Love Me With Your Sweet Lies [Zhongchili]

Chapter 4 - Love Me With Your Sweet Lies

The weeks drag by, and Childe longs for the day that The Tsaritsa will send him his missive to finally leave this damned place. For the past fortnight his head has pounded incessantly and the singular reprieve from his wandering thoughts has been the rare times he's escaped from the bank to take on the bounties offered by Ms. Yu. Eliminating monsters is far more fun than thinking about that man.

As it stands, Pantalone is currently 'busy with important issues in Snezhnaya' and is unable to return to attend to Northland Bank. Zhongli doesn't come knocking this time around; presumably he's got the message that Childe absolutely, definitely does not want to talk to him.

Clueless. That's what Zhongli is.

Some things Childe cannot fault: the way Zhongli treated him as a friend, gave him all the information he sought, herded him so perfectly into playing his role. That was fine. He's perfectly happy to be a weapon if the result pleases Her Majesty. His intention was to use Zhongli too, and tit for tat, they were even. It would have been fine if Zhongli didn't consider his feelings in the matter had that been the limit to their relationship.

But it wasn't.

Zhongli's words and intent are baffling.

Childe can be a tool for Her Majesty. He can be Ajax for his family.

But trying to be both at once? It's weird.

Zhongli had treated him like a friend, like a lover, taking in the defensive walls necessary for him to survive as a Harbinger and whispering sweet words at their door until Childe folded, let him in willingly, allowed Zhongli the intimacy he'd never spared another.

Childe had let himself be Ajax with Zhongli.

Yet ultimately, as much as Zhongli professes to care for him, he was a weapon in Zhongli's plan, and Zhongli hadn't stopped to consider how he might feel about it without the separation between himself and his duty that Tartaglia usually shields behind.

This time, it was Ajax taking the brunt of betrayal.

It hurt.

It still hurts.

And Zhongli has no idea why.

Clueless.

Childe slams his palm on the railing.

It's a perfectly mild day, the perfect time to get some fresh air and stretch his legs, with neither the sun too hot nor the wind carrying any unpleasant chill, and he stands on the walkway beside the lotus pools, watching the ships come and go throughout the harbour. He's supposed to be handling some dreary 'monthly expense reviews' (which are Pantalone's job, he might add), but his attention is shot.

"Good afternoon, Childe," says the voice he least wishes to hear.

Fuck that noise.

"What do you want?" snaps Childe, not looking around. It will be better for both of them if Zhongli leaves now and doesn't come back. "I don't have any mora on me today, if that's what you're after."

"It is not."

In his peripheral vision, Zhongli comes to stand next to Childe, leaning over the railing, gazing steadily at him.

Childe looks away. He doesn't need this today.

But at the same time, he can't bear to leave.

"I promised to pay you back, and so I have come to deliver," says Zhongli.

"Oh. Great."

He doesn't want the damn mora. He doesn't need the damn mora. It doesn't fucking matter.