Dead Dove (Do Not Eat) [ZhongChi]

Head Torn

The atmosphere felt odd when Zhongli woke up. He ran his hand over the bed beside him. Childe was gone. Unusual. He stood up and got dressed, walking outside of the room and following his instincts. They generally weren't wrong. 

"He's not going to come." 

"That's what you think." 

"Don't...don't touch me!" 

Zhongli planned on waiting for the conversation to continue but his patience was wearing thin. He kicked the door right off its hinges, watching as it fell down. So much for threatening them. This godforsaken harbinger still had the audacity to ignore his warning. 

"I wouldn't move if I were you," Pantalone warned, placing the knife by Childe's throat. His face was flushed and his clothes were a mess. Was he drugged? 

"You're a fool," Zhongli sneered. "I don't know what you need me for but you're an absolute idiot if you think blackmail will make me do a single thing you want." Zhongli's veins popped out of his hands as he tried to hold back the rage. "I'll only tell you once. Let go of Tartaglia." 

Pantalone clung to him tighter, pressing the blade further against his neck. Childe felt warm blood trail down his skin. He could barely gulp for air or he'd make the scratch worse. Zhongli's eyes narrowed and he placed his hand on the glass with the 'original' Dottore hiding inside it. Pantalone's panic crossed his face for a moment. He dropped the knife upon seeing the glass shatter in Zhongli's hand. 

"But...it's bulletproof...reinforced...shatter resistant..." 

"Heh," Childe couldn't help but laugh. "They don't call him a dragon for nothing." 

Zhongli caught the body in his arm. Now both of them had a hostage. 

"Don't-" Pantalone panicked. 

"I warned you and you still touched what was mine," Zhongli ran his hand through this Dottore's hair. He grabbed a fistful. 

"Please-" 

"I wonder," Zhongli's eye twitched as his hair cast a shadow over his face, "did you listen to Tartaglia when he told you not to touch him?" His veins popped out of his arm with the grip he had on Dottore's head. The sound of tearing filled the room even though neither Childe nor Pantalone had registered what was ripping. Childe blinked and felt warm drops of liquid on his cheek. He glanced to the side then back to Zhongli, now holding a headless man. He threw the 'original' Dottore toward Pantalone as a steady stream of blood squirted into the air. Pantalone pushed Childe to the side to grab the body. He held it in his arms, sinking to the ground, fumbling around for the head. His glasses were covered in blood. He couldn't see. 

"Looking for this?" Zhongli threw the head at his face, shattering his glasses so the glass would wound his eyes. He screamed or tried to, but firm nails dug into his skin tearing out his throat. 

"Zhongli-" Childe stumbled forward to grab his arm. The drug in his system made it difficult to move his limbs. "Zhongli?" 

Zhongli stepped forward to catch Childe. He picked him up in one arm and walked out. Childe clung to his neck, closing his eyes and hiding his face in his hair. 

"Ah! Mr. Morax...Sir...uhm..." Baizhu glanced into the room. He'd come out to find out who had screamed but Zhongli grabbed his chin and forced his head back to face him so he couldn't get a good look inside that door. 

"Baizhu, I don't believe we've formally met," Zhongli smiled warmly, but it didn't compliment the blood trailing down his face. 

Oh shit. This is how I die. He saw me see him and now he wants to bury me 6 feet under. Holy shit. Maybe it's even simpler than that. He knows I'm a clone, right? He doesn't want any more Pantalones out in the world. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

"Thank you."

For what? Not telling Dottore about the thing in the garden?

"I believe you've treated Tartaglia before, yes?" Zhongli continued smiling. 

"Oh, uhm, yes?" Baizhu nodded and adjusted his glasses. 

"Great," Zhongli placed his hand on Baizhu's shoulder. He lowered his voice an octave which sent shivers down Baizhu's spine. "Then you can do it again." 

"Of course," Baizhu forced out, turning around to go back to Dottore's room with all the equipment. 

"Oh, and Baizhu?" 

"Yes, Mr. Morax, Sir?" Baizhu glanced over his shoulder. 

"Might I suggest wearing contacts," his face contorted into a disgusted expression. "You look too similar to someone I'm not fond of with those." 

"Ah, mhmm..." Baizhu took off his glasses and hung them off his lab coat. He walked a bit quicker to get back to Dottore. Not that it would help him. But he sure didn't want to be in the same space as Zhongli alone.