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Celestia is falling.
The battle is won, Celestia’s gods are dead, and Zhongli is too late.
“Zhong—”
A barely audible rasp, cut short by a wet cough. He looks for the source and finds Childe slumped against a cracked marble column.
“Ajax!”
“Y-you shouldn’t be here,” Childe says, red dripping from pale lips. Red on his lips, his chin; it soaks his uniform, pooling beneath him and staining the once hallowed ground.
Zhongli falls to his knees, hands reaching out to touch, to assess. Cuts and bruises decorate Childe’s ashen skin. One arm is twisted at an odd angle, while the other curls protectively around his abdomen. It does little to hide the gaping wound beneath.
“You’re here,” he breathes. You’re here, so I am here.
“Stubborn.” Childe huffs, all at once looking exasperated and fond and victorious. Breathtakingly beautiful, even at death’s door. “Hold me?”
“Of course, love.”
The world burns around them as he gathers Childe in his arms, and Zhongli has never felt so human. For all his power, all his wisdom and strength, there is not a single thing he can do to save the man who matters most to him. He is too late. The world burns, and Childe will be among the ashes.
“Stop crying,” Childe says. The bloodied fingers of his unbroken arm twitch, as if aching to brush the tears away.
“You’re dying.”
Another wet cough tears its way from Childe’s throat. His body jerks, breaths coming in strangled heaves, head lolling back against Zhongli’s chest. He must be tired, yet he continues to fight.
“Hah… I am, aren’t I?”
A moment passes. They’re running out of time.
“I’m glad you came.” His voice is lower now, more strained, but Zhongli doesn’t miss the content smile that blooms on his face. “Stay with me?”
“Always,” Zhongli says. He pulls him close, burying his face into curls matted with dirt and blood. “You… you can rest now, Ajax. You fought well. Close your eyes and go to sleep. I will find you when you wake.”
“Don’t forget… you promised me…”
Zhongli hums, hand reaching up to cup Childe's cheek. “We will meet again. My promise is solid as stone.”
“Mm…” Childe leans into the touch, eyelids fluttering. “Love you… Zhongli.”
“I love you too, Ajax.”
Childe’s skin is cool against his lips. The light from his vision fades, and Celestia falls.
—
“What will you do after I die? Will you miss me? Mourn me?”
“Gods will eventually erode and fade away, but mortals are locked in a cycle of life and death. You shall pass, and I will mourn you, but one day your soul will walk the earth again, and I shall find you.”
“So… like reincarnation?”
“Precisely.”
“Then let’s say we meet again. In another life. Would you still love me?”
“Always.”
“And what if I don’t remember you?”
“I shall remember for the both of us.”
“Mm… You know, I think I’d fall for you again, even if I forget. You’ll just have to wait for me.”
“Patience is not a virtue I lack. If you would have me, I would find and love you in your next life, and every life after that.”
“A promise from the God of Contracts himself, hm?”
“A promise from Zhongli to Ajax, born of a sentiment beyond contract.”
“I’ll hold you to it, then.”
—
Painted in the golden orange hues of an eternal sunset, the border is exactly as Zhongli remembers it. It is a place frozen in time, without beginning and without end.
Childe’s soul is not among the recently deceased.
“If you’re looking for that foreign young man, I’m afraid you’re too late,” a woman says. She has the air of someone who has been waiting a very long time. “Passed by the other day. No time to waste, he said.”
He was here.
An unbidden smile tugs at Zhongli's lips. “That sounds just like him. Thank you.”
“Of course, of course. Boy had the right idea. No use in lingering if you have places to be.”
—
Bury me by the ocean. Take me home.
“Ajax wrote about you in his letters,” Tonia says.
“Good things, I hope.”
She laughs. “Sometimes.”
They stand over the casket, side-by-side. Childe is dressed in white, wrapped in a belt as per Snezhnayan tradition. It’s strange, seeing him so still.
“He really loved you,” she says, eyes downcast. “Last time he came home, he wouldn’t stop talking about you. He said you were like family.”
She leans against him, and the warm weight of her against his side is comforting in ways Zhongli cannot put into words. He brings an arm up around her shoulders.
Family.
“You should stay with us for a while.”
Zhongli nods. “I would like that.”
—
An ornate box waits for him inside Childe’s bedroom.
Zhongli-xiansheng, the note on top of it reads.
Inside, he finds three things:
A familiar pair of dragon and phoenix chopsticks.
A photograph.
And a letter.
—
Dear Zhongli,
How do you like Snezhnaya? I know Morepesok is not nearly as exciting as Liyue Harbor, but perhaps the quiet suits someone like you. I only wish that I could have shown you around myself.
It is only a matter of time before the Tsaritsa’s rebellion comes to pass. I fear this is the last time I will see my family, and I fear I will not see you again until you make good on your promise. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you during my last visit to Liyue. The Lantern Rite Festival was truly spectacular, though I expected nothing less. I did not wish to tarnish what would become our final moments together. The picture I asked Aether to take of us should be in the same box you found this letter in. I’ve kept it on my person, so the edges are a bit worn. It’s given me strength during these past few weeks, and I want you to have it. Perhaps it will give you strength as well.
Do you know what I wrote on my xiao lantern that night?
I want everyone to continue smiling after I’m gone. You, my siblings, my parents.
My family always wanted to meet you. Mama cried when I told her I was seeing someone. I have no doubt that everyone will welcome you with open arms. The little ones are a handful, but surely they will not stand a chance against you, O’ Great and Powerful Morax.
Anthon does not believe me when I tell him that the people of Liyue do not eat stones. Do not eat a stone if he asks you to.
I miss you already.
After joining the Fatui, I never imagined that I would fall in love, much less with the former Geo Archon. My days in Liyue feel like a dream now. Thank you for everything.
I’ll be back before you know it. Until then, don’t miss me too much, and keep smiling. Let my siblings show you around the market, threaten any of Tonia’s potential suitors in my place, and maybe even go ice fishing with my old man. Let my mother fuss over you, even if you are 6,000 years too old for it.
I love you.
Yours always,
Ajax
P.S. Please hold onto the chopsticks for me so that I can practice with them again next time we meet.
—
Zhongli waits.
—
Teyvat undergoes significant changes in the centuries following Celestia’s fall.
Through it all, the ocean remains the same.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Zhongli turns, breath catching in his throat—
“I’ve always been drawn to water, ever since I was a child.”
“Ajax.”
The boy meets his gaze with a mischievous, lopsided grin. “I’m sorry, but—have we met before?”
Childe—Ajax—is so warm, so alive in his arms. The years of waiting, of wondering if he had somehow missed him, melt away then, and all Zhongli knows is the achingly familiar feeling of soft ginger curls tickling his jaw.
“You found me,” Ajax whispers into the crook of his neck.
Zhongli presses his lips to the crown of Ajax’s head. He’s real, he’s here. “I promised I would.”
—
“Welcome home!” Ajax’s voice carries over from the kitchen.
Zhongli toes off his shoes, lining them up neatly before stepping through the threshold of the entryway. He follows the scent of freshly stewed meat.
“Dinner should be ready in ten if you wanna freshen up first.”
It’s a familiar routine. There is nothing new in the way Ajax stands over the stove, frilly apron tied in neat bows at his neck and lower back. There is nothing new in the little tune he hums as he stirs the pot with familiar chopsticks. And yet—
Everyday, the scene makes Zhongli feel like he’s falling in love all over again.
“Zhongli? Is everything alright?”
“Mm.” His arms snake around Ajax’s waist, chin resting on his shoulder and lips finding the soft skin of his neck. This—this was worth it, worth the wait, worth everything. “I’m home.”