zhongli x childe short stories

what was i made for?

CW: self esteem issues, grief related eating problems, subtle PTSD symptoms, trauma, and depression symptoms

An exploration of Childe's feelings post osial. This is a hurt/comfort fic. 

Uses "what was i made for?" from the Barbie movie as a writing prompt

As he placed his into her hand, Childe felt his own heart shatter.

No. Why did it have to be him? Of all the people in this goddamn country, it had to be him. The man with whom he'd spent every spare minute and had run through his mind every second they were apart. It was just Childe's luck.

Of course, Zhongli was only using him. Of course, he wasn't actually seeking out Childe's company because what, he liked him? What a joke. But did Zhongli really have to spend so much time with him? Did he really have to look at him like that, and make him feel like he was someone special? That Zhongli had wanted whatever the fuck they were doing just as much as he did?

Oh well. There were no excuses to be made for the god now. Zhongli was just seeing that his plan would be carried through. It was extra insurance for him, and extra heartbreak for Childe. He was just making sure that he had Childe wrapped around his finger tightly enough to ensure that even at the end of it all, he wouldn't have to suffer the wrath of an angry harbinger.

After all, who'd deliberately hurt someone they were head over heels for? Not Childe. Not when he knew they loved him, and not when he loved them.

And how cruel the whole ordeal was. There was no doubt that Zhongli was some ancient war god now. The guy sure knew how to strategize. I mean, just look at that! Months and months of making Childe feel like he was floating. That perfect visage. Of course, Childe would fall for it. Everyone did. Zhongli couldn't take a step outside without making someone swoon, but now Childe was the one being pegged for being a disturbance to the peace. Completely unfair.

Unfair, just like Zhongli's perfect face. With his perfect eyebrows and perfect nose and perfect, perfect lips. And those eyes. The eyes that haunted Childe's greatest dreams. How could he not have known? Those beautiful eyes, the color of gold and wealth and mora and everything good in the world, reminiscent of when the sun was at that perfect spot in the sky that made the whole world glow. Lined with that lovely red, Zhongli was divine. Of course he was.

The smooth baritone of his voice rumbling through Childe's bones. Who could have ever stood a chance? Perfect manners and perfect posture. Faux vision dangling right in the middle of his unfair waist, swaying temptingly as he walked, at the back of his perfectly tailored coat. Zhongli really knew how to monopolize every asset he had. What else was to be expected of the lord of commerce?

Of course, of course, of course.

And boy, was he smart. Smart, strategizing Zhongli with his dirty little schemes. There was really no need to go through the trouble of wining and dining Childe for months. Zhongli always had the advantage. Childe never stood a chance.

It wasn't that he'd fallen for Zhongli. It was that Zhongli fucking tripped him. Now he was going down, down, down, down, falling down a hole that this time, he wasn't surviving.

But it wasn't just Zhongli that lied. It was the Tsaritsa as well. The same Tsaritsa that Childe had pledged his life to. How was that fair? Didn't she believe in him enough to know that he'd do anything she'd ask of him? Was he doing a bad job? What did Signora have that he didn't? She already got her gnosis. All too easily, might he add. Plucked from the chest of a weak god who didn't even try to defend himself. And then she'd sauntered about, so proud of a victory she didn't even work for.