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it was all but an illusion. what they had. there was absolutely nothing, nothing but the sheer caricature of his own mind. he should have known, he should have known better. he shouldn’t have misunderstood, shouldn’t have given it a thought, shouldn’t have made something out of nothing.
his childhood. there was love, there was belonging, there was the beauty of acceptance and heartwarming smiles and embraces. but then there was none. when he could no longer just be, when he was something no longer lovable, disgusting and sheer painful to look at, to even fathom. when he could no longer be trusted, be accepted, be part of what he once was. when everything he had ever feared and convinced himself wrong, turned out to be true, in the worst way possible. when he could no longer just be.
oh how life used to be so simple, delightful and easy. when all he needed was to try a little, and love he shall have, loved he shall be. when love was something that could be taken for granted, something to fall back on, something that will prop him up in the worst of fears and nightmares. when anxieties weren’t a thing when he would always be loved, when there was always a place to return to. did he even try, was he worth all that love, how long would this last - oh, how none of it should matter, how ridiculous it was to worry about something that would never happen.
and yet it happened. no matter how ridiculous it was to believe, to recall, to doubt what it was that he perceived. all the love he used to receive was like a lie, was all but a lie, mere mirage that he had dreamed in a bid to stay alive. delusions to cope. what was love, when he was never trusted, never could just be, never understood ? what was love, when the mere sight of him was unacceptable, unlovable, so much to abhor and disdain ? what was love, when he would no longer can just be himself ?
he should have known, he should have remembered. love only brought pain, expectation was poison and all he ever had was delusion. there was no such thing as unconditional love, there was no point hoping for love when he could never be someone who could be loved. he could try, would try, was still trying - but there was no point, wasn’t it ? love was but a whim given at random, without a rhyme or reason, it made sense and sometimes it didn’t, and trying, hoping for more was as senseless as taking revenge by dying. even if he might be loved by trying his best…
… he wouldn’t be able to hide what he really was in the end.
so why was he still trying, why was he still deluding himself, why was he still falling for the same thing that had broken him all those years ago ?
why did he think all those meetings and walks meant anything ? why did he hope for something more in between touches and glances that were naught but consequences of being in the same space ? why did he let himself fall for the sin of having expectation out of a mere illusion, the idea that there could be something real when all it was but a facade created for the purpose of a contract, another use for the tool that he was only so happy to be ?
he should be happy to have been of use. he should be glad that it was his existence that was needed, that helped push things through and achieve what was needed for the contract. but was it truly him ? was it truly him that was uniquely needed, for the express purpose of being unaware and thoroughly used for that singular end result, that which would benefit everyone involved ? was it truly, only just him that could play the role of the fool, acting on the grand stage like he was the main cast when it turned out, it didn’t matter at all ?
was any of this even necessary ? was he necessary ?
not only was he entirely delusional, the merit of his existence was also based upon so whimsical a spirit that it was almost malicious. but in the end, what was the point of a tool that could not be used, what was the need to consider justice for a mere puppet when the goal had been fulfilled ?
it was only him, who took it seriously, when he should have remembered his role. when he should have known, that nothing like love would ever come to him, someone like him, the reminder of false connection and sinful expectation that was what he had with Zhongli.
Rex Lapis. Morax.
he should have known, that it was all but his own delusion in the end.
———
that which thou seeketh is now bestowed unto thee, for my promise is solid as stone.
———
he and i were associates on the basis of conducting business.
———
with the contract fulfilled, i believe there is no longer a need for any of this.
farewell, Childe.
———
it was another day in Liyue for Zhongli. time had passed since he was unused to the lack of Childe’s company which he had grown fond of. he was reminiscent even as he took his usual walk around the harbor, but when was he ever not dwelling on past memories ?
"Traveller, it is good to see you again."
he wondered if it would be the same feeling if Paimon was to leave the side of the Traveller one day.
"Zhongli, long time no see !"
it had been a long time, or so he felt. director Hu and Xiangling no longer asked, and walking down the streets was no longer as unbearable. and yet it must have shown on his face, or perhaps he was struck with an urge to ask.
"well, regardless of the other person’s intention, did you yourself want something from it ?"
Xiangling had chipped in at one point about how Childe was never seen with anyone else as often as Zhongli, and even Xingqiu, the Feiyun heir, whispered about how one guard from the Northland Bank let slip that the harbinger only spent so much mora on his family and one funeral consultant. circumstantial they all were, as Childe - Tartaglia - himself had always been hard to read despite his forthright behaviors. even Zhongli himself had hung his heart over the way the Snezhnayan would accompany and listen to his unending spiel on the minutia of Liyue with inexplicable patience and interest.
but with the contract hanging over them, how Childe was in need of every scrap of information no matter how obscure, the predictable fall-out that could not be stopped once the harbinger discovered the truth, there was no hope for whatever it was between the two of them.
and yet, the Traveller’s words froze him in his tracks. Childe might not have wanted, might despise their time together, but was it the same for him ? did Zhongli truly not wish for anything more, if those chopsticks could have conveyed the feelings that were not so fleeting and easy to dismiss ?
was it really nothing that held his heart in a breathless grip when the sight of that ginger hair, red scarf and lightless blue eyes seemed to dwarf even the magnificent scenery of Liyue at sunset ?
"ah, it’s Childe !"
against his better judgement, his eyes were trained on that figure, confident gait and sharp posture, as the harbinger approached their table.
"Traveller ! fancy seeing you here, hasn’t it been a while ?"
blue eyes met his for less than a second as the ginger continued conversing with the Traveller - seemingly passing over his existence completely, like how the conversation went past Zhongli’s own ears despite standing right there.
just as the Traveller glanced at him, eyes quizzical, Childe turned towards where he was sitting, in a smooth motion, and pulled out a thin black box from his jacket.
a box that he recognized very well, which was cleanly deposited on the table in front of him, the arch of leather gloved hand as effortless as the drop of his heart into his lap. a small smile that didn’t reach the dull blue eyes.
"you’ll find a better use for it than me. i won’t bother you too much, Zhongli xiansheng."
waving to the Traveller, the harbinger made to walk away with the same composure he had from start to finish. one way or another, Zhongli found himself springing from his seat, disregarding all manners. his hand clasped Childe’s bicep just as the man turned around at the noise.
"could i… can we talk ?"
he did not know what expression he was making, nor what anyone might think upon seeing him talking to the supposed culprit of the Osial incident, so he could see the way Childe’s face morphed into a guarded look, eyes tensely narrowing before smoothing into crescent moons.
"it’s not too late to learn how to bargain, and those chopsticks will fetch a good enough price to last you a while. now… i’ll have to go now."
———
the schedule of Master Childe isn’t something a mere receptionist like me is privy to. please leave.
———
i’m sorry, the guest from the Fatu— from Snezhnaya has already cancelled his stay here.
———
the ship to Snezhnaya just came and left yesterday.
———
the next time he caught Childe, it was via an unusual trail of wild glaze lilies to an out-of-sight corner of Dihua Marsh bordering the Bishui River. the flower petals followed the curve of the wind like a gentle beckoning from an old friend to the person he needed to find.
the ginger stared at Zhongli, palm hovering over a deep cut on his forearm.
"Childe, could we… you’re injured."
"a lucky shot. what can i do for you, Zhongli xiansheng ? you can’t have chased me all the way here for Fatui money, have you ?"
"that’s not what i’m here for. i only want us to talk…"
"there’s no need to pretend. please, spare the poor harbinger and leave me alone. unless there’s something wrong with the contract with the Tsaritsa ?"
"no, nothing that concerns your role specifically."
"… of course. now if you will excuse me."
the sight of grey jacket and red scarf slowly faded away among the shades of Cuihua crowns and jade blue sky. winds rolled against his neck, and he was struck with a feeling that this might really be the last he would see of Childe - the man he wished he could let go.
so he ran, once again. the glaze lilies seemed to spread as if making way for his steps, kicking against the very ground under his control to reach that flickering silhouette even a moment faster.
reached him he did, for the ginger had reacted a moment too late before being toppled over, trapped between arms glued to the ground.
he took a moment to take in the sight of the figure he had missed, maroon shirt wrapped around a lean torso, fair skin that seemed to glow under the Liyuen sun. Childe’s hair was a fire-like shade of carnelian, ginger curls wild and unruly yet softly brushing a pale neck. and those blue eyes, darker under the shade cast by Zhongli’s own shadow, were as beautiful as he remembered them.
"… what’s the meaning of this ?"
"i just want to talk."
"… fine, talk then. what did i forget ?"
"you don’t owe me anything. there’s… there is nothing, but…"
what was it that he wanted from Childe ? with Childe, towards Childe, what was he…
"i want us to stay. to be… associates again."
"we’ve never stopped being associates, xiansheng."
"… truly ?"
"yes. rather successful contract partners, don’t you think ?"
but the contract didn’t include…
"you’ve got what you want—"
"no… i want you."
there was a brief silence as dull blue eyes pierced his.
"nice joke, Morax, but that’s old even for you."
"it was not a jest, i truly—"
"enough with the facade, just say what you want already."
"but i really want—"
"are you not listening to me ? stop wasting my time—"
the ginger was completely looking away, eyes resolutely not giving a speck of attention to Zhongli. something inside him seemed to bristle at not having the same pair of eyes that used to follow his every move and hang onto his words so closely, a presence that used to be his so strongly it was almost second nature, and yet so out of reach now.
before he could question it all, Zhongli’s hands were grasping the side of Childe’s face - such warm, soft skin - before wrenching it back to face his own, heated with something indescribable. before he could let the unbearable distance and the way Childe’s eyes - distant, almost scornful - were frosted over with something like hatred, push away whatever this was, this beating desire that clawed at his chest like it was even possible for stone to feel, Zhongli let himself fall, covering those lips with his own.
sinking into that warm cove of hot breath, he carved a slot for himself in between the velvety touch of skin, pressing flush against the searing heat where they were connected, their lips melting into each other like the sweetest of osmanthus wine. that small opening was swallowed whole like sugar coating fresh tanghulu, a minty coppery taste that brushed his tongue as he licked the soft expanse of flesh from edge to edge, sucking wetly over throbbing, pliant skin.
devour he did, the sound of his own feast like a man (god) starved of his only sustenance, the same hunger that pooled at his stomach spread to the tip of his fingers, a web of cracks over the form that was his mortal vessel.
he drank in the shivers he could feel from the body in his embrace, pale face doused in blush that deepened with every tingling brush of their skin together. every syllable and exhale uttered from those scrumptious lips was scooped up without fail, not a single drop lost to the elements, he would sip them all up like the finest wine, the rarest elixirs, the most exquisite of consomme that they were.
there was a stuttered breath, as sudden hands gripped his head - stuck to Childe’s face like glue, digging in the delicacy that was those delectable lips - in a firm hold. he was pushed away from the feel of that warm face in his grasp, until he could fully see the result of what he had done on the spur of the moment. red streaked from the eyes of the harbinger down to his slender neck, and glimmering drops of tear gathered at the edge of those enchanting eyes.
"why do you act like you care," a breathless mutter, "when in the end, it doesn’t even matter ?"
he wished to wipe away the glinting sadness that dotted Childe’s eyes, but his palm was harshly batted away as the ginger scurried out from under him. tension coursed through the man’s frame like a bow fully drawn, arrow notched ready to escape at a moment’s notice. Zhongli held back an urge to grab that slightly trembling shoulder, fearing for the impulse to take over - for both of them.
"i want you, Childe."
a scathing laugh rippled through the ginger’s shaking figure, like electricity tearing at the air between them. he could not let that deter him, for there was no telling when the harbinger would just leave…
"i love you."
… and Zhongli could not allow himself to harm the only one he loves enough to consider such a thing.
"i don’t care, Morax."
Childe looked directly at him, unafraid of the force of his own words, tears silently falling down his barren face.
"take your pathetic lies and disgusting feelings to someone who cares." each word was enunciated like the grating of a dull edge against uneven stone. "i’m sick of playing this game with you."
"it’s not—"
but there was no trace of acceptance, of joy in those soulless eyes, only anger and hurt. resignation and resolve.
"i hope i never get to see your face again." the harbinger turned away.
the god seemed to remember a day just like this, standing under the dulling sun next to the winds from the harbor - he had also turned his head away, resigned to keeping his distance when there was no further reason for the Snezhnayan to continue their arrangement when the truth had been revealed.
"farewell, Zhongli."
when he stood by and let that figure leave his side that day at the bank. perhaps, that had been his first mistake.