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“Thank you so much,” Zhongli hold himself from breathing a long sigh of relief. “There are data on this phone I haven’t backed up yet.”
The man blinks, looking a bit surprise. He is wearing a thick gray hoody, the hood drapes ominously over his head as if it’s not the peak of the summer. He resembles TV’s stereotypical drug dealer with his get up, especially in the gas station setting they are currently in. Red hair peek around the hood, curling. He stands out over the people dressing lightly. Even Zhongli has ditched his coat a long time ago. The temperature just couldn't afford it.
“Yeah,” the man says noncommittally. “I need to go now, bro. Take care of your phone.”
“Really, thank you and you are uh—” the man is ready to flee, already taking steps back and Zhongli scrambles to find the words to express his gratitude. “You are a hero!”
Honestly, he gave up on his phone. He thought it was lost forever. For someone to actually find it, give it back, and not use or sell it for their own gain, is something he incredibly appreciate. He wasn’t kidding when he said there are data he hasn’t backed up, and did he mention they are extremely important data? He thought he was dead for sure.
The man halts. His face taking a pale shade. “No. I am not.”
“Yes, you are and I am so grateful for you,” Zhongli insists. “If you can’t accept monetary compensation, maybe we could have lunch?”
There is moment of silence as the man stares back with wide eyes. A whole minute passed and Zhongli starts to question if he says anything wrong. It’s a bit awkward. He averts his gaze and from his peripheral vision he sees the man rubbing his own face. The act somehow making him appears both older and tired.
“I am not a hero. You are the hero,” he says tiredly.
Zhongli halts, taken a back. “I appreciate the kind words, but I am sure I did nothing here.”
He looks at Zhongli straight in the eye, face void of any emotion. “I didn’t find your phone. I was the one who took your phone.”
Huh.
“Oh, well that’s…”
“I needed some money. I planed to sell it but I got the money soon after I stole your phone so yeah,” he coughs. “Your phone gives me assurance the first few days. I get my head straight because if something were to happen, I could just sell it. If anything, you are the one helping me.”
This time it’s Zhongli’s turn for silence. It’s a twist he didn’t expect. So, the perpetrator is also the savior? Is he even the savior if he was the one who rob Zhongli in the first place? It’s confusing. It’s—
“Do you still need money?” Zhongli asks. “I don’t have cash on me currently, but if you need, I could draw some.”
The man stares at him weirdly. Slowly, his face broke into an amused grin. He put both his hands on his hoody pocket, taking steps back steadily away from Zhongli who stand motionless. “Just take care of your phone,” he cautions. “And mind your surroundings.”
Zhongli puts the device away into his pocket.
“Right. What’s your name?” he yells, feeling foolish a moment later. Should he asks the name of his robber? But he gave the phone back, so does it matter? And it seems to be an urgent case, too. Everything is jumbled, but he just has this nagging feeling of needing to know. The thing about always in control is that it makes you snoopy sometimes.
“Childe,” the man yells back. He probably isn’t thinking straight either with how freely he gives his name, being a criminal and all.
Zhongli’s lip curve in a smile. He gave a wave that Childe returns lazily before disappearing into a street corner.
It feels like something new. A beginning of something good.
If Childe doesn’t rob him again, that is.