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‘Tartaglia,’
The man on the other side of the line hums. ‘Can we be serious?’ His side of the screen is bright, he’s walking down the main street of his home town and it’s the middle of the day—while, with Tartaglia, it’s late. His face is barely seen on screen within the dark room, and his head rests on a pillow.
“Okay?” He’s unsure what the man means; to note, if it’s something absolutely, horribly, terrible, he doesn’t want to.
He takes a breath. “What is it, Zhongli?” His brows furrow, and he watches the man’s lips curve into a small smile, and he hums again. ‘I like someone,’ He says, his breath short. ‘—Uh, there’s this guy, I think I love him,’ Childe shouldn’t get his hopes up, it definitely isn’t about him. ‘He has blue eyes and his skin is soft, so very soft—he’s all I’ve ever dreamed of.’ He hums.
“Really?”
Thank god for the darkness in his room, Zhongli can’t catch him frowning.
‘Yes,’ He says. ‘I can’t wait to see him.’
“Tell me more.”
‘He’s smart; he loves math—I hate that subject so bad—and his favourite colour is orange,’ He hums, eyes fixed over the camera, on the road in front of him.
“You like him?” Childe’s ready to hang up, to end the call and roll over, praying all of it ends. ‘More than that—I feel more than that.’
“Oh.”
Childe knows its not about him. Zhongli knows everything about him—his favourite colour is brown and his favourite subject is history, he hates math. Zhongli isn’t talking about him, he’s talking about some other guy that Childe doesn’t know, he’s speaking about someone else.
‘Tartaglia?’
“I’m okay—I, uh, it’s late, I should sleep.” He hangs up without another word, but instead of sleeping, he calls the next contact on his list, Yoimiya—frankly, his best friend and only type of moral support.
Despite the time, she answers.
‘Childe?’ She’s half asleep, definitely waking to his call, and she sounds more worried than disappointed. “I shouldn’t have called, I—” ‘Is it about that guy?’ She doesn’t hesitate to hit the nail on the head, she knows Childe like that back of her own hand. She knows him more than her own left and rights.
“Maybe?”
There’s a hum on the other line. ‘What’s up? Should I come over?’ There’s rustling, followed by the sound of keys. ‘—don’t answer that, I’m leaving now.’
“No, stay home.”
‘I said don’t answer!’ She hums. ‘So, what did the guy do? Do I need to kill him? Is he actually an asshole?’
“No, no! It’s nothing like that!” Childe shakes his head, sitting up in bed. “I just have a habit of falling in love all too hard.”
‘Another one of those cases?’ A car door shuts. ‘—I’m out the front.’ Then she hangs up, Childe didn’t realise she was even on her way.
The door is unlocked and she lets herself in. “So?” She stands at his bedroom door after turning the living room light on.
“Love is stupid.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure it is,” She hums. “What did he say?”
“He said he liked someone, and then described them and they sounded nothing like me.” Childe shakes his head as she moves further into the room and sits against the end of his bed. “—He said they love math; he knows I despise of it—and their favourite colour is yellow, he knows I like light brown,” He takes a breath. “He wasn’t talking about me, and he never will.”
“Call him.” She stands. “—I’m turning on a light.” She flicks the light and Childe leans for his phone. He stares at his phone. “Call him, Tartaglia.”
He presses the contact, turns the on the camera and waits. It rings and rings and rings, then, Zhongli finally picks up and Yoimiya takes the phone.
‘Chi—no, who are you?’ Zhongli hums. “Yoimiya,” She says. “What did you do to Childe? He called me once you hung up!”
‘I didn’t hang up, he said he was going to bed,’ The scenery behind him has changed. It’s a building, loud and busy in the background. ‘So I let him—is everything okay, Yoimiya? Let me speak to Tartaglia.’
“No,” She says. “Answer my question first—what did you do to Childe?”
‘I didn’t do anything! I said I liked someone and he hung up.’
Childe bites his lip. “Who?”
Zhongli is silent. “Answer my question.”
‘I’ll be there by tomorrow morning.’
“What?”
The call ends as quick as it starts and Childe doesn’t sleep that night—no, he waits and waits and time is so much slower when you’re expecting something. His breath is raspy for half the day and his chest his tight. He’s cried four times and Yoimiya has witnessed it all, and he’s sure he’ll cry again once Zhongli walks through the door.
And he does. He does cry when Yoimiya let’s Zhongli in.
She isn’t pleased. For one, he hurt Childe and two, he proceeded to show up anyways—but she takes a breath, and steps to the side, lets him in.
Childe is a mess. He’s a mix of ‘I’m happy to see you’ and ‘get out of my sight’.
He takes a breath, eyes focused on the floor as Zhongli sits beside him.
“I know your favourite subject is history and I know you love brown way more than you like the colour yellow,” He’s silent for a moment, humming as Childe grips the legs of his pants. He takes one of Childe’s hands.
“And I know I love you more than anything,” He pauses. “You just didn’t let me finish.”
“Zhongli—”
“No,” Zhongli holds the side of his face, and forces his forehead against Childe’s. “It’s you, my dear.”
“So why’d you lie?”
“I had a plan and you didn’t let me finish it.”