Chapter Text
They fell through the front door of Zhongli’s apartment and brought a torrent of water with them. It flushed across the black mahogany floorboards as if someone had overturned a bucket, and as their splashing feet followed the wave inwards they both spluttered with laughter.
Childe has never heard such a sound come from Zhongli before. The man didn’t laugh, as a rule. He had an old-fashioned habit of hiding laughter - any sound beyond a soft huff of air would be covered with his hand and accompanied by a light-hearted look of apology. He’d seen it many times before. But now he was breathless.
His brown coat and hair were black with rainwater, the gold in his eyes and tips of his hair glinting in the dim light. Childe’s red hair had been deepend by the water - they sparkled together.
He had never been in Zhongli’s home before. It was filled with antiques, all so old that they practically hummed with ancient history. Black iron vases from two-thousand years ago sat beside pale watercolour screens. The geometric fencing that was typical of Liyue’s art bordered everything like lace alongside black tapestries, wall-scrolls and low furniture. Everything was laid out in Liyuen tradition, and although he had no idea what those traditions were he could still feel the peace flowing invisibly through the space like a benevolent gust of wind. His mind felt clearer in here than it had been in a while. He was alert, happy and calm. But his heart was racing. His mouth still zapped with the memory of the man’s tongue sliding against his own.
“I’m so sorry, Zhongli!” he laughed as he hopped up on one foot and pulled off his boot. “I’ll mop the floor!” He looked up and another shriek of a laugh broke from his throat. Zhongli was wringing out his ponytail over the rug - attempting to protect his floorboards from warping or staining, for what little good that would do now. He had already removed his coat, but his now-dark shirt clung to him and dripped onto the floor.
“You shall do no such thing,” he said brightly. “I’ll have a housekeeper sort it later.” His voice, especially when it was this happy, rolled through the walls. Childe was sure that whoever rented the room below his could hear every word. And then he thought of what Zhongli must be like when he was alone, here by himself, and felt a clutch of unexpected sadness.
This place was a beautiful mausoleum. There was nothing here that brought it to life - Zhongli himself was still and quiet and moved like clockwork, always meshing exactly into place and causing no fuss. To imagine him waking up each day to a dark and empty home was like imagining someone waking up on Christmas morning all by themselves. Zhongli had fought long and hard to finally be amongst his people, but he still woke up alone. Was he ever disappointed that his gorgeous home contained nobody but him?
As he looked around he could tell that the man’s body was as much an artifact as everything else he had collected. It, too, was an item he’d designed, built, and had prepared to set in a cozy, decorative nook - it fit perfectly into the home, not as if it was an accident of his personal taste but as if he had to make everything match.
With a flap of his foot, Childe sent his other boot tumbling through the puddle on the floor. Zhongli had set his own neatly on a rack, and cast only the smallest glance at the chaos being brought through the door.
They entered the main room together. His breath caught in his throat. Through large windows - open but protected from the rain by a balcony running the entire length of the outside wall - and through the misty sheets of rain, sprawled a panoramic view of sails and sea. Fresh, wet air drifted in with the sound of crashing water and a distant roll of thunder. From here, the old god of Liyue could watch the lives of his people. And again he wondered if that wasn’t a very lonely thing.
Zhongli removed his wet gloves.
“Your hands!” Childe blurted out. The other man glanced over at him, blinking in a moment’s confusion. Then he looked down. His hands were glowing ever so slightly in the grey light, the flesh looking as if it were filled with powdered gold. His ivory skin turned gold from his elbows to his hands, and streaks of metal, like veins of copper, ran in a geometric pattern down each arm. His fingertips, however, were black. Childe reached out and touched them without thinking. The pattern chilled his fingers.
“Oh, yes,” Zhongli watched Childe’s enthusiasm with gentle amusement. “My body is a Geo construct, so it doesn’t work the way a normal human body should.” Childe looked up at him.
Zhongli was looking at him with such gentleness. He had never known a look like that in all his life, and for a moment the floor seemed to sway beneath his feet. His parents loved him, they regarded him with a love and approval that burned straight through their chests - it was them who taught him how to love - but it came with tension and caveats. They loved him despite. They loved him regardless. This was different. Zhongli just seemed to love.
But he could feel the way the energy in the room was starting to sink. If Zhongli’s nature was allowed to carry on its course, everything would fall back to an ordered inertia. If they stood here and allowed that immovable force to take hold, everything would fall back to the still, quiet loneliness that dragged behind that man like tin cans on a string.
He thought no further. He shoved Zhongli back onto the low couch behind him. He let out a bark of confusion and fell so hard that the room shook.
“Childe?!”
Childe kicked a leg over and rolled on top of him. He grabbed his wet shirt in both hands and stared down at him with bright blue, lightless, eyes. “What? You were getting lost again.” Zhongli’s expression widened into something beautiful and yet impossible to read. He flapped and flustered like a pinned moth, but only for a second. Then, as if moved by the wild-eyed look in his partner’s eyes, he reached up. He cupped Childe’s face and guided him in closer - forever waiting for permission before inviting himself in.
His skin was soft against Childe’s face, but the muscles of his hands were solid and masculine. As his fingertips swept a lock of ginger hair behind the shell of his ear, Childe realised that he was being held in the hands of a blacksmith. Zhongli was seeing something in him that was far more beautiful than anyone else ever had - he was appraising him, seeing the core inside the imperfect rock and finding none of it imperfect at all. He didn’t dare look him in the eyes in case it made him realise his mistake.
But for once he felt as though there was ground beneath his feet. There was nowhere deeper for him to fall - not as long as their bodies were together like this, and not as long as he was being held within his hands. A shy grin wobbled across his face.
“You know I’ve liked you for a really long time?” he said, though he suddenly realised that he couldn’t control his tongue as well as he’d have liked. Zhongli’s waist was solid beneath his thighs, and as the man’s knee brushed against the back of his legs, it amazed him that he was even real. “Sorry, that’s a weird thing to say-”
“I liked you too,” Zhongli replied, smiling. He was pink-cheeked, his hair loose and wet around him. “From the moment I saw you.”
“Really?” Childe laughed, “Why?”
It looked as though Zhongli didn’t understand the question. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side, his hands still touching his face and holding him as if he were the head of some martyred saint. “Because I was helpless to do anything else.”
Childe stared at him as tears welled up in his eyes. His body shuddered and his heart raced, awestruck. Before his heart could beat its way out of his throat, he surged forward and caught Zhongli’s lips again. His mouth burned hot and his arms gripped around his waist, clinging to the other man as if he were both a lover and the very earth beneath him. Their mouths pulsed together, frantic, both trying to bury themselves in each other as if they souls were fighting to get out and swirl together. Zhongli’s hands quaked, and fumbled around Childe’s neck and down his shoulders to try and hold him tighter. His legs bent at the knee and tried to coil around his partner’s, locking them even closer. An electricity poured up from the pit of Childe’s stomach - an ecstacy over being found and kept. It flicked and pushed through every movement of his lips.
Zhongli gasped against his mouth as he gripped on tight. “Nobody has ever-” Dizzy and dumbstruck, he seemed at a loss for words. Childe giggled, driven to further heights of feeling wanted and adored as he felt his arms tighten around him.
“Nobody has ever made me feel as safe as you do.”
Childe stopped. “What?”
“Sometimes…” Zhongli’s white-hot eyes were like suns as they watched him with that same indefinable pain. He was smiling and burdened with love, his body still gripping tightly to him. “I feel as though I am helpless to my own nature. But you… you have stopped me at every turn.” He smiled, his eyes filled with warmth. “Thank you.”
Childe was silent, stunned. Zhongli stroked the back of his head, his hair toying through his blackened fingertips. “Stay with me?” he asked. Childe’s eyes widened with delight and laughter rolled up through his chest. He nodded wildly.
“Of course!”
They clung together, and as their hands fumbled and their mouths sought each other in the steel-coloured daylight, the rain poured down across the harbour. People pulled tarps over their stalls and ran for cover as children shrieked with delight at the drama of it all. Ships docked and catches were dragged ashore. Homes filled with firelight. Far in the distance, beyond the shoreline and the mountains that penned them all in, stood the silhouettes of the Stone Forest. They had been memorials of ancient cruelty and an endless, tiring grief.
But now they could just be gravestones.