Work Text:
Childe sighs as he closes the door to his apartment behind him. It's still difficult for him to come to terms with the fact that he's just been fired from his job. It wasn't that he particularly enjoyed it, stacking boxes all day is boring at the best of times, but it paid enough for him to live on and that was enough.
That is, it was when he had the job, which he doesn't anymore.
The mistake that got him fired wasn't even his fault. Or was it? Sure, he can't sleep for more than a couple of hours a night because of horrific nightmares and sure, he is constantly exhausted because of that but is it really an excuse to make mistakes in his work? Of course he got fired, if he can't even move a couple of boxes without dropping them.
Childe sighs again. Is it even possible to get a new job fast enough to get the money for his rent? If only his landlord was the forgiving type he could ask for a little more time to get back on his feet, but unfortunately she is a homophobic bitch who has warned him several times since he moved to Liyue that the minute he misses even a single rent payment he'll find himself out on the street 'where his kind belong'.
There must be a way. It wouldn't be the first time he's needed money quickly, and definitely not the first time he's resorted to... less than legal methods.
Is he really this desperate?
As he reaches for the safe hidden under the floorboards in his bedroom he supposes that yes, he is.
Just the act of looking at the items inside reminds him of why he locked them away in the first place.
It wasn't just so other people couldn't find them if they happened to search his house, it was also to protect himself from the insurmountable mountain of bad memories that he locked inside with them.
He grabs his lockpick and his gloves before quickly closing the door again. He doubts he'll be sleeping at all tonight.
✯
No one knows how long the old manor in the wealthy side of town has been there. The rumours say it's owned by the young director of a local funeral parlour and has been passed down her family for generations, but not a single one has ever been seen going inside. In fact, no one has ever been seen on its grounds at all, yet the house is always in good condition and the garden always looks like it's carefully maintained. The curtains are always tightly closed, the lights are never on and any knock on the door remains unanswered, so the rumour mill grows and grows.
Tartaglia doesn't care about the rumours really. All he cares about is that a house like that must have some valuable items inside and no one living there to notice if they go missing. It's perfect.
The lock on the back door takes him a bit longer to pick than he expected. Perhaps he's out of practice. It has been a while since he's done this, after all. At least there's no one living here to witness his incompetence.
Very little moonlight makes its way into the corridor through the gaps between the back door and its frame. It casts a dim light on the paintings that line the walls and the ornate vases on the cabinets beneath them. It's too dark to see clearly, but a light would give away immediately to the neighbours that something's wrong so it'll have to do.
Tartaglia steps towards one of the vases and picks it up to study it. He's no connoisseur but he could definitely get at least a month's living costs from selling this. From selling any of the vases along this corridor really, if they're all of a similar quality.
He reaches to put it in his bag, only for it to slip out of his hand and smash into hundreds of pieces on the floor.
Oh no. He hopes none of the neighbours heard that.
Cursing his sleep deprived clumsiness, he bends down and starts picking up the pieces, wincing as they slice through one of his gloves and into his hand. What kind of glass was this vase made of? He places the pieces on top of the cabinet and removes his glove to inspect the cut.
Suddenly something cold grabs his wrist so tightly it hurts. Tartaglia tries to pull his hand away but the grip holds firm.
"What the-"
He trails off as he follows the hand gripping his wrist to its owner.
It's difficult to make out exact features in the dim moonlight, but a man is holding onto his wrist, staring at it with something akin to hunger. Long, dark hair cascades down his back, drawn into a tight ponytail at the bottom of his hairline and his golden eyes appear to be... glowing? Must be a trick of the light.
"What is your business here?" The man's voice is low and soothing, but his eyes don't move from where they're fixated on Tartaglia's hand.
Who even is this creep? Did he break into the house as well?
He tries again to free his hand but the other's grip is unrelenting. "Let me go!"
He goes ignored as the other man pulls his hand closer to his face. Is he... sniffing it?
"You have a very interesting scent." Much to Tartaglia's disgust, the golden-eyed man then pokes his tongue out and proceeds to lick the blood off his wound.
Tartaglia redoubles his efforts to get away, movements getting more frantic as he continues to fail to pull his arm free. He has to get away from this freak.
Suddenly he finds those striking golden eyes fixed on his blue ones, and for some reason he can't look away.
The world around him seems to fall away, until the only thing present is just him and those beautiful eyes. The urgency of his struggle decreases as a wave of calm washes over him.
"Stop struggling."
Childe immediately goes still. Why was he struggling in the first place? He tries to remember, something should alarm him about this situation, but his thoughts keep slipping out of his reach. All he can focus on is the other man's golden eyes.
"Let me drink."
Drink? Childe's hazy brain can't figure out what he means by that. The other's eyes fix on his neck, and Childe slowly realises how much closer the other man has gotten without him realising. Was this why he was struggling?
Then he feels two sharp points pierce his skin and he understands.
Drink from him.
Childe is only vaguely aware, behind the pain of the bite, of the warm liquid running down his neck as he lets the golden-eyed man drink. Why wouldn't he? The man continues to drink as Childe gradually starts to feel colder and colder, weaker and weaker, as if all the warmth in his body is being eaten by the other man. Still the man continues to drink.
He has no idea how long they stand there before his weakening limbs can no longer support his weight, and he collapses at the golden-eyed man's feet.
Through his darkening vision he watches as those beautiful eyes lose their glow and fade to a more muted shade of amber, before the man blinks as if just waking up from a trance. When those eyes lock with Childe's once more, it is no longer hunger that's in them, but horror as he takes in Childe's condition.
"Oh no. What have I done?"
That question is the last thing Childe hears before his eyes slip shut and he sinks into unconsciousness.
✯
Childe wakes up slowly. As he drifts in the hazy state between wakefulness and sleep, he realises that he can't remember the last time he wasn't forced abruptly into wakefulness by a nightmare. It feels nice to just... take his time and decide when he wants to face the world at his own pace.
Eventually he becomes aware that he isn't on his bed. Beneath him he can feel the thick threads of a plush rug that do very little to soften the hardness of the floor underneath. Did he pass out somewhere in his apartment? No, he doesn't own a rug, let alone one as nice as this.
He cracks open an eye to survey his surroundings.
The paintings on the wall in their gilded frames and the ornate vases seem somewhat familiar. More familiar, though, are the shards of bloodstained, broken glass that lie on one of the cabinets. Now he remembers. He broke into this house to steal something, then he dropped a vase, and then...
And then...
No matter how hard he tries he can't remember what happened next. His mind conjures up vague recollections of a man with strikingly golden eyes, a feeling of disgust and fear, and a sharp pain in the side of his neck. He reaches up to touch it. There's nothing there. Was it just a dream?
Well, better a strange dream about a creepy man than his usual nightmares.
Tartaglia gets to his feet, ignoring the aches he feels from lying on the floor for Archons know how long. He has a job to do, and if he's been lying in this place unconscious for hours he needs to leave, and quickly.
As he carefully puts a different vase into his bag he realises the cut on his hand has disappeared. Strange. Did he imagine that as well? No, the shards from the broken vase have blood on them. He shakes the thought away. He can worry about that later.
He steps out of the house and into the warm rays of the setting sun. It had just gone midnight when he broke into the house. How long did he sleep for?
He can worry about that later as well. For now, he needs to sort out his rent.
❄
"Well now, Tartaglia. I knew you'd return to our ways eventually. Of course I'm sure you're aware that you will never be allowed back in the Fatui. You remember what we do to traitors, yes? You were the one to teach this lesson on more than one occasion, after all."
❄
Childe wakes up abruptly, a familiar, cold voice ringing in his ears. As his heart pounds in his chest he reminds himself that it was just a dream, he's not in Snezhnaya anymore and the Fatui can't find him. He's safe.
It takes a long time for the fear to lose its grip on him and for his heartbeat to return to normal. In the week since he stole that vase his nightmares have been getting worse and worse. He hasn't had the energy to go job hunting, instead he just lays in his bed all day, only getting up to eat.
He really is useless.
He just wants to sleep.
Sleep deprivation is a funny thing. Initially it was just business as usual. His regular insomnia has made him used to (barely) functioning on very little sleep.
Now, however, he finds himself slipping into desperation. Why must he get nightmares all the time? Why won't his mind shut up for a minute and let him rest? Why can't he sleep?
The last time he rested for hours uninterrupted was in that abandoned house. It is only after he's picked the lock and stepped inside that he realises he's back inside. Why did he return here? He doesn't even remember how he ended up asleep on the floor, let alone know how to recreate the conditions.
The corridor is dark, silent and eerie, just like it was the last time Childe was here. Strangely, every single cabinet has a vase on it. Didn't he break one and steal the other? Did someone replace them? That's impossible, right? This place has been abandoned for generations.
He must be seeing things. It's difficult to tell what's real and what's not when you haven't slept in a week.
Why was he here again? There is nothing to indicate he will be able to fall asleep here. Last time he must have just passed out from exhaustion. If he waits long enough he'll probably collapse again and he doesn't need to be here in this house to do it.
The faint sound of a turning page cuts through the silence. Is he imagining sounds now as well? He walks down the hallway towards the sound, ignoring the way the walls seem to rotate around him.
Eventually he reaches a sitting room. Like the rest of the house, the heavy curtains are drawn shut and there is not a single source of light except the few tiny slivers of sunlight that slip through the gaps between the curtains and the wall.
In the near darkness he can make out a wall of bookcases, each filled completely with books of all shapes and sizes. In the centre of the room with 2 couches arranged around it is a table, which is empty except for a teapot and a single cup.
However the thing that really draws his attention is the person sitting with the cup in front of them, seemingly engrossed in a book. Surely it's too dark to read?
Childe steps into the room and winces as it puts weight on a particularly squeaky floorboard. Immediately the other person's eyes are on him, and Childe realises he looks vaguely familiar.
"Who are you? How did you get in here?" Childe ignores the other in favour of trying to remember where he recognises him from.
He takes a step closer, trying to see the other better, when suddenly the room seems to tilt around him.
In a movement far too fast for Childe's brain to register, the man comes closer and puts an arm around him to hold him up. "Are you alright?"
Of course he isn't. "Who... are you?"
The other man brings him to sit on the couch. "You're the one who broke into my house so I think you should answer that question first."
His house?
Then the memories come flooding back. Some of them, at least. He still can't remember what exactly happened that ended up with him sleeping on the floor but he does remember this man's... odd behaviour.
"You're that creep!"
The amber-eyed man looks affronted. "Creep?"
"Yeah! You grabbed my hand and then you licked my blood off it for some reason, that's absolutely disgusting by the way, and I can't remember what happened next but please don't lick me again."
A series of emotions flicker across the man's face too fast for Childe to identify. "You don't remember?"
Childe shakes his head, then stops when it makes him feel dizzy. Wow, the sleep deprivation is really getting to him.
The man sighs. "Either way, I must apologise for what occurred. It won't happen again."
Childe blinks. The other must be referring to what happened to make him sleep dreamlessly for over 12 hours. "On the contrary. I want it to happen again."
The other man's brow furrows in confusion. "You... what? But you can't even remember what happened. You don't know what you're asking for."
Childe sighs. It's difficult for him to keep his voice from shaking as he explains. "You're right, I don't. But what I do know is it led to me getting the first good night's sleep I've had in a very long time. I don't know what happened, yet I came here today in the hopes of getting it to happen again. Please."
The man shakes his head. "I won't do what I did last time for your own safety." Ah. So even his last ditch effort is abandoning him. "However, I can do something else."
"Please. Anything."
"Very well."
The man's eyes lighten from amber to gold, and start to glow. The way Childe's world narrows to just those eyes feels familiar, but the thought has slipped out of his head along with all his others before he can focus on it.
"Sleep."
Immediately his body relaxes and his eyes flutter shut. An arm catches him as he falls sideways before arranging him into a more comfortable position. The feeling of a blanket being laid over him is the last thing he's aware of before he sinks into blissful oblivion.
✯
Childe wakes up to the smell of food. Strange. The last time he woke up to the smell of food being cooked was... well. A very long time ago.
He opens his eyes to reveal the sitting room that he fell asleep in the previous night. However this time the lamps are turned on, enabling him to see his surroundings much easier. He takes a second to look around.
The style of the furnishings and pattern of the curtains remind him of a museum he visited with his family when he was younger. The particular exhibit was of a noble's house that existed a few hundred years ago. In fact, nothing in this room looks recent. Childe isn't a big fan of history, but even he can tell that the lamps are definitely not electric.
Eventually his musings are cut short by a noisy growl from his stomach. It seems it's time to investigate what the smell is.
Childe follows his nose through the corridors. Like the sitting room, they are also now lit brightly enough for him to see and admire the beautiful paintings of landscapes along the walls.
Soon enough he reaches the kitchen, but this time it isn't the décor of the room that stuns him speechless.
The man from yesterday is cooking food on the stove, and finally Childe is able to see him clearly. Hair which before he was only able to describe as dark he can now see is actually a beautiful shade of chocolate brown, that lightens into orange at the ends. The other's amber eyes appear to sparkle as he expertly prepares the food.
Childe stands in the doorway, taking in every detail of the man before him, as if admiring a particularly beautiful work of art.
And this man certainly is beautiful.
"Ah, you're awake." The other's voice snaps Childe out of his admittedly shameless staring. "I've made some breakfast. You must be hungry."
A plate of steamed buns is placed on the table, and the other man gestures for him to take a seat.
Childe sits, and doesn't hesitate to help himself to the food. It's amazing. This is unfortunately one of the Liyuen dishes that he has never quite managed to get right, and here this man is preparing it to a ridiculously high standard.
As he finishes his first bun and reaches for the next, he smiles at the brunette. "This is delicious. Thank you."
He almost chokes on his next mouthful as the other man smiles at his compliment. How is it possible for someone to look that gorgeous?
As he finishes his second bun he realises that the other hasn't taken any for himself. "Are you not eating?"
The amber-eyed man glances away to study a spot on the wall. "I have no need for food. Please, finish your meal. We have much to discuss."
Strange, but alright. If the other man doesn't want any of these delicious buns Childe will gladly eat them all by himself.
It's only after the plate has been cleared of food that the other man starts talking. Amber eyes bore into his blue ones as the first question is asked. "That vase you stole from me." Childe freezes. "When can I get it back?"
Childe rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm so sorry. I needed the money so I sold it."
The brunette closes his eyes and sighs sadly. "I see. That is unfortunate."
"What happened that night, anyway? You never explained and I still don't remember it clearly."
"Ah, that." The other opens his eyes to stare at him again. "You see, I am a vampire."
Childe can't help the laughter that bubbles out of his chest. This man's actions that day led him to believe he was a freak, but he never could have imagined he was a delusional one.
Then the brunette opens his mouth, and Childe's laughter immediately dies in his throat.
Clearly visible are two impossibly long, impossibly sharp canine teeth. The way they glint in the light reminds him of someone he wishes he could forget.
A hazy memory comes to the front of his mind, of two sharp points piercing his neck, the feeling of a warm liquid running down his neck, and his body getting colder and colder.
"W-wait... so..."
For some reason the other man looks... ashamed? "I had been asleep in this house for a few hundred years when the scent of your blood woke me. It seems that since I hadn't fed in so long, my instincts went into overdrive and I didn't truly come around until you were lying unconscious on the ground in front of me. I am terribly sorry. I promise you I never usually drink from people without their permission."
Childe is reminded of last night, where the other man refused his request because he wasn't actually aware of what he was asking for. That reaction makes a lot more sense now.
"So... what did you do last night?"
“Vampires have the ability to control others, as long as we are making eye contact. Once again, I don't do this without the other person's permission as I view it as a terrible violation. Last night you wanted to sleep, and so I ordered you to."
While the idea of someone being able to control him like that is, frankly, terrifying (and reminds him of his past in ways he'd much rather not think about), he can't help but focus on the fact that this man made him fall asleep with just one word. After Childe has been trying for so long to sleep for more than just a couple of hours. After losing his job due to his sleep deprived clumsiness.
This could be the answer to his insomnia.
If he fixes his insomnia he can get a job and manage to keep it without getting fired for stupid mistakes. He won't be woken up constantly by horrific nightmares that leave him unable to even try to fall back asleep.
He can finally be normal.
An involuntary grin stretches across his face. The other man looks concerned by this but Childe pays it no mind. "What's your name?"
Amber eyes blink at him. "Zhongli."
"Great, mine's Childe. We should make a contract."
Zhongli raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"You need blood and I need sleep. We can help each other."
Zhongli considers this for a moment before nodding. "Very well. Let's make a contract."