Work Text:
Ajax is 14 and straight out of an accident when it happens.
At first it was a subtle sting on his finger that should have been barely noticeable if it weren’t for the fact that it’s the sole one out of five that has the sensation. He stares at it questioningly until he feels it burn.
Now, Ajax isn’t entirely fond of pain in any kind. But he has barely even recovered from the crash that hospitalized him that he doesn’t entirely mind how the skin that surrounds the base of his left ring finger felt like it was being stabbed by multiple tiny needles and openly poured with some sanitizing liquid.
He winces without his consent. The sting unexpectedly great for something so little. Despite that, he keeps staring at his now reddening finger and thinks ah, it’s bleeding.
Like the metaphorical needles weren’t so metaphorical at all.
His eyes zones in on the base of his finger that’s now collecting red liquid from not-so-figurative pinpricks, dripping to the rest of his hand. The pain is still there but nothing like it had been about a minute ago.
Ajax pulls at the deadly white blanket with his other hand to wipe the blood, curious to see what the present appearance of his appendage looked like.
There’s still some unwiped blood at the back of his hand but he couldn’t be bothered cleaning it up, leaving it to dry on its own.
Because at the base of his finger now sits a sentence.
An inscription, his first thought. Ajax brings the hand closer to his face and stares. From afar it looked like black ink, but from up close he could see that the dark ink is slightly on the brown side and is very much obvious on his pale skin. The inscription is done in a neat way, almost professional. It reminds Ajax of handwritten notes his middle school teachers would provide on his homework in case he gets a little too mischievous or a tiny bit diligent.
Ajax thinks he knows what this is. He knows it from the way his parents would make a big deal out of it. How his friends, relatives, everyone seemed to make a big deal out of it. How they would say “Ajax, keep a look out on your right side. They tell you about your soulmate’s first words to you.” How they’d remind him to “Pay attention to a change in sensation. Like something being exposed to a breeze.”
Like it’s such an amazing thing to have and possesses magic to trick the bearers to thinking they found the right one. The only one. Like it’s always supposed to be romantic and nothing else.
A soulmark. Always a sentence or part of it and supposedly what your soulmate’s first words to you would be.
He reads his as:
“Like it had been that night.”
Despite Ajax ridiculing the thought of soulmarks, he’s not really that against it. This one, he likes. His inscription are somewhat unique. He knows of some people literally having just the word “Hello”, “Hi”, or their own name etched on their skin and he thinks that’s such a pity.
He likes his inscription. And honestly, the more Ajax looks at it, the more unsettled he is by it.
Like it had been that night.
Ajax wonders if the mark is more for aesthetics and not much for actual purpose because how would his soulmate start a conversation with that one.
The unwiped blood on the back of his hand is now nothing but a streak of dried red stain when Ajax realizes something.
“Ajax, keep a look out on your right side. They tell you about your soulmate’s first words to you.”
“Pay attention to a change in sensation. Like something being exposed to a breeze.”
His soulmark arrived along with blood and pain, and it sits on his left side.
Ajax is 14 and straight out of an accident when he decides.
He starts collecting gloves that would hide the existence of the inscription. Wouldn't be that odd since Snezhnaya is an ever-snowy region.
He won't tell anyone about his mark.
Not because he's ashamed, no. Something about his mark makes him feel things but shame is not one of them. He reasons he wouldn't let anyone find out of its existence until he's sure its initial sensation and placement is just a coincidence. And if it's not, then he has to know if it would mean something else.
When Ajax met Zhongli, it was when he traveled to Liyue in a quest for independence (which is bullshit) and a duty to his work.
He was told a guy would pick him up in the airport so he need not be worried about getting lost or scammed or murdered bloody anytime soon.
Now, his line of work isn’t necessarily on the out-in-the-open side and more in the discreet side. But Ajax is a sheltered and never-before exposed member. The most discreet they could get is by being not discreet at all. Which is the case of having no eyes to back him.
As he steps out into the lobby, baggage in hand and his phone on the other, he tries scanning the sea of people in what he presumes is the waiting area.
Ajax was provided a picture of the said guy—Zhongli—to pick him up prior to flying there. He positions himself away from the middle of the lobby to avoid getting bumped and looks down at his phone screen that is now showing him how Zhongli looked like.
Zhongli had a mop of brown hair and had eyes in the shade of sparkling gold amber. His skin looked to be pale but he's not sure how pale since it's only a decent quality picture and his dark hair contrasts way too much from his skin. The picture itself is one that resembles something to pass as an identification card photo. He's not sure if the steady gaze in those orbs and overall stern impression he's giving is one to be associated to personality or propriety. That's his present observation of Zhongli’s features.
His initial observation is that the guy is concerningly good-looking.
Ajax is about half an incense stick away from looking like a lost, grown up idiot when he spots a guy heading his way.
Zhongli—he’s sure—in all his prim, long-legged glory.
He barely stops himself from releasing a wolf whistle. As if visibly gawking at the man from head to toe isn’t humiliating enough.
Where the fuck is his manners.
Zhongli is wearing the very same expression he has on the photo given to him. Although neutral, it draws Ajax in. Now that he’s seeing him in person he could tell that his brown hair is a little lighter at the ends that it looks almost glowing.
When Zhongli’s about a few feet away from him did he only remember something he should have asked the very first time he was informed of the former.
And when Zhongli stops in front of him to probably say his first greetings. Ajax—the one without manners, apparently—blurts out in panic.
“Do you speak english?”
The perfect-looking man in front of him widened his eyes with just a fraction and blinks at him.
Ajax, you fucking moron.
Zhongli probably thinks he’s an undisciplined and unprofessional son of a bitch devoid of tact. He’s done it. He must’ve broken an important part of the culture he’s currently in on, he must have. He’s offended the man.
Ajax snapped his mind into the present, face twitching, and immediately opens his mind in a nervous smile to somehow salvage his chances of getting through his job with the help from a local resident.
He’s about to say his miserable apologies when Zhongli chuckles.
It’s now his turn to blink.
“I'm well-versed with it. There's no need to worry.”
Equal parts relief and shame flooded Ajax’s system and probably also showed themselves on his face because Zhongli then smiles and says “The fright is understandable.”
Ajax—the one who’s not so mannerless, as it turns out—remembers to bow his upper body in a certain degree. That he knows is the proper way in Liyue. “I’m sorry. Thank you for picking me up. I’m Ajax.”
Zhongli also bows his head to a degree not so deep as Ajax. The right way.
“Welcome to Liyue. I’m Zhongli.”
Once both of them are inside the car that would take them to the accommodations reserved for Ajax, the latter couldn’t help but notice how Zhongli seemed to be having a little discourse in his head with the way he has his eyes set to the distance and his brows a little furrowed.
When Ajax acknowledged what he feels for Zhongli, he brings up a conversation he hopes is subtle.
“My mark is… I don’t understand it.”
They’re currently at a rooftop of some skyscraper. One of Ningguang’s many, many properties. This one—if it weren’t obvious enough in the way it’s decorated with lights in shades of purple, red and blue, the infinity pool at the western side, and the way the unlimited supply of liquor in the bar isle seemed to scream “drink till you drop”—is reserved for occasions like this.
A celebration for a job well done. Another mission closed.
Ajax guesses that’s the reason why he’s telling Zhongli this. His duty is done. He might be given another mission that is not in Liyue. He might be ordered to go back to their headquarters back in Snezhnaya.
Ajax is stupid but not so much that he isn’t able to name what he’s feeling for Zhongli. And he’s not about as stupid as a lunatic disregarding gold to leave without hinting at Zhongli how he feels.
“And I think it’s alright. To an extent. I never liked how everyone just utterly drops to their knees and prostrate at their soulmarks. Like it’s a catalyst to meeting the right person. The pinnacle of romance. Everyone thinks it’s for romance. Bunch of knuckleheads, it doesn’t always have to be romantic.” He turns his gaze towards Zhongli who’s already looking at him like he’s the only thing worth looking at around the area. “Whoever mine is, they’re just someone my soul remembers. Not the one my heart wants.”
Take a hint take a hint take a hint, his mind chants.
Zhongli places down the glass he’s holding and angles his body to face Ajax more, tilting his head by a fraction. “You have not met yours?”
Ajax shakes his head no. “Got my mark when I was 14. From that time to now, I haven’t been aware of who they are.”
Zhongli hums. They’re silent for a while accompanied by the sounds of midnight bustle in a luxurious penthouse. It’s a comfortable one.
“You, Xiansheng? Mind telling me about yours?”
“I’ve had mine when I came out of a coma.”
Akax blinks, totally taken aback.
Zhongli notices and just smiles at him. A comforting gesture. “It’s nothing heavy. Just fell off of something.”
“That’s not very assuring at all.”
“I guess it’s not.” Zhongli is wearing that warm little smile he always has reserved for Ajax. But as the former turned his eyes on him, it changes into something entirely wistful, and if Ajax relied on his closeness with Zhongli, just a tiny bit sad.
“Mine,” he says. “Mine is a curious case. I’ve… met them. I don’t think I’m theirs.”
Ajax doesn’t like to admit but his heart ached.
Zhongli, noticing his change in demeanor, immediately speaks again. “But just as you said, a soulmark is just a mark to show who your soul is most fond of in a spiritual level. It goes way back and it remembers. But the current vessel does not. And it’s alright to stray, for only just this lifetime.
“A friend of mine—you may know him from your co-workers. He’s in the same field as mine—he once said to let the heart decide. And I normally don’t make a habit of listening to that mischief personified, but that stuck.
“A soulmark is an inscription. Although permanent, doesn’t always go hand in hand with what the heart wants.”
Ajax likes Zhongli. He likes him very much. It goes deeper than what a mere writing could ever go.
And with the way Zhongli is looking at him—all warmth, fondness, and if Ajax relied on his closeness with Zhongli, just a tiny bit tinged with love—he thinks he’s not alone in what he feels too.
Ajax is 27 and straight out of an accident when he finds out.
It was one of the moments when he went to visit Liyue again. He did eventually return to Snezhnaya. But every so often, he flocks back to the very region that might as well be a second home from how often he goes there.
Ajax and Zhongli were coming back from a location they were told to investigate for the suspicious activities that has been going on there. Finding nothing of much importance, they left after making sure they didn't miss anything. As they were about to leave the area, a sudden brightness greeted them and belatedly they realize it’s an 8 wheeler truck running in a speed that rivaled that of a car alone in a straight freeway.
And that it’s heading right towards them.
It’s incredibly stupid how Ajax’s immediate thought is that this kind of petty and low move could only mean that this is another one of the Hoarders’ doing; and not that it’s a situation where he has to get away from the center of direction.
He barely registers Zhongli’s cry for his name when he’s barreling to the ground encased in the tight grip of his arms. There’s a loud sound of a fast moving object crashing into barely stable foundation. Just as quickly, boulders of solid concrete, pieces of wood and metal pipes from what seems to be the building’s parts began raining on them.
Ajax is lying on his left side, safely tucked under Zhongli so he didn’t manage to get caught in the downpour of solids. But that also meant that Zhongli is vulnerable and exposed.
He hears Zhongli grunt chokedly as he suddenly drops his weight on his torso along with a momentary echoing clang far too near them. Ajax doesn’t realize he’s had his eyes closed until he opens them in panic, head snapping to his right and eyes searching for Zhongli’s but could only see his hair.
Zhongli still has his weight on him when he released a belated exhale. “Pipe landed on my back,” comes his reply.
Ajax sighed in relief, sensing no more falling objects and scans what he’s able to at the moment.
He’s still laying on his left side and what happens to be directly in front of his face is Zhongli’s now slack palm when he sees it.
Despite being currently nighttime, there’s clarity in his eyes. There, on one of Zhongli’s fingers—the one constantly wearing a ring around it that is now devoid of its presence—rests an inscription he’ll recognize anywhere. Because that’s the same exact style of his handwriting.
There’s clarity in his eyes when reads the sentence that was insinuating a pathetic query, just a tiny bit comedic and comical that once produced a laugh from the guy bearing it.
“Do you speak English?”
Those are his words and Zhongli has it.
“Ajax.”
Zhongli by now has already lifted himself up enough to see Ajax properly, his expression, and the center of his attention.
“Xiansheng, what…” Ajax breathes, disbelieving. He follows Zhongli in sitting up but not before grabbing hold of his hand and moving it closer to his face.
Zhongli’s hand goes lax about the same time he sighed. “Mine is you,” he confirms. “I apologize for not… I’m sorry for not telling you.”
Ajax glances up, eyes wide still in disbelief. There’s no traces of anger anywhere in that face of his but confusion. Zhongli can’t help but feel a little relieved at that.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I knew I’m not yours. You would have beaten yourself over it no matter how small. You would look at your mark and think of how unfair that would be for me- Ajax,” he interrupts both himself and Ajax as he sees him about to retort. “You would do that. And I would tell you that it’s alright. But still, you would be reminded of it.”
Zhongli raises his other hand and reverses the hold Ajax has on it so now he’s the one holding the latter.
“I didn’t want you to feel that. Because even if your mark is not mine, your heart is. Just like what we talked about that night. That itself is bigger than an ink on skin could ever be. The heart now beats the memory of then.”
There’s fondness in his smile when he speaks again. “I’ve never been more sure of anyone, mark or no mark. Like it is right now. Like it had been that night.”
Like it had been that night.
Ajax audibly gasps that sounds almost like a choke. His body trembling in waves so sudden it’s visible.
Zhongli startles and stares at him with confusion and worry revolving around his features.
Ajax sees sparks of red and orange in the background and there came crashing many things at once. He thinks to himself far belatedly that they're still pretty much near the area of destruction, that the truck is leaking burning liquid, and that they need to get away from there—
“YOU TWO, MOVE!”
He hears a raging yell of someone that sounded like Beidou (he couldn't be sure, he's never heard her that angry before) then suddenly it's a sensory overload of brightness, burning heat, loud explosion and deafening static.
For all that Ajax has been through and what shaped him, he’s still not fond of pain.
That sickening feeling that punches through every barrier named, piercing deep and staying. May it be physically or emotionally, it doesn’t matter. It still hurls him up and throws him into a deep abyss of aching.
He doesn’t like pain. But he would trade anything to have it instead of this… this agony he thinks will haunt him for as long as he remembers.
Because the very last thing he sees before waves of heat and shock envelops him is Zhongli’s face. For a very, very brief moment, he could see the horror in his eyes. The realization of what's happening. The apology of many things he couldn't ever find out.
Like it had been that night.
It should have been romantic.
It should have been fucking romantic and beautiful and not a combination of different kinds of torture that proves just why he felt burning pinpricks and saw blood that time in his hospital room.
Ajax is 27 and straight out of an accident when he finds out. That he was Zhongli’s soulmate. That Zhongli is his soulmate. And what having a soulmark on his left side meant.