Chapter Text
One day, a young man catches his eye behind the counter at the coffee shop he frequently visits. A new staff, perhaps. He is not a familiar face, and Zhongli is certain he would have remembered him if he had seen him before.
There is a grace to the way he moves, fingers precise as he prepares the concoctions his customer has ordered. His dark hair streaked with teal is gathered at the small of his nape, yet still a few wispy pieces slip out, brushing against his sharp features, softening them.
He calls for the customer who ordered a lavender ice latte, voice soft but clear. When he lifts his head Zhongli catches the sight of eyes that are a pale hazel, almost gold in the early morning sunlight that filters in.
Zhongli’s heart pounds ever so slightly faster, and his chest tightens imperceptively. He doesn’t quite understand this feeling. Attraction, perhaps? Though he’s never been the type to fall for anyone for looks alone… Maybe now in his early thirties, he is more susceptible to the whims of the flesh.
Nevertheless, he steps up to the counter when the line in front of him is cleared. He comes face to face with the young man - Xiao, reads his name tag.
“What would you like to order today?” Xiao greets, gaze flickering up to meet his. And then stills, blinking for a moment with a complicated expression before settling back into neutrality. “Sir,” he tags on, belatedly.
Odd, for certain. Zhongli has been told on occasion by his friends and colleagues that he’s not the best at reading others. He is a fine listener, mind you. He’s very good with the spoken word and detangling hidden meanings and flawed logic within a debate. It is a necessity for his job as legal counsel, after all. But when it came to language of the body, the subtle cues that hint at what’s not spoken aloud, he’s…still practicing.
“One shaken orange cream Americano, large please,” Zhongli says pleasantly.
Xiao seems surprised by his order, for whatever reason, Zhongli can not imagine. There’s a momentary pause when he scribbles in shorthand on a plastic cup. His fingers are fine-boned and the tips of which are painted a dark, almost black hue save for a subtle tint of emerald sheen to them. How lovely, Zhongli thinks.
“Your name, please?” he almost misses the question. He peers at Xiao in puzzlement. It is not usual practice for the barista to ask for his name for orders at this establishment. He recalls the previous customer also did not receive the same question. Regardless, he doesn’t mind offering his name. “It’s Zhongli.” In fact, he’s pleased to find that upon hearing it the young man’s features seem to loosen, as if there had been previously been some taut tension. There is a small smile at the corner of his lips when he recites the cost.
“Thank you for your order,” Xiao says, after Zhongli has paid with a swipe of his card. “It won’t be a long wait.”
“No rush,” Zhongli assures. “I don’t mind waiting.”
Xiao gazes at him, appearing almost - lost for a moment. Zhongli’s brows draw together in concern.
“What’s the matter—”
“Nothing that concerns you,” Xiao interrupts, quite bluntly. And the moment is gone. “I’ll call for you when it’s ready.”
His gaze has already shifted to the customer behind Zhongli, and a feeling of disappointment curls through him for some reason. “Thank you,” Zhongli says distantly. He turns to go, stands by the window and looks out to the streets of downtown Liyue, bustling with cars and white-collar workers alike.
Morning dawns gentle light upon the city of contracts. It is merely another day.