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When I flutter my eyes open, your gracious smile is what I'm accustomed to. Though I had to confess... the first three days that we have been together, I stumbled upon a great sense of sheepishness, I couldn't help but bury my reddened cheeks against the pillow; and in spite of my efforts to wipe it off, it won't, as it smells like you and so as everything else. Weeks in, I learned that the smile you offered me wasn't just to make me feel the "butterflies in my stomach"-- remember how you taught me what it means and when you swore that you would make me feel that way? I guess you win. But I digress- your lips perked on both sides is what I hold on to every day. It is how I know that every day you love me, how my anxious and ancient heart calms down each morning when it worries if Tartaglia still cares for it, and for me.
There are instances where I suppose getting mad at you for making me feel these mortal emotions is a much better option. Except that in reality, I will be in your grace, thankful for giving me this golden experience. For 6000 years, I only borrowed sentiments so I could feel like a human, so I could understand my people better. I thought it was enough, until you came. The people's whispers of terror about you fades into nothing the first time I saw you cry. When your words quiver with heartache —hoping your siblings won't follow the path you've taken— as you told me in-between sobs how you watched your own dream of adventuring throughout the world, seeing its wonders with your two beautiful ocean eyes, disappear when you were sent to join the Fatui. There I realized how unpleasant it truly is to feel anger-- towards the people who treated you like a weapon and to the strangers who speak ill of you. It was not how an Archon should be.
And it's true. You make this dead God fall on their knees, praying to the stars to keep you safe. I wonder how ridiculous I must look to my previous self when it sees me like this? Wrapped around a killer's strong and warm arms, completely surrendered to vulnerability. Will I hate myself, or be envious that I didn't meet you sooner? Since if we happened in the past, I would not worry about you in the present. You laugh at this thought, reminding me that it's nonsense and I say it's not. Though as always, I would go along with the beautiful siren of your laughter. Oh, how your carefree personality gets me all the time.
However, you must forgive me. For I could not stop thinking about the future where you don't exist. When you step a foot outside of our hidden place, I dread that I'd wait there forever and you won't return to my arms like how you should. I blossom of pride when you tell me stories of your greatness, yet my core trembles of fear for your life. If I could only share my immortality with you, then we could live forever. But you wouldn't want that, would you? Am I selfish for wanting you by my side? Or is it you for not granting me my only wish? I do despise the fact that your everyday is different than what it is to me. It's harder to convince you to stay. My everyday life is perpetual and yours isn't. When you're long gone, I would still be here, alone. I can't bear the thought of having you in my memories but not your hand against mine. To only hear your voice inside, to only feel your embrace through my senses, I ... I don't want that.
I also know that you don't want to part with me. When we made love under the dead of night, the unspoken prose which you and I both wrote with our bodies will pass on like a folklore. With them, is the pain of knowing that I would live for eternal years without a single touch from the one I adore, and you trace your lips across my skin of the words you were too scared to say. I remember taking every chance I get to hold you; I do so with the intent to memorize your body, to study every detail because I have to be perfect. Once I've taken your form, I want to make no mistake.
Once again, you thought it was unnecessary of me to do this. Yet the glimmer of a single tear that failed to hide itself showed no mercy from the truth we didn't want to accept. I never saw you cry twice over the same reason, and the first instance where you shed tears over our inevitable goodbye was also the last time I saw you. It was almost dawn and for once, Fatui's bloodlusted 11th Harbinger, was afraid to fight. That night you laid with me until the very last second; continuously saying my name, professing your devotion like a prayer. When it was your time to go, I wished that there was someone, anyone else above me that could heed my wish. And when you turned one final time with your most confident grin, you said to me: "I don't want to leave you." But, you did. Like everyone else does. You left me with a string still tied to you and I can't bring myself to cut it down.
Zhongli.