Chapter Text
Venti lets out a sigh of relief once he receives a thumbs up from his producer. Today’s recording session took some time, but at least that was finally out of the way in his to-do list. He steps out of the recording room and drinks the bottle of water he had brought with him. It helps soothe his slightly sore throat. He thinks of hanging out in his personal room while he waits for his next practice, when he hears a familiar voice.
“Hey, Venti,” Childe greets, and Venti instantly grins at the sight of his personal bodyguard. Perfect timing. Maybe he should grab a snack with him instead. “You done with your recording?”
“Yep! For today,” Venti quickly adds, upon noticing the glare from his music producer.
“Nice. Okay, so I saw this ice cream truck right outside,” Childe says, making a gesture with his thumb. “Wanna buy some ice cream? My treat.”
It looks like Childe has completely read his mind. Venti locks their arms together and starts dragging him. “Let’s go!”
The two of them hastily change into some disguise before exiting through the back of the building. Venti’s fans are attentive enough to know that Venti will be there whenever his ‘ginger-haired bodyguard’ (is what they like to call him) is present, so Childe ends up having to wear a disguise that covers his hair whenever they go out. It usually works, and some of the fans waiting outside of the building don't seem to notice them approaching the ice cream truck. Venti appreciates the peace for once. While he really loves his fans, he wants to spend time with Childe too. Childe may be his bodyguard, but he has turned into his best friend over the years.
The ice cream guy turns out to be an elderly man—maybe in his seventies. Despite his age, he’s very cheerful and passionate when he explains the ice cream flavours he’s selling. Venti admires his enthusiasm for ice cream, and he listens to him as he states his bestselling flavours. In the end, he goes for a triple-scoop apple caramel ice cream.
As they both wait for the ice cream guy to scoop their ice cream, Venti can’t help but notice the anxious look on Childe’s face. He seems to be fidgeting nonstop, and he wonders if something bad had happened while he was recording to leave him like this.
“You okay?” Venti asks, his brows furrowing in concern. It’s unlike Childe to feel nervous.
Childe looks slightly startled, but he quickly waves his hand nonchalantly in the air. “Yeah—don’t worry. Everything’s fine.”
Venti sends him a deadpan look. He crosses his arms, before he raises a brow. “You do know that you’ve been with me for five years, right? I can tell when you’re lying.”
Childe sighs. “Okay, maybe something’s not fine.” He accepts the two ice creams when the old man hands them over to him, making sure to thank him for the food. He finally turns around to face him. “But do you mind if I tell you later? Let’s just... eat first.”
Childe’s words only increase Venti’s worry, but he nods. They both find a nearby bench to sit and eat their ice cream. For the first time, none of them say anything as they eat their food together. Venti wants to break the silence—mostly because he hates feeling like something bad is going to happen—but he finds himself swallowing his own nervousness instead.
After what it feels like forever, the two of them finally finish their ice cream. They both head back to Thousand Winds Music, and Venti can feel his own steps becoming heavier. What is Childe hiding from him? Is it really that bad that he looks so reluctant to tell him? He shakes his head. He can’t let the silence stretch any longer. He needs to break it, even though Childe owes him an explanation.
“Thanks for the ice cream,” Venti says, smiling. Though, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He tugs at the sleeve of Childe’s shirt, stopping him from moving any further. “Now, can you tell me what’s bothering you?”
Childe momentarily looks at him, eyes filling with sorrow. He averts his gaze, and a heavy sigh escapes him. “I’m going to tell you,” he says, slowly. “But you have to promise me you won’t freak out.”
Venti stiffens. Then, he lets out a nervous laugh. “I’m kinda freaking out a little, but... go on.”
He can see Childe clenching his fists at his sides, before he looks up to meet his gaze once again. For some reason, the look he gives is apologetic. “I’m... quitting.”
A few seconds pass.
Venti blinks. “What?”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but Venti—these five years have been amazing,” Childe says, placing both hands over his shoulders. “Sadly, I’m not getting any younger. I want to have a family, have kids—I’m going to marry Lumine soon.”
Venti is often the type to share people’s happiness, but it’s hard to be happy when he can only focus on one thing: “You’re... leaving me?”
“Venti, that’s not—” Childe grimaces when he hears a sniff. He frantically waves his hands around. “Venti, please. I’m not leaving you. I’m just—resigning, you know.”
Venti’s bottom lip begins to tremble. That doesn’t make it sound any better.
“Archons.” Childe bends down to look at him eye-level. He gives his shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Venti, I— Firstly, can you please not make that face?”
Venti’s not sure what ‘not make that face’ means, but he does feel his eyes tearing up instead.
“Oh, no. No, no, no—Venti, please don’t cry.” Childe starts to search for his handkerchief. He’s just in time to wipe a giant snot from falling off his nose. “Venti... come on. I promise you, it’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?!” Venti suddenly yells, his voice high. Childe flinches. “Who’s going to protect me?! A-and eat lunch with me?”
“Hey, I already got that covered,” Childe says, bending down to wipe his nose again. “Do you remember that guy I told you about? The guy who went to school with me?”
Venti sniffles. “The guy who acts like an old man...?”
“Yeah, that guy. Zhongli,” Childe says, nodding. “He’ll take good care of you. In fact, you should feel much safer with him since he’s slightly better than me in terms of fighting.”
“But I don’t want an old man to take care of me!” Venti wails, burying his face in Childe’s chest. “What if he’s strict like those other bodyguards? Or mean and scary?”
“Trust me, he’s far from mean and scary,” Childe says, wrapping his hands around him. He bends down, resting his chin over his head. When he sighs, Venti can feel his breath over his hair. “I wouldn’t be leaving you if I knew you weren’t in good hands, Venti. I waited until he resigned from his previous job to do this.”
Venti clutches Childe’s shirt. His friend is not helping with his feelings—at all. Even though Childe tends to tease him and make fun of him, he has always been by his side since the very beginning. He was there when everyone was treating him indifferently. He was there throughout the harassment he got as an idol. The amount of times he stayed by his side just because he knew Venti needed some company—Venti’s really going to miss all of those.
“I’m still around, you know,” Childe says, and Venti feels him patting his back. “You can just give me a call—or visit us. Lumine loves you, and I’m sure she’ll be happy if she sees you again.”
Venti manages a nod. Slowly, he pulls away and looks up. His eyes are still watery with tears when he says, “Congratulations. For you and Lumine.” He sniffs again, giving him a wobbly smile. “Please don’t forget to invite me to your wedding.”
“Of course I won’t. You’re going to sit at the VVVIP area, for sure,” Childe says, giving him a small grin. He helps wipe the corner of his eyes with his thumb, before he shakes his head. “God, I forgot that you can be such a baby sometimes. I can’t help but feel worried about leaving you now.”
Venti lets out a shaky laugh, wiping his face with his hands. “I wonder whose fault that is.”
“Mine, I guess,” Childe says, shrugging. “This is what happens when I coddle you too much—not that I regret any of it.”
Venti is smiling now. He leans closer to Childe to hug his arm. “I’m going to miss you.”
Childe ruffles his hair with his free hand, and Venti’s going to miss grunting in annoyance for it. “I’m going to miss you too, comrade.”
➳
It feels a little lonely going to work the next day. Venti isn’t used to it, because he always has Childe to hang out with whenever everyone else is so busy. But that’s okay. Childe had reminded him again and again that he had his number if he needed anything, and Venti promised that he would give him a call if he needed a friend to talk to. For now, he wants to try and distract himself by doing something that he had planned for ages—which is painting his toenails. He doesn’t want to bother Childe when he’s probably planning his wedding with Lumine.
He doesn’t realise that his tongue is sticking out at the corner of his mouth as he carefully paints a toenail. Even though this is not as fun as when Childe was with him, at least it helps him keep his mind from his own sadness. He’s almost done covering the entire nail with the colour teal—
He yelps when the door suddenly flies open, his hands moving clumsily and messing up the final toenail. He sees his manager, Jean, standing at the doorway, and he lets out a groan when he spots the mess he has made on his toe.
“Jean…” Venti groans, reaching out his hand to grab some tissues.
“Venti, I am so sorry,” Jean says, rushing inside to inspect the damage. She quickly takes the tissues from his hand and helps wipe the messy nail polish over his skin. “Let me help you.”
“It’s fine, really,” Venti says, though he lets her do the wiping now that she has grabbed the tissues from him. He knows, if he doesn’t let her do this, she’s only going to work unnecessarily more just as an apology. “What’s up?”
Jean pauses, before she looks up. “I wanted to inform you that your new bodyguard is here.”
Venti’s eyes widen. “Already?”
“Yes.”
The two of them quickly head out of his room, with Venti dragging Jean. Since his nails haven’t dried yet, he decides to wear flip flops—first impressions, be damned. He can’t help but feel excited and nervous at the same time, meeting his new bodyguard. Childe had reassured him that Zhongli was a great guy, but he wouldn’t know that for sure until he actually met him.
There’s a man standing at the main hall, and Venti subconsciously slows down his pace. All of a sudden, his nervousness increases tenfold, and he somehow finds himself hiding behind Jean when they approach him. The man—Zhongli—has the same stature as Childe, though his posture is more elegant and dignified. When Venti gets closer, the first thing that comes to his mind is, he looks handsome. But then he sees his intense gaze and—okay this guy looks scary as fuck.
He doesn’t know when exactly he grabbed the edge of Jean’s shirt, but he’s clutching it now like his life depends on it. This is the guy who’s going to protect him wherever he goes? He looks like he’s about to drop a meteor on top of him!
“Mr. Zhongli. Welcome to Thousand Winds Music,” Jean says, extending her arm in front of her. They both shake hands. “It’s a pleasure meeting you. We’ve heard of your outstanding performances in your previous jobs, and we’re honoured to welcome you to the company.”
“Thank you,” Zhongli replies, nodding his head. His eyes flicker to Venti, and Venti can’t help but shudder involuntarily. “I look forward to working here.”
Jean smiles, before she shoots Venti a worried look. Venti rarely gets nervous with people—a skill he has obtained from being an idol—but this doesn’t apply when he’s not in front of his fans. What people don’t know about him is that he’s a scaredy-cat, and there are very few people he really trusts; which are only Jean and Childe. They are the ones who have stuck with him since day one. So having to extend his trust to a newcomer is slightly... difficult. Especially when he’s supposed to trust his life with him.
“I’m sorry, he’s actually a little shy when you really get to meet him,” Jean says, giving Venti a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “But this is Venti, the one that you have given an oath to protect.”
Venti is surprised when Zhongli gives him a courteous bow, his hand diagonally over his chest. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
For a second, Venti just watches him in awe because—wow, he looks like one of those rich gentlemen on TV. But he quickly shakes his head. One thing he learns from being an idol is to never judge a book by its cover. People are always planning to exploit him, so he has to be careful.
(He has been betrayed once—a few times. He doesn’t want to experience heartache anymore, not when he no longer has Childe to comfort him. He doesn’t want to burden Jean either when she already has so much on her plate. He has to be independent now; learn how to guard his heart and wipe away his own tears.)
Venti slowly nods, before he forces himself to put on a bright smile. “Nice to meet you.”
Jean proceeds with explaining some rules and regulations to Zhongli, but Venti is only half-listening. He only catches Jean telling the man that he will be his personal bodyguard, protect him whenever he goes outside, refrain himself from developing any feelings since he’s unmarried...
Wait, wait, wait. What?
Zhongli is not married?!
His mind is haywire by the time Jean finishes discussing some terms with Zhongli. He can feel the anxiety growing in his stomach. Is it really okay for Zhongli to work with him? His CEO has been strict lately about employing people who are partnerless. It is to prevent them from getting into scandals or unwanted discourses...
But judging by the way Zhongli talks and acts, it seems like he is professional enough to know how to control his feelings. Maybe he’s just worried about nothing. Childe has mentioned to him before that Zhongli has trouble comprehending people’s feelings.
A blockhead, is what he used to say to describe him.
➳
It’s already late in the evening when Venti finishes with his practice. His shirt feels hot from all the sweat—no thanks to the dancing—and he wants nothing more than to dip himself in the tub and take a nice, long bath.
His throat feels dry, but there’s nothing for him to drink. He had forgotten to buy himself some water before practice, so by the time he finished, the cafe in the company’s building was already closed. He thought of going to the vending machine instead, but it required him to do some extra walking. He really doesn’t have the energy to do that right now, so maybe he should just wait until he reaches home.
The building is dimly lit now that most of the staff and other idols have returned. Venti isn’t usually too worried since he knows Childe will always be waiting for him to escort him home, but then he sees Zhongli and—right. Childe isn’t working with him anymore.
He swallows the lump in his throat. This will be his first time returning home—with someone other than Childe accompanying him. He tries to reassure himself that Zhongli must be someone trustworthy if the company can hire him despite his single status. Said man seems to be waiting for him, a bottle in one hand, and a towel in the other.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Venti says, quickening his steps. He wipes a hand over his forehead when he feels a trickle of sweat.
“It is no trouble, sir,” Zhongli says, before he hands over the bottle of water and towel. “I believe you must be tired after practicing.”
Venti can immediately feel himself cringing. “Just Venti is fine,” he says, and he accepts the towel and bottle of water with a smile. “Thank you though.”
Zhongli nods, before he gestures to the door. “I will escort you home, Venti.”
While wiping his face with the towel, Venti makes sure to check the cap of the drink. The seal is still there, which means Zhongli couldn’t have put anything in it. He feels slightly bad for doubting the man, but it’s necessary since Jean has always told him to be careful when accepting food from others in case they’ve spiked it. He tries to open the cap of the bottle, when he’s horrified to realise that he can’t.
He’s so grateful that Zhongli has his back against him right now, because this shit is seriously embarrassing. He spends a few good seconds struggling with the cap, but the water bottle won’t fucking budge. He feels like squeezing the entire thing until the water bursts out—because he’s just so thirsty.
When the two of them get into the car, and Venti holds his water bottle dejectedly, that’s when he decides to speak up. “Um,” he shrinks a little under Zhongli’s unexpected gaze, “can you—help me open this?”
He expects to receive a judgemental or stern look, but all he gets is an affirmative nod. He puts the water bottle in Zhongli’s hand, and with an easy flick of his wrist, the cap opens.
“Wow,” Venti can’t help with the awe in his voice. Zhongli hands back the water bottle to him. “Thank you.”
He drinks up all the water in one go, and he lets out a sigh of relief once his throat is hydrated. Reluctantly, he throws Zhongli a side-eye glance, and he notices how his bodyguard is just staring at the front, his expression neutral—or unreadable. He wants to talk to him—get to know him more—but he doesn’t have the courage to.
Venti leans back in his seat. Maybe he’ll talk to him tomorrow when he isn’t exhausted from his training. He usually feels a lot braver when he’s energetic.
➳
Venti is hastily putting on his socks, when someone rings the doorbell. He curses himself for waking up a little late today—he hasn’t even gotten the time to braid his hair yet—but he can do that later in the car. Even though he’s not really late, since he still has time before his work starts, that doesn’t mean his ride won’t arrive exactly on time like it always does.
“Coming!” he yells, running to the door. Ugh, he hasn’t even put on his makeup too!
He swings the door open, and he suddenly feels self-conscious when he finds Zhongli dressed in a suit and tie—which is what Childe usually wears but—fuck, he looks really good in it. Meanwhile he must be looking so underdressed right now, especially with his messy hair and bare face.
What makes it worse is that Zhongli is furrowing his brow now, which means it’s that obvious. He tries to make himself look more decent by combing his hair with his fingers, but it doesn’t seem to work when he sees the man frowning instead.
“I know,” Venti says, exasperated. But if he goes back to his apartment to look at himself in the mirror, he’s sure he’ll spend another twenty minutes going through his daily hair and face routine. (One of the reasons why he forced himself not to sit at his dressing table today.) “I’ll fix it later. Let’s just go before we’re late.”
“There are fans waiting outside,” Zhongli says, putting his hand into his suit jacket. Venti’s about to tell him that he has already resigned to his fate, when the other pulls out a comb, which is neatly kept in a zipper bag. “Will you allow me?”
Venti stares at him, stunned. Then, he slowly nods. He forces himself to stand still as Zhongli begins to comb his hair, before he feels his fingers making work of his braids. It takes less than a minute for the man to finish tying his hair into his usual twin braids.
Zhongli gives a nod of approval and keeps the comb back into the zipper bag. “We may go now.”
Venti has to shake his head to snap out of his stupor, and he walks quickly to catch up with Zhongli’s pace. “You’re good,” he mutters without thinking, and all of a sudden, he wants to slap himself. “I mean—thank you.”
Thankfully, Zhongli doesn’t seem to have heard his former sentence. “It is no trouble.”
He’s so, so grateful to Zhongli for saving his hair, because it turns out that his apartment is crowded with fans and paparazzi—more than usual too. The other bodyguards are trying their best to control the crowd, and he follows Zhongli as he guides him to his ride. A lot of his fans make an attempt to give him the gifts they’ve made, and Venti tries his best to accept each of them. When he finally gets to enter the car, his hands are full with gifts.
He lets out a contented sigh, before he smiles at the various things he has gotten. Most of them look handmade, and he feels overwhelmed that they’re made just for him.
There’s a box being held in front of him, and Venti tilts his head up, only to find Zhongli holding it. The box is for him to put his gifts inside, and Venti has to stop his eyes from going large because—how prepared is this guy?!
“Thanks…” Venti says, dropping the items in the box. Zhongli only nods and places the thing at his side.
Venti suddenly feels the urge to take out his phone and search about Zhongli. Judging by the way Jean talked about him yesterday, he sounded well-known. His notifications are blowing up, but he ignores them to do a quick search on Zhongli. The first thing that comes up after typing ‘Zhongli’ is exactly Zhongli’s face, and it turns out that he’s one of the top bodyguards in Teyvat.
“Holy shit,” he says under his breath. There are like—thousands of reviews about him, and all of them are good. He has a five-star rating from twenty thousand users, and most of the companies that have hired him are famous.
Venti feels himself shaking a little with nervous excitement. He glances at Zhongli and finds him focused at the front again.
It’s like sitting next to the fucking president.
➳
It’s probably way past lunch time, and Venti can feel his stomach rumbling for the fifth time already. He hasn’t decided where to eat yet, but he has been thinking about who to eat with. Usually, he’ll have Childe to eat with him since it’s definitely way more fun to eat with a friend, but Childe isn’t working with him anymore. He thinks of asking Zhongli but... he has a feeling that a top bodyguard like him won’t do anything outside of his duty. Maybe he should try asking the other idols here if they want to join him. At least he’s more than acquaintances with them.
He pulls out his phone and looks through the list of contacts. He has so many numbers saved, yet he rarely interacts with them. He tries to find someone that he’s familiar with, and his face brightens up when he spots the name Kazuha.
It takes only a few rings, before he hears, “Hello?”
“Kazuha, hi! It’s me, Venti,” Venti greets, adjusting the phone over his ear. He hears another voice from the other side of the phone, and he immediately stiffens. “I’m so sorry to bother you. Is this a bad time?”
“Oh, no—not really. I’m just with Scaramouche right now,” Kazuha says, laughing heartily. His voice is in a whisper when he adds, “He’s a little grumpy right now, so don’t mind him. But is there anything I can do for you?”
Now, Venti feels bad for interrupting the two. He shakes his head—not that Kazuha can see it. “No, it’s alright. I just thought you were available,” he says, clenching his phone. “I’ll just ask someone else. Sorry for bothering you again.”
“You didn’t bother at all,” Kazuha reassures, the smile in his voice genuine. “But I’ll talk to you later, Venti.”
They end the call, and Venti sighs. He doesn’t think he can call anyone else, since the others are most likely busy preparing for their upcoming concerts. A lot of them are performing in a few weeks time, so it’s best to not bother them.
His mind drifts back to Zhongli, and he’s suddenly tempted to ask whether he wants to have lunch with him. It’s not like it’ll hurt him to try. The most that can happen is him feeling disappointed and learning not to bother Zhongli with mundane things again. A bit heartbreaking, but he’ll live.
He was provided with Zhongli’s phone number to call him if he needed his company, but he didn’t need to when he saw Zhongli sitting at the main hall, reading a newspaper. He approaches him, feeling slightly anxious. Zhongli lowers his newspaper when he notices him walking up to him.
“Good afternoon, Venti,” Zhongli greets, while his hands swiftly fold his newspaper. “Are you heading out?”
“Yeah,” Venti says, and he finds himself subconsciously swallowing his own saliva. He fidgets a little, and he begins to awkwardly scratch the back of his head. “Say, Zhongli, I thought—do you want to—” Ugh, why is this so complicated? It has never been this hard to talk to his fans.
Zhongli looks visibly confused, but he’s patient as he waits for his question.
“Do you—maybe... want to eat lunch with me?” Venti finally manages the words out. He feels like burying himself at this point. Why did Childe leave him with someone who’s obviously on a whole different level than him? It’s making him nervous!
Just by the slight twitch of Zhongli’s lips, Venti can already tell it’s a no. “I apologise,” his bodyguard says, giving a bow of his head—calculated, just enough to express his regret. “I must politely decline. I believe it is inappropriate for a mere employee like me to be seen eating with you. It may bring harm to your reputation.”
“Ah—but I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” Venti says, and he recollects all the times he has eaten with Childe. His fans are pretty much aware that he often eats with him, and it’s never an issue. “I used to eat with Childe—” But he was already in a relationship, his mind suddenly says, and Venti goes abruptly silent.
Oh... right. Things are different now. Maybe it would’ve been fine if Zhongli was a married man, or at least taken. But since he’s not...
Venti’s shoulders slump. Maybe this isn’t a good idea after all. His fans might freak out if they find out he’s eating with an unmarried man—even though there shouldn’t be anything wrong with it, since they’re only eating together.
He exhales deeply. (It’s hard being an idol sometimes.)
“Nevermind. Forget I said anything,” Venti says, taking out his beanie to put it over his head. He pushes his braids into it, just to keep people from recognising him. “You can just sit with me and not eat. You have to stay with me at all times, right?”
For the first time, there’s some emotion from that stoic facade. Zhongli’s eyes are contemplating as he looks at him. “Does it displease you that I will not be eating with you?”
Venti quickly shakes his head, waving his hands around. Now it sounds like he’s forcing Zhongli to eat with him. “No, no. I just thought—” He wants to hide his face in his hands and groan. Why did he start this again? “Like I said, it’s fine. You don’t have to eat with me if you don’t want to.”
Zhongli stares at him again, like he’s analysing something. His eyes go downcast. “It is my duty to fulfil the wishes of my employer to the fullest,” he says, his voice quieter. “If it is the norm for you to eat with your bodyguard, then I believe there will be no harm in doing so.”
Venti looks at him sceptically. “Are you forcing yourself to eat with me just because you think I’m hurt?”
“No.” Liar.
Venti feels like he’s going to go back to square one by telling Zhongli that it’s fine to just reject his offer, when his stomach growls in annoyance, reminding him that he’s still hungry.
“We shall end the discussion here. You need sustenance,” Zhongli says, and he gently guides him to the entrance doors by placing a hand behind his back.
Venti tries not to think too much about the touch.
➳
Venti only realises that he hasn’t announced about Childe’s resignation when his fans posted photos of him entering the car with Zhongli, the captions mostly asking, ‘where’s the ginger-haired bodyguard’? He’s about to just scroll through his feed, when he notices something odd. He squints his eyes and zooms in a post where it compiles a lot of photos of him exiting his apartment building this morning.
When did Zhongli wear a peaked cap—and sunglasses?!
Venti rubs his eyes and stares at the photos again. No, he’s not imagining it. Somehow—or somewhere, Zhongli had changed his appearance by hiding his hair into the peaked cap and his face behind a pair of dark sunglasses. The real question is; when did that happen? Because Venti was right beside him the whole time, and he was sure he wasn’t wearing that.
“Is everything alright, Venti?” Zhongli’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts.
Venti squeaks in surprise. Instinctively, he shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Yes—yes, everything’s fine.”
No, everything’s not fine, because—what the fuck. He wasn’t sitting next to a president. He was sitting next to a fucking spy.
(It sounded like nonsense, but it had to be the only explanation why Zhongli was quick with disguises!)
They finally arrive at the restaurant, and Venti practically jumps out of the vehicle. He’s been starving really badly, and he desperately wants food in his stomach as soon as possible. He’s aware that he should be taking care of his diet, but just this once, he’s going to eat a little more. It’s not like he ever surpasses barely more than a hundred pounds anyway.
“I would like one Barbatos Ratatouille, one Cream Stew, and... one Fisherman’s Toast, please,” Venti says, looking up to the waitress taking his order. He throws a glance at Zhongli, noticing how he’s still staring at the menu. “Just order anything you want. It’s my treat.”
Zhongli’s brows furrow. His eyes are full of concentration, before he looks up from the menu. “I would like a Slow-Cooked Bamboo Shoot Soup.”
The waitress writes down on her notepad and nods. “We will serve your food shortly.”
She leaves, and Venti finds himself staring at Zhongli—who’s staring right back at him (naturally, since they’re sitting opposite from each other). He purposely let Zhongli sit at the seat where his back would be facing the other customers, since he remembered at the very last second that people could recognise him for being one of the top bodyguards. But Zhongli wasn’t wearing his disguise this time, so maybe it wasn’t something to be concerned about.
Venti drums his fingers over the wooden table, suddenly feeling awkward with the silence. Well, this is the time for small talk, he supposes. He had wanted to get to know his personal bodyguard more, and this was his chance.
“So... I didn’t get to know more about you,” Venti says, leaning forward as he places his elbows on the table. “Childe told me he knew you since high school?”
It doesn’t entirely take away the guarded look on Zhongli’s face, but he does relax a little upon hearing the name. “Yes,” he says, nodding. Abruptly, he wrinkles his noise in mild annoyance. “He was a very loud person. And bothersome.”
Venti suppresses a snort. That sounds definitely like Childe. There’s never just peace when it comes to him.
“However, his company is quite—pleasant,” Zhongli adds, reluctantly. His eyes close as he recollects. “He is the most trustworthy among the other students, and he is considered to be my longest companion.” He opens his eyes again, and he interlocks his hands over the table. “It is the reason why I must accept his request to be your bodyguard. He told me that there was no other person for it.”
Venti feels his cheeks turning warm, before he lowers his head. Childe never admits it, but he’s always caring towards him. It doesn’t matter whether Venti’s at his highest or lowest. His status as an idol is never something in Childe’s eyes.
He looks at Zhongli, and he suddenly feels curious about the other. “Zhongli, do you mind if I ask you something?”
Zhongli shakes his head.
“Why did you become a bodyguard?” Venti asks. He leaves out the part where he has searched him on the internet, only to find out that he’s Teyvat’s top bodyguards.
“Hm.” Zhongli’s eyes become unfocused as he thinks of a response. “My teacher used to tell me that I have exceptional strength and great reflexes.”
Venti purses his lips. So it’s not because he wanted—
“And it gives me pleasure to use that advantage to help others,” Zhongli continues, and for a split second, his expression softens—not the usual blank, unreadable face Venti is used to seeing. Though, it’s gone as fast as it appears. “I believe people have the choice to choose what they want to do with their own capabilities; good, evil or nothing. Sometimes, even if it’s not for ourselves, just seeing others happy can be rewarding.”
Venti shifts a little to lean back in his seat. There’s a small smile on his face. “...Yeah.”
The waitress comes back to their table with their food. She makes several trips since Venti has ordered a few dishes. Venti can feel his mouth watering at the sight on the table, and he instantly digs in the moment she leaves.
Venti can finally feel his stomach shutting up when he’s at his last dish. He scrapes off the traces of food on the plate to fully finish it. He’s so full, and he’s sure he’s getting an earful from his trainer once he finds out that he ate a little more than he was supposed to. But, it should be fine! He only does this like once in a while anyway.
“I need to go to the bathroom real quick,” Venti suddenly says, standing up.
Zhongli looks like he’s almost done with his food, but he does put down his spoon when he sees him stand. “Would you like me to accompany you?”
Venti quickly shakes his head, his braids flailing. “Ah, no. That won’t be necessary.” He pushes his chair into the table, and it screeches slightly from the friction. “Just finish your food. I’ll be right back.”
With a nod from Zhongli, Venti rushes to the bathroom. He feels relieved once he’s done, and he makes sure that his disguise is still intact when he checks himself in the mirror. He exits the bathroom, and he notices how his table is empty. Zhongli must be waiting for him outside.
He heads over to the counter to pay, only for the cashier to tell him that his food has already been paid.
“What?!” Venti exclaims, earning some of the attention from the people in the restaurant. He marches outside of the restaurant and finds Zhongli standing with his hands behind his back. “Zhongli, you paid?”
Zhongli looks at him with no specific emotion. “Yes.”
“But I said I was going to pay!” Venti says, and he starts following Zhongli to the car when he sees him walking.
“It will be rude of me to leave the bill to you when you have been kind enough to invite me for lunch.”
“That’s not how it works,” Venti says, groaning. Now, he feels bad. Not only did he practically drag Zhongli to eat with him, he ended up paying for his food too?! And he ordered like three fucking dishes! “Please—at least let me pay you back.”
Zhongli opens the door to the vehicle. His face is blank when he looks at him. “I refuse.”
Venti gawks at him.
Is he being serious right now?!
➳
Venti tries to spend the next few days inviting Zhongli to eat with him again, but to no avail. It’s as if his bodyguard had read his mind that he’s going to pay for his food the next time they eat together.
Venti lets out a huff as he makes his way to the cafe. It’s no use. No matter how hard he tries to reform his sentence in a way that doesn’t sound like he’s trying to invite him to eat lunch together, Zhongli just knows. Well, he’ll just have to go with his next best plan. If Zhongli doesn’t want to accept his offer to eat food together, then he’ll just have to bring his food to him.
He has done his research, and based on the internet, Zhongli likes Jueyun Chili Chicken, which, fortunately for him, is being sold at the cafe in the company’s building. With a wide grin, he orders that, along with some Flaming Red Bolognese for himself. He chuckles to himself like a madman as he stealthily makes his way to Zhongli.
...Which turns out not to be as stealthy as he has hoped for, because Zhongli instantly lifts his head from today’s newspaper, raising a brow as he continues to motion towards him.
“Here!” Venti says, scooping out Zhongli’s food with one hand, and almost dropping his own food as he struggles to take the food out. Zhongli wasn’t joking when he said he had quick reflexes, because he immediately moved to catch Venti’s food before it could fall on top of his shoes.
Zhongli lets out an exasperated sigh. Then, he stares at the cardboard container that Venti’s holding out in front of him. “What is this?”
“Jueyun Chili Chicken,” Venti says, smiling. “For you.”
Zhongli frowns. “Is this a way to repay me?”
“Nope,” Venti says, and he hands it over to Zhongli so that he can have it. He adjusts his hold towards his own food once he manages to balance it in the plastic bag again. “I just thought of buying you lunch. Now, do you want to have lunch with me?”
Zhongli doesn’t say anything while he gazes at his food, and for a moment, the confidence that Venti has crumbles as it dawns on him that maybe the internet was wrong and Zhongli didn’t actually like Jueyun Chili Chicken. He’s about to offer to buy him something else, when Zhongli stands up and gives him a low bow.
“Thank you,” Zhongli says. “For the food.”
Venti can feel his cheeks heating up, and he uses one hand to quickly wave it around in the air. “I-it’s nothing, really! I should be the one thanking you for the food. And it was a lot too…”
“It is not worth mentioning,” Zhongli says, straightening his back. He looks around, and he gestures to an empty table in the distance. “Shall we?”
Venti’s grinning from ear to ear when they both head over to the empty table. He can feel himself growing more comfortable with Zhongli’s presence compared to the first time he met him. It’s not scary anymore to ask him questions, not when he’s used to Zhongli’s neutral expression. Zhongli doesn’t seem to mind too as he answers each and every question of his.
“You’re rather curious about myself,” Zhongli says, most likely after Venti’s twentieth question. Though, he looks more amused than uneasy.
“I can’t help it... I don’t like the silence while eating,” Venti says, suddenly feeling embarrassed for asking too much. He then lifts his head up and smiles. “But you can also ask about me. I think it’s better to know more about who you’re protecting, right?”
“I suppose so,” Zhongli says, and he ponders about it for a moment. “You’ve asked me why I chose to be a bodyguard. Therefore, may I ask why you have chosen to become an idol?”
“Fair question,” Venti says, and he idly traces his finger over the table. He spends some time recollecting his post-high school years. “My friends and family encouraged me to become one, because they said I had a nice voice, and I had some kind of magical—charisma?” He can’t help but laugh softly at how ridiculous it sounds. “I wasn’t too sure at first, but I’m okay being an idol now. I like singing, and I love making people happy with it.”
Zhongli hums. He stares at his empty food container. “But does it make you happy?”
There’s a hitch in his breath. It’s only an innocent question, he reminds himself, but something about it makes him quickly avert his gaze.
“It makes me happy to see people happy,” he replies, after a beat.
➳
Today is reading fanmail day, and Venti can see his eyes blurring as he reads the words written in this one letter. He lets out a shaky breath, before he slips his hand under his glasses to rub his eyes. There’s still a lot more to go, but at least he’s halfway through with replying to them. He’s been told that it’s not necessary to reply to all of his fanmail, but ignoring one or some of them leaves a guilty feeling in his stomach.
He’s almost done with the current letter, when he hears a knock from the door. He looks up, and he finds Zhongli standing at the doorway.
“Oh, hey,” he greets, sending him a small wave. His room is a mess with piles of fanmail, and he makes an effort to at least clean it for Zhongli’s eyes when he pushes one whole sack out of the way. “Sorry, I— What time is it already?”
“A few minutes before midnight,” Zhongli says, and he frowns in disapproval. “You should rest. Ms. Gunnhildr told me you had been in your room for hours to answer your fanmail.”
Has it really been that long? Venti stretches his arms over his head, a traitorous yawn escaping him. “Sorry, I just got carried away. But you’re right, we should go.” He stands up from his position, only to suddenly feel dizzy. He would’ve instantly collapsed to the floor by now, if it wasn’t for Zhongli holding him.
His stomach chooses at this very moment to suddenly growl out loud.
“Venti… have you eaten?” Zhongli asks, his voice audibly worried.
“Um…” Venti can feel his cheeks turning pink as he’s caught red-handed. “I thought of skipping dinner tonight, since my trainer found out I ate like—three meals the other day for lunch…”
Zhongli’s lips are pressed into a thin line. “This is not the way to solve it. You are only risking your health.”
“No, it’s fine. This isn’t the first time I’m doing it.” When he notices that there’s no change in Zhongli’s expression, he lets out a sigh. “Okay, okay. I’ll eat something at home. I promise.”
“No, we will be stopping somewhere to get you something to eat,” Zhongli says, his voice leaving no room for argument. He helps support Venti as they start walking towards the door. “This is very unacceptable, Venti. What if you fall ill for disregarding your health?”
Venti can’t help but feel the urge to tease, even though he’s really tired right now. “Aw, are you worried about me, Zhongli?”
A sharp look is his only response.
“Noted. I’ll shut up now.”
➳
Venti wakes up the next morning feeling like shit.
The room is cold—too cold—and his body is shivering as he climbs out of bed. His head feels like it’s on fire, and his throat is parched to the point where he thinks he has been to a desert.
Slowly, he lifts his hand to touch his forehead, and he instantly pulls it away when it burns.
“Oh, no,” Venti says, his voice coming out croaky.
The doorbell suddenly rings, and his eyes widen in horror when he realises that he slept through his alarm.
He hadn’t even gotten ready.
He’s breathless by the time he reaches the door, his body wrapped under the blankets (that he had dragged with him) as his hands shakily open it to meet Zhongli.
“Okay, I know you might be mad—but please, don’t be mad,” Venti quickly says, shivering under his blanket. He covers his mouth when he coughs, before he says, “I think I may be sick…”