[ maybe if they stopped they would!! but childe certainly wouldn't, and zhongli is seconds away from adjourning his opinion on this whole thing. if it's a charade, it's only a charade. if zhongli is a puppet, he would play his part. both of them can just be blithely oblivious clowns.
but he also hadn't thought about this part—when childe suddenly catches his hand and weaves their fingers together, firmly grasping the row of his knuckles. zhongli slows with surprise the moment it happens, looking at their joined hands and then at childe as he matches his stride. his fingers are loose, but childe still holds them.
it's part of the act, he tells himself. it's a small gesture done even by children, by elders and their progeny, by close friends keeping a secret or giving comfort. it means nothing, yet there's a flurry of feeling when it happens, warm and cottony in his chest. nothing has ever felt like that before.
he catches himself before he stares for too long. he brings himself out of his thoughts and feelings, closing his finger's over childe's hand and continuing to walk them into the party, ignoring the little feelings sparking in his chest like striking matches. anyway. anyway!
"my parents." so that's where he learned about love. there's a little comfort in knowing childe would talk about something very personal to him. he looked forward to those conversations the most.
a smile eases on his lips, whether he likes it or not. ]
You've spoken of them in relation to your siblings. I haven't heard much else.
[ their spectacle does draw the eye of passersby, and they earn a mixture of concerned and pleasant looks. zhongli leads them into the fray, paying no mind. ]
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but he also hadn't thought about this part—when childe suddenly catches his hand and weaves their fingers together, firmly grasping the row of his knuckles. zhongli slows with surprise the moment it happens, looking at their joined hands and then at childe as he matches his stride. his fingers are loose, but childe still holds them.
it's part of the act, he tells himself. it's a small gesture done even by children, by elders and their progeny, by close friends keeping a secret or giving comfort. it means nothing, yet there's a flurry of feeling when it happens, warm and cottony in his chest. nothing has ever felt like that before.
he catches himself before he stares for too long. he brings himself out of his thoughts and feelings, closing his finger's over childe's hand and continuing to walk them into the party, ignoring the little feelings sparking in his chest like striking matches. anyway. anyway!
"my parents." so that's where he learned about love. there's a little comfort in knowing childe would talk about something very personal to him. he looked forward to those conversations the most.
a smile eases on his lips, whether he likes it or not. ]
You've spoken of them in relation to your siblings. I haven't heard much else.
[ their spectacle does draw the eye of passersby, and they earn a mixture of concerned and pleasant looks. zhongli leads them into the fray, paying no mind. ]