Hydro energy spills from the tips of your index finger like a small spout, and then the small elongated pool of water stays suspended in the air, waiting for you to mold it like clay. You do so, tossing it back and forth in your hands idly, without it ever reaching the surface of your palms. You've done this as a child to calm your nerves, and it helps ease a bit of the budding melancholy in your chest as you sit at the business desk in the corner of your hotel in the midst of Chihu Rock, Liyue Harbor.
Zhongli is still sleeping - or at least pretending to, you never quite know with him - and you've woken up early to watch the sunrise from your bay window. The rays of sun where the harbor meets the sea are the same as they were just before you were born, and also thousands of years ago. You wonder if Zhongli still appreciates the phenomenon after all this time, then remember his unrelenting loyalty is incontestable, truly the source of your issues.
The drop of Hydro slowly diminishes, slipping back into your fingertips. It's too early to be dwelling on the past, especially if your nostalgia isn't all glazed with fond affection for those past.
"You could have asked me to watch it with you."
You hate that this man always seems to know what you're thinking.
Your body twists in Zhongli's direction and he's not completely out of bed yet, a beautiful sight in the morning light, dragon features not completely concealed per the horns on his head, hair loose and spilling over his bare torso and back, brown and gold practically glimmering together like precious ore embedded in bedrock.
You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes.
Zhongli gives you a look, appraising, then motions for you to come over. You turn instead, part-coy, part-cold, and he yields without even a huff, rising to rest his head on your shoulder where you sit.
Birds chirp loudly, heralding the new day. Zhongli pauses and watches with you for a while, then catches the hint of recently used Hydro lingering from your fingertips.
"What's on your mind?" he asks.
You tilt your head. "Nothing?"
Zhongli hums then his arms wrap around you, and with a gentle hoist out of your seat which catches you off guard enough to elicit a sudden gasp - you find yourself back in bed with him soon enough.
Zhongli smiles, again disarming, then snuggles closer.
"You clearly need more sleep."
The dragon's new embrace is warm and all-encompassing, steady and enduring, as if this is a pose that could be immortalized, one where you lay in bed together, a continuity of form, in complete synchrony. The turbulent part of your soul, the one that worries about impermanence and wants furiously yet inconsistently, begins to panic as you think -
Is this all because you are the only one left?
Zhongli's eyes are closed next to you, with a satisfied smile on his face, the one you've remembered in glimpses from the days of the Adepti, only described as contentment. He's never changed, not once. He lingers always.
You, however, are a completely different person, and cannot compete with a fond memory.
Your eyes shift into the open ceiling, tuned just enough for you to see fine particles of dust trapped in the sunbeams in the open air.
She lingers too. And at the same time, Zhongli pulls you closer.
