#i never want to go near genshin outfit designs ever again not even for a joke not even to shitty draw for a meme

[succubused]

yeah

[umbry-fic]

Behind Those Eyes

Summary: After a year-long absence, Childe finally returns to visit the teahouse. The shopkeeper is overjoyed to see one of his favourite patrons again, but some things seem a little off...

Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Childe, Zhongli, Original Character Relationships: Childe & Original Character, Childe & Zhongli, Childe/Zhongli Rating: G Word Count: 1965 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 07/06/2021

Notes: Written for a friend, Okami. Due to the fact that I'm not in this fandom, expect some manner of OOC and breaking of canon.

~~~

It was another busy day at the teahouse, packed full to the brim with customers. Teacups of every colour and design were everywhere, bobbing through the air, in customer’s hands and held up to their lips, on trays for waiters to deliver. People from all walks of life, dressed in silks or rags, sat on stools pulled up haphazardly to tables that didn’t follow any arrangement. There was the clinking of porcelain and silverware, accompanied by excited chatter amongst friends and family, tense negotiation amongst businessmen, and the drunken murmuring of those that had fallen upon hard times.

It was absolute chaos, but that’s what the shopkeeper loved about his livelihood. There was peace to be found amongst the familiar cacophony, as an infinite number of lives passed through this small space. Just in serving them, one could get a glimpse into a radically different lifestyle, could imagine oneself in another person’s shoes.

In the midst of brewing what would be another pot of jasmine tea, the shopkeeper paused, spotting a familiar head of orange hair. Could it be…?

Passing the teapot off to his protege, the shopkeeper scurried over to the man sitting alone at a round table, calmly eating dumplings.

“Childe!” exclaimed the shopkeeper, a smile gracing his face. For it was Tartaglia, in the flesh! He looked like he’d walked straight out of an old memory. The same white and grey outfit with all its tassels, a red earring hanging from his right ear, a red mask resting on his orange hair, the cerulean sword that seemed to hold the essence of the ocean standing next to him with its hilt resting against the table.

No, that wasn’t quite right. Most people wouldn’t notice, but having helmed this teahouse for so long, the shopkeeper was used to reading people’s emotions and opinions based on the smallest of tells. He had developed an eye for the intricate details.

But the shopkeeper didn’t make too much of it. Maybe Childe woke up late today and was in a haze when he got dressed. Or perhaps, Childe just wanted to change things up. Nothing wrong with that.

The more likely reason was that the memory of Childe had simply faded during the time he had not patronised the teahouse. It’s not like the shopkeeper had much time to stare intensely at his customers’ forms and memorise them, having to manage this bustling teahouse - juggling multiple orders, telling off truant employees and getting unruly patrons under control. He recognised people mostly through their voices, though Childe was a rare exception because of the strange friendship the shopkeeper had struck up with him. But even then, some of Childe's facial features sometimes escaped the shopkeeper.

He’d only approached Childe after spotting the fat bags of Mora Childe always carried around with him. Approaching more… well-off patrons to curry favour and secure tips was an excellent strategy. But the shopkeeper had come to truly appreciate Childe’s company - his incessant confidence, sometimes overconfidence.

That, and the guarantee of a tip that would go a long way to ensuring all his employees got their paychecks on time.

“Ah. Mr Shopkeeper. It’s nice to see you again.” Childe elegantly placed down his pair of chopsticks. The chopsticks still held a steaming meat dumpling.

The shopkeeper did have an actual name, but it was long and complicated. Everyone had just taken to calling him Mr Shopkeeper, for it was easier. The shopkeeper had just gone along with it until some days he addressed himself as Mr Shopkeeper. Even his daughter had taken to calling him that. His own daughter!

“Where have you been? It’s been so long since you’ve visited! A year, perhaps?” the shopkeeper inquired, pulling a free stool up and sitting opposite to Childe. His gaze, however, was trained on the pair of chopsticks. So Childe had finally learned over the past year! The shopkeeper wondered if he should congratulate Childe, but decided against it. He didn't think Childe would much appreciate the reminder of his past failings in handling chopsticks.

“I’ve just been… around. Sorry that I’ve been too busy to dine at your fine establishment. Your food and drink remain excellent.”

“No, no, it’s fine!” The shopkeeper waved Childe’s apology away, eagerly leaning closer. “I’m just glad to see you again! How’s the family?”

Childe had only ever brought Teucer over for a meal, though the shopkeeper knew, from all the times he’d done small talk with Childe, that Childe had another younger brother and younger sister. Teucer by himself was already a handful, refusing to listen to anything Childe said but infuriatingly adorable with his cheeky smile. The shopkeeper couldn’t imagine providing for another two siblings, least of all taking care of three of them at once. Especially if the other two were rascals like Teucer. The headache itself was unbearable.

“They’re doing great. I’m taking good care of them, just as he wanted me to.”

The shopkeeper was taken aback for a moment. That was a strange, almost detached way of putting things, that didn’t match up at all to the usually boisterous Childe, who doted endlessly on Teucer. Just as he wanted me to? Who was ‘he’? The dark-haired gentleman that had been with Childe for a few times? The name was eluding him… Something that started with a z…

And now that he was close-up, the shopkeeper could see a minute crack in Childe’s mask, one that definitely hadn’t been there before. Had Childe been in some kind of altercation? But he seemed fine now, sitting with one leg crossed over the other and calmly sipping from his cup of tea. He showed no signs of being injured. It wasn’t the shopkeeper's place to ask.

“That’s great,” the shopkeeper replied. “Where’s that man you used to bring with you? Your friend, the one with black hair and a spear-”

The shopkeeper was interrupted by the slam of Childe’s fist on the table, the head of orange hair bowing over. The shattering of the cup, the loud smack of skin against wood and the resounding crack that followed it shocked the shopkeeper into stillness, heart pounding as he stared at the spiderweb of tiny cracks that had spread from Childe’s fist, the shards of the porcelain cup scattered across the table. One had nearly impaled the shopkeeper’s hand.

“That man you speak of isn’t here. He’s done something unforgivable, and so he no longer travels with me,” Childe hissed. His voice barely broached the wall of sound that came from all around them, nowhere near loud enough to rival the screaming from the fights that sometimes occurred outside the teahouse, where people could get irate enough to crash into surrounding shopfronts and endanger other lives. Yet the shopkeeper had to suppress the urge to scramble out of his seat and escape to the safety of his kitchen, where he could hide from the primal rage in each trembling syllable of Childe’s voice.

“Never. Ever. Mention him again,” Childe said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he raised his head. The shopkeeper wished he hadn’t.

In those amber eyes, there was only one emotion. Pain. Incredible pain, one that surpassed anything a mortal can or should feel. Just looking into those eyes made the shopkeeper feel like his own soul was shrivelling up, as despair drowned out all hope and left everything pitch-black and frigid.

Childe’s shoulders were shaking, almost like he was holding himself back. The shopkeeper had always known Childe was powerful, but now he could sense power that far surpassed that, that went past the limits of human imagination. It was like he could be reduced to smithereens just from the power of Childe’s stare.

What had happened in the past year? What could the dark-haired man possibly have done that could be so unforgivable, that could elicit such an uncontrollable reaction?

Childe exhaled slowly, the action letting all the tension bleed from his shoulders. “I’m sorry for the outburst,” Childe said, once again incredibly composed as he straightened. It was uncanny how there were no lingering signs of Childe’s outburst. The shopkeeper felt like he’d just watched the open cracks on Childe’s facade mend themselves, into a barely noticeable web of scars. But it wouldn’t be long until they were forced open again, the facade vulnerable to shattering at the slightest impetus.

Childe pulled out a familiar bag containing Mora and began to slowly rummage through it, pulling out individual Mora and stacking them in front of the still motionless shopkeeper. Surprisingly frugal for a man who used to just give out whole bags of Mora at once.

“Thank you for the excellent tea and the delicious dumplings. Take the extra for the damage I caused. I’ll be on my way now. May you be blessed with good fortune,” Childe muttered, picking up his sword with his thumb laying flat on the blade.

Before the shopkeeper could return the blessing, or tell Childe that the amount of Mora he’d given wasn’t enough to cover for the table, or even open his mouth to say anything, Childe had walked out, leaving the double doors of the teahouse swinging on their hinges as he disappeared from view.

The shopkeeper was left to stare at the now cold dumpling, immobilised by a creeping sense of fear and the knowledge that something was very wrong.

The image of those amber eyes remained seared in his mind, and they would be for days to come. The shopkeeper saw them in his mind’s eye whenever he came across anyone resembling Childe or the man whose name still eluded him, eliciting goosebumps and forcing the shopkeeper to turn tail and walk away. They haunted him in his dreams, full of suffering. He would awaken from those dreams, which were more like nightmares, with sweat running down his back and the need to check that his loved ones were still breathing, still here.

Childe never visited the teahouse again.

~~~

“Hands off, old man! I can do this myself!”

“You’re making a mess, Childe. Let me help you out. It’ll take barely two seconds for me to put this dumpling in your mouth.”

“Oi! Get away - Mmpf!” Childe’s cries of protest became muffled as his mouth was stuffed full of pork bits wrapped in hand-folded dough. He flailed, his chopsticks still held in such a way that they formed a wide X.

Zhongli smiled from across Childe, eyes glinting with an almost menacing light. Satisfied with what he saw, he popped a dumpling into his own mouth, handling his chopsticks with expert precision.

“You could have choked me, dumbass,” Childe snapped, swallowing the last of the dumpling. “It was good, though! Great food as usual, Mr Shopkeeper!” Childe yelled towards the shopkeeper, busy cleaning the counter with a rag.

“Better than watching you fool around with a pair of chopsticks for an hour,” Zhongli retorted, watching Childe try, in vain, to pick up a dumpling. All he succeeded in doing was push the dumpling around on the plate and cause it to topple over onto its side. “How are you so bad at this?”

“I’ll get it someday!” Childe declared, giving up and stabbing a dumpling with a single chopstick. Zhongli winced from the barbaric display. It was just wrong.

“I don’t have very high hopes based on your current display,” Zhongli replied drily. “But it’s alright. I’ll be here to help.”

“Is that a threat?” Childe asked, raising one eyebrow.

“A promise. Now, open your mouth!”

“No! I let you get past my guard once, no more!”

What an unruly pair, the shopkeeper thought to himself, shaking his head. But what fun it was to watch them tease each other, both smiling and laughing in each other’s company.