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Lumine collapsed against her bed for the night, the plush double mattress that greeted her more than worth the extra few Mora she’d spent on the room. There were plenty of options for inns in Liyue, but few compared to that of the Wangshu Inn and its grandeur. When her commissions took her in this direction, she was normally more than happy to pass the night away in one of its golden, lavish rooms.
But tonight was different. She was not here on Adventurer’s Guild sanctioned work, and she’d rather be anywhere else in Teyvat than this too-clean, too-fine room. Except, she noted dryly, the lobby, where the event responsible was currently taking place.
It’s a celebration, someone had said to her in passing, she couldn’t quite remember who. A celebration of Liyue’s new future, free from Rex Lapis. After the events that had taken place only a few short weeks ago, Lumine supposed she understood the excitement to return to normalcy. She’d agreed to show her face at the supposedly small gathering, expecting a buffet table and maybe a band.
She was not prepared for the ostentatious banner that greeted her, spelling out “No Longer Only The Hero of Mondstadt” in swirling silver letters. A sketch of her, not a bad one, joined the script, obviously proclaiming that this party was not what it seemed. Lumine had once again found herself in the center of attention, earning herself another title to add to the laundry list she seemed to be accrewing. Honorary Knight. Hero of Mondstadt. And now what-- Hero of Liyue?
Lumine turned over onto her stomach and let out a long groan into one of the decorative pillows. She was more than happy to help the peoples of the worlds she found herself in, but did they have to make such a big deal out of it? No matter where she went, expectations were laden upon her shoulders, heavy weights dragging her down in her main quest. Time in and time out, she had to remind herself why she was in this strange world with its Visions and Archons: to find her brother, to return to her own semblance of normalcy.
Normalcy. What a funny word that was-- could you consider zipping from one world to the next ‘normal?’ Was wielding celestial powers that would make even the illustrious Seven jealous really just an everyday occurrence for her?
Perhaps not. But it was better than the celebrity status she’d seemed to have earned here. At least, with her brother by her side, there were no eyes peering at her regardless of where she went, no hushed whispers and phony conversations trying to earn her favor.
Only when she was with people as strange as her did the pretense seem to drop. In Mondstadt, it was the mysterious, bacchanalian bard; here, she’d found an easy friendship in the presence of Zhongli, who too seemed to have lived a life well beyond what he claimed. It wasn’t like they completely understood what she was going through. But at least they felt what it was like to be an outlander even among Teyvat’s magic and monsters.
A knock sounded at her door. Lumine cursed into the pillow she had been subconsciously smothering herself with, angry that she’d allowed someone to see her sneaking away. Only Paimon knew of her retreat, and the floating creature would be far too occupied with the long tables of food to bother her any time soon.
And Paimon didn’t knock.
“Who is it?” Lumine called, merely turning her head to let her voice ring out clearer. She made no effort to get up, hoping (in vain) that it was merely a member of the inn’s staff, coming to deliver some odd or end.
“One of your many adoring fans,” the sardonic voice opposite the door replied.
Lumine would recognize it anywhere. That damned voice-- she could practically hear the Harbinger’s smirk. Of course he knew just what was bothering her, too.
Knowing better than to expect him to walk away, Lumine hastily rose to her feet, smoothing the rumpled duvet before pacing languidly to the door. “If you’re here to mock me, I don’t want to hear it,” she said with her hand on the doorknob. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“Why, I’d never,” came Childe’s response. Lumine rolled her eyes before letting the door swing open, revealing the tall man and all his splendor in the dimly lit hallway. He hadn’t dressed up for the party, opting to wear his usual grey Fatui suit and scarf, his tell-tale mask hanging loosely around his golden hair. And yet it still looked more formal, more lavish than any of the elaborate get-ups the partygoers wore down below.
It was simply how he carried himself. There was such an air to him, some sort of haughty confidence that screamed to the rest of the world just how little Childe cared of its opinion. From his easygoing, intoxicating smile to the very straightness of his posture, he commanded the complete attention of anybody in his presence.
Lumine included.
“Come in,” she said gruffly when he made no efforts to move, eyeing her patiently like he had to be invited inside the room that was hardly hers to begin with.
He took a seat onto the very bed she’d just been moping on, eyes alight in that childlike (ha) anticipation that never seemed to leave them. Whether they were sparring, or dining, or even simply walking about town, he had a way of looking at the world like he was seeing it for the first time. Lumine-- who had seen her fair share of worlds-- was fascinated, time and time again, how such a bloodthirsty, vicious creature by title could have such an innocent outlook.
“You’re missing the party,” he remarked dryly as she took her seat into one of the room’s plush armchairs. “I hear they’ve gotten Liu Su to tell a tale about you later on. I wouldn’t miss it, if I were you.”
“I’m sure it’s a story I’ve heard before, if it’s about me,” Lumine replied, matching his mocking tone. “What do you want, Childe? Shouldn’t you be downstairs, drinking with everybody else?”
She’d seen him when she walked in, seated beside Zhongli in a far off corner. Still believing it was a party to celebrate Liyue’s recent victory, she’d remarked that its villain bothered to attend. His presence made much more sense once the party’s true nature was revealed. He wouldn’t miss any opportunity to make fun of her.
“I came to make sure our star guest is alright,” he said after a few seconds of silence, weighing his words carefully. Though his tone was light, his smile had faded-- indicating a rare moment of candor. “I saw you run out rather hurriedly. You didn’t look happy.”
“Of course I’m not happy,” Lumine snapped without thinking, jerking her gaze away from his prying, ocean-blue eyes. “Nobody asked me about this.”
“Why should they, when it was supposed to be a surprise?”
“I hate surprises.”
“Even when they boast free food and drink?”
Like a petulant, pouting child, Lumine drew her knees into her chest. Childe knew she was lying-- though she wouldn’t say they were the closest of friends, he certainly knew her well enough by now to know that something like this alone wouldn’t make her so upset.
“You can talk to me,” he said, uncharacteristically gentle. “If something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”
Lumine considered his offer. In truth, she wanted nothing more than to drop everything and be completely honest with him-- this one man who’d found her way into her heart despite her best efforts. The fact that he’d sought her out in the first place was enough to make it skip a beat, the traitorous thing it was. If her mind had no say in it, Lumine would be curled up in his lap, sobbing against his chest as every last secret snuck its way out of her lips and into his awaiting ears.
In her weakest, loneliest moments, she’d wondered what it would be like to be held by those strong arms; to see if his hair really was as soft as it looked, or if his eyes were really that blue up close. Day in and day out, sparring session after sparring session, she still hadn’t become immune to his charms. His easy way of talking and the way it could lift her spirits on the darkest of days.
Something was different, tonight, though, and Childe could tell. Lumine knew it in the way that he continued to stare at her, unusually scrutinizing. Even with her own gaze locked onto the opposite wall, she could feel his curiosity roving over her, inspecting every inch of her body for some indication of her moodiness.
“I’m not going to leave until you tell me what’s wrong,” he said, softly. “I’ve never seen you like this, Lumine. Did someone hurt you?”
“Of course not,” she replied bitterly. “You should know better than that.”
“I don’t mean physically, ojou-chan. ”
The nickname was enough to get her to break her fixation on the other side of the room, a jolt of electricity right down to her very core reminding her of the very first day they’d met. It had been some time since he’d had the balls to use the pet name again.
“Nobody hurt me,” was all she managed to respond, wishing that she had a mocking nickname to use in turn.
“I don’t believe you.”
Childe was up on his feet before Lumine knew how to respond, in front of her in only a few steps. Those cursed long legs-- why did he have to be so tall? Even if he was just a tiny bit shorter, it would let her at least gather her thoughts before he knelt tenderly in front of her.
“What’s gotten into you?” She remarked as he peered up at her, eyes swimming with a warmth she’d never seen before.
“I’ve been worried about you for awhile, Lumi. Tonight was the last straw.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m a hero.”
She said the words so sourly it drew a tiny chuckle from his lips. “That you are.”
“You shouldn’t worry about me, anyway. Fatui Harbingers have more important things on their plate than the emotional wellbeing of some girl.” Lumine shifted awkwardly, uncomfortable with his sudden proximity. She hoped her talking would be enough to distract from how if she concentrated, she could feel his warm breath on the bare skin of her legs. “Certainly there’s a war out there or a battle to be fought that should command your attention instead.”
“I don’t mind thinking about you,” he said, rather nonchalantly. “You know how much I look forward to our weekly matches. What am I to do when you show up distracted?”
“I was not distracted,” Lumine lied. Their last match hadn’t been very much fun for either of them-- it the first since the whole Jade Chamber fiasco, and Lumine couldn’t help but wonder if someone like her, the new Hero of Liyue , should be fighting with the very man who caused such chaos.
“For your sake, I hope you were. It was a poor showing. I didn’t even have to use my delusion.”
Lumine narrowed her eyes, too lost in thought to come up with a biting retort.
Was that where it started? Was Childe really to blame for all of this?
She was supposed to be so good, the picture of gallantry and valiance. A Knight. A Hero.
When she was with Childe, she didn’t have to be perfect-- she didn’t have to meld to everybody else’s expectations of her. Perhaps that was why she gravitated so much to his laissez-faire attitude on all things; if only she could emulate it, her life in Teyvat would be so much grander…
“You’ve gone quiet again,” he remarked, still kneeling in front of her in a gesture that was so uncharacteristically Childe. “I didn’t mean it, Lumi. You weren’t that bad.”
“No, no.” Stop talking, she chided. She was on the verge of a massive personal discovery, and his kindness for the night was only making it harder to come to terms with.
“I meant what I said, though. I don’t mind worrying about you.” He reached up and took her hand in his, brushing his gloved fingertips over her palm. “Somebody has to.”
It was those three words that did it for her, combined with her suffocating walk down memory lane. In this world, when everybody wanted her to be something different, when she was with Childe, she was simply… herself.
Simply Lumine.
Tears budded in the corner of her eyes, the hot sort that formed in a second’s notice. Childe saw them before she could react, letting go of her hand like it burned him. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked, tentatively reaching out to brush away the wet tracks down her cheeks. “Oh, Lumine, I’m sorry-”
“It’s not you,” she choked out, a blubbering mess in mere seconds. That was a lie, of course. Of course it was him. It was always him. Since the day they’d met, since the very day that he saved her.
Letting the nagging part of her mind go, just for a moment, she collapsed against him, burying her head into the crook of his neck. “Childe,” she sobbed, melting into the arms that wrapped around her without a second’s hesitation.
“Oh, Lumine.”
One hand snuck around her waist, pulling her tightly against him, while the other rest on the back of her head, gingerly stroking her platinum mess of hair.
The tears didn’t stop. Lumine-- frankly-- had no idea what was causing them beyond his presence, the tidal wave of emotion that his gentleness seemed to invoke in her kept her firmly pressed against his hard chest.
“I’m getting your shirt all wet,” she sniffled, pulling away and looking up at him after a few more moments of comfortable, perhaps too comfortable, silence. “I’m sorry. I don’t-”
“Don’t apologize.” That familiar sureness to his voice stopped the sentence before she could finish it. “I’m here for you, Lumine. Please.”
“You’re not supposed to be so sweet,” she hiccupped. “You’re a harbinger. You’re supposed to be bloodthirsty, a-and evil. Not holding me and brushing away my tears.”
“Maybe I’m both,” he replied easily, corners of his lips quirking. “You’re supposed to be a pristine, proper hero. Not a crying mess in my arms.”
“Shut up.”
How he’d guessed the very dilemma without so much as a hint on her part was a problem she’d worry about another day. For now, she was content to simply relax against him again, tucking her head beneath his chin and curling closer to his warm body.
“Please just hold me a bit longer,” she said quietly. The tears had slowed their descent down her face, her voice hoarse from the sobs that had been ringing out only moments ago.
“Anything for you.”
The response came so easily Lumine almost wondered if it was genuine.
There was no way somebody like him-- somebody so experienced, so handsome, so goddamn rich, nevermind his status as a Harbinger-- would ever take interest in some mess like her. This was just Childe’s way of being friendly, certainly. Did he not flirt with every girl they came across? Did he not tease her day in and day out?
Was that not why he’d come here in the first place?
Regardless of his intentions, Lumine was more than happy to stay pressed against him in front of her inn room’s roaring fire. Just as long as he didn’t open that damn mouth of his and ruin it.
“Lumine?”
Keep quiet, she thought, responding only with a contented hum.
“Much as I’m… enjoying myself,” he started, struggling to find the word, “I need to know what caused this.”
Of course. Nothing perfect could last forever.
Delusion. Certainly up there with “normalcy” in terms of funny words in Lumine’s life-- how it applied so perfectly to this situation. She truly was delusional to think that Childe’s gentleness was anything more than a ploy to gain information, some elaborate plot to get her to admit some fact that he’d certainly tease her about later.
“Right,” she said, drawing out the word.
Childe made no move to let go of her until she awkwardly cleared her throat, lightly straining against where his arm had wound itself tightly around her waist.
“Oh, right, sorry.”
“It’s alright.”
When she’d freed herself from him, immediately missing his warmth, the implications of what she’d done all came rushing to her at once. How she’d practically thrown herself at him, soiling his shirt and demanding that he hold her. How she’d done so without so much as an explanation.
“I’m sorry,” she said again once the two had settled once more, side by side on the corner of her bed. She played with the hem of her dress as she spoke, not quite wanting to meet his eyes again, perhaps fearing what she’d see. “I shouldn't have done that.”
“Lumine, no-”
“No, let me talk. Please.” Don't make this harder. The longer he kept up this tender act, the harder it would be for her to get over her momentary lapse of judgement.
He obeyed, tracing a pattern against the blanket with one of his gloved fingers instead. In the quiet room, that sound of fabric on fabric was the only thing keeping them from another bout of pregnant silence.
What had gotten into her that night? Any other day, banter flowed between them like the water that made his characteristic blades. Never had she weighed her words so carefully, thought every sentence out with a care she normally reserved for conversations with stuffy politicians.
“You said it yourself,” she eventually decided. “I’m supposed to be a hero.”
“You know I meant it with-”
“Sh. I said to let me talk.”
“Mm. Fine.”
Lumine couldn’t look at him, at the stubborn, blinding grin that was sure to have illuminated his face.
“Everyone expects so much from me,” she continued, voice shaky. “This damned party… I was ready to blend into the background and relish in our newfound peace. But they had to make it about me.”
“Most people would be happy to have a party thrown in their honor,” he added obtusely, seemingly resolute in disobeying her one command. “It isn’t even a bad one.”
“No, it’s not. And so I feel even worse for resenting it.” Lumine exasperatedly dropped her head into her hands, the next words muffled by her palms. “I just want to be normal, Childe! I’m so sick of this. Of being some perfect, extraordinary hero. I just want to be able to mess up without worrying what the entire nation is going to think about me.”
A tentative hand rested upon her back, gloved fingers tracing comforting circles against her bare skin. Every one was like an elemental orb, igniting a fire in her stomach, that awful wave of memories crashing back down upon her once again. Why was Childe making this harder? It was bad enough that she was opening up to a Harbinger -- why did he have to make it seem like such an intimate, sweet affair?
“You know you never have to worry about what I think of you,” he said.
Lumine scoffed. As if. Practically every thought that night had been consumed by what he thought of her-- if there was even some semblance of a chance that this wasn’t an elaborate, drawn-out act. If he really liked her the way she liked him.
“It’s a lot of pressure to place on such small shoulders,” Childe continued when she failed to respond. “But I think it’s also completely fair. You are extraordinary, Lumine. You didn’t earn the reputation by accident.”
“But what happens when I mess up?” She asked, daring to peek between her fingers, daring to make eye-contact with him again. “What happens when I’m not extraordinary? When Liyue finds out I’ve been alone with a Fatui Harbinger instead of attending a party thrown in my honor?”
The slight quip brought a smile to Childe’s face, the kind that uncoiled the knot that had been growing in Lumine’s throat once more. “Then nothing,” he said, and she was almost inclined to believe him. Only he could make the crushing betrayal of an entire nation feel like it truly was nothing.
“I can’t,” she breathed as he pried her hands away from her face. “I can’t let them all down.”
“Nothing you could do would ever turn the people against you. They love you.”
“I doubt both of those things.”
“Trust me. If they know you just a fraction as well as I do, they can’t help it.”
Lumine wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it or not, but she swore she saw the faintest hint of pink spread across his perfect features. Had she done something wrong?
“What is it?” She asked as he pulled his hands away from where they’d been resting on her wrists. “Childe?”
“Nothing,” he remarked lightly, fidgeting with one of his gloves. “Sorry. But I mean what I said, Lumine. I really do. Liyue, Mondstadt, all the places you haven’t been yet-- they love you, they will love you. No matter what.”
Lumine got the sense that his words meant more than he let on, but nodded, wetting her lips and glancing back to the door.
There was still a heavy pressure of anxiety in her chest, keeping her from wanting to return to the party. But she’d be lying if she said his words-- even if they weren’t true-- didn’t help.
It would all be so much easier if he was anything other than himself. If he was any less charming, any less handsome, any less goddamn Fatui, maybe then she’d have an easier time leaving him behind. But she couldn’t-- and so she had to resign herself to one simple sin, the sin that was his company.
“Lumine?”
Her name on his lips drew her out of her melancholy, capturing her attention once again. Two simple syllables and it was enough to get her stomach back into its flip-flops, traitorous thing that it was.
“Yes?”
“What are you thinking about?”
“You,” she replied, honestly. Not seeming to have expected the answer, his eyes widened in surprise.
“What about me?”
“How if everybody in Liyue knew you like I did, things would be so much easier.”
He blinked once, expertly hiding his surprise. If only Lumine didn’t know his body language by heart. “I don’t think the people of Liyue want to befriend a Harbinger.”
“Maybe not. But what if their hero was beside him?”
Lumine gave him an easy smile, the first one she’d spared since he came to her door.
“You are so, so confusing,” was all Childe managed to respond, returning her grin nonetheless.
“Somebody’s got to keep you on your toes.”
“Don’t ever change, Lumine. Don’t ever make it any easier to tell what you’re thinking.”
“Says you.”
“Mm?”
“Everything you do is a double-edged sword, just like those damned daggers.” Lumine reclined against her hands, letting out a breath as they fell back into their familiar banter. “I never know if you’re being genuine.”
“Lumine, I’ve never once lied to you,” he said, placing a hand over his heart. Even the action was mocking, the very enigmatic tendency in question.
“Maybe not. But you’ve also never been completely truthful, either.” She cocked her head to shoot him another look, but whatever smile she had in mind dissipated when his eyes met hers.
He shouldn’t be allowed to look at her like that. The entire oceans of Teyvat were reflected in those eyes, waves cresting with sadness, with genuity, with tenderness. All combining together to form some look that she couldn’t read-- a look that made her melt nonetheless.
“Stop it,” she breathed, their playful atmosphere dissipating just as soon as it’d come. But gone was the one that preceded it, of heaviness, of raw emotions-- this one was different, much more intimate. Lumine forgot all about her troubles, about the party raging below her, about the tears that she’d shed. All she saw was Childe, and all he could see was her, Lumine, cheeks still red and raw from crying, voice still shaky.
“Stop what?” He replied, just as quiet, never once looking away.
“Looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
Lumine swallowed, the first to break their staring contest. “You know. Like… that. It’s not going to work on me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His coyness only made it worse. Lumine didn’t want to think about all the things those eyes had probably gotten other girls to do, the things they’d made them say.
“Lumine.”
But her name in his voice--
He slipped one of his gloves off, gingerly setting it aside. And with his newly bared hand, he reached out and took one of hers, running the pads of his fingers gently along the back. It was enough to draw a shiver down her spine, though his breath-- suddenly very close-- and his gaze were nothing but warm.
“Lumine, I-”
“Stop,” she choked out. “Don’t ruin this.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
His other hand, rid too of a glove, found her chin, tilting it ever so slightly up in his direction. Forcing her to look at him, at that look again.
“I swear to you that I’ve meant every word I’ve ever said,” he said, slowly, drawing out the full weight of the words. “Every action, too.”
“You’re lying.”
The Childe who’d come to her room that night was not the Childe she was expecting. And that made it so much worse, because he was so much more charming than the one who’d already run away with her heart. So much kinder. So much sweeter. Everything she needed, responding to every need, every worry of hers without even having to hear them.
“I’m not,” he insisted. “Lumine, I… I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
Her vision had gone blurry with tears again, perhaps anticipating his answer. Waiting for everything that had happened that night, every sweet interaction to be ruined by one simple explanation.
She almost didn’t want to hear it.
“I… care about you. A lot,” he began, the words unsure of themselves in a way so uncharacteristically Childe it made her heart hurt. “I have for a long time. For as long as I’ve known you.”
“I care about you too, Childe. We’re friends.”
“No, Lumine.” He shook his head gently, the fingers that had once clutched her chin lightly tracing the side of her face. “I don’t mean as friends.”
Her eyes widened, heart skipping a beat. There was simply no way what he said was true-- was it a joke?
“I know I tease you,” he continued, as if reading her mind. “But I mean this, Lumine, and I’ll prove it any way I have to. I really, really like you, ojou-chan. ”
“W-why haven’t you ever said anything?” She asked, thinking back to all the nights that she’d stayed awake, wondering if there was even the slightest, tiniest possibility that he saw her as anything but an annoying companion.
“I really thought you knew,” he said again. “I thought you didn’t care.”
“Childe-”
“When I held you, earlier, I realized that I had to say something,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Lumine… every single thought I have is about you. When I saw you leave the party earlier, it was all I could think about. I worry about you every second you’re out of my sight.”
She’d only seen this side of him once: when he was interacting with Teucer, his beloved younger brother. She’d seen the tenderness in his eyes and noted how completely genuine it was, even if their relationship was built on the pretense that he was a toy seller. It had made her miss her brother more than anything else in this world had-- to see the unbridled affection he had for his family, for the ones he held dear.
It was then that her girlish crush had really taken off. The Childe who tried to destroy Liyue was no hero. But he wasn’t nearly the villain he was made out to be-- not when he could fill her ears with such pretty words, look at her with eyes like that.
“Childe,” she started, only when she was certain he’d stopped. “I thought you were teasing me. That there was no way someone like you could ever like someone like me.”
“Do you mean evil? You’re right-- I have no business with someone as good as you.” He sighed, and though his words were said in jest, Lumine could tell that they held a much deeper weight. “You’re a hero. I’m the villain. We’re supposed to be enemies, ojou-chan. I’m terrible for you.”
“No you’re not.”
“But I am.”
“No.”
She reached up to place a hand atop the one resting on her cheek, their situations from earlier flipped. Now it was his turn to be consoled, and her turn to convince him that he was so, so much more than what the people thought of him.
“No enemy of mine could hold me like that,” she said quietly. “No enemy of mine would dry my tears.”
“Lumine…”
“And that’s not what I meant at all. I meant someone like you as in someone so… sure of themselves. You’re so experienced, and worldly, and every girl you ever meet falls for you-- why would you ever care for someone like me?” She pressed her palm harder atop his, driving home her point.
“Someone like you?” Childe repeated, and it was then that Lumine realized just how close he had become to her during the course of their conversation-- their noses could touch if she were only to jut out her chin. “Lumine, have you ever looked in the mirror?”
“Yes, well-”
“Well nothing.” He leaned forward ever so slightly, resting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes. “You’re the most astounding, extraordinary creature I’ve ever met. The fact that you think I even stood a chance against you is comical.”
“Shut up. You beat me more than half the times we spar.”
Her breathing had hitched, the words a fight to get out of her lips. They’d never been this close before. She could practically feel his warm breath against her face, sweet and warm and so perfectly Childe.
“You are so daft sometimes,” he sighed. “Must I spell everything out?”
“Please,” Lumine begged. “Yes. Please do.”
Nevermind that-- apparently-- that’s what he’d been doing all along.
“May I kiss you?” He asked, tracing his thumb along her cheekbone.
“Yes,” she replied breathlessly, and without so much as a second’s hesitation, his mouth was on hers-- soft, sweet, everything she wanted.
She leaned into the kiss, pressing a hand to his chest. The very same chest that she’d curled up against earlier, cried against. His arms-- so strong in the way that they’d held her-- snuck around her waist, pulling her even closer still.
She was inexperienced and shy, but he more than made up for it. “Lumine,” he breathed against her, and just the feeling of his lips moving against hers was enough to make her heart skip another few beats, “you are something else.”
“So are you,” she replied, fisting a hand in his hair. It really was as soft as it looked.
“Never change.”
I won’t, she thought, as their kiss deepened, growing from something soft to something needier. Just as long as I’m enough for him, that’s enough for me.
She didn’t quite know how they’d gotten here. How her moping had turned into the single greatest night of her life, her worries quelled and unreciprocated feelings not so unreciprocated after all. All she wanted was Childe-- he was the problem and the solution, truly. Things would be so much easier without him. But she wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Lumine,” he breathed as she’d stop to take a few gasping breaths.
“Childe,” she murmured back. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He mused, pulling away to look at her. His cheeks were flushed, lips swollen. Lumine had never seen him look so attractive.
“For everything.”
And then she threw herself into his arms again-- this time without any tears.