Work Text:
Their love was a mistake.
Zhongli felt his heart pull and tug in his chest at the thought, but deep down, it was true, wasn’t it?
An Archon falling in love with a mortal.
An Archon falling in love with another Archon’s loyal subject.
A lonely man falling in love with a ray of ambition.
Cor lapis eyes skimmed over the mountains of Liyue, bail in the back of his throat and his eyes warm with pain.
“I’m sorry, Childe,” The ex-Archon spoke, refusing to chance a look at the heartbroken feeling filling His Ajax’s eyes. Honestly, he’d known this had been coming for some time now. The bright blush Childe sported the longing glances, the stumbling between his words when something small came up. Zhongli knew he was going to confess soon. As that was the nature of Childe, ambitious and ready to take the world with little remorse for the people around him. It was endearing. “But I can’t return your feelings.” The night felt a touch colder than normal, the spray of the ocean chilling his cheeks. It bit at his nose in a pleasant way, a nice contrast from the Liyue heat.
“What?” The Harbinger choked out, his eyes now brimming with tears that Zhongli refused to acknowledge. “But, what? Zhongli, what do you mean, ‘you can’t return my feelings'? You feel the same way, don’t you?”
Zhongli didn’t want to look at Childe’s face, he knew it would be twisted in pain and desperation. It would break the resolve Zhongli held onto in a desperate, selfish act of self-preservation. “I do. I love you so much it hurts me. But, Childe,” His voice was wavering. “I will not do that again. I cannot watch another person I love die. You are only mortal, Childe. And your time will come and I will be left behind, again. And I will not do that to myself, again.”
“You selfish prick!” His love exclaimed and, oh, how the sound broke his heart. The biting words didn’t reach their mark as they fell into a fit of sobs. “I love you and you love me? Isn’t that worth the heartbreak…” Zhongli hated the way his Ajax’s voice quivered as he spoke. He wanted nothing more than to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness, kiss away the pain he’d seated in Childe’s heart only moments ago. But he was the God of Commerce, therefore, greed. And, even after renouncing his titles, they were ingrained in his very being. And greed was such a selfish thing. “Am I not worth the heartbreak?”
The question hurt Zhongli. He wanted desperately to tell Childe that yes, of course, he was. He was worth the world and more. The young Harbinger was worth the sun. That Zhongli would fish the stars and moon from the sky and give it to Childe if he simply asked. His Ajax was worth all the love in the world, deserving of all the affection he had to offer. “No. You are not.” An angry, gut-wrenching sob ripped through Childe and Zhongli finally ripped his eyes from his dear mountains. The sight in front of him burned into his memory, an unforgiving sight of pain. Not that Zhongli deserved forgiveness after this. The Harbinger had a hand clasped over his mouth, his eyes brimmed with tears and his ocean eyes lacked even the smallest bit of light but still filled with emotion.
“I’m sorry, Ajax. I hope you find the love you deserve.”
So, the Archon left, leaving a broken Childe behind him.
–
The lunches stopped. The midnight walks stopped. The shared smiles stopped. They stopped.
Zhongli rarely saw His Ajax anymore, though, that was for the best. The sight of Childe wasn’t a pretty one. The Harbinger looked fine during the day, issuing orders left and right. But at night, the act came crashing down. The ex-Archon watched as his love tore him apart. Each night he would down a bottle of Fire Water and fight until the sun peeked over the mountains. His sobs outside the ex-Archon’s apartment door hurt more than anything, however. When camps were cleaned and his prey seemed too weak, Childe would sit outside his door and tell him about his day in a drunken haze, blabbering on about nothing. Zhongli would press his back against the door and listen, cradling a cup of tea. Once he knew his love was asleep, Zhongli offered him a blanket and a glass of water and nothing more.
It hurt. Truly. Zhongli hated watching it, the young Harbinger was damaged in such a way. It felt like his heart had been ripped out and fed to him. But there was never a moment he thought about turning back on his decision. The smell of glaze lilies and the sight of dust still brought an ache to his heart. So, no, Zhongli would not apologize for choosing himself this time. But it hurt nonetheless, watching the one he loved so dearly treat himself like he was not worth the world and more.
And Zhongli knew very well what was going through His Ajax’s mind. It was obvious to anyone who looked past his Harbinger mask. The boy had been stripped of love too soon in his life and he believed it was his fault for it. Zhongli knew Childe was telling himself he was the one in the wrong, that he was the one who needed the fixing–which was simply not true.
The evening was warm, the tea cradle between his hands was familiar, and the voice of his love felt just right. “Anyways, it was totally stupid, Zhongli!” The drunk Harbinger giggled. “I will never, ever look at the colour green the same,” There was a pause, the sound of a bottle being picked up, downed, and put down. “...I’m going home tomorrow. So, this is it. Thank you for humouring a mortal like me,” He bit bitterly. “I miss our dinners, by the way. I miss your voice. And your smiles. Hm,” He giggled. “And your little snort when you find something amusing even if they were normally at my expense. I’ll miss us. I do miss us, already.”
The boat was large, ready to make the trip back to Childe’s homeland. For the first time since the night where Zhongli broke both their hearts, Zhongli and Childe looked at each other. Red bursted across the white of His Ajax’s eyes, making the dull all the more dull. Zhongli drank in the sight.
“You will shine like gold in my memories.” Zhongli offered; his heart and throat felt tight as he spoke.
“Zhongli,” Childe breathed softly. “Humor me?”
“Always.” His love’s lips were as soft as he expected them to be, capped and tasting like salt. The Harbinger’s waist was firm and not nearly as slim as he expected it to be. And his hair was soft and warm from sunlight. Oh, how he wished he wasn’t such a coward.
Zhongli felt his heartbreak all that more when they pulled apart.
As the ship sailed, parting the water beneath it, Zhongli couldn’t help but think it again.
Their love was a mistake.
It should be burned in a fire, buried under the Liyue mountains, forgotten in the Snezhnaya snow.
And Zhongli knew he would never see His Ajax again. Never witness his smile, blinding and pure. Never hear his laugh, offered so endearingly freely. Never witness the way he would look, covered in silk sheets as sleep still clung to his eyes.
But Zhongli was a coward, and he was greedy.
He couldn't love someone for his love was a cancer: it brought death to both him and those who were subjected to it.