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Childe has been submerged in the Primordial Sea for far longer than any human should.
He may not be Fontainian, but he is still human.
And, man, are humans weak.
Childe can feel each molecule of water in his body. He can feel them writhing and flowing under his skin, feel the sweat beading up on his skin and evaporating into the air. He can feel the molecules in the air itself caressing his skin in a sinister display of affection as they bounce off one and other and barrage his skin like hundreds and thousands of needles. Each one pricks his skin for a split moment before bouncing away, and then comes right back to hit him again.
It's torture.
It's agonizing.
They feel like insects.
Crawling along his skin, burrying inside him, it's inside him- bugs- no
No.
He needs to take a deep breath but he’ll drown. There's so much water. He isn't in Fontaine anymore he is going to drown here- he’s going to drown- he’s going to die-
“Childe,” a deep, deep voice rumbles softly. It's gratingly loud against his ears. Like someone slamming two rocks together. It reverberates in his skull and disorients his thoughts. He can feel the man’s breath in the air. It hits him and flushes against his skin like a mocking lover’s caress.
He wants to move but he doesn't have the strength to swim.
That wonderfully painful voice speaks again but Childe can't process any of the words. He is too distracted by the water pressing down around him, suffocating him, flowing through him- killing him from the inside.
Was he still in the deep depths of the Primordial Sea? He needs to wrench open his eyes to see, but if he does the salt of the sea will burn.
He doesn't think he can handle any more stimulation. He might just explode. Or maybe the water pressure will put him out of his misery.
But he isn't floating. He can tell that much at least.
A heavy, heavy, weight settles over his forehead, covering his eyes. It feels like a hand. It's in the shape of a hand. But it's so, so, heavy. Someone put a mountain on him. His head is going to be crushed. He is going to die-
“Childe,” that deep voice whispers, “Childe, focus on my voice.”
Childe does. He doesn't try to feel the Hydro collecting in the air with every exhale from the man, he doesn't try to feel like he’s drowning every time he breathes- but he can't stop. He can't- he-
A wave of Geo surrounds him like a protective shield. The Hydro in the air crystallizes somewhat. Childe chokes on the dryness, but quickly regains his composure. The hand is still over his eyes, but it doesn't feel as restrictive. It's... It's a nice weight. A familiar one.
He breathes in the chokingly dry air. His lips crack with each breath, but he isn't drowning anymore.
He can- he can breathe. His lungs heave, battling against the pressure in his ribs, but he can breathe.
There's a sigh of relief that doesn't come from Childe. “You’re okay…” the man says. But it's so quiet. Like he’s comforting himself more than Childe. Another hand cards through his hair, gently ruffling his brittle hair, still covered in salt water from the seas, but no longer wet.
“You’ve been submerged in the Primordial Sea for far too long. Longer than most gods could withstand. Your sensitivity to Hydro is past the limit even the Hydro Archon could process, I'm sure. You're very strong, but please calm down. You're safe. Ajax, you are safe.”
That's a name most don't know.
Who could..?
Childe’s mind reveals the identity of the man like an ocean pushing seafoam onto the sand. Relentless and gentle. Constantly pushing forward to show him the truth.
Zhongli.
It's Zhongli here with him.
Why would Zhongli be here? In Fontaine?
“Childe? Can you hear me?”
Childe wants to answer, but his throat chokes on the words. All he can manage is a breathy exhale. Not dissimilar to a dead man’s last groaning breath before the body goes still forever.
Zhongli’s hand lifts from his eyes, but Childe keeps them closed. He is so tired. He couldn't open them even if he tried.
“Childe?” Zhongli’s voice was so quiet, so uncertain. Nothing like the sturdy all-knowing Archon Childe had learned he could trust.
Like this, Zhongli seemed human.
The hand never stopped carding through his hair. Soothing over tangles of hardened hair, combing through dead strands with a care Childe hadn’t been shown in years. Zhongli was desperate. Desperate for what? Childe’s muddled mind could not answer.
“Please,” there was a shuffle of fabric as a weight settled over Childe’s chest. Zhongli rested his ear against Childe’s heart, listening to the muscle pound against Childe’s sternum, feeling and knowing Childe was still alive with each healthy beat. “Be okay, you're okay,” his arms wrapped around Childe, hugging him firmly. The hand in Childe’s hair moved to the base of his skull as he supported his head, still gently massaging the area all the while. “I’m here. I won't leave.”
Like this, Childe could focus on something other than Hydro. On Zhongli’s comforting heat and all-encompassing presence. He focused on Zhongli’s fingers against his neck, on Zhongli’s breath on his chest, on the strong arms wrapped around him, holding him in a tight, comforting grasp, on- on Zhongli.
Childe wanted to hold him back. Wanted to reach over and hug him tight, squeeze him and never let go, but he was so, so tired.
With Zhongli here, he knew he was safe. He could rest in his lover’s strong and caring arms.
Childe didn't feel his consciousness slip away, but he did feel warm and safe and, and…
Man he was so cool when he took down the All-Devouring Narwhal. He breathed a soft, nearly unperceivable laugh.
Zhongli chuckles along with him, “Now what could you be finding so funny at a moment like this?”
Childe finally fell asleep, lulled by Zhongli’s calm baritone voice.
….
Zhongli breathed another sigh of relief when he felt Childe’s body slacken in his hold. To anyone else, nobody would've noticed the man had regained consciousness. But Zhongli could tell.
From the way Childe’s brows furrowed ever so slightly- the same way they did when he was hiding an injury- to the way his entire body slowly tensed. All of Childe’s injuries had been healed through Adeptal and human medicines- and maybe whoever threw him through the portal had also placed some sort of slow-acting healing on him?
Childe healed very fast, maybe even too fast? Zhongli read somewhere that humans healed slow because their bodies couldn't handle sudden reparation.
But Zhongli figured Childe’s pain and discomfort had something to do with being surrounded by such pure Hydro energy for so long. It seemed that casting a Geo shield around them was the right call.
The brilliant golden shimmer of the shield reflected off Childe’s hair, making him look ethereal. But it also reminded Zhongli of dead bodies in a casket. Pristine, still, and cold.
Zhongli ran his hand to Childe’s pulse point in his wrist. It was warm. His heart beat strong.
His Ajax, his strong, strong human.
Zhongli traced his hand over Childe’s, following the lines of his tendons and speckles of freckles along his arm and hand. Childe’s face was no longer contorted with pain, finally back asleep. His breath was even. No longer did his chest stutter or stop. No longer was he choking on his breath.
He was okay.
Childe was okay.
Zhongli interlaced their fingers and brought Childe’s hand up to place a kiss upon it.
Ajax was far too strong. His human should not have to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders. He should not have had to play the role of the fool once again.
Zhongli kissed along the man’s wrist, gently keeping a constant finger on his pulse point, just in case.
Zhongli would not allow any more harm to come to his Ajax.
His human.
His husband.