Work Text:
A year. Childe kicked the dirt in front of him. Over a year. Over a year since he had last been in Liyue, and here he was again. Lanterns flew high into the pitch sky, and Childe could only try to quell the ache in his heart. He wondered what was written on each lantern. Desperate pleas, perhaps, or joyful wishes.
He had done his utmost to keep a low profile. He’d been in Liyue for a week now, and he’d only just entered the harbour for the first time. He wasn’t sure why he returned for the Lantern Rite. Perhaps it was to see all the lanterns and the wishes they carried with them. Somewhere, in that sea of light, there must’ve been one lantern that bore a message similar to his own. But Childe would never be able to carve his hopes into the sky, because Zhongli would hear them.
Over a year, and Childe still felt empty every time the name rang dully in his head.
Over a year, and still, Childe found himself griping to replace what had been.
‘The Lantern Rite is the pinnacle of Liyuen culture. The festivities, though they may on the surface seem frivolous, are themselves a core of what makes Liyue itself.’
Childe found himself alone on the stairs that led up to Feiyun Slope. His heart was thumping, and he could feel his palms turning sweaty in his pockets. He could practically see how Zhongli gazed out at the lanterns, his amber eyes twinkling. He could practically hear Zhongli’s voice and feel his presence everywhere.
When they had first met, Childe had thought that Zhongli was Liyue embodied, and if only he’d thought a little harder, or been a little wiser, he could’ve saved himself a lot of heartache.
Childe wasn’t an idiot. He knew that they were always meant to part. Zhongli using him as part of his plan was not malicious, nor was it personal. But Childe knew that the heart was not something logical. His mind ticked for battle, his heart screamed that he had been slighted, and all his soul could do was grieve for the last bit of boyish joy he had lost. He felt less like Ajax every day.
Childe caught a glimpse of a familiar head of blonde hair weaving through the crowds, and he was tempted to call out, but his voice failed him. He didn’t particularly feel the urge to speak to anyone. To have to smile for anyone. To pretend.
Childe walked down the pier solemnly, drinking in the sounds of music and laughter, and letting the scents of spices waft around him. The Lantern Rite was nearly over. He’d return to Snezhnaya soon. He never should’ve left in the first place, really. He was sure he had something he was missing out on.
But something in him beckoned him back. Back to the place that had made him feel for the first time in years.
‘Childe?’ Paimon’s voice was like a bell that had rusted and crumbled out of tune but still tried to wring. He took in a deep breath, and turned to face the floating creature, a tight smile painted across his face.
‘Paimon, Traveller. I didn’t expect to run into you two here!’ Childe chirped, and Lumine crossed her arms, giving him a suspicious look.
‘What are you doing in Liyue? Weren’t you supposed to be in Snezhnaya by now!’ Paimon said, and Lumine nodded along in blank agreement.
Childe felt his smile tug, but he forced it to stay, breathing out a gentle chuckle.
‘I was, until about a week ago. I couldn’t miss the Lantern Rite now could I?’ He said, and Lumine gave Paimon a glance.
‘Paimon, you should run ahead and tell Hu Tao that I’m on my way.’ Lumine said, and Paimon gave her a hum of agreement, before flying off into the night. Lumine turned back to Childe, crossing her arms tighter as she stared at him, her brow low and her gaze magnifying. ‘Why are you really here, Childe?’ She asked, and Childe huffed out another laugh, meeting her eyes.
‘Always so suspicious.’ Childe joked, and Lumine sighed, rubbing her forehead with her hand. Her vision broke away from his and found the ground, her cheeks flushing.
‘The Fatui haven’t been up to very much good lately. In Liyue as much as anywhere else. I have good reason to be suspicious.’ Lumine sighed, and Childe scoffed, digging his hands further into the shallow pockets of his pants.
‘Is it so hard to believe that I simply wanted to reminisce?’ He asked, and Lumine’s eyes darted back to him, sharp as arrows.
‘Over what? The fact that you tried to destroy this nation the last time you were here?’ She said, before recoiling. She seemed conflicted, and Childe wasn’t sure why. He knew the battle her mind was fighting only all too well. She was trying to figure him out. Childe knew he was a dichotomy. Frequently he felt like there was no true self within him, and for someone else to attempt to work that out would be mental torture. He did not envy her.
‘You seem more aggressive than the last time we spoke. Does this have to do with the dealings of my comrades in Sumeru?’ Childe coaxed, and Lumine’s hand fell back to her side. She bit her lip and breathed in and out. When she spoke, she spoke with a tense sense of calm.
‘Childe, I don’t want to hate you.’ She said, her voice low, and Childe felt his smile dropping as he matched the vulnerability she displayed.
‘Neither do I, Traveller.’ He said, and Lumine’s brow twitched as she reached up to grab his sleeve. Childe shrugged her off.
‘So be honest about why you’re here. I don’t know what your real motivation is, but I know you’re not here for the Lantern Rite.’ Lumine insisted, her voice wavering.
‘I am, though. Why don’t you tell me what you think I’m up to?’ Childe said, and Lumine answered him with silence, her eyes studying the lines of his face with conflict upon conflict raged in her eyes, clouding them like a snowstorm over spring flowers.
‘Childe.’ She whispered, and Childe looked away. The storm in her eyes faded to a dull look of worry, and it burned through Childe like a wildfire. He didn’t need anyone to be worried about him. Spending his time miserable in Liyue was his business and his alone.
‘You definitely don’t look to be in the mood for festivities.’ Lumine said, her words curt, yet packed with insinuation.
Childe forced out a soulless laugh.
‘Me? I’m always in the mood for good food and a good environment.’ He joked, and Lumine crossed her arms again.
‘On your own?’ She asked, and Childe felt a pang in his heart. His first Lantern Rite had been spent hand-in-hand with Zhongli. Back when Childe could look at him and confidently say that they were much more than friends. In every way except in name. Back then, Childe hadn’t cared for what they called it, he hadn’t cared for anything except the chance to spent a day walking together with no aim and no obligations, or a night with Zhongli in his arms. But now, Childe found himself reeling to name what they had. Was it easier for Zhongli to adhere to his plots since he never called what they had ‘love?’ was none of it real, or good enough, or honest, because they had never really been together?
Childe gnawed at his cheek, his eyes burning into the ground.
‘When have I ever needed anyone else to have a good time?’ He said, and Lumine shrugged, putting her hand back on his arm. Her touch was gentle, understanding, and Childe hated it. He resisted the urge to push her off again.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know much about you.’ She muttered, and Childe felt a flare of anger course through him, and he raised his head, looking down at her, his brow furrowed.
‘What’s your goal here, Lumine? To uncover some Fatui plot? There isn’t one, girlie, so you might as well pack up and move along.’ He spat, pushing her away and trying to walk away.
She caught him by the sleeve, her voice growing pained and desperate.
‘Childe… wait.’ She said. Every part of her was ringing out in apology and worry, and Childe couldn’t stand it. He could handle Lumine treating him like an enemy, or a friendly acquaintance she fought sometimes, but she was growing entirely too familiar, and it made Childe’s skin tingle, and his heart sting.
‘What?’ He managed out, and she cleared her throat, looking up at him with wide eyes.
‘Would you like to join me and some friends for dinner?’ She asked, and Childe raised an eyebrow.
‘What friends?’ He asked, a knot in his stomach weaving into a pitch black hole, weighing him down to singularity.
‘Well, Paimon, obviously, and, uh, Hu Tao was the one who invited us so…’ Lumine stammered, and Childe sighed, shrugging her grip from his sleeve.
‘Zhongli, then.’ He muttered, and Lumine flinched.
‘Yeah. I was wondering if you’d spoken to him since…’ She began, but Childe cut her off, his sinking feeling tossing and crashing into anger, burning from black to crimson as he stepped back from her. He didn’t need her to play advocate. He didn’t need to try and rekindle everything. He didn’t want to. He didn’t even know why he was in Liyue.
‘I haven’t, and I’m sure my being there would just spoil the mood. Have fun, Lumine, go celebrate with your friends.’ Childe said, giving Lumine a light slap on the shoulder before turning away, light dropping from his eyes. He tried not to turn around to check if she was watching him disappear into the sea of bodies that surrounded the entire harbour.
-
Childe spent the rest of the night on the rooves of Feiyun slope, dozing above the hubbub of the celebrations, and letting himself grow comfortable in the daze of orange light. His eyes lingered down to Xinyue kiosk as he saw Lumine exit with a small man with an angry demeanour and an Anemo vision. They seemed to be talking quite heatedly. Childe continued watching as they bustled back into the restaurant, and he let himself sigh, wondering how he’d be faring if he had chosen to join Lumine.
Then, he felt his heart stop. The next time the door opened, Lumine and the small man weren’t alone. Time was a joke. Childe had never felt so frozen as he did when his eyes found Zhongli. Of course, Childe hadn’t expected Zhongli to change. Why would he? He was a God, unmarred by the passage of mortality that mortals clung to so desperately. But still, from his graceful movement to the shining tips of his hair, he was completely the same as the man Childe loved.
Loved.
It felt so strange to speak of it in the past tense. Childe had spent all those months in Liyue loving, so when he had left, he felt a new found sense of emptiness at the finality of what he had experienced. Childe didn’t feel like they were gone and buried. He felt Zhongli around him constantly, and yet, he was so out of reach. He wondered how many lies Zhongli had to feed himself to stomach what he did. He wondered why Zhongli entertained Childe’s advances in the first place. Childe understood more of Zhongli’s actions than he wanted to, and to avoid the darker hurt of being loved and still betrayed, he had had to convince himself that Zhongli had never loved him in the first place. He’d never called it love. Childe found sick solace in hopeless and naïve heartbreak. He found none in a deep and intimate betrayal of trust. He wasn’t a person to Zhongli, because if he had been, it would only make everything that much worse.
If Zhongli had loved him, he had done everything with the acute knowledge of how it’d end. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word of affection and adoration would’ve been tinted, broken, and twisted from the inside out.
Childe dragged his knees up to his chest, trying to ignore the wetness that filled his eyes as he stared down at Zhongli. Everything was a blur except him. Like time itself wanted Childe to have to see his every movement, every smile he gave Lumine. Every chuckle. Then, Lumine left with the small man, and Hu Tao left with her friends, and even the strange green bard disappeared, but Zhongli remained where he stood, and like some kind of earth shattering pull, his glowing eyes dragged up to the roof where Childe sat, and Childe stared down at him, slow motion haze filling his mind as he felt his chest still, his breathing stop, and his mouth run dry.
Then, Zhongli looked away, walking away, his hair fluttering in the gentle night wind, and Childe could breathe again.
His body was screaming for him to run after Zhongli, but his body wouldn’t move. His eyes remained trained to where Zhongli had been, and his fingers tore the seams of his clothing.
A soft clank sounded from the roof tiles behind him. He whipped his head around, and before he could think, or breathe, or speak, Zhongli sat down next to him, staring off into the lantern-ridden sky.
‘I thought I saw you.’ Zhongli said, smiling softly.
Childe felt like he had stepped into a dream, or into a memory. The two seemed to be nearly identical most days. Childe remained silent. What was he supposed to say? What did Zhongli want? Why had he come up to the roof in the first place?
‘Good to see you didn’t miss the Lantern Rite. Lumine said she spoke to you, though, I wasn’t expecting to run into you.’ Zhongli continued, and Childe gritted his teeth. His body was aching to fight. To release some of the tension filling him like hot air. He was stretched too thin. Zhongli never loved him. Zhongli didn’t care. He couldn’t. He couldn’t.
‘How was dinner?’ Childe managed to squeak out through seething fury and taut heartache.
Zhongli hummed.
‘Amusing. Director Hu certainly has her ways of never letting a dull moment occur.’ Zhongli chuckled, and Childe frowned. ‘But Lumine said you turned down her invite.’ Zhongli said, his voice tighter. Childe couldn’t help the scoff that left his lips. Zhongli looked at him with shining eyes, wide in the darkness. ‘Am I overreaching if I ask why?’
Childe grimaced. He always managed to remain impassive. Unmoved. Unemotional. He was a weapon. He knew that, and he never found any sort of issue with it. But with Zhongli, he felt like less like a sword and more like a timed bomb. He hated how a few word were enough to reduce his core to rubble.
‘You’re overreaching by being up here.’ Childe said, and a ring of hurt flickered through Zhongli’s eyes.
‘I apologise, then.’ He said, and Childe sighed rubbing his temple.
‘What do you want, Zhongli?’ Childe snapped, and Zhongli flinched, his amber eyes glowing as they moved from Childe’s face to the horizon.
‘Perhaps I was hopeful.’ Zhongli said, and Childe looked at him quizzically.
‘Hopeful for what?’ Childe asked, and Zhongli sighed, his gloved hands knitting together.
‘That I could speak to you like this, and everything could be just as it was.’ Zhongli said, his detached voice lined with a fragmented feeling of vulnerability. Childe wondered if it was the best that he could muster.
‘That’s not being hopeful, Zhongli. That’s being delusional.’ Childe laughed, and Zhongli frowned, looking back at Childe.
‘For any hurt I caused you, I sincerely apologise. It was never my intention.’ Zhongli said, and Childe scoffed, meeting Zhongli’s amber eyes with his own.
‘Yeah, well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?’ Childe began, his voice sharp and pointed. He shot to kill, and he aimed for the heart. He knew that Zhongli didn’t have one, but the gleeful satisfaction was worth it anyway. ‘You knew what the end would be, and you did it anyway. Careless is probably the right word for it.’ Childe continued, and Zhongli’s eyes pulsed, glowing brighter in the dark, like little lanterns. His hair seemed to illuminate as well, every beautiful part of him screaming in inhumanity.
‘That’s not true.’ Zhongli insisted, his voice rougher than usual, and Childe smirked at the cracks he’d managed to carve into Zhongli’s stonelike demeanour.
‘Then what is the truth, Morax?’ Childe sneered, and Zhongli flinched, his brow dropping, and his entire expression twisting in darkness.
‘Do not call me that. It does not sound right coming from you.’ Zhongli said, his voice returning to false impassivity.
‘So you still want to lie and pretend, even now?’ Childe laughed, before tightening his gaze on Zhongli, his voice gleaming with venom. ‘There’s no point, Zhongli, I’m leaving soon anyway. Don’t make anything harder than it needs to be. I’d honestly rather forget about the stupid things we did.’ He spat, and Zhongli’s expression softened, and if Childe didn’t know better, he’d have said he watched something snap inside Zhongli.
‘I wouldn’t.’ Zhongli whispered, and Childe rolled his eyes.
‘Yeah, well, that doesn’t matter to me, to be entirely honest.’ He said, and Zhongli bit his lip, threading his hands together again like some sort of feigned nervousness. Childe knew all of his habits well. He had fallen in love with all of them, and every single of them had broken his heart.
‘I cared for you.’ Zhongli insisted, his voice careful, and Childe felt himself shatter all over again.
‘But I loved you, and you let me love you, knowing I fell for someone who didn’t even exist.’ Childe insisted, and Zhongli’s eyes darkened again, the red lining them bleeding into the amber colour in his rage.
‘And you think I was any different? If I had been any one else, this still would’ve ended badly, Childe. You’re being hypocritical.’ Zhongli’s voice rang louder than Childe had ever heard it, and Childe could only fight with the card Zhongli had handed him.
‘You invade my silence, berate me with your lies, and then call me a hypocrite? Wow, Zhongli, real way to win a guy over.’ Childe said, and Zhongli quietened, and Childe reeled in fury as he watched Zhongli regain his composure like it was easy. For him, it probably way. He probably had had countless lovers over his millennia of existence, and Childe wondered if he was weighing Childe’s worth against every single one. Zhongli could have anyone. Childe didn’t understand why he had chosen him.
‘Tell me your name, at least.’ Zhongli said, and Childe blinked blankly, staring at Zhongli in confusion.
‘What?’
Zhongli swallowed, breaking his eyes from Childe again, his cheeks flushed. Childe couldn’t tell if it was from his outburst, or from something more sinister.
‘You know my name, my archon name. I don’t know your real name. Tell me, and then I’ll let you go.’ Zhongli whispered.
Childe felt his heart stop. He could say ‘Ajax’, and speak the technical truth, but Childe had not been Ajax in a long time.
‘I don’t have one.’ Childe said. ‘I have a birth name, but if you’re asking which name is really me, then none.’
‘Then who have you been all this time that you’ve been with me?’ Zhongli asked, and Childe chuckled.
‘I’ve been someone I thought you wanted.’ Childe said, and Zhongli frowned, displeasure raking across his face.
‘Then you are as much a liar as I.’ Zhongli said, shuffling closer to Childe. Childe could feel his heart pound in his throat, but how was he supposed to tell the man who betrayed and left him that he had been himself, completely and honestly, in the quiet mornings when they awoke in the same bed, or in the night strolls that Zhongli was so fond of?
‘We shouldn’t do this again, Zhongli.’ Childe whispered, and Zhongli put a careful hand on Childe’s shoulder. Childe made no move to remove it. He ached for it. He spent over a year aching for it. He nearly melted into it.
‘We shouldn’t have ever done it, yet that did not serve as reason enough to stop us.’ Zhongli continued, his voice low and smooth, making Childe remember all the reasons he had let Zhongli toy with him in the first place. ‘I’ve found, over the years, that emotional honesty is one of my biggest weaknesses. I wish that my lack of maturity in this regard had not hurt you. I cared for you truly, Childe, and I do not regret what we had. I knew it would end, probably badly, but I thought I knew you well enough to make amends.’ Zhongli’s confession was convoluted and ignorant, but it made Childe’s heart bleed. It was a strange type of glowing darkness that was taking him under.
You knew he loved you. You were scared of it, but it doesn’t change that he loved you the entire time.
‘You’re selfish, then.’ Childe managed, and Zhongli moved his hand to Childe’s cheek, holding him gently.
‘I am. I will be the first to confess that. When does your boat to Snezhnaya leave?’ Zhongli said, his thumb rubbing softly across Childe’s freckled cheekbone.
‘In two days.’ Childe murmured, his walls falling without his permission as Zhongli managed to dive right back into the spot in Childe’s heart only reserved for him.
‘Do you think I have enough time to make it up to you in two days?’ Zhongli asked, and Childe felt a pang in his stomach.
‘No.’ Childe said.
‘Then you’d rather we part like strangers?’ Zhongli’s voice was weak and quiet. It didn’t suit him. Childe ran a careful hand through Zhongli’s hair. It was something he used to do on their nights together, and Zhongli melted into Childe’s touch, his own hand falling to the crook of Childe’s neck.
‘No.’ Childe said, and he felt Zhongli breathe a sigh of relief. ‘I’ll be back one day. I think I can’t stay away from this place. But whenever we do sort whatever this is out… it won’t be this time.’ Childe said. He spoke as truthfully as he could. Perhaps it would take him a year to be ready, or a decade, or even half his life. But an aching spirit in Childe’s gut told him that there would be no end to the place Zhongli had carved out for himself in Childe’s life.
‘I understand that. If that’s the case, I’ll be waiting for you. Will I see you again before you leave?’ Zhongli spoke like it was the simplest thing, as simple as leaves falling in Autumn, or the sun rising at dawn.
‘Probably not.’ Childe said, and Zhongli seemed dejected.
‘Ah.’ He breathed, and Childe found himself letting out a light chuckle, playing with the ends of Zhongli’s hair. It was remarkable, how easy it was to breathe when he was with Zhongli.
‘Zhongli.’
‘Yes?’ Zhongli answered, his expression pert and bright.
‘You don’t have to ask for a goodbye kiss. I know you well enough to know you want one.’ Childe said, tilting Zhongli’s chin up. Childe could feel his heart stammering, but Zhongli just smiled warmly, dissipating the darkness in Childe like a flame through the night.
‘Would that be alright with you?’ Zhongli asked.
Childe pressed their lips together, and it was like returning home. The way they glided together, the places their hands rested, all of it was like they had never parted, and yet filled with a hunger that echoed their time apart.
When they separated, Childe could feel desperation clawing at his chest.
You knew it all along. That he loved you and still betrayed you.
But Childe didn’t know. He didn’t have the time to ask about why Zhongli did it, but he had just enough time to ask one last question.
‘Zhongli, can you call what we had ‘love?’’ Childe asked, and Zhongli’s gaze softened as he held Childe’s face in his hands.
‘If you ever felt that I did not love you, then I have failed you worse than I ever imagined I did.’ Zhongli replied, and Childe felt his heart surge with fear and joy, coagulating within him in an explosion brighter than any firework.
‘And you’ll feel the same when I return?’ Childe said, and Zhongli pressed a neat kiss to Childe’s forehead, staring at him lovingly. Childe had never felt so warm.
‘How long can you really take, when compared to all the years I have lived without you?’ Zhongli whispered.
They spent the rest of the night on the roof, only to part when the morning came. The lanterns drifted out to sea, and the buzz of the harbour was replaced by the calls of the morning birds, and Ajax had never felt more alive.