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"When someone leaves your life, those exits are not made equal. Some are beautiful and poetic and satisfying. Others are abrupt and unfair. But most are just unremarkable, unintentional, clumsy."
Griffin McElroy
Liyue was indeed where many things came to settle.
Merchant vessels crowded the harbor day in and day out, like all the days before and like all the days to follow. Work carried on as always, and though the bustle had a veneer of familiarity, it didn't take long for one to realize just how much had changed.
Zhongli had once made a realization that his time as the Geo Archon was over. That was a clear dividing point in time, the start of a new chapter. This new chapter was far shorter than the one that preceded it. What were mere decades in the face of millenia?
Time itself was unfair, with how quickly it flowed. The longer Zhongli was alive, the faster the clock spun, even as he went incognito to live among the people. He was too late, too late. Forever too late.
A delicate hand with black nailpolish rested on his shoulder. Its owner, the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor Director, was at Zhongli’s side. “Aiya,” she murmured. “You seem so far away from here. I’ll let you get back to your thoughts. I just wanted to let you know he’ll be in Snezhnaya in two days time, where his brothers and sister will meet him. Everything is settled.”
Zhongli bobbed his head in recognition. Not once did he make eye contact.
Hu Tao’s hand drifted down to his upper arm. “If you need me,” she said. Her voice trailed off as the words stuck to her tongue. After a moment, she closed her mouth, admitting defeat with a solemn smile. That was all she offered in parting; she turned to go.
The area around him felt surreal, even now. Thick ivy growing out of every crack in stone. Grass was taking over, beginning its slow, slow upheaval of what humanity had built there. Birds were chirping overhead in thick trees. The sky was overcast and completely, evenly gray. His world was bathed in muted blues and greens blending together like a murky lake that’d surely drown him.
Zhongli crossed the short distance it took for him to be at Childe’s side once more. Perhaps this was the first time Childe ignored his presence, didn’t reach for his hand to kiss his knuckles-- nor pull him down into a greedy kiss like they were the only two in the world who mattered. He’d grown as any could have expected. Over time, his collection of scars only grew, but he wore them with pride. His fiery hair never seemed to change, nor the blue of his eyes, but his features turned sharper with age. He sported wrinkles, now. Zhongli’s favorite of these was by far the crow’s feet around his eyes that had settled in from his endless smile. He wore it often, and even with days, months, and years of seeing it, Zhongli basked in its splendor.
Childe had pale freckles, too, along the bridge of his nose and along his jaw. These were the result of sun damage over the years. They’d suited him.
Most who knew Childe when he first came to Liyue would have bet he wouldn’t live long, not with his attitude, his penchant for battle, and the way he challenged anyone and everyone to test his own mettle. He’d outlived those bets by plenty, but all Zhongli could see before him was a man who still hadn’t lived long enough.
Zhongli brought his palm to Childe’s cold cheek, gazing down into his face again, like he’d done countless times over the years they’d been together. His heart leapt at the sudden thought that maybe, just maybe, this could be fake. Surely Childe would jump up and kiss him, kiss his tears away, apologize for such a cruel turn of events and make it right however he could, smiling all the while. But...
Memory flowed past Zhongli in waves. Some things were crystal clear, and it was almost as if he could transport himself to those times. Others were vague, with maybe only a scent or a single word for his heart to latch onto.
How was he supposed to say goodbye to the one he had loved with every fibre of his being? What could he say that would be enough, what could bring everything they had shared, their highs and lows, their love and loss, together for a fitting farewell?
He hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye. Something in him regretted that, but at the same time, he couldn’t change the past. He wondered what things would have been like if he had cherished the moments more, done something differently, more lovingly. But who wanted to live like that? Who, besides Hu Tao, whose job relied on it, wanted to live focusing on the finite nature of things? It wouldn’t be love in the moment, anymore. It’d be love for something that was gone before it ever left.
Another gentle touch roused him from his thoughts, and he took a shuddering breath. He brought the back of his hand up to his mouth, but it did nothing to hide the red of his cheeks, or of his eyes.
“Master Zhongli,” Xingqiu said, softly, and Zhongli realized that they were alone. Hu Tao and a couple of Fatui agents were about twenty paces off. Chongyun, too, was waiting a short distance away. The only others remaining were Zhongli, Xingqiu, and Childe. He’d been lost in his thoughts for some time.
Xingqiu’s lip quirked and his brow furrowed. He didn’t know what to say, either, though he wished more than anything that he could say something that would alleviate the pain he felt, that he saw. “If you’d like,” he ventured. “My beloved and I are going to Chihu Rock for supper. Xiangling has invited all of us. Would you like to go? Perhaps not be alone tonight?”
Zhongli looked away, taking shallow, open-mouthed breaths to compose himself. It wasn’t really helping, but it was the only thing at the moment that didn’t make his situation worse.
To his credit, Xingqiu was patient and still, keeping his soft smile as he offered Zhongli the space he needed.
Finally... “I’d like that.”
“You should walk with us,” he said, and he took a step towards Chongyun. When Zhongli followed, he took a few more. “The little ones will be there. Xiangling has had her hands full. I heard Miss Ganyu say she was going, so it really should be everyone. … almost.”
He swallowed hard. A faux pas.
Zhongli cast a glance at where Childe lay, with his hands draped over his chest and over the ornamented jacket the Fatui had provided. He was dressed in their finest, as was fitting for one of their harbingers. He was so handsome, so serene, like nothing was wrong at all.
“... it’s alright,” Zhongli muttered.
Xingqiu was relieved to take Chongyun’s hand in his own and lean against the exorcist’s side. “Have you said everything you wanted to say?”
There was a long pause. Chongyun and Xingqu both waited quietly, for as long as it took, hand in hand. They were enough comfort for each other that they’d have been happy waiting hours.
Had Zhongli said what he wanted to say? Had he said everything?
He really hadn’t. Precious little came to mind beyond memories. It was all the little things-- smelling Childe’s cologne as soon as the shower stopped. Those hazy, dreamy blue eyes still waking from sleep. The dimples in his cheeks when he laughed, which was often, and when he smiled, which was even moreso. The way he told stories, the way he looked like a kicked puppy when he dropped something with his chopsticks. The way the light had reflected in his eyes every time he said ‘I love you’.
Zhongli turned his head and took another stabilizing breath. It’d be some time before he’d be free of the heat behind his eyes, the weight on his shoulders, on his chest.
“I have.”
Xingqiu nodded. He followed as Chongyun turned to go, and the three walked together in silence.
There was no such thing as a perfect goodbye, and Zhongli knew that. Goodbyes were never easy, and regardless of his choices, time moved ever onwards. There were no words that would be enough, there were no desperate pleas that would change this moment. On some level, he knew that any goodbye he said would be more for himself, for his own closure, than anything else. He was content to leave with the serene, restful image of his beloved, who had come and settled in Liyue with him, who had learned and loved every facet of life in the harbor. It would be some time before his life felt like it was back in motion after the screeching halt that all this had been.
There was no such thing as a perfect goodbye, or even a good one. There never would be. So to himself, to the air, to the earth, to the sea: he simply said 'goodbye'. He left a glaze lily behind in an offering of his love. The rest was for him and him alone, something written on his heart and forever in his mind.