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The Archons are eternally young, their beauty always preserved in an artifactual kind of way. It’s the same for Zhongli, his body evolving with the eons passing but always the same man. In the current generation, the Archon takes the form of a wealthy, but quite forgetful, young gentleman who likes to wander. Zhongli only has a handful of memories, core ones that have been ingrained deep into his consciousness. A couple of them are ones from millions of years ago, from the Archon War of Guizhong and post-war with Barbatos. Of his current life, Zhongli has five and one more, the five times a particular red-headed Fatui could have enamored him and the only time he noticed.
───────
Zhongli opens his eyes and the sky’s blue, no, it might be azure.
He squints, the sunlight getting brighter, struggling to keep the light out of his eyes with only his arm as a shield. He watches with an intent expression, the intensity of his gaze broken with the sound of a light-hearted giggle next to him. He turns his head, hair ruffled by the wind, eyes falling upon the soft face of a ginger-haired male beside him. Childe has his clothes messy as always, never putting in the extra effort to look presentable for Zhongli and perhaps, that’s his appeal. He has grass flowers tangled between strands of his hair, his hair starting to look like a forest of its own.
“What?” Zhongli frowns, the tips of his ears reddening in embarrassment at the thought of Childe laughing at him. It’s been a couple of months since the Fatui Harbinger has graced the Archon with his presence in Liyue, promising peace. It’s no anomaly to have the mischievous male knock on his door during lunch breaks or drag him out of his office to, as he’s done today, to an empty spot up in the mountains.
“You’ve always got this thoughtful expression on your face, like you’re thinking about something,” Childe laughs, wiggling his eyebrows. “Does this world really have enough things to think about?” the red-head props himself up onto his elbow, cheek against the edge of his palm with an intrigued expression. A soft sound slips out of Zhongli’s lips, like a hum, as he turns his head back. He watches the clouds drifting in and out of his gaze.
“It’s a vast world, I’m sure there’s much to think of. Me, in particular, I’m blank on most occasions,” Zhongli admits. The Archon finds himself a boring person, always adhering to some form of schedule, never finding the time or willpower to experiment with his life. He expects fully for the conversation to end just there, as it would with any other person who tries to chat him up.
“You’re a funny one,” Childe chortles, hoisting himself up. He folds his legs in, hands tight on his calves. He watches Zhongli with a gentle expression, a certain glimmer in his eyes. It’d be hard to read without noticing the way his neck starts to heat up, his pale skin coloured crimson. “Weird pair, aren’t we? A Harbinger and the Geo Archon.”
“Odd things do happen at times,” Zhongli pushes himself up, ruffling his hair. He undoes his low ponytail, letting his loose locks breathe a little. He takes a deep breath. It must have been a long time since he’s really felt at ease. When he turns his gaze to Childe, a bright grin on his face, he catches the other male watching him with dilated pupils, face oddly flushed. “I do like spending time with you.”
Zhongli watches as Childe’s Adam’s apple struggles to go down, as if his heart’s been lodged deep up his throat. The Harbinger tries to compose himself once again, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he finishes with a tiny smirk. The Archon purses his lips, heart throbbing awfully loudly in his ears, fixated on the idea of the feeling of Childe’s slim waist around the curve of his fingers.
Zhongli doesn’t think about this ever again.
───────
Zhongli starts to realise Childe isn’t the most reliable person in the bunch. He raises his head groggily to the sound of shocked gasps and panicked yelling in Northland Bank. He feels a faint rumbling beneath his feet, like the tremors of an earthquake. He stands, rubbing the crust out of his eyes, saliva dried on the corner of his mouth. He stumbles outside, his eyes widening in utter shock. The first thing he notices is the deathly shade of ashen grey that’s the sky and then it’s the monstrous hiss of a thousand serpents combined that sends chills running down the length of his spine. He grips onto the railings, bending down, careening his neck, all until he finds a massive serpent having emerged from the Sea of Clouds. “...What?”
At the sight of a purple silhouette rising in front of the multi-headed monster, Zhongli feels a pang of betrayal pierce his chest. He grips onto his chest, trying to calm his nerves, the adrenaline driving him insane. As horrible as his eyesight may be, a demonic figure such as that one is unmistakable. The serpent growls and in a flash, the Harbinger is gone. Zhongli flips himself around, closing his eyes tight. His mind races, trying to organise his thoughts as a headache starts to ache more prominently in the midst of his crisis.
“We meet again,” and Zhongli’s eyes snap open at the speed of light. He stares up, a look of terror in his eyes. In front of him stands Childe, in his normal form with half-damaged Electro-resistant armour, a shattered mask lying at his feet. His hair is wet and he looks much too good with it, considering the fact that he’s literally destroying an entire city. Zhongli watches with exhausted eyes.
Childe runs his fingers through his hair, slicked back hair revealing his forehead, a look that shouldn’t be driving Zhongli crazy. “I have business to do with you. Shall we?” Zhongli pushes past the hand that the Harbinger offers, rolling his eyes dismissively, very well aware of the drumming of his heart faster than the rhythmic tapping of the heavy rain. Inside Northland Bank is a woman with skin almost as pale as her white hair, eyes with a piercing, almost mocking stare. She folds her arms, strutting forward with an air of regality and confidence. She raises her eyebrow and reaches out one hand toward Zhongli with a smug smile, “The Gnosis, Rex Lapis.”
“So it’s always been about this?” Zhongli laughs, stopping abruptly to steal a peek at Childe from the corner of his eyes. “If that’s what you want, then.”
Without a word of warning, Zhongli clutches onto his chest, muttering inaudible chants under his breath. He feels a surge of heat concentrate at a specific location in his chest, his skin starting to burn with the feeling of a solid object penetrating his skin. Zhongli winces, his eyes closing tighter and tighter as he copes with the pain. Childe can’t bring himself to watch, biting down on his lip with guilt weighing down on him, making a face at any of the staff who dares stare at him for too long.
“As you seek,” Zhongli offers the Gnosis to Signora, coughing loudly. He’s still on his feet, somehow, massaging his chest in an attempt to ease the achiness. Signora watches the Gnosis with a prideful, almost lustful glint in her eyes, nodding approvingly.
“I hope the Fatui won’t be going against their word anymore,” and those words are directed at Childe a little too much. Their eyes meet and no one else notices but them, but Childe feels a shiver even with Zhongli presented so weakly in front of him. He averts his gaze, Signora diverting Zhongli’s attention back on her. Truthfully, Zhongli isn’t so sure what kind of contract he’s signed himself up for but it’s a problem for later. It must’ve already been signed off somewhere into his conscience as the God of Contracts, he’d know if there’s something wrong. Zhongli dusts his coat on the way outside, noticing the serpent having vanished.
He furrows his eyebrows at the sight, disturbed by the calm in the city. It’s a lot like the eerie silence after a raging storm, maybe like they’ve been put under a spell. It must be for the best, he decides, as the sky clears up. He’s jolted back to reality with the feel of someone’s cold hand on his shoulder.
“Childe,” Zhongli mumbles in a soft voice. The bottom of his eyelids pull up a little, the edges of his lips curving barely. It isn’t enough to call it a smile, only an acknowledgement if anyone notices the change.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t have an option,” Childe retracts his hand, lowering his gaze. Zhongli’s gaze falls onto the Harbinger’s thighs where his pants cling tightly to his skin, how much of his abdomen has parted to reveal his well-worked abs. Before he can think, Zhongli closes his eyes. He mustn’t think.
“You did what you had to.”
And so, Zhongli turns his back to Childe and walks, sliding his hand against the damp railings, something in his gaze lingering with a vague sadness.
───────
Months pass after the incident and Zhongli is not once approached by the Harbinger. He’s nowhere to be found, not fighting Treasure Hoarders or even heard of by the Fatui working in the Northland Bank. Zhongli finds himself spending too many hours with his mind on Childe, the tip of his pen tracing Childe’s name in cursive against documents longingly, looking up to the mountains where he can almost see them together.
It should be illegal to think about an enemy this way but the Archon can’t help himself. There’s no way the pleading look in Childe’s eyes could have been a facade, that he really meant it when he caused all that chaos. It’s something Zhongli could never believe, even if the Harbinger becomes the shallowest of human beings. It’s on a swelteringly hot day one summer when Zhongli’s broken out of his stupor with the loud ringing of the landline. He picks up the phone, not in the mood for attending to business until he recognises Childe’s cough on the other side of the phone.
“Childe?!” Zhongli stands, sending a few papers flying while he’s caught up with his surprise. He grips onto the edge of his desk anticipatively.
“Hey, yeah, it’s me,” Childe mumbles in a weak voice. “I may have gotten myself in a bit of a pickle, if you don’t mind helping me. I’ll tell you where I am.”
Zhongli isn’t in love, is what the Archon tries to remind himself time and time again which falls apart when he finds himself, frantic, in the middle of a stone path in Qingce Village, eyes darting around in search for a man he owes nothing but condemnation to. The village is a small, quaint one with wooden houses on a cliff side. Zhongli questions locals, gripping onto their shoulders roughly to grab their attention, stumbling around. Eventually, he manages to find the house he’s been looking for, bursting through the door of a home tucked away amongst bamboo, in the corner of the village.
“Childe,” Zhongli huffs, trying to catch his breath. And there he is, the dopey-grinned troublemaker wearing a loose shirt and pants, a wet cloth pressed to his forehead. He’s been staring at the door, as if he’s been awaiting Zhongli’s arrival, face burning up. “Childe,” Zhongli’s voice softens into a whisper as he nears the bed. He bends, pressing his palm against Childe’s forehead, retracting his hand at the heat.
“You have a fever!” Zhongli babbles, pushing Childe back down onto the bed. Zhongli pulls a chair under him, sitting down by the Harbinger’s side with an anxious expression. “Haven’t you been taking care of yourself?! It’s been months since the incident and it’s in the middle of summer!”
“For someone who I believe hated me, you sure do travel fast with one phone call,” Childe teases, angling his face away. Zhongli’s lips part in confusion. He blinks, fidgeting with his fingers subconsciously. Upon an epiphany, his expression softens. “You could have contacted me,” Zhongli hesitantly reaches his hand for Childe’s hair, running it through his fingers. Childe doesn’t retreat, or even flinch for that matter. He takes his pillow between his thighs, curling into a ball like a kid.
“Was I supposed to know how to face you?”
“And so the reason I’m here right now is not because you’re on the verge of death and have no idea what to do with yourself?” Zhongli raises an eyebrow skeptically.
“Of course, I’m not that bad at taking care of myself!” Childe sits up, slapping Zhongli’s hand away in the process. He turns with a kiddish pout, “I’ve been on my own all these months, you know?! I just… Wanted to see you again?”
“I don’t understand why you chose to do it this way,” Zhongli makes a face. “You could have visited me when you were better… Not that I’m not relieved you contacted me earlier,” Zhongli’s voice softens into a hush. Childe smirks, taking Zhongli’s hand and pressing it against his cheek.
“Make me better, then?” Childe suggests with a hint of disguised persuasiveness. Zhongli freezes for a couple of moments, watching the way sunlight streams through the peeps between the logs on the roof, the ocean blue in the other male’s eyes shining lustrously. A smile wears itself on the Archon’s lips. “Okay.”
Zhongli helps Childe back into bed, shrugging his coat off and hanging it against a metal hook on the wall. He doesn’t notice Childe’s enamored gaze on him, tracing the length of his unexpectedly well-built figure, lustful with a tinge of greed. When Zhongli turns, Childe does too, face red but not so much from the heat of the fever. “Should I get you something to eat? Then you can tell me how this happened so suddenly,” Zhongli remarks distractedly, wondering why Childe’s so jumpy. Childe nods vigorously which Zhongli can’t help but chuckle to, searching around the house for any vegetables.
Upon finding nothing to work with, Zhongli decides to step outside, finding a few bamboo shoots and chunks of raw boar meat on a bamboo straw table. He questions a villager next to him, checking to see if the ingredients are free for use which he gets a positive response to, face brightening at the sound. Readying himself, he ties his hair up onto a bun, clapping the dirt off his hands and getting to work. “It’s sudden,” Zhongli mutters under his breath as he chops up the ingredients and prepares a pot of boiling water on the makeshift stone stove by his feet. “I didn’t think he’d contact me ever again.” As he slowly dumps the vegetables into the soup broth, he muffles a yawn, stretching his back. He rubs his eyes, starting to realise how much his work has worn him down. Over a separate fire, he heats up the meat which he fries lightly with a wooden spoon, then dunking them into his soup.
He squats, stirring it around distractedly. An image of Childe’s vulnerable, frail state flashes in his mind from earlier. His heart rate quickens. Zhongli folds, burying his face in between his thighs, tips of his ears crimson. “Why am I thinking about things like this after all this time?” Zhongli groans, disappointed at the thought of him losing his cool so easily. He stands, pouring the soup into a stone bowl. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself before he enters the house again. It takes him a few moments to process the sight in front of him, of Childe with his shirt off and back sweaty. There are several dried scars and bruises across the length of his back, an open cut on the back of his neck. Zhongli pauses, his chest tightening as several lewd, unwanted thoughts come flooding his brain.
“Won’t you be cold?” Zhongli stammers, holding the bowl of soup out to Childe.
“Mm, smells good,” Childe responds, leaning in towards Zhongli as he sniffs the food. He doesn’t respond to Zhongli’s statement, gesturing towards the seat next to him on the bed. Zhongli understands the signal, taking a seat. Childe wipes the perspiration of his limbs with his shirt, throwing it off the bed carelessly. Like a greedy fox, Childe grabs the soup bowl in his hands and takes a sip. With the gentle flavours of the bamboo eventually overlapped by the earthiness of the herbs and gaminess of the boar, Childe gulps it down with no problem.
“You’re better than I thought it would be,” Childe shrugs, lying back down in bed. Zhongli grunts at the idea of the other male having underestimated his abilities. He stands, about to put the cutlery away when Childe tugs at his shirt.
“You’re not gonna leave, are you?”
A pang of affection shoots through Zhongli’s heart, something like Cupid’s arrow. Zhongli shakes his head, scurrying out. He slams the bowl against the table a little too loudly, the racing of his heart driving him insane for the hundredth time in the past two hours. He clasps his palm against his lips, “I’ve forgotten how his words drive me mad.” Zhongli kneels beside the bed, settling down onto the side of his thigh, one leg crossed over the other. He finds Childe, eyes closed and breathing slowed, facing him, like he’s asleep. The Archon sighs longingly, pushing the fringe away from Childe’s eyes. He rests his chin against the bed, eventually tilting it. He observes Childe. “You’ve fallen asleep so quickly, you wouldn’t have known if I left your side.”
For a brief second, the Archon catches Childe flinch. His hands snake down the length of Childe’s neck and then his body until they end at his hand. “But I won’t. Not now.”
Zhongli closes his eyes, the comfortable silence lulling him to sleep. “I find it funny that I have these unexplainable feelings for you even when we barely interact. You’d never understand what I’ve done all these months waiting for you.”
Childe only opens his eyes when he hears Zhongli’s snoring. He knows he does, after all those times of walking on him fast asleep on his desk. Childe can’t stop himself from smiling like a content toddler, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he interlocks their fingers. “You’re in love with me. You’re so in love with me.” Childe repeats softly until he gets used to the feeling of those sweet, sweet words on his lips.
───────
“You look nervous,” Childe rests his hands over Zhongli’s shoulders, pecking him on the cheek. Zhongli stares at himself in the mirror, face stiffened and his aura stoic as it usually is. Even so, Childe sees him as the most gorgeous man in the world.
“I’m fine,” Zhongli forces a close-lipped smile, irises looking up to meet Childe’s. Childe raises an eyebrow, skeptical about the comment. He tip-toes bending over the chair to press his lips against his fiancés. He pulls away with a bright grin, “I can’t wait to get married to you. I’ve been waiting for today since basically the past thirty years of my life.”
“I could say the same, my love,” Zhongli caresses Childe’s cheek with his palm. Childe shifts away, pulling Zhongli up with his palm. He lowers his head, touching their foreheads affectionately, supporting his fiancé’s jaw with his hands. Zhongli holds him by his waist, a soft smile on his face. “You look good with your hair gelled like that,” Childe’s deep voice rumbles as he finishes with a light-hearted chuckle.
“Okay.”
The lovers are interrupted by their door suddenly being burst open, Xiao at the door with his tie almost coming undone and looking rather awkward having been stuffed into a suit. Childe and Zhongli stare at the Adeptus as he tries to catch his breath. He points out a warning finger at the couple, “You better get your asses down and get married or my boyfriend’s going to drain your entire alcohol supply.”
As the couple turn to look at each other in amusement, the Adeptus eventually comes storming back, peeking his head in through the door. “Throw the bouquet my direction, thanks,” he orders before he’s off again.
The couple’s laughter fills the air.
One’s wedding, especially to one’s first and only love, must be the most special event in their life. For Zhongli, it’s the same and it must be why it’s one of his few most valued memories. Their wedding is organised toward the North of Liyue Harbour, in the middle of the plaza where most important celebrations are held. Liyue’s community is tight-knit where most citizens know each other. The wedding is attended by Zhongli and Childe’s closest associates, of course the Adepti and the Eleven Harbingers who still question Childe how he’s managed to fall for the Geo Archon of Liyue. The image of walking down the aisle is freshest in Zhongli’s mind out of all else.
He remembers the scenery of his close friends seated in chairs along the sides of a bright white carpet with intricacies woven in gold, a wedding arch decorated with glaze lilies toward the center of the plaza. Childe watches him with a gentle glimmer in his eyes, Venti standing next to him in a teal suit and hair neatly done for once. “Hey, Zhongli!” Venti waves obnoxiously loud, breaking any romantic tension there might have been. Zhongli muffles a laugh, quickening his pace a tiny bit. Klee and Diona prance behind him, scattering flowers while Qiqi follows them with heavier, more tired steps, not any less excited though.
Zhongli takes a stand in front of Childe. They smile at each other, Childe already driven to the verge of tears. Venti scrunches his nose, flipping through the book in his hands. “Do you… er…” and then he flings it away.
“Do you, Zhongli, take Childe as your lawfully-wedded husband?” Venti questions, tilting his head with an innocent smile as if he literally hasn’t ditched reciting an entire passage of wedding vows. Zhongli nods, pretty much expecting this kind of situation when he appointed Venti as his wedding officiator.
“And do you, Childe, take Zhongli as your lawfully-wedded husband?” Venti turns to Childe, stumbling on his words. Childe nods, “Yeah.”
“Now kiss,” Venti raises his arms into the air and Childe steps forward, pulling Zhongli in for an affectionate kiss. Zhongli takes his waist into his hands, pulling him in closer and closing any distance that might have been between them. Childe’s hands shift to the top of his husband’s neck, smiling against their moving lips. When they part, Childe can’t help himself but giggle joyously. “You’re finally mine,” he licks his lips.
Zhongli notices how he’s never admired Childe up close, even after the millions of times they’ve held each other close. His expression softens, Childe’s fringe tickling his face. Oh, how he’d let himself get lost in those eyes every time he meets them. Expectedly so, it’s Venti’s savage screaming that breaks them apart, demanding for the party to be started. The guests separate, Venti popping bottles of champagne in the middle of the crowd in toast to the newly-wedded couple.
Childe and Zhongli don’t leave each other’s arms that day, not even till the very end. During the bouquet tossing, Childe unintentionally tosses it in the opposite direction of Xiao, hearing a loud cuss amongst the crowd. When he turns, he hears a thud, flinching. His eyes widen at the sight of Venti having unceremoniously fallen on the crowd with the flowers between his teeth, half the bouquet having fallen apart around him with a drunken smirk on his face. “Xiao, we can be husbands now!”
They earn Xiao’s blessings at the end of the day.
───────
It’s around his late fifties that Childe’s face starts to shrivel up and wrinkle, considerably late for someone who’s always getting his hands dirty. Zhongli, of course, still wears a youthful face, never ageing although Childe always whines to him about this “privilege”. The ginger male has always considered himself more attractive than the rest of his associates, or at least most of the general population so ageing has never sat right with him.
Zhongli cooks breakfast, humming under his breath, as he fries the eggs. Their edges brown, vegetables sizzling in the pan next to it. He looks up, out of his apartment window where he can see the scenery of Liyue. Not a lot has changed in thirty years, or not a lot that he’d be able to recall if he tries. He hears Childe’s lazy footsteps slink out of the bedroom and then a muffled thud on the couch. Zhongli’s ears perk happily like a dog’s. “Morning, love.”
He doesn’t receive a response. Zhongli figures he must be sleepy as he usually is. Still in his chirpy mood, Zhongli prepares the rice bowl and a pair of chopsticks for himself as long as a spoon for Childe. Thirty years together and Childe is yet to master the art of wielding two sticks. Zhongli brings the food out to the coffee table in the living room, sitting down beside his boyfriend who doesn’t do so much as look up at him. Childe keeps his gaze low, a scowl curling his lips down. “Hey, good morning,” Zhongli beckons, leaning in to give his husband a kiss but Childe nudges him away.
“What’s wrong?” Zhongli adjusts his position, anxiety lingering in his tone. Childe shakes his head, covering his face with his hands, calloused and skin peeling.
“Do you think I’m ugly?” Childe shifts his hands away from his face and there’s new crinkles having folded onto the drooping skin of his forehead, his skin starting to give out on him. His skin has started to make it look as if he’s withering away, the tips of his hair greying. It’s only now that it really hits Zhongli how much time has gone by.
“You’re hesitant,” Childe remarks when Zhongli doesn’t give an immediate response. Zhongli shakes his head frantically, trying to prevent yet another misunderstanding. He holds Childe’s hands in his own, holding them up to his heart as an act of sincerity. “No. Never. You’ll always be the most handsome man in the world to me.”
“You’re lying.”
“I would never.”
“My skin’s drying up and my scars look like shit now, and I know you used to think they were attractive on me,” Childe sniffles, vulnerable. “And we haven’t even done anything interesting, could you even still love me when I’m like this?”
Zhongli blinks. He tightens his grip around Childe’s hands. “Why would you ever assume that I’d ever fall out of love with you?”
“I look so bad! I’m gross!”
“Would you leave me if I got old and wrinkly and you look young?” Zhongli interlocks their fingers, pulling Childe onto his lap. Childe buries his nose in the nape of Zhongli’s neck, shaking his neck. A teardrop falls on his husband’s collarbone. He laughs in a hoarse voice, “I look old enough to be…”
“I’ll love you no matter how old you get,” Zhongli strokes the back of Childe’s head, angling his jaw away to make more room for Childe. “I promise.”
A tense silence hangs in the air because Zhongli knows Childe’s holding something back. He continues to hold his husband, comforting him with silent reassurances.
“What are you going to do when I die?” Childe mutters, barely audible but Zhongli catches it. His eyes snap open, a pained look in his eyes. He pulls his husband away from him, pupils dilated and tears forming on his own. He fixes his hands on Childe’s shoulders, forcing the redhead’s eyes onto his.
“Why are you thinking about all this?” Zhongli chokes up.
“How could I not?!” Childe fixes his hands on Zhongli’s jaw. “I’m dying and I know it. It’s a surprise I’ve made it down so far except now that I know that it’s the world that’s gonna kill me and not anyone else, I can’t help but worry about what’s going to happen to you! After all these years, what are you going to do without me?”
“You should have loved someone who could have loved you for eternity,” Childe hangs his head low in disappointment. “You’re eventually going to find someone new like you’ve found me for the rest of eternity that you’ll be alive and I…”
“I’d spend the rest of my life loving you,” Zhongli presses his forehead against Childe’s head, trying to fight back tears. “As long as that is.”
“Wouldn’t you spend your afterlife loving me even in death?”
Childe pulls away, tumbling off Zhongli’s lap. His knees buckle, a hoarse sound escaping his lips. He coughs, hitting his chest roughly. He hides his face. Zhongli watches, confused as to what’s suddenly gotten over his lover. He touches his lips, wondering if he’s said anything wrong. Childe scurries away and Zhongli immediately follows. Childe holds the door open for himself but Zhongli stops him by his wrist.
“Where?” Zhongli frowns. “Where are you going?”
“You need to leave me alone for a bit,” Childe shakes his wrist out of Zhongli’s grip. Before he closes the door behind him, he turns once, his hair being brushed back by the wind. His cheeks glisten with fallen tears, exposing a gap-toothed grin. “I have some things to sort out on my own.”
And then, the spruce door is shut in Zhongli’s face.
+ One.
Childe died at the age of 62 to a cardiac arrest.
It was too late when Zhongli found him, sleeping peacefully with his head against the railings by the cement walkway near the plaza, one leg in the water amongst the fishes in the pond and the other propped up against the ground. Zhongli still remembers the bliss on his face, like he hadn’t suffered at all.
There must have been a lingering hope in Zhongli’s soul, somewhere, holding onto the fact that Childe would never die, because when Zhongli said he’d know what to do when his husband dies, he really didn’t. He recalls how he’d simply fallen onto his knees, knowing immediately by the way Childe didn’t open his eyes at the sound of his footsteps that something was not right. He remembers cursing under his breath, praying for any sign of pulse against his fingers but there being none.
The feeling of his world shattering is a feeling Zhongli would never be able to shake. It’s none other than Zhongli’s close associate, Hu Tao, who organises Childe’s funeral. Even as a senior, she has her signature mischievous smirk, a lot like Childe, her hair having been cut much shorter until her shoulders. Her dimples still complement her face, her dressing style though slightly more mature. Though she doesn’t get to mess around with Zhongli as much due to the circumstances, she does her work flawlessly, hosting the funeral as per Zhongli’s precise instructions. Many of their friends are still alive, but none of the Harbingers, who’ve all been wiped out either because of dangerous missions or have passed to old age.
The photo they use at the funeral is one from many years back, when Childe’s beauty still flourished with youth. Childe would have loved it dearly but Zhongli found it difficult to look at, head jumbled up with a thousand “You should have”s.
Zhongli kneels, placing his bouquet of glaze lillies against the cold granite under his knees. The Archon folds, his abdomen starting to ache and chest tightening. He knocks his head against the gravestone, tears streaming down his cheeks like an eternal waterfall.
It’s the first time Zhongli cries since Childe’s passing.
“I hope you’re still thinking about me in your afterlife,” Zhongli sobs, barely managing any words. “I didn’t think this day would come. I sincerely didn’t.”
Zhongli opens his eyes, memories flashing through his mind. He tightens his grip around the stone, knuckles whitening. Childe’s bright grin freezes in frame in his head. Zhongli cups his palm over his eyes, trying to hold back any tears. He’s embarrassed. “If only I had more time to spend with you. I’d really like to.”
A gust of wind blows at Zhongli’s hair. He catches a whiff of it and it smells heavy of saline, like the seabreeze. He pauses, remembering he’s deep in Wuwang Hill and that the lake has long frozen over by Rhodeia after a prior incident fifteen years ago. Zhongli bursts into a fit of laughter, throwing his head back. A droplet of water falls from the canopy of trees overhead.
“You’re always messing with me, Childe.”