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Zhongli took a step out into the plains, and there he saw the sight he dreaded most.
For the first time since Guizhong, Zhongli felt his heart shatter. He raced over to where Childe was leaning against a boulder, a hand pressed to his stomach, but he knew it was too late. The Harbinger was panting heavily, his Hydro bow laying next to him in the mud. There was a giant gash in his blazer, revealing an alarming amount of blood. Zhongli sensed that he was trying to switch to his blades but he was too weak.
“Stop moving,” Zhongli whispered. Gently, he cradled his boyfriend—one arm supporting his back, the other under his knees. As he stood up, he shifted his weight, making Childe gasp in pain. Zhongli winced. “I’m sorry, my love.”
Childe shook his head, dismissing Zhongli. His hand continued to rest on his stomach, his whole upper body covered in blood, though Zhongli couldn’t tell if it was his own or his enemies’. “Give me my bow,” he commanded.
“You’re not seriously going to fight like this,” Zhongli said in disbelief.
“I’m not going to fight, for once,” Childe said, his breathing growing more labored by the second. “I refuse to be buried without my weapon.”
Zhongli stared into his boyfriend’s half-lidded eyes, a feeling of dread growing in his stomach. “What in Teyvat are you going on about? Stop talking like that. C’mon, I’ll call Barbatos and he can get Dvalin and—”
“Morax, stop.” Zhongli froze, startled. Childe never called him by his Liyuean name. Something was seriously wrong.
Childe took a deep, shuddering breath, though it clearly pained him to do so. “I wanted to apologize.”
“For what?” Zhongli asked, tears blurring his vision.
“For taking your Gnosis.”
Zhongli choked out a laugh and bent down to pick up his lover’s weapon. “Seriously? That’s what you’re apologizing for? I willingly gave that up.” There were a thousand other stupid barbs they traded, a million things they both needed to amend. But now that Childe had brought it up, he remembered the whole exchange in the Northland Bank. He, Childe, and Signora were all there, and then the Traveler walked in…
Childe tried to smile, though it was more of a grimace. “And I was the tyrant who raised a God.” Osial rising… the Adepti …Ningguang and her life’s work…
Zhongli shook his head, desperate. “Stop talking like you’re already dead.”
“I’m sorry, Morax.” Shakily, Childe lifted his hand from his stomach and pressed it lightly against Zhongli’s cheek, leaving a smear of blood. “I never planned…for this to happen. But at least it happened how I wanted it to…bested by a worthy opponent.”
“Say my name,” Zhongli rasped, gently laying the bow across his lover’s stomach.
A wry smile flitted across Childe’s lips as he curled his other hand around his beloved bow. “Kiss me, Zhongli.”
He did. It hurt like a demon being exorcised, but he did. And he could pinpoint the exact moment his lover released his final breath into Zhongli’s mouth and his hand went limp against his cheek.
And Zhongli knelt in the grass, closed his eyes, and sobbed.