Seven Months in Heaven [Zhongchi/Tartali]

Chapter 11 - The Last Supper

It was set.

Six days.

The first two passed in a flash. In the mornings, Childe lingered in bed, stealing those precious, intimate moments he would share with Zhongli, filled with lazy kisses and reverent touches. When forced from Zhongli's snug hold to leave for the bank, he spent the rest of the morning holed up in his office until the time came to meet him for lunch.

At the end of each meal, he hung on Zhongli's arm, pulling him back to stay for "one more story". The first day Zhongli laughed, eager and willing to entertain Childe's request, but the second he eyed Childe warily, reciting his tale with an edge in his voice and his hands never quite stilling. In the evening he held Childe's hand as they ate dinner, only letting go to serve their meal and pour their tea.

Four days.

Childe was going to miss this.

He admitted the thought to himself as he stood in front of the felled beast before him – a pyro spewing plant standing five to six times his height – with burns stinging his exposed neck and forearms. Focusing on the pain was easier than focusing on what was to come. He pulled three red crystals from the withered flowerhead, holding them up to the light and smiling when the rays revealed no imperfections. Zhongli would like these.

Three days.

Zhongli did like them. When Childe presented them to him the next morning he rubbed them between his fingers, inspecting every angle of their form and praising Childe for such a thoughtful gift.

Childe felt sick at that.

Childe felt worse when Zhongli placed the crystals in the same display case housing the scale of his sealed friend and the peculiar cube from that tranquil morning on the mountaintop. After breakfast, instead of going to the bank, Childe set upon the poor abused training dummies at a nearby training camp, hoping the activity might ease the tight, restless knot within him.

It didn't.

Two days.

Childe didn't go to the bank. By midday he was drenched in blood not his own. He washed it off in the river leaving a red-pink trail staining the waters, the iron scent thick in the air. Zhongli didn't leave his side that evening, and clung to him when they came to bed, laying silently with his head burrowed in Childe's hair.

One day.

Childe carved a path of devastation through the hills of Liyue before dragging himself back to the city for his final lunch with Zhongli. Instead of their usual chatter, the conversation was stilted, and Zhongli seemed as lost for words as Childe was. When they stood to part for the afternoon, Zhongli held Childe close, arms locked around him and pressing their cheeks together.

"Childe... I'll see you tonight," he said, but it was more of a question than a statement.

"Yeah." Childe gripped back. "Tonight... you'll see me tonight. I'll be there, at home."

Making no effort to push away, Childe let himself be held for as long as Zhongli wanted, sinking into his warm embrace and taking in that same scent Zhongli received from Ying'er all those months ago.

But nothing could last forever, and neither could that desperate grip they held each other with, each parting to their respective duties. Watching Zhongli walk away, a nauseating tightness curled in Childe's gut. The chatter of the crowd, usually so energising, was an oppressive blurry haze over his thoughts as the clueless citizens carried on with their stupid, carefree lives.

He needed out.

After stopping by the bank to confirm with Ekaterina their preparations were in order, he headed back into the wilderness, blades drawn before he reached the city gates.