Chapter Text
There was something different between them after that talk.
Childe still met Zhongli occasionally, for lunches, for sparring sessions, for long and somewhat poorly structured lectures about adepti and their abilities. He had to admit that Zhongli's mentorship has been proving useful; at one of his last field jobs he got stripped of his vision by chance but was still able to summon his water blades without it, profoundly terrifying most of his employees. Childe tried not to address the fact that Zhongli expressing his pride in him made him shake vehemently like a small-breed dog.
It felt like things were back to normal - before Osial, before the marriage contract, before everything. And yet everything changed fundamentally, in a way Childe lacked words to describe.
The first comparison that comes to mind is the time when they’ve just met; the careful, flirtatious dance of back and forth, a sort of soft bickering that finds its home in Childe’s chest again like it’s made of soft mycelium, prime for sprouting roots. And yet, it’s different, it’s different from then, because during those times there was a certain thrill, a certain playfulness about not knowing. Of course, Childe was aware Zhongli doesn’t know the whole story, he didn’t have to. But Childe could at least hope that there was also healthy interest behind those unreadable golden eyes.
Now, Childe misses that sensation, that primitive enjoyment of guessing, of not knowing. Because now he knows better.
Still, selfishly, Childe allows himself to get back into that foolish state of mind that, somehow, somewhere along the line, Zhongli registers as his at the back of his mind. And, Childe thinks, I am yours, in every way that matters. It’s a very childish notion, as appropriate for his name, but he simply can’t resist clinging onto it. That’s why Zhongli’s words are so staggering in the moment.
“I think we have come to the stage where I alone am not a sufficient enough teacher,” Zhongli declares, and part of Childe nearly recoils. It’s idiotic how his instinct is to bare his teeth, to whine like a wounded animal. To Zhongli, perhaps, these outings are nothing but mentorship, training. But it’s more to Childe, it’s so much more, and the animal in his chest whimpers, preparing to be abandoned. Don’t you want me, the old wounds of it whisper, am I not yours anymore?
“What do you mean by that?” Childe finally responds, and he tries to not give away the strain of his voice. The feral dog in his heart thrashes and moans in retaliation.
Zhongli watches him with that complex, layered expression, and Childe shuffles in place. He misses the times when he firmly believed he could read Zhongli like a book, where the man’s perceptiveness of him , Childe, didn’t awaken such deep alarm because Childe firmly believed in the idea that he could read Zhongli right back. These days, he isn’t so sure. “Don’t misunderstand me,” he says softly, and it’s almost worse, the fact that he feels the need to coddle him, and the fact that it works. “I am not planning on stopping our sessions.”
Zhongli uses that word cautiously, gently, and Childe’s cheeks grow pink as he realizes that he is actively trying to spare his feelings. He isn’t sure if he is going to bite or whimper like a cornered fox at the thought. Zhongli then continues. “I simply consider that you could use some experience in training with my adepti.” His adepti. Childe doesn’t miss the hidden fondness in the word, and he can’t help but wonder if Zhongli has ever used that word at him with a similar, adoring intonation. “Such as Ganyu.”
Childe blinks. Then, he blinks again. The flush in his cheeks deepens, and he can no longer blame it on the heat of Liyue’s summer because it looks mortified and borderline neurotic. “Is this about my bow skills?”
Zhongli raises a cup to hide a quirk of his lips. “I never said that.”
“So it is.”
This banter between them, it’s simple, inconsequential, but it makes Childe relax slightly, the tense line of his shoulders slowly melting back to normal. It’s funny how it turns out; Childe has always been praised on his perfectly straight spine, his constant unrelenting stance of a soldier, but the way he allows himself to grow shapeless and comfortable about Zhongli has returned with the soundless, deadly steps of a hitman.
Loving Zhongli has always been so easy. Childe doesn’t remember anything being so easy. Not loving his family. Not fishing. Not slitting his first throat.
“I don’t know if Ganyu will be a fan of that idea,” Childe finally admits, a little too honest for his comfort. Zhongli notices but doesn’t comment on it, and Childe is quietly grateful for it. “I don’t believe she likes me very much.” He coughs. “Since I… released Osial and everything.”
Zhongli chuckles, and it’s a rich sound, sweet and tangy, like dark chocolate and coffee. “She actually volunteered to be first.” Childe makes a noise of sharp surprise. “I believe she has noticed my fondness for you. And, well, the other candidate was Xiao.”
Childe almost entirely misses the next words as warmth spreads through his skin and muscle, reaching deep inside him all the way to bone marrow. Zhongli is fond of him. He is fond of him. Of course, there is the matter of whether it’s truth or some unspoken agenda or ulterior motive or something entirely other, but Childe is too busy feeling like he is stepping on the clouds and his head is floating among the stars. “You are fond of me?” he whispers, like a flustered middle schooler.
Zhongli blinks. “Of course, I’m fond of you, Ajax,” he murmurs. “Are you alright?” The name hits Childe like a bullet in the spine. He needs to remember who he is and where he stands. Ajax is dead. He is dead. Then why does Childe’s stomach flutter with clumps of useless butterflies every time the name leaves Zhongli’s perfect lips?
“I’m fine,” he automatically responds and quickly switches topics. “When am I meeting Ganyu?”
Zhongli hums, gracefully moving on in a different direction. Archons, Childe needs to give him a medal for being so gracious with him. “I was thinking about tomorrow morning,” he says. “Today is too short of a notice, and I’d hate to interrupt our outing.” Then, Zhongli coughs. “And your schedule, of course.”
Like my schedule isn’t all rearranged for you at first notice every time, you old lizard, Childe thinks fondly and hopes that the goofy, loopy smile that he feels prickling his cheeks never fully forms out of its cocoon.
“I’m fine,” Childe coughs, hoping his face doesn’t grow pink. “It’s fine.” It does, brewing slowly to be lovely red in colour, burning all the way up to the tips of his ears. Curse his ginger complexion, curse the way Zhongli chuckles and the sound settles right in Childe’s stomach like an indulgent dessert. “I can do tomorrow morning.”
And if Childe urgently cancels all of his upcoming appointments for tomorrow and shoos off curious recruits, Zhongli doesn’t have to be aware of it.
Childe doesn’t know what to do with himself, how to live with the tightly intermingled worry and acidic suspicion and the sweet poison of adoration every time Zhongli looks at him right. It’s been simple before when they were both keeping secrets. Then, Childe did his best to cut down any good will towards Zhongli at the root by unleashing his blade. Now, he can’t help but feel like all of his intestines are on a glaring display like an advertisement billboard, and he doesn’t like it. Childe despises how suddenly all of his masks seem to fade away and expose too much of him that is raw and pulsing with desperate yearning.
Everything is like it was before, and everything has changed, and Childe feels like he is unravelling at the seams trying to catch up. Didn’t he try his best to be a normal young man for Zhongli’s entertainment before? Can’t he at least do his best to not fall backwards into the pit of self-sabotage when everything has been so good?
But that is, perhaps, the problem. Everything has been too good. Childe’s skin itches with crawling terror at the thought that the only way for him to know when it’s going to hurt next is to take the matter into his own hands.
It’s in this jittery fervor that Childe finds himself facing Ganyu, and it’s almost unfair how perfect Zhongli looks in comparison. He is so pristine, so polished, he never seems to be bothered or unraveled by anything. Childe tightens the reins on himself ever slightly, forcing his limbs to obey with the same precision he does with his weapons. He can keep it together, if only to make sure that Zhongli, who is fond of him, who cares, doesn’t abruptly change his mind.
Childe can do it. He can be good. He can deserve the good things that life grants him and balance the tightrope over the things that make him ache.
How hard can it be?
Zhongli looks over at him and smiles brilliantly, and Childe’s entire stomach does a somersault he wouldn’t ever be able to recreate. “Now, I’ll trust you into Ganyu’s capable hands.” The girl - or, well, woman, as she is hundreds years older than Childe, - preens under the praise, and Childe finds himself relating to the feeling as Zhongli’s hand ruffles his hair in a friendly, almost teasing notion. He has to recover for a few moments and try to remember since when does Zhongli do teasing. “I trust you will behave. ”
Another wave of heat passes through Childe, and his cheeks recover their strawberry shade, mirroring it from their last dinner. He sternly reminds himself he is supposed to be focusing on training, but it’s a little difficult when there is a simmering flame settled deep in his core from the way Zhongli looks at him, expecting Childe to not disappoint him.
He has to salvage this somehow. At least, making a fool of himself is a part of his job, isn’t it? “I promise not to release any ancient gods without your personal approval, Zhongli,” Childe jokes, but his bravado falters the moment the corner of Zhongli’s mouth quirks up in a little pleased expression.
“That’s good,” he says, low and even, and Childe suddenly needs to take a long walk. Archons have mercy. Though, this specific archon (ex-archon, sue him) has no shame at all. "Apologies, I have to depart now, or Hu Tao will have my head.”
Ganyu nods, her opalite eyes moving between Childe and Zhongli in a little flustered motion. Childe himself also nods, though a little delayed. “Like she could do anything to you besides mildly annoy you to death,” he mutters, but Zhongli is already gone, his broad back dissolving into the crowd so easily.
You could almost mistake Zhongli for a part of it, but Childe knows where to look, and he sees the way the mass of people parts in front of him. Not in the way it happens for a Harbinger, in tense, wary silence but in a smooth, natural motion, like the clouds would part for the moon. Maybe he has been staring for too long because Ganyu clears her throat politely.
“Lord Harbinger,” she gently calls, and Childe turns to her. Despite the fact that Ganyu has lived through so much longer than he did, the way she treads so sheepishly brings up another face in his memory, a freckled and ginger one from back home, one of his sisters waving at him, and there is a certain involuntary warmth that he feels as he perceives her round, soft face.
“You can call me just Childe, you know.”
Ganyu startles, and he could swear there is a little smile peering out when she returns his expression. “Childe, then,” she says, and, inexplicably, her voice almost appears softer. “We can go now.”
Childe takes one last look, trying to discern where Zhongli’s figure is lost in the streets of Liyue, but its overwhelming, pink-tinted from dawn golden gleam blinds his eyes, and wherever Childe looks, everything is glowing in yellows and browns, and everything is alive, and everything is Zhongli. Ganyu clears her throat again, and Childe flushes for the last time. He coughs, suddenly awkward and not sure where to put his hands, the way he never has been since the day he stopped being a boy.
“Yes, yes,” he murmurs, hiding the expression of his eyes that Childe knows surely looks absurdly smitten, “let’s go.” Ganyu sends him a tiny knowing smile, and Childe has to suppress the childish urge to stick his tongue out at the little bounce in her step as they walk off into the mountains of Liyue.
The summer weather has mercy on him; the heat isn’t so unbearable anymore, and there is a tremble of breeze in the air, cool and fresh, coming all the way from the sea. It plays with Childe’s ginger hair, a little too long to be properly cared for, and it flutters against his cheeks and the back of his neck. Maybe, the heat is still there, invisible and shimmering in the air, but Childe has gotten far too used to it. These days, Liyue feels like his home, and Snezhnaya feels just like a place he returns to because his family and his duty call him to it like sirens call sailors to their deaths.
They hike a mountain, and despite Ganyu’s heavy-set build, she scales it effortlessly and without even breaking a sweat. Perks of adeptal heritage, Childe supposes. He also manages to keep up without too much strain, but it’s hard to say if it’s his newfound adeptal forces too or if it’s just his military training that’s paying off. Regardless, by the time they are in the place Ganyu chose, Childe is coated in a slight sheen of sweat, and his muscles sing with pleasant soreness.
He stretches, rolling his muscle as he moves side to side, feeling the ache settle pleasantly in his tendons. Childe has missed this, the feeling of a good, proper training session that leaves him breathless and a little wild with pumping adrenaline.
“Well?” he turns to Ganyu with a boyish grin. “I’m waiting for your instructions, Master Ganyu.” Childe winks at her, but it’s light, teasing, lacking the usual danger of flirtation that tends to sneak into his voice when he talks to people. And the address… Well.
Skirk had insisted that he’d call her Master, back in his younger days, when Childe was nothing but a crooked-toothed boy with freckled cheeks and blood smothered across his forearms. You could call it a habit.
Ganyu doesn’t seem amused. “If I am to call you ‘just Childe’”, she insists with a valiant effort into being snarky, “you will just call me Ganyu, then.”
Childe laughs and nods. “Okay, Ganyu it is.” He spreads his arms. “I’m all at your disposal.”
She hesitates. “I thought you’d be less agreeable to have me as your teacher,” Ganyu admits, cheeks pinkening. “You seem… like the rebellious type.”
“I’m a soldier, Miss Ganyu,” Childe reminds her, and it tastes a little ashy on this tongue. Then, he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, and it’s his turn to flush. “I actually said something similar to Zhongli yesterday. You know, considering my… history and all.”
Childe means Osial. He really, really does. That’s why Ganyu’s next words kick him in the abdomen with vicious force. “I’m well aware of your history with Abyss, Childe, and it doesn’t worry me as much as you think it does.”
He isn’t sure whether to feel angry, upset or grateful. Does everyone around him know about the very thing he tries his best to navigate without displaying it? Does every person who has ever looked him in the face knows exactly what is wrong with Childe, despite his best attempts to hide the rotten parts of his soul? Ganyu seems to notice him recoil, and her eyes widen.
“Should I not have brought it up?” she asks, a little worried. Childe sighs, and all the sharp emotion immediately dissolves like a candle blown out by the wind.
“It’s fine, Miss Ganyu,” he waves it off, despite the bitter taste. “It’s just, well… it’s a little startling how many of you know.” Childe then snorts. “I meant Osial.”
Ganyu blinks and smiles at him. It’s not pity per se, Childe can’t even imagine Ganyu expressing that emotion in the first place. But it’s still a certain formless softness that he feels deeply uncomfortable with. “We had… a loose understanding of what was going to happen,” she says slowly, carefully. “You were part of the plan. So, it would be hypocritical to hold a grudge against something you were actively nudged towards.”
Those words, arguably, make Childe feel even sourer. “Thanks for the reminder,” he mutters. Then, Childe sighs. “Listen, I do appreciate the pep talk but…”
Ganyu looks at him with such a deep, piercing gaze that, for a moment, Childe is violently reminded of the difference between them. Ganyu has been at true war; not the kind that Childe knows, all human violence and greed, no , the sort that splits heavens apart. “You love him, don’t you?”
The him never needs to be named. The words, not unlike Ganyu’s bow, shoot with precision and land straight through the middle of the chest. Childe chokes. “ What? ”
Ganyu sighs. Between wondering how any of this is relevant and feeling his face instantly bursting into flame, Childe isn’t sure what to say or how to move. Is she admonishing him? Is this, Archons forbid, a shovel talk?
“I am deeply sorry for being so intrusive,” she says quietly. “I simply… Well, I care for Rex Lapis deeply. We have a complicated relationship, with me being an adeptus. Perhaps, it can’t be qualified as either a family or a working relationship. But he is important to me.” Ganyu chews on her lips. “And it’s quite clear he is infatuated with you.”
Childe’s entire abdomen feels like it fills with bubbles of air, fluttering and pulsing as his mouth goes dry. He doesn’t dare to believe it. He doesn’t dare latch onto that hope like a foolish fish onto bait. “I wouldn’t quite say that,” he nervously chuckles but falters at Ganyu’s serious face.
“You know,” she continues, almost pensive, “it has always been very difficult for me to measure time. But I’ve never quite met a man so lost amongst the passing of it as Rex Lapis.” Ganyu’s eyes meet Childe’s, deep in thought. “Your lifespan may be longer now, but it’s no match to his. Don’t waste it. There is never enough time to be afraid.”
There is a trembling frustration in Childe’s throat. “I am afraid, Ganyu,” he said. “I’m afraid this love will wring me dry.” Childe swallows and admits the truth that he’s been swallowing all this time. “I will give him all I have. I know I will. I’m just… every day it feels like all I have is not enough.”
And yet, there is still something Childe doesn’t say. However much he likes Ganyu, part of his soul is still sold to the Tsaritsa. He knows the times are changing, the war is brewing; the storm clouds are gathering over Teyvat, and when they are finally too heavy to hover, all hell breaks loose. It will be the very kind of war only one of them has been through, and while Childe’s blade sings for it, his heart wonders where will Zhongli stand when it begins - and whether he will have to stand on the other side from where Childe is.
But something tells him she already knows. Perhaps, it’s the words she says next. “As a soldier,” Ganyu whispers, “you know it’s best when you die without regrets.”
The silence that stretches between them tastes like the lingering frost of Childe’s homeland.
Ganyu sighs. “Forgive me for the sentimentalities. I… I believe I’ve gotten carried away.” She finally turns to him, eyes determined. “Now, I believe Rex Lapis said something about your archery stance.”