Chapter Text
Zhongli is still asleep when I wake up. I should be used to this by now—the warmth of his body beside me, the quiet rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair fans out on the pillow like something delicate, something I should protect. But my head is foggy. My limbs feel heavy, and there's a strange sensation in my throat, dry and raw, like I've swallowed something bitter.
The memories from last night are fragmented. Pieces come in flashes—his hands on me, the way he whispered my name, the way I couldn't move, not really. My mind had been slow, my body even slower. There was something in the way he touched me, something deliberate, something I should've noticed sooner.
And now, the realization sits in my stomach like a stone.
Zhongli drugged me.
I stare at the ceiling. The air feels thick, like it's pressing down on me. I should be angry. I should be furious. But I'm not.
I turn my head, watching him. His face is peaceful. No traces of guilt, no signs of the man who whispered into a phone last night, telling someone—someone—that I would do exactly as I was told. That I wouldn't know the truth.
Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I didn't.
I exhale and close my eyes.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand. Loud in the silence. I reach for it without thinking, fingers sluggish.
Kunikuzushi: You haven't done it yet.
I swallow. My mouth still tastes wrong.
Kunikuzushi: She won't wait forever, you know.
Zhongli shifts beside me. His breathing changes. He's waking up.
I turn off the screen and shove the phone under the pillow.
He exhales softly, then stretches, catlike. His eyes flutter open, amber darkened by sleep. He sees me watching him and smiles. Not his usual polite, distant one—the kind that makes my chest feel tight.
"You're awake early." he murmurs, voice still heavy with sleep.
I don't answer right away. I don't know what to say.
He reaches for me, fingers tracing my arm, slow and possessive. There's something in his touch that makes me shiver, but not in a bad way. Not entirely.
"Ajax?"
I swallow again. "Yeah?"
His fingers trail higher, up to my shoulder. His eyes are sharp now, awake, watching me. "You're tense."
I force a laugh. "Just a headache." It's not a lie.
Zhongli hums, fingertips brushing my collarbone. Then he leans in, presses a kiss just beneath my jaw. I feel it everywhere.
"Rest a little longer," he says against my skin. "I'll make tea."
I should say something. Ask him why. But I don't.
I watch as he leaves the bed, pulling on a robe, his movements as graceful as always. He doesn't look back as he steps out of the room.
The moment he's gone, I pull my phone out again.
Kunikuzushi: I know you're awake. Don't ignore me.
I type, then erase it. Type again.
Ajax: I'm handling it.
A pause.
Kunikuzushi: Are you?
I don't answer.
—
The tea tastes normal. No bitterness, no strange aftertaste. Zhongli watches me drink it, though. That makes it worse.
He sits across from me at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around his own cup, posture perfect. There's something unreadable in his gaze, something I can't crack.
"You were restless last night," he says, too casually.
I force myself to meet his eyes. "I don't remember much."
He tilts his head. "No?" He squints like he's amused.
Something in me coils tight.
He knows. He knows I know.
I set the cup down carefully. "What did you give me?"
Zhongli exhales, soft. "Nothing harmful."
That's not an answer.
My jaw tightens. "That's not—"
He reaches across the table, takes my wrist in his fingers. His grip is light. Gentle. Misleading. "You needed rest."
That's not an answer either.
I should pull away. I don't.
His thumb brushes against my pulse. "You don't trust me."
I want to say I do. I want to believe it. But the memory of his voice from last night—the way he told someone, he doesn't know—
I swallow. "I—"
The phone buzzes again. Zhongli's eyes flick to it. Then back to me. I pull my hand back and pick it up.
Kunikuzushi: Don't make me clean up your mess, Ajax.
My skin goes cold. My mess? Is he being serious?
Zhongli watches. His expression doesn't change.
I stand. "I need to go out."
Zhongli doesn't stop me.
—
The cold air outside helps. I breathe it in, deep, trying to clear my head. The streets are empty—no one knows we're here. No one except Kuni. And the Tsaritsa.
I pace. The phone is still in my hand. I stare at the last message.
Don't make me clean up your mess.
I could ignore it. I could pretend I didn't see it. But I can't. Maybe this is for the best. If I do it, maybe Zhongli will stop involving himself with things he doesn't understand. People he should never have spoken to. Things would go back to normal. Sexual bliss, sweet words and comfort. It wouldn't feel like I'm studying his every move, trying to figure out what's a lie and what isn't. He played me for a fool. Everything I know about him could be wrong. Every habit could be a ruse. Ever whispered declaration of his love could've just been his way of getting into my head. If I do this... he'll go back to loving me.
Ajax: I'll do it.
It takes a minute before he responds.
Kunikuzushi: Good boy.
I nearly throw the phone against the pavement. I breathe. Deep. Again.
Zhongli knew. He knew this was coming. Maybe that's why he—
I shake my head. No. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.
—
By the time I get back, Zhongli is in the living room, reading. He doesn't look up when I step inside.
I stand there for a second. Then another.
"I saw you took a walk." he says, finally. Still not looking at me.
"Yeah. Needed some air."
"Did it help?"
No.
"Yeah."
He hums. Turns a page.
Something in me snaps. "Why did you drug me?"
He pauses. Then, slowly, he closes the book. Looks up at me.
"Because," he says, voice quiet, "You don't tell me things anymore."
I open my mouth. Then close it.
He tilts his head. "Isn't that right, Ajax?"
I feel like I can't breathe. He waits.
I don't know what he wants me to say. I don't answer. I can't. Because he's right.
I don't tell him things. I haven't. Kunikuzushi's texts. The Knave. The Tsaritsa. All of it, buried inside me like a sickness. But Zhongli—he's hiding things too.
"You're the one keeping secrets." I say finally. My voice sounds off, too sharp.
Zhongli just watches me. His gaze is calm, but I know better than to trust that. He waits, like he wants me to keep talking, like he's dissecting me in real-time.
"I heard you last night." I press on. "On the phone. Who were you talking to?"
Something flickers in his expression, so quick I almost miss it. Then, just as fast, it's gone.
"You misunderstand." he says, standing.
I step back. A stupid reaction, but I don't trust my footing. I don't trust him.
"Do I?" I laugh, but it's hollow. "Because it sounded like you were making plans without me. It sounded like you—" I stop myself. Swallow hard. "—like you think I'm too stupid to notice."
Zhongli exhales. He doesn't get angry. That's what makes it worse. I'd prefer it if he did.
"Ajax." He takes a slow step forward. "I only—"
"Don't." I shake my head. "Don't talk like you're doing me a favour."
He's still watching me. Still waiting. It makes my skin crawl.
"You think you're protecting me?" My voice rises. I can't stop it. "You think forcing me to take pills while I'm too distracted by you grinding on my cock to keep me docile is helping?"
His lips press together, barely a frown. "I think you're making reckless choices."
I laugh again. Too sharp. It hurts my throat. "That's rich, coming from you."
Zhongli's fingers twitch at his side. I catch the movement. Just a fraction of hesitation. It almost looks like guilt.
Almost.
"You've been restless." he says softly. "I thought—"
"You thought you could control me." I snap.
The words land between us, heavy.
Zhongli's gaze darkens. His jaw tenses. Just a fraction.
I wait for him to deny it. To say 'that's not true, Ajax, you're imagining things'. He doesn't.
Instead, he just looks at me, quiet, unreadable. Then, slowly, he lifts his hand. Not toward me—toward the book he left on the armrest. He picks it up carefully, gaze flicking to the page number, then closes it. That's all.
Like our conversation didn't just shift something between us. But it's a conversation that needs to be had.
"I have fucked up, over and over again. Manipulated you, lied to you, yelled at you, scared you. But I have never, and I mean never put a hand on you. Or drugged you. None of that shit. In the end, I still gave you a choice." My eyes narrow as I speak, but he's unfazed, "For somebody who enjoys reading so much, you seem to hate using words to sort issues."
"I don't want to fight." Zhongli says. That makes one of us.
I take a breath. My pulse is still too fast. "Then tell me the truth."
For a moment, I think he will.
Then he just tilts his head. Studies me. "Would you believe me if I did?"
I exhale. Run a hand through my hair. "I don't know."
That's the truth.
Zhongli nods. "Then let's not pretend this is about honesty."
That stings. More than I expect it to. I don't answer. He waits a second longer. Then, as if deciding the conversation is over, he turns. Leaves the room.
I stand there for a long time.
—
The afternoon is quiet. Zhongli doesn't come back out. I don't go looking for him.
I sit on the couch, scrolling through my phone. I don't text Kunikuzushi again. I don't check if he's sent anything else.
I should. But I can't.
I stare at the screen. The words from earlier keep looping in my head.
You don't tell me things anymore.
He said it like a fact. Like it was already decided. Like it justified what he did.
I run my tongue over my teeth. The taste from last night still lingers, even though I know it's gone.
I don't know how long I sit there, thinking about nothing and everything at once.
Eventually, my phone buzzes. Not Kuni this time. Zhongli.
Zhongli: Come to the kitchen.
I exhale. For a second, I think about ignoring it. Then I get up.
—
Zhongli is at the stove when I step in. He doesn't turn around, but I know he hears me. He's making soup. The kind I like. I don't know if that's supposed to mean something.
I lean against the counter, arms crossed. "Are we pretending that didn't happen?"
Zhongli stirs the pot. "Are you?"
I exhale through my nose.
He finally looks at me. "You should eat."
"That's not an answer."
He holds my gaze. Doesn't look away. "Then what do you want me to say?"
That I'm right? That I should be angry? That he regrets it? I don't know.
I settle for: "Why?"
Zhongli tilts his head. His fingers tighten just slightly on the ladle.
"I told you," he says. "You weren't sleeping."
"And that was your decision to make?"
His eyes are sharp. "Would you have listened if I asked?"
Something about that makes my throat close up. He's right. I wouldn't have. Zhongli exhales. Sets the ladle down. Steps closer. I don't move. Not when he stops right in front of me, not when he reaches out and touches my wrist, fingers light, deliberate.
"I am not your enemy," he says softly.
The words are gentle. The grip on my wrist isn't. Not painful, but firm. Like he's testing me. Like he wants to know if I'll pull away. I don't. His thumb brushes my pulse. He hums, almost thoughtful.
"Eat," he murmurs. "Then we'll talk."
I don't know if that's a promise or a warning. I don't know which one I'd prefer. But I sit down and eat. Not because I want to, but because Zhongli is watching me, and I don't feel like testing him right now.
The soup is good. Of course it is. Zhongli doesn't make things unless he intends them to be perfect. Every piece of him is like that—controlled, precise, deliberate. Even when he's cruel, he does it with purpose. I take slow bites, swallowing past the knot in my throat. Zhongli sits across from me, his own bowl untouched. He props his chin on one hand, watching me, his expression unreadable.
I don't say anything. I don't know what he expects me to say.
When I set my spoon down, the scrape of metal against ceramic sounds too loud in the quiet kitchen.
He tilts his head. "Better?"
I don't answer.
Zhongli hums, like he expected that. He reaches for his own bowl, finally taking a slow sip of the broth. His fingers tap against the rim once, thoughtful. Then he sets it down, gaze settling back on me.
"You wanted to talk."
I exhale, dragging a hand through my hair. "You drugged me."
"I did."
That should make me angrier. It doesn't. Or maybe I'm just too exhausted to feel it properly.
I lean back in my chair. "And the phone call?"
His expression doesn't change.
"You don't trust me." he says instead.
I almost laugh. "That's rich, coming from you."
He doesn't deny it.
I rub my fingers against my temple. "You're hiding something."
"So are you."
I look at him. His gaze doesn't waver. We're going around in circles. There's something sharp in his eyes, something waiting, like he wants me to admit it. He knows. Maybe not the details. Maybe not Kunikuzushi's messages, the Knave, the Tsaritsa's demands. But he knows I'm keeping something from him. The thought makes my stomach twist.
I push back from the table, standing too fast. "I'm going to bed."
Zhongli watches me for a second longer, then nods. "Alright."
I leave the kitchen. I don't check if he follows.
—
I don't sleep. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts tangled. Zhongli's voice echoes in my head. So are you.
I close my eyes. Exhale.
Kunikuzushi will message again. He always does. The Knave is still out there. The Tsaritsa is waiting. And Zhongli... I don't know what he's planning. I don't know if I want to find out. But I think it's time I tell him the truth. Right fucking now.
I don't let myself think twice. If I do, I'll regret it. He needs to know. I was the one who said no more lies and no more secrets, but all I've been doing is keeping them. He seems to sense my presence, opening the door right when I reach it.
He looks me up and down. Examining me, with that same apathetic stare he's been using recently. Because he knows it affects me.
"Kunikuzushi wants me to kill the Knave." I blurt out almost immediately.
"And?" Zhongli raises an eyebrow, expecting more.
"I agreed."
Zhongli's eyes widen. Did he think I would refuse? His gaze looks over me again, and his lips spread into a small smirk.
"Did you agree because of me?" He asks, as if he's going to laugh. While looking at me like I'm pathetic.
"Yes, I did." I answer without hesitation. He won't get the reaction he wants.
He hums in response, folding his arms across his chest. "You're going to die, you know."
"I won't let myself." I reply, taking a step closer to him. My fingers graze against his wrist, and I give him the chance to pull away. He doesn't. My hand wraps around his wrist, bringing his pulse point to my lips. "I won't die. Not until I get to live a normal life with you."
"Life with you will never be normal, Ajax." Zhongli snorts, watching me with an amused gaze.
"What happened to you? What have I done in the past— four fucking days that's made you so... different? Because I know you're keeping secrets now?" I call him out, feeling my brows furrow.
"I'm not different. I just have... new priorities now." Zhongli shrugs. He's still pinning me down with that smile—the one that makes me feel like an idiot.
"You are. You don't read anymore, but you think I don't notice." I say, letting go of his hand to pull him closer by the waist. He doesn't stop me. "It takes you just over a minute to read a page entirely. Lately, you've been flipping the page after thirty seconds. Your eyes skim over the page instead of across the lines. You don't chew on your lip anymore. You're trying to act like you're not lying to me with every word you say to me."
"I forgot how much you watch me." Zhongli sighs. His hands remain by his side, even as I lean in to kiss his neck.
"Because I love you."
"But you don't trust me." He says, as if that's supposed to matter.
"Do you trust me?" I ask him in return. He smiles, knowing that his answer is no.
"I've told you the truth. Won't you do the same?" I ask him, feeling his hands finally settle on my back.
He leans in to my ear, pressing a kiss right below. His nails rake up to my shoulder blades, and he laughs.
"You don't have enough clearance to know."