Thread by @cocococopops

#zhongchi; CW major character death

The cat looks up at him, amber eyes unblinking.

"You should pet it," Childe encourages, blue eyes gleaming. "Cats always like pets."

Zhongli hesitates.

"...I am unsure as to how."

"No way," Childe exclaims, like the very thought horrifies him. "You've lived for six thousand years and you've never pet a cat before? Just reach out your hand! If it wants, it'll come to you."

So Zhongli does, crouching down and slowly extending his palm towards the cat.

He feels a little silly; it's just a cat, but he feels as nervous as the day he received his gnosis.

The brown-furred cat, however, doesn't seem to mind his hesitation, because it meows, seemingly pleased, and rubs its head trustingly against Zhongli's palm.

Its head is warm and furry; a pleasant sensation.

Something in his chest tightens. During the Archon War, he hadn't the time for such frivolities, and afterwards he simply hadn't felt the need for it.

Such a simple pleasure from such a simple act.

Childe makes a happy sound.

"Don't just stop there, pet it! Give it a good rub!

"Rub?"

"Yeah! Just gently —" He enthusiastically makes a petting motion. "Like that. Go on!"

Zhongli pauses. The cat has stopped nuzzling his palm, but it doesn't leave. It licks its front paw elegantly, looking up at him.

Gingerly, Zhongli pets it.

The cat meows loudly in approval, its small body vibrating with the strength of its purr.

Childe beams happily. "Good! Pet it again. Tell it it's from me!"

So Zhongli does.

"This is from Childe," he says dutifully. The cat blinks twice in incomprehension.

"Now, feed it! You've got that bag of cat food I told you to buy, right?" Childe places his hands on his hips, looking at Zhongli expectantly. "Pour a handful out and feed him! Oh, and tell him it's from me, too!"

The bag of cat food crinkles as Zhongli tears it open.

Pouring a small amount in his palm, he reaches his hand again towards the cat.

"This is also from Childe," he repeats. The cat chews contentedly, obviously uncaring, but Childe seems to be happy.

They watch the cat eat, giving Zhongli's hand little kitten licks in gratitude.

"You should find it a friend," Childe says suddenly. His voice is soft. "A cat friend to talk to about cat things and do cat things with."

"Why does it need a friend?" Zhongli asks. "It seems perfectly alright on its own."

Childe looks at him.

"Well," he replies, "because he'll get lonely. He's very smart, but it's not good for cats to be alone all the time, you know."

He smiles boyishly. "He needs someone to be with him, even if it's only to have meals together and listen to him talk about the history of teacups."

From his crouching position, Zhongli looks back up at him.

"You aren't talking about the cat, are you." It's not a question.

Childe's gaze softens.

"No, I'm not." He pauses, as if searching for the right words to say. Zhongli recognises the expression on his face as the one he uses when he comforts the smaller children at the Harbour when they cry. "It's not healthy to talk to me all the time, xiansheng."

He crouches down next to Zhongli, their backs facing towards the setting sun. The dying rays outline him in gold.

He casts no shadow on the ground.

The cat, upset at being ignored, meows demandingly at him, coiling its tail around his leg, and he glances down at it, confused.

"You should put it in your lap," Childe suggests gently.

Zhongli looks at the cat, then at his hands.

"Why?" He asks blankly. "He will just leave, in the end."

The winds whisper gently through the trees, sounding a little like a quiet sigh.

"Oh, xiansheng."

A moment passes, before Childe speaks again. "I can't promise that he won't. But I think that's part of being human: we love and we lose, but it's the loss that makes the love we give so precious."

The cat is still there.

It rubs its body firmly against Zhongli's leg, purring thunderously. The food is long gone and Zhongli has stopped petting it, but still it stays.

Why does it stay?

"𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸," the words wrench themselves from his throat, "I know that. But I wasn't ready, Childe. I wasn't."

"Perhaps I should have been prepared for it. I know loss; it haunts my every step, my every breath. My history is a graveyard of the people I have lost, either by war or by my own hands."

"But you..." He buries his head in his hands. "I hoped. I 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘥."

"I know, xiansheng," Childe whispers, heartbreak written in his voice, "I know."

The breeze tousles Zhongli's hair. "But you have to let me go."

Zhongli doesn't speak.

"It will be hard," his heart says, "but you won't be alone —

you have Hu Tao, Xiao, Xiangling, the Traveller, all the other adepti...make sure to lean on them when you need to, okay? I don't want your grief to hurt you."

Zhongli raises his head and turns to face him.

"I don't know what to do without you."

Childe smiles teasingly, but his eyes are sad.

"Baby steps, old man. Everyone has their own first step. For you..."

His eyes lose a little of that sadness, and his smile widens. "You could start with picking up that cat, huh? Don't keep it waiting."

The cat purrs once again, as if it had heard him. Zhongli gives it another soft pet.

Slowly and careful, he gathers it in his arms. The cat lies bonelessly in his grasp, not resisting at all, and curls up snugly in his hold. It purrs so loudly Zhongli feels it.

He gives it a rub on the head, and its tail flicks happily.

Something loosens in his chest just the smallest amount, and he feels the beginnings of a smile.

The trees rustle; the wind blows again through his hair, caressing it like a lover.

Something like a gentle murmur:

𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦, 𝘡𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪.

When he looks up, no one is there.

If you liked this thread please consider checking out my similarly angst-themed oneshot!🫶

https://twitter.com/cocococopops/status/1612998057465110528?t=KExqbz0tFAnbYmllVcwpQQ&s=19