Remember Me at Summer's End [ZhongChi/TartaLi]

Chapter 3 - A Night (Or Two) at the Opera

15th Day, 8th Month

Childe leaps up the stairs two at a time, humming the opening to the opera he and Zhongli have booked for the evening. While the day had been less dreary than the previous, having found a small Abyss Order hideout to spend his time clearing out, work is over and a night out with Zhongli awaits. When Childe arose from their shared bed, Zhongli had still been asleep, and Childe pressed a kiss to his cheek before slipping out, taking care not to wake the sleeping dragon from his slumber.

Zhongli is beautiful when he sleeps — the defined angle of his jawbone, his eyelashes fluttering and his mouth forming soundless words as he dreams, his face framed by the sea of hair fanning out underneath him — but even better awake, and Childe skids to a halt at the front door, fumbling his keys and jamming them into the lock.

The door swings open and he calls into the apartment. "Hey, I'm back! You here?"

There's a shuffling from the living room and the soft thud of a closing book. "Ajax, you are home earlier than expected." Zhongli's head appears from behind the door, followed by the rest of him. "My apologies, I would have prepared some tea, had I known you were due to return."

Childe pulls his boots off, trading them for his slippers before leaping onto Zhongli, smothering him in a bone-crushing hug.

Childe is not clingy. But after Zhongli left the previous afternoon, returning only after Childe was already asleep, it's been over a day since they've last spoken, and he's drawn to Zhongli's presence like a hilichurl to flame.

"Well it's a good job I don't care about the tea, then," he mumbles into Zhongli's neck.

Zhongli hums softly and wraps his arms around Childe's waist. He pulls them closer, placing a kiss both warm and ticklish on Childe's earlobe before letting his chin rest on Childe's shoulder. It's wise to take pleasure in these small moments, for their time together before Childe is once again whisked away to distant shores is far from infinite.

The burdens of the finite are all too omnipresent.

After lingering a moment, Zhongli pulls back. "While you may not currently care for tea, I find myself in need of some refreshment. Come, it would please me to hear about your day."

"Fine, fine. I said I'd cook tonight anyway — this time I will master that soup you're always going on about."

"I do not doubt it," says Zhongli, "as soon as you master the balance of neither under nor over boiling the bamboo, your prowess at preparing it shall be unmatched by most."

"Except for yourself, you mean."

"Hmm..." Zhongli lifts a finger to the air. "This may be my own opinion, but it seems that today has brought with it a chill rather uncharacteristic of this time of year, do you not think?"

"Hey, don't change the subject!"

"Yes... it is rather cold."

Childe sighs, admitting defeat.

Stubborn old Archon.

They trail into the kitchen and while Zhongli fetches pre-prepared meat and sets a kettle of water on the stove, Childe rifles through the cupboards, pulls out remaining ingredients and begins to slice the bamboo shoots evenly, just as Zhongli likes. The knife thuds softly against wood as Zhongli slinks up to embrace him from behind, propping his head on Childe's shoulder to grant him a first-class view of Childe's work.

"Missed me that badly, huh?" says Childe, tossing the pieces he's finished chopping into a bowl.

"Perhaps. And I believe you still owe me a recollection of your day, unless... you are breaking our agreement?"