𐐪𐑂 a/n: i hope this is in character enough! i honestly spent hours on their voicelines to get a better perspective on their individual personalities,,
𐐪𐑂 includes: diluc, kaeya, childe, zhongli
𐐪𐑂 genre(s): fluff, a bit of crack for kaeya (sort of) and CHILDE
𐐪𐑂 pt.2 here!!
diluc
warmly, like a comfort blanket
his arms will wrap around your waist/torso and he’ll hold you somewhat like his personal teddy bear but he won’t admit that
doesn’t like pda, so he only does this in the privacy of his manor
and even then, away from the maids
subtly cuddling you is his go-to way to show his love, since he personally finds it embarrassing to express his love out loud he can never find the right words, either. you mean more to him than just words
he finds it especially comforting to be able to return home and sit in silence with you wrapped in his arms
but also softly asks you questions about your day or how you’re feeling sometimes, just to hear your voice
he calls your name in one of the gentlest tones you’ve ever heard— it’s reserved specifically for you as well
“how was your day today? i’d like to hear about it, if you don’t mind.”
he’ll listen— not saying much, of course— but he will talk a bit if you ask, just for you <3
kaeya
close, like you’ll disappear if he lets go
he loves showing you off
and when i say ‘loves’ i mean LOVES
he’ll snake his arm around your shoulders, lets his hand hang in front of your chest, and pulls you closer every so often
he does this even when the two of you are casually walking around, he just can’t keep his hands off you
also adores it when you hold his hand hanging off your shoulder
he smirks at anyone who looks at the two of you, even if they just glanced over
his ego is getting such a huge boost right now
“darling, look at all those jealous people,” he murmurs smugly, “they wish they were me right now.”
“kaeya, i think they’re just saying hello.”
that’s the fifth time he’s said that, and you’ve been walking around for twenty minutes,,
childe
eagerly, like you haven’t seen each other in decades
he’s obsessed with coming up from behind and wrapping his arms around you in a big bear hug
if he’s in a mischievous mood, he’ll tickle your sides relentlessly (your frenzied pleas of “stop, stop!!” between laughs and giggles be damned!!)
one time you accidentally smacked him in the face so hard HE DROPPED YOU AND STARTED POUTING
it’s okay tho— you gave him lots of apology kisses after (he loves those)
if you return his hugs, his face tinges just the slightest shade of pink but he acts really cocky about it, as he does
“ooh, someone’s clingy, huh?” he teases as if he wasn’t the one who initiated the hug
but of course he can’t help but be soft for you afterwards
zhongli
gently, like you’re the last thing in the world
his favourite way to hold you isn’t elaborate or very interesting, but then again he’s never been the type to make a show out of things
instead, he opts for caressing your face during intimate moments
he cradles your face with the palm of his hand and admires each and every part of it, like he’s holding the world’s rarest antique in his hand
he likes to slowly swipe his thumb across your cheek, and smiles gently while doing so
his eyes are so full of love the entire time
“my love— and i know i say this every time— but to me, you shine brighter than any gold. i mean it.”
𐐪𐑂 pt.1 with diluc, kaeya, childe, and zhongli here!
𐐪𐑂 includes: xiao, venti, albedo
𐐪𐑂 genre(s): fluff
xiao
carefully, like he’s scared of hurting you
it should be clear that xiao,, does not like pda,, whatsoever,,,
however, even he— one of the most powerful adepti— cannot resist leaning into the touch of the person he loves
he always searches for your hand so he can hold it; something about your fingers being weaved together so intimately makes him feel at ease
when you hold his hand, he can make sure you’re still there, that you’re safe by his side
xiao idly traces the lines on the palm of your hand (it’s sort of a stress reliever for him)
he loves his personal space, don’t get me wrong— but i guarantee he will always have his fingers interlocked with yours
he grazes his thumb over your knuckles, hoping such a simple movement will convey his feelings
when you fall asleep with your hand still interlocked with his, 9 out of 10 times he will still be there when you wake up
during the night, he had pulled you closer to him too
“i will never let you fall prey to the darkness,” you heard him murmur one night when he thought you were asleep, “even if i get swallowed by it in the process. i promise that.”
venti
playfully, happily dragging you along with him
it’s common knowledge that venti brings his lyre with him everywhere he goes
that includes festivals, on walks outside the city, and during late nights at angel’s share
he enjoys each and every moment from the first note on his lyre to the last lyric of his songs, but his fondest memories are from private sessions with you
he’ll carry you with a breeze he creates, lifting you up into the branches of that massive oak tree at windrise
venti can barely describe the fluttering feeling in his stomach when you lean on him as he sings
by the end of the song, his face is flushed a brilliant shade of red
he can’t hold you when he sings (he can’t reach his lyre if he does) so he appreciates when you do little things like that
even still, any physical contact you initiate has his heart beating out of his chest
he just prays to himself barbatos that you don’t hear it
and when you exclaim, “venti, your face is as red as an apple!”
he reaches his hand up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly, pairing it with a chuckle and refusing to meet your gaze
“well— i mean.. when you’re being as cute as you are, how else am i supposed to react?”
albedo
searchingly, trying to figure out what you like and don’t like
see also: sheepishly, because he’s so new to this
albedo’s sole purpose is to “find the truth of this world,” as he calls it
so why not include romantic relationships as part of his research? he has the opportunity and all
not that he’s only in it for the research— he genuinely loves you
he just has a bit of difficulty expressing his feelings through words, especially since he has spent his whole life from a logical standpoint
at least, he knows how to express his love through actions
oftentimes you will glance over at him and catch him staring at you, but you think nothing of it and look away
next thing you know, his arms are snaking around your torso from behind and he’s resting his chin on your shoulder
he apologizes afterwards, a flush of pink dusting his cheeks (he tries to hide it with his hand), saying it was “out of instinct”
sometimes he gifts you little trinkets
“here, i saw this earlier and it reminded me of you, so i bought it,” he says as he places the gift in the palm of your hand
oh, but he usually makes do with lingering touches in public (he doesn’t know if he’s doing this right or not, to be fair)
shoulders grazing shoulders now and then, and every once in awhile he hooks his pinkie with yours when you walk together
he likes being close with you— he’s just curious to know why it feels so right
how your minds seem to think of the same idea at the same time, how your hands lock together like matching puzzle pieces
it feels like the world slows down when you’re with him, and he relishes in the calm feeling that washes over him
albedo is not someone you would expect to confess heartfelt feelings out loud, but you can feel all the emotions he feels by simply flipping through his sketchbook, filled with drawings of you
everything he does, even the littlest, allegedly unimportant things— it’s all evidence of his affection
𐐪𐑂 summary: diluc can’t help but think back to his 18th birthday.
𐐪𐑂 note: repost bc this wasn’t showing up in tags ;’) happy late birthday diluc!! loved your letter, now please come home soon <3
𐐪𐑂 includes: diluc
𐐪𐑂 genre(s): fluff(???), reader comforts diluc
𐐪𐑂 warning(s): not mentioned within the text, but the context revolves around what happened on his 18th birthday in the genshin impact webcomic?? um,, spoilers for that if you count it? i guess you could read it even if you haven’t read the webcomic.
𐐪𐑂 word count: 0.4k (a tiny one)
you find him hunched over his dresser, staring dull daggers into the mirror. you know what this day means to him; you can see it in his solemn look, how his eyes don’t glow as much as they did the day before. you heard it this morning, too, how his tone seems more stern than usual.
his earlier attitude greatly contrasts the small flame you see now. the one staring at himself in the mirror, as if this is a dream. as if he’ll wake up from a nightmare soon, and it’ll all be okay.
the maids have baked a glamorous cake and the decorations have been set up— there have already been a few visitors to the manor that left presents and gifts for him.
but nonetheless, it doesn’t change the fact that today is not a happy day. not for diluc.
and when you stride over to him and caress his face (pale and forlorn), he leans into your touch like it’s his lifeline. his flame-touched hair curls neatly around his face, framing it like that one melancholic painting you pass by every time you walk through the hall.
“i love you,” you whisper, but he closes his eyes before you finish. he doesn’t see your heartbroken face— he doesn’t want your pity, nor anyone else’s. (but it’s so comforting.)
you wait until the room fills with silence again before you speak up one more time; “we don’t have to go downstairs if you don’t want to,” a breath, and, “i will stay here until you’re ready.”
he tucks his face into the crook of your neck, a safe haven hidden away from the world. judging by the way he gives your side three squeezes— meaning ‘i love you’— you understand his wordless wishes.
“don’t worry,” you smile solemnly as you brush your fingers through his hair, murmuring, “i’m not going anywhere.”
and you hold him in that quiet, dimly lit room. you hold him until he brings his head up to look at you with those tired, monochrome eyes that just barely whisper a ‘thank you for staying with me.’
and so, you continue holding him, arms embrace his figure (patiently, never letting go as if to tell him you are still there.)
he presses a kiss against the corner of your lips, gentle and apologetic.
diluc appreciates everything you do for him— everything you give to him, he will cherish. and he returns the favour by taking off his mask, showing all sides of himself to you.
𐐪𐑂 summary: albedo realizes how you are not ordinary; how you stand out from the rest.
𐐪𐑂 genre(s): fluff
𐐪𐑂 note: albedo is my comfort character lol. enjoy
𐐪𐑂 word count: 0.7k
if you ask the citizens of mondstadt, they could tell you how albedo is a genius in many ways; his sketches are masterpieces no matter what he draws, and all his experiments are sophisticated and well-thought-out.
if you pry deeper, you’d find nothing else. to the citizens of mondstadt, albedo is a mystery, yet familiar all the same.
“the kreideprinz is the chief alchemist and captain of the investigation team of the knights of favonius,” they say, and without missing a beat: “he’s always in that workshop of his, though, so i don’t know much about him.”
and that is exactly how he prefers it.
but do keep in mind that albedo is not rude in any definition of the word. reserved? yes. reluctant to socialize? sure. but he is an amiable person through and through.
he simply does not wish to maintain a relationship with other people. to him, that is a waste of time. it takes his attention away from his investigations and consumes a lot of energy overall.
you, however, are an exception.
how did he end up here, he wonders, so close to you like this?
you were no alchemist, no expert in your field, and if he were to look at you objectively— and he means no offense at all— but you are.. ordinary.
albedo sets aside his sketchbook, letting it rest on his lap as he watches you read a book you found in his workshop. his eyes quickly scan the cover and he recognizes it as a beginner bio-alchemy textbook. were you interested in bio-alchemy, by any chance? he would have to talk to sucrose about including you in more of her experiments.
pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, he begins to observe your focused expression as you read the book— how your eyes take in every word written on the worn-out pages, and he rests his head on his hand, admiring how you seem so determined to commit the writing to memory. he smiles fondly. oh, how lucky was he to have a lover with an interest in his field of work.
he admires you for a little while, relishing in the comfortable silence of his workshop. there’s no background noise from experiments waiting to be completed, only the crackling of fire from the torch nearby and the occasional flip of a page. he lets himself space out, focusing solely on admiring every single one of your features; each of your visible imperfections and every part of you that he’s seen you stress and worry about. to him, he really doesn’t understand why you judge yourself so harshly. there’s a reason why many of his sketchbooks are filled with paintings and doodles alike, solely of you.
to him, you are akin to a glowing ray of light. sometimes, when he can’t figure out why an experiment is not going the way it should, you step in and allow him to take a break. on those days, you’re like sunlight breaking through the storm clouds in his mind. and on quiet nights, you hold him so gently and allow him to simply rest without distractions. he admires your patience and your gentleness, always seeking you out when things get too hectic— he finds you comparable to the moon and its soft glow like that.
your voice calling his name snaps him out of his trance; when did he get so proficient in emotional descriptions like that, anyway? he responds with a quick nod when you ask him if everything’s alright since he’s been staring off into space for the past few minutes.
“oh, i suppose you caught me,” he swears he must be dreaming when the sound of your giggle reaches his ears, “i’d actually like to spend some time closer with you, if you don’t mind. maybe... cuddling?” he welcomes you with open arms and gives you time to shift into a comfortable position before he glances over at your book again, “interested in bio-alchemy, are you? hm, interesting.”
he listens as you start talking about topics you’ve read about in the book, and once again he feels his heart skip a beat when he sees how enthusiastic you are in alchemy, despite it being an uninteresting topic for ordinary people.
ah, he suddenly comes to a realization. a tender smile forms on his face as the puzzle pieces click together in his mind— you are not ordinary; not at all.
𐐪𐑂 summary: occassionally, he opens his mouth and flowers come out instead of words.
𐐪𐑂 genres + warnings: angst, major character death, kazuha has hanahaki disease, blood mention, implications of vomiting, this was rushed(?)
𐐪𐑂 note: definitions marked by asterisks are at the bottom of this post!
𐐪𐑂 word count: 0.6k
it was raining that night. kazuha remembers it clearly as if the rain shed tears and wept for your passing.
you were always more reckless than the maple-patterned boy you called your closest friend. you were the one always diving deep into the heart of danger for the sake of proving yourself, building yourself, more and more. though the calm-tempered kaedehara kazuha could never be as impulsive as you were, he promised he would always fight alongside you as a comrade in arms.
the time kazuha spent with you was the most fun he ever had in his life. oh, how radiant the sun was when you set off on your travels. and when it rained, it poured shimmering beads of liquid crystal, dazzling each blade of grass and each flower’s petals. nature loved you. kazuha’s heart danced to a different type of beat the day you gifted him an asagao*, a beautiful shade of indigo that stood out on his being. it clashed with the red on his clothes.
“the musou no hitotachi,” you started, one day.
your words cut through his daydream like a polished blade through autumn leaves. kazuha looked up at you, perplexed. “repeat that?”
“have you heard of it? a sword art. the musou no hitotachi.”
how couldn’t he have heard of it? his upbringing would only let him learn about the regality behind the art of the blade, so he informed you. only the raiden shogun could unleash such a skill; a show of her immense power and control. though, the cost of experiencing it is one’s life.
he never should have told you. the glimmer in your eyes was unmistakable. you would stop at nothing just to prove yourself. more and more.
the winds said nothing, that day. kazuha said nothing more, either; the asagao* had become stuck in his throat, restricting his airflow just enough so his words could no longer escape. it wasn’t that bad. one day, kazuha thought to himself, humming a distant tune, one day you will hear my song of yearning.
and then came the vision hunt decree.
if only you had told him what you were planning.
didn’t you know he would risk his life for you? the asagao were enough proof of that, weren’t they? (though he supposes it was his fault you were never aware of them.)
didn’t you know he’d march straight into a storm if you had asked him to? (why didn’t you ask? even a whisper would’ve done the job. the wind would carry your message to his ears, anyway.)
so why was it that when he finally arrived at tenshukaku, the wind whipping and whirling around him in panic and in anticipation, your blade had already clattered to the ground? why did the raiden shogun, as powerful and immense her glory was, announce a sentence of divine punishment? and why was your name uttered by her lips? why did you go so far (without him)?
the red of your blood clashed with the beautiful shade of indigo lightning.
in your last moments, what expression was on your face?
when kazuha fled with your dying vision in his hands, the winds were already changing. they wailed in your absence. the rain clouds were rolling in, echoing a song of passing and death. kazuha could still hear the drumbeat of thunder and see the flashes of lightning behind the radiant glow of the holy raiden shogun. with each clap of thunder, each strike of lightning, sparks of fear ran through his body up until he finally escaped from the omnipresent eyes of god herself.
and as he collapsed onto the ground, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he heaved a great deal of flowers that heavily contrasted the muddy dirt ground staining his hands and clothes.
as expected, the brilliant purple asagao petals he was so used to rushed out his throat like a flood and littered the forest ground.
he coughed once more, and out came the last emblem of his unrequited affection.
a single, ruffled petal born from pink carnations.**
𐐪𐑂 warning(s): one (1) ‘the chalk prince and the dragon’ event spoiler at the very very end
𐐪𐑂 note: written bc i needed comfort, and if you need comfort as well (or just something to read/cry to), i hope this can provide it to you ♡
𐐪𐑂 word count: 0.8k
albedo watches as you dab your paintbrush into a bead of blue paint. his eyes wander around the room— there is neither any still life model nor any blue objects in his sight. he quirks an eyebrow, “what are you painting?”
you glance up at him from behind the canvas but not before flinching a little, a shiver in the way you hold your brush. (albedo’s voice had cut through the silence as if putting scissors to a piece of paper. he apologizes for that.) you smile gently at him, before answering, “right now, it’s your eyes,” and you giggle when his eyes widen and a rosy pink hue dusts his cheeks. it feels weird— basically unheard of— for him to be the subject of a painting.
“they’re the most brilliant shade of blue,” you continue, “even the brightest, bluest crystal ore would be jealous of the magnificence i see in your eyes,” you add a bit of white to a portion of turquoise you had mixed earlier.
albedo stays stock-still, trying his best to meet your expectations as a model. (though you simply laugh and tell him to “assume any pose you want, i will paint you however you want to be painted.”)
and he watches your brush dance across the canvas; each and every bristle slides across the fabric eloquently, leaving colour in its wake. and those colours befriend each other, and the borders at which they meet become obsolete— there is no need for borders or gates between these friends, and so they melt away. or are they more like lovers, accepting the other for their differences and therefore becoming one?
“what are you thinking about?” you lift your eyes from the canvas to meet albedo’s gaze and he thinks his heart skipped a beat just now; your sudden full attention brings feelings he didn’t even know he had to the surface. they bubble at the top, threatening to boil over. (he almost wants them to.)
“nothing in particular,” he replies finally, “i was just... observing.”
“observing?”
“yes. you seem to be committing every part of me to memory before you even touch the paint.”
you hum in a tone he can’t name, resuming the brushstrokes on your canvas. you must be almost finished by now. he finds himself rhythmically tapping on the arm of the chair he sits on, waiting.
“how do you like it?” you ask, pressing a shallow kiss lasting half a second to his cheek. you leave to get a drink. (your usual, probably.)
albedo’s eyes bore into the painting, peering into the window that you call a canvas. his own reflection stares back at him, and if he didn’t know any better he’d say the painting itself is more animated than he is. how do you see so much potential in mundane life? how do you capture expressions with so much detail— the slight furrow in his brow is something even he did not notice. it’s almost as if you can read through him. the idea of transparency is unsettling.
albedo looks over it again and again, pointing out new details each time. however, he doesn’t have criticism; he never does, but he knows you’d get upset if he told you it’s perfect. it’s always perfect. you’re perfect to him.
his mind blurts out the same thought he’s always had. (he skims over the image again, just to make sure.) yes, it’s always the same: while he paints to capture a brief moment of life, you paint to say “hey, i was here; i did this. remember me.”
(he thinks it’s melancholic, in a way. what good is it anyway, to be remembered by people whom you’ve never met? but isn’t that what makes you intriguing to him? why does he always ask questions he knows the answer to?)
“what’s on your mind?” you’re leaning against the doorway now.
“it’s perfect,” he says, gears turning in his head.
“oh, you,” you huff. you take your time walking over to him, and the moment you do, your hand finds his easily, fingers snuggling in between the other’s; a practiced movement.
“you know i won’t ever forget about you, right?” he doesn’t turn to face you, but there is enough sincerity in his tone to convey his feelings. (almost. you do know albedo isn’t well-versed in acting on his feelings, right?)
you look at him, uncertainty starting to crawl up your spine; the sharp talons dig into your flesh and bone. you’ve heard this a million times before, and have had the same questions and answers a million times before, and yet every time you still ask, “what do you mean?”
“if i.. destroy mondstadt...” he inhales. (though, it is just an excuse to stay silent for a bit longer.) you, too, stay silent, wishing not to interrupt him even if his hand shakes and shivers in your grasp. a beat more, and, “even if... i will remember you.”
and, just like you’ve done a million times before, you take the canvas off the easel and offer it to him. a gentle breeze from the open window whisks up a smile on your face (the one albedo loves so much), “then, let this be something you can remember me by.”
𐐪𐑂 note: sorry for disappearing for a bit </3 i was working on a few things and now i'm back :) and just in time for xiao's birthday as well <3 happy birthday xiao <3 here's a drabble dedicated to you and THANKS FOR THE CRYSTALFLIES MWA MWAH KISSES XIAO ON THE FOREHEAD
𐐪𐑂 includes: xiao
𐐪𐑂 genre(s): fluff, you could read this as friends to potential lovers but idk, misuse/overuse of the words 'forever' and 'dream' LMAO
𐐪𐑂 word count: 1.5k
xiao does not believe in love.
or, more specifically, he does not believe in mortal emotions.
his arms rest against the railing of the balcony on the top floor of wangshu inn when he senses your presence behind him. your gaze meets his when he turns around to acknowledge you, and a smile appears on your face when he does so.
“xiao!” you call out to him, “so you’re here too, huh?” he moves to the side as to give you room on the railing. he doesn’t respond to you, choosing instead to look out into the horizon. (although, it’s not like he’s ever responded all that often.)
you continue a one-sided conversation, your gaze flickering back and forth between the adeptus beside you and the view before you to watch for a reaction to anything you say.
to anyone else, he certainly seems like he has turned you out or ignored you since your arrival. but you know better— xiao simply isn’t much of a talker. you glance over at him again once you finish up the story you were telling (something about a friend being descended from pirates?) and decide that maybe today he’d appreciate a bit of silence. you catch him as he gives you a look when he realizes you’ve gone quiet (it’s a look of something you can’t discern, unfortunately) but neither of you says anything of it.
a soft smile breaks out on your face as you lean a bit more onto the railing. you don’t know what’s so special about this quiet moment, but the words escape through your mouth faster than you can stop them.
“will we be friends forever, xiao?”
this catches him off guard. you can tell in the way the tips of his fingers twitch just a little, and how he swivels his head to look at you. he simply scoffs and turns back, his words nonchalant and indifferent, “forever is impossible for a mortal like you. you humans should stop romanticizing a concept you will never understand.”
you simply laugh a little at that and gaze out into the scenery once more. “i was thinking you’d say something like that. xiao, the ever-so-predictable adeptus, hm? anyway, i guess i’ll have to keep dreaming.”
he rolls his eyes and you laugh again. the sun is beginning to set and the sky is becoming stained with orange-yellow watercolour hues.
xiao would rather not grasp the concept of human emotions. they get in the way when he is trying to carry out his duties, and so he whisks them away each night as if they are another one of the demons he slays.
but as he sits on the edge of a cliff, staring up at the full moon, his mind wanders to the words you said not long ago. dream? about what? how do you dream about forever, when you’ve only got a bit of time to live?
‘forever’ is not something he could promise to anyone, not even rex lapis.
he’s seen many promises made between the children playing in the streets through the form of hooking pinkies together, and he’s seen promises made between merchants and shopkeepers through the form of paper and pen. above all else, the word ‘forever’ seems to be a common trend with them. what did you mean back then, to keep dreaming about forever? it’s always you that twists and turns his brain into a mess trying to decipher what you mean. why must humans dream about a concept even he can’t put into words yet? would any adeptus be able to describe ‘forever?’ the adepti are immortal, but does that necessarily mean ‘forever?’
he grumbles as he shakes his mind free of those thoughts. it’s not like the moon could give him any answers, anyway.
you’ve gone and done it this time— xiao thinks you’ve infected his mind with your words.
the thing is, xiao does not dream. he tries his hardest not to, he refuses to (weakness like that could spell the end for him.) and what kind of dream would he even have? one of light? one of peace? they are both so, so far out of his reach; he’s better off not thinking about them at all.
he’s pulled out of his trance from the sound of you setting a plate of almond tofu in front of him.
“you’re welcome,” you say as you take a seat across from him. “what’s on your mind? you seemed out of it earlier.”
he shakes his head— a “nothing that a mortal needs to worry about,” leaving his lips— and he digs into his almond tofu. while he would rather eat alone, he supposes he’s come to not mind your presence as much as before. maybe he could get you to explain to him what you meant that day.
he takes a bite of his tofu, relishing in the soft sweetness enveloping his tongue.
it tastes like how he thinks a dream would feel.
oh, and suddenly he understands your words a little more. or so he thinks, of course.
“what do you think this tastes like?” he blurts out, effectively giving you the biggest surprise of your life— how many times had xiao started a conversation before this moment anyway? exactly zero.
“i mean.. it’s sweet? there’s almost in it, so there’s that sort of flavour... what are you trying to ask, xiao?” by this point, you’ve put down your chopsticks, fully invested in this new conversation.
he averts his eyes, seeming to be embarrassed that he’d ask such a thing, but answers you nonetheless (though it was after a few moments of contemplation), “what did you mean that day, when you said you’d continue dreaming about forever? what does ‘forever’ mean?”
he fully expects you to laugh at him— call him foolish for thinking so hard about a throwaway line you gave him— but to his surprise, you answer honestly. (it sends a pang of something unfamiliar to his heart.)
your eyes are soft, and they are understanding. you are a table-width away, but he feels close to you at that moment. he wants to keep this view in his memory until the day he dies.
“‘forever’ has a lot of meanings, y’know? poetry-wise, i mean,” you lean your head against your hand, staring at the adeptus from your side of the table. in this moment, he seems more like a curious boy who simply wonders about the world. “at least for me, my forever is until i’m forgotten. it always has been.”
your forever?
the confusion is evident on his face, causing you to let out a chuckle and continue explaining, “what i mean is that... when i asked you if we’d be friends forever that day, i meant if you would ever forget about me.”
xiao lifts his gaze to meet your eyes, taken aback by your bluntness. how could you say something like that so nonchalantly? weird human.
but perhaps he appreciates this side of you, one that he has never seen in any other mortal he’s met. weird and unpredictable, but always honest and at this point, your voice is comforting enough that he finds himself using it as background noise— a breath of fresh air compared to the malicious thoughts that plague his mind. for a moment, he is allowed to forget about the weight of the bad karma weighing down on his shoulders.
he observes how you simply shrug and start eating your food again, but he senses how on edge you are as you wait for him to answer you. so you were sincerely hoping— no, dreaming— that he would be part of your forever as well. his instincts tell him to say that, unfortunately, he’ll live so long even after you leave and eventually you will be another insignificant memory, but something stops him from doing so. he wants to promise you that ‘forever’ you so dream of. to his own surprise, xiao himself wants to make sure that ‘forever’ rings true, even as he takes his last breath on the battlefield.
“i’ll try not to,” he murmurs, making you let out a questioning “hm?” at his words. and despite the embarrassment bubbling in the pits of his stomach, he clears his throat, “i meant i’ll try not to forget about you. don’t worry.”
he’s met with silence.
he waits with bated breath and finds himself hoping he hasn’t said anything wrong, only to be shocked by how you immediately burst out into laughter.
you look back at him with a wide grin plastered across your face, “thank you, xiao.” it’s a type of smile that he’s never seen you wear before. his body fills with a soft, fuzzy feeling and although it is unfamiliar, he welcomes it fully.
if ‘forever’ is for dreamers, then xiao simply has to dream, no? he’d dream again and again if only he could see that smile of yours over and over. he promises with his entire being to fulfill that dream of yours.
𐐪𐑂 (n.) loss of feelings for someone who was formerly loved; falling out of love. from greek: an = without, agape = love
𐐪𐑂 includes: zhongli, but he’s not explicitly mentioned until the end
𐐪𐑂 genre(s): angst, falling out of love because there’s someone else
𐐪𐑂 warning(s): descriptions of emotional distress(??), mention of dizziness
𐐪𐑂 word count: 0.6k
“do you love them? like you love me?”
the words feel out of place on your tongue. they’re riddled with anxiety, doubt, and were cast out on the brink of tears.
he lets out a sigh, and somehow, among those exasperated and annoyed overtones that came with it, you realize your question has already been answered. even still, he indulges you.
“no.”
your breath hitches in your throat. suddenly, the air seems too thick to breathe in. you look at him, expectantly, hoping he will elaborate. (or won’t.)
whether or not you wanted it, it doesn’t matter. he does.
“i do not love them like i love you. i think about them when i go to sleep at night, and i think about them when i wake up in the morning. i wonder if they are thinking about me, too. it seems no matter what i do, i cannot get them out of my head and i don’t know if i want them to anymore,” his voice is laced with uncertainty. somehow, it’s heartbreaking for the both of you all the same.
he continues, something indiscernible in his gaze, “i find myself hoping that they also look forward to seeing me again when we are apart. i keep wondering if they are safe, if they are happy. and i realize it is wrong when there is another who loves me the way i love them—” you don’t miss the way he sends you an apologetic look, “—but i cannot stop myself. i do not long for you like that, and i do not dream about you like that. at least, not anymore.”
your hands ball up into fists at your side. there’s a flurry of emotions swirling around throughout your body, and there’s so many of them that you can’t even name one. you can feel a storm erupt inside of you like an exploding star whenever you see the slightly flushed pink of his cheeks, the teasing curve of a smile on his lips, and the love in his eyes— oh.
how cruel.
your heart aches with jealousy. perhaps that is the repulsive, disgusting emotion knotted in your gut.
“i'm sorry—” he starts, noticing your unease, but when you break away from his gaze, his voice falters and eventually the room fills with silence. it’s tense, thick. you feel parched, and the words you want to say refuse to come out. it’s getting dizzy. the world spins and takes you along with it. the pounding of your heart isn’t helping, either.
he opens his mouth. he says something you can’t hear. (don’t want to hear.) maybe it’s another attempt to apologize, you don’t know— but suddenly he’s grabbing your hand and placing a gentle kiss upon your knuckles. it feels different. it is not full of the love that you’ve become so familiar with. it is foreign and awkward.
he lets your hand fall down to your side, and watches it with a distant look in his eyes.
and finally, he leaves.
the sound of the door hitting its frame has the magnitude of an earthquake, shattering your heart into pieces. they pierce your skin like broken glass.
that ash brown hair you’ve combed your fingers through countless times, the gold-amber eyes you’ve stared into and who have stared back, the gloved hands you’ve held for so long they feel moulded into your own— you realize they are now appreciated by someone else.
“zhongli,” you gasp, and it seems so loud in the empty room. it hurts. you cannot bring yourself to force out any more words. the world is blurry when it is clouded by tears.
hey, reader... are you ready for the next one? (link to the sequel)
