu and Cloud Retainer’s care. I know that I should be taking care of her but I wanted to, uh, to see you, and I know she will be okay with them meanwhile.”
Zhongli just nods and slides a door open, stepping outside towards the yard’s porch. Without muttering a word, Zhongli sits on the wooden floor and stares at the golden sky with a solemn gaze.
“She…” Childe clears up his throat and stays standing behind the sitting man, near the door, “She wanted me to give you this. She thought it would make you happy.”
Childe opens his jacket and takes out the Glaze Lily that he carefully put in his inside pocket. Yet, when he picks it up, there’s only broken petals and a withered vessel in his hand. Childe bites his lip, he obviously must have squished it while they were hugging.
“I’m… Fuck, sorry, it was meant to be a nice gift, I…” Childe closes his eyes and breathes in, trying to calm down. He can’t keep acting like this— If he’s not straight-forward and keeps being nervous and messing things up, Zhongli might not ever listen to him anymore. He must get his shit together, or else—
“Sit down,” Zhongli says, and Childe almost bites his own tongue.
He does as he’s told, following the steps of the god and sits beside him, leaving barely a space between them. They're not touching and his skin already seeks out the warmth of his beloved. Childe looks at Zhongli, but their eyes do not meet yet— not when Zhongli closes his eyes, and seems to ponder on his thoughts more than he should.
“Are the adepti… looking at us right now?” Childe wonders, looking around as if he were to see some giant face in the sky.
Zhongli takes some time to reply, but he does, even if it seems to take effort to do so.
“Only Madame Ping can witness what happens inside her Teapot, although she isn’t watching at this very moment.”
“Ah, I understand…”
Childe nods and shifts in his place. His heart is going faster by the second, and the thoughts on his mind are hard to express in this ambience. Once more, though, he isn’t the one to speak his mind, but Zhongli.
“I am trying to leave by my own means. Why are you trying to take that away from me, Childe?" he asks with a quiet voice.
Childe's expression falls, and he feels his stomach twist in an ugly way. Still, he maintains his composure, speaking in the same tone as the other.
“Because you don’t have to leave at all.”
Only then Zhongli stares back at him.
"I do not think you own any knowledge on my state, it seems."
"I know,"  Childe grimaces, gripping the wood they're sitting on as he leans just slightly closer to the man, "But there might be a way to stop all of this."
"You mean my imminent death?"
"Zhongli,” Childe cuts him out.
The ex-Archon stares at him defiantly, then looks away with a sigh, almost angered by the situation. Childe bites his lip, trying to reach out for him, but his hand stays useless in the middle.
"Lumine can help with your corruption. She has done this before," Childe insists.
Zhongli blinks and his gaze becomes confused, although the curiosity doesn’t go ignored by Childe’s eyes.
“The traveller?”
“Yes. She doesn’t lack power and deft, you know this. I believe Xiao has taken the duty to look out for her and bring her back with us.”
The god grimaces, touches his hands and stares at the cracks on his skin. Marks that will not heal, no matter the powerful force that may touch him to heal.
“Hasn’t she seen enough?” he mutters to himself. Childe doesn’t allow him to ponder more on his ill thoughts.
“Let us save you, Zhongli,” Childe speaks, finally reaching for the man’s hand. He holds it tightly, making the other stare back at him once again, “At least, let us try, please.”
A small, almost inaudible sound leaves from Zhongli’s mouth— it is shaky, as if he were holding back the storming emotions behind his throat. He doesn’t move his hand away, and keeps his eyes on Childe even as he speaks.
"I have tried to push you away because you shouldn't be witnessing whatever thing I turn into— I will act irrationally, I will forget things, I don't know what I might do. I don’t know if my erosion will make me perish violently, or if I will just lay down forever in silence, and yet you come here with a baseless hope that might only break our hearts even more,” he mutters, “When have you become such a little soft soul?"
And even when his words should sound pointy and incriminating, Zhongli's eyes only turn softer, calmer, and they water with the shared hope that Childe has offered him.
Perhaps when I fell in love with you, is all the explanation that Childe can think of.
“You will be okay,” Childe whispers. His heart is racing, and this closeness with Zhongli leaves a trail of goosebumps on his skin. He wants to break the distance, wants to see Zhongli even closer, feel him even closer.
“Why are you so sure?”
“I trust Lumine— And I trust you.”
“I do not have any control over myself anymore, you must know that, Childe.”
Childe leans closer, and closer, until he rests his forehead on Zhongli’s own, and breathes in the fragile gasp that escapes the lips of a God.
“Then let me help you.”
The fragility of the moment scares him, yet he wants to hold on as much as he can to this. Zhongli trembles in the proximity and Childe can feel it in his own skin— the way he hesitates, tries to move his hand away, yet can’t bring himself to fully do it.
“Childe, what are you doing…?”
It is a whisper, comes out weakly, more of a plea than a wonder. Childe meets the light in Zhongli’s eyes and keeps staring, wishing their interlocked gaze doesn’t break ever again.
“In your letter,” Childe speaks quietly, holding Zhongli’s hand gently, “It sounded like… like you still love me.”
He sees the surprise and the heat arise on Zhongli’s face, turning it into a pretty rose shade. However, his surprise is not a shy, embarrassed one, but a scared and panicky one that intends to become sorrowful under the golden orbs.
“It… did?” Zhongli asks in a small tone.
“Yeah,” the harbinger breathes out shakily.
Zhongli lowers his gaze, and the proximity of their faces is lost as he turns his head to the side, slightly moving his body away. He doesn’t say anything, and although it should count as rejection, his hand stays still under the warmth of Childe’s one. Childe doesn’t want to miss it anymore.
“Do you?” he wonders out loud.
Zhongli visibly swallows. “Do I what?”
“Do you still love me?”
If the earth spoke, it would do it through Zhongli’s eyes. If the abstract life had a way to express its feelings, it would do it through Zhongli’s shaky lips as he breathes. The eternal sunlight places itself on Zhongli’s form, and even when his eyes become shiny and rosy at the corners, sad and fearful, Childe can see love in the way he just simply exists.
“Ajax,” Zhongli mutters slowly, “I’ll always do.”
After three years, it all feels the same. Childe has been trying to push it all away for fear, stupid resentment and hardheaded emotions. Perhaps Zhongli was the same— to hold it all in as the hope slowly withers in the garden of their hearts, and becomes nothing but a yearning fog. But here he is— here they are, wearing broken hearts on their hands, nothing but the nudity of their souls to patch them up.
Childe feels like crying for feeling so much, and having so much to give and receive, and oh Gods, he holds Zhongli deeper onto his chest and just...
Kisses him.
He kisses him with the need that he had the last time he missed him, having followed him every single day after they broke up. Childe kisses Zhongli with a passion so vivid it feels overwhelming, yet the desire to continue melting against him is so big that he forgets how to breathe, and doesn’t care a single bit. His hands find comfort in Zhongli’s face, breathing in all the sounds that could escape his lover’s mouth.
And the best part is that Zhongli kisses him back, with tearful desperation, laying down all his hurt aside just by a mere second, but it is enough for the moment. Zhongli cries, and kisses him, and then cries some more, as if the fragile body of a heartbroken god isn’t able to contain all the human emotions that explode within.
It starts slowly, then it all at once— devastatingly beautiful, how their lips chase one another, and find their ways like they were always meant to be. Yet there’s always the fear, the negation, the feeling of abandonment, and when Childe thought he could happily perish against the lover of his life, Zhongli pulls away with a struggling noise.
“S-stop, stop,” Zhongli gasps, shaking his head, “Why are you doing this? Why--”
Childe frowns, “Zhongli?”
“—If this is your way of helping me out of pity, I don’t want it.”
Childe holds Zhongli’s face once again, forcing him to meet his eyes.
“Zhongli, I love you,” he firmly says, the frustration building on his throat, “I adore you with all my heart. How could I be doing this out of pity?”
The statement makes Zhongli hiccup, his teary eyes searching for lies behind Childe’s mask, but he finds no mask, no lies, only the person that loved him like no one else did three years ago. Childe notices the way Zhongli struggles with the confirmation as if not believing it, but the hope that blooms in his rosy cheeks translates even without words.
“But you… You told me you did not love me anymore,” Zhongli mutters as vulnerable as anyone can be.
“What?”
“When you said that you forgave me, because that meant to let go of me,” the God twitches in place with visibly pain, like the words he speaks are just enough to bleed out his heart.
Childe blinks once, his agitated breath becoming slower as everything comes together, and his understandment points his guilt as well.
“I said I forgave you because I hold no grudges against you for what happened, and yes I thought that that meant I was going to forget you as well,” Childe caresses the man’s face, running a finger where a slight crack has broken the skin on his cheekbone, “But forgiving you only gave me more reasons to miss you, and I realised that I would never be able to feel love the way I feel it with you.”
Zhongli’s tense shoulders fall and the shape of his pupils dilate as the realisation hits him. The rain falling from his eyes keeps stormy, yet the glowing gold becomes more apparent in his eyes as the softening expression comes into view. The dark passing cloud on Zhongli’s mind insists, even if he wants to hold onto dear hope.
“Do you mean it?”
“I’ll always mean it.”
Zhongli bites his lip and closes his eyes, reaching for Childe’s chest to cling there with trembling hands.
“Then if you do, if you truly love me like I love you…” a quiet sob escapes him, and he bends his torso even more against the other, “T-then isn’t it all… even more so tragic?”
Childe feels a lump forming in his throat, and he embraces the man while shaking his head, rubbing Zhongli’s head beside his horns.
“It means we can try it all again,” Childe sniffs, attempting frantically to comfort his lover, “It- It means we can--”
“I’m going to die, Ajax,” Zhongli says, “It is too late.”
“No ,” Childe blurts out, unable to accept it, “Look at me, Zhongli.” The Adeptus doesn’t lift his face, and so Childe insists, gently, “My darling, please, look at me.”
Then Zhongli does, and Childe tries so hard not to cry on the spot.
“Let me love you again, and we’ll figure it out in the middle.”