Stay

SUMMARY

Lumine and Tartaglia seek shelter from a rainstorm in an inn, where they find very limited accommodations.

NOTES

Written for Chilumi Week 2023, Day 1: There Was Only One Bed (wholesome version)

See the end of the work for more notes.

Outside the inn, a torrent of rainfall crashed, a cacophony of steady drumming on the roof of the building. Lightning intermittently flashed through the windows, followed by the delayed crackle a few seconds later. Lumine and Tartaglia lounged in the lobby, seeking shelter from the rainstorm. The Traveler sat on the sofa, head resting on her chin as she stared out the window, looking awfully bored. Tartaglia, on the other hand, was busy arguing with the receptionist.

“For the last time, sir, you cannot loiter here if you do not have accommodations,” the receptionist said, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice.

“Come on,” he said. “We just want to wait out the rain here, in the lobby. We’ll leave as soon as the rain lets up.”

“It has been raining for the past three hours, sir. We cannot allow you to stay in the lobby overnight.”

He rolled his eyes, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out his badge. He didn’t like pulling the Fatui card, not when he was not on duty, but this woman was not giving him any choice.

“Just book the room, Tartaglia,” Lumine said, still on the sofa. “It’s not like it’ll make a dent on your wallet.”

He wanted to protest, because yes, it wouldn’t make a dent, but it was the principle of it. They wouldn’t even be staying the night! There was no way the storm would last the entire night. But he was getting tired of this game; it had been a long day, not including the sparring session they’d had—just a spot of exercise, really—but if there’s anything Tartaglia did not have patience for, it was precisely this.

“Fine, two rooms, one night,” he said, reaching instead for his wallet.

The receptionist stared at him. “We only have the one room, sir.”

His patience was wearing thin. He looked back at Lumine, who was now stepping toward them.

“Then why,” Lumine started, “are you insisting us to make accommodations here?”

“Frankly,” the receptionist said, matching Lumine’s stern voice, “you don’t have a choice.”

As much as Tartaglia was loathe to admit it, the receptionist was right. The rainstorm did not plan on calming down anytime soon, and it was already ten in the evening. Like it or not, they were stuck here. But if he was going down, he was taking the receptionist down with him.

He pulled out his Fatui insignia from his coat pocket and showed it to her. The receptionist only stared.

“I don’t like repeating myself,” he said. “Two rooms. I know you have it.”

“We really do not,” the receptionist said. She opened a small locker behind her and gestured to it. It contained two rows of hooks, and a single, lone key hanging on one of them. She took the key and placed it on the desk.

Tartaglia muttered a curse under his breath, signing his name on the ledger and taking the key. He and Lumine walked along the hallway, the rain still unrelenting above them.

Beside him, Lumine walked with a stoic stare on her face. Her mind was a puzzle to him, one he was always trying to solve. What are you thinking, Lumine? Even in the most mundane circumstances, such as now, she was an enigma to him, and perhaps that was what he was drawn towards the most. Not her renowned fighting skills—though of course, that was a large part of it—but the mystery of the Traveler, the Honorary Knight, the Outlander.

“I don’t see the point in arguing,” she answered when he asked why she wasn’t at all bothered. “I figured if we were taking shelter from the storm, we might as well stay the night. Besides, this isn’t the worst inn I’ve been to. And this one really isn’t that bad.”

He grumbled. “It’s exploitation, is what it is. Exploiting two travelers for their money just because of the awful weather. I’m sure it’s not the first time they pulled this scam.”

“The Tsaritsa really pampers you Harbingers, huh?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Listen, Tartaglia,” she said, pausing before the door, her hand on the knob. An amused smile was splayed on her face, like this was all an elaborate joke to her. “You may be used to your fancy five-star Goth Hotels but this is the real world, comrade.”

She opened the door and immediately the smile was wiped off her face. When he turned to look, he saw that there was only one bed in the tiny room. He had half-expected this, of course; from the sour face of the receptionist alone, he knew it was only about to get worse for the two of them.

“You were saying?” he said, walking into the room. “Is this still the real world, my dear comrade?”

“I mean, yeah,” she said. “It’s just—I’ve been traveling alone so it didn’t really occur to me that having only one bed would be a problem. Until now.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Of course, Miss Honorary Knight, the Lone Wolf of Teyvat, more like.”

“Shut up.”

The room was undeniably tiny, as if the walls had been specifically constructed to accommodate the single bed and solitary chair. It left just enough space for one person to navigate through its narrow confines.

He made a beeline for the chair, settling on the stiff wooden seat. Not the most comfortable, but his Fatui training had taught him to easily take respite anywhere. And besides, Lumine was right. This wasn’t the worst he’s been to, either. His thoughts drifted back to his harrowing memories of the Abyss. Compared to that nightmarish ordeal, this wooden chair might as well be a blessing from Celestia.

“What are you doing?” said Lumine.

“What?” he said. “I’m not sleeping on that bed with you. We won’t fit.”

“I didn’t say anything about you sleeping with me!” she gasped, clearly offended, and her taking offense offended him, too. “I’m just surprised,” she continued in a softer voice, her lips curling into a lopsided grin. “Didn’t know you were the chivalrous type.”

“What is that supposed to mean? I’m always chivalrous!” Heat rose to his cheeks, despite himself.

“Where was your chivalry when we were sparring earlier?” she said, still the smug grin on her face.

“If memory serves me right, I’m pretty sure I let you win.”

“Ha! If memory serves me right, I’m pretty sure that’s just you being a masochist.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, girlie,” he said, leaning back on the chair.

“Suit yourself, comrade,” she said, laying back down and pulling up the blankets.

It was an understatement to say that the chair was simply stiff. Every inch of his body was acutely aware of the rigidity, his lower back strained against the back frame of the seat. Any attempt to shift his position was futile and met with even more discomfort. And so, sleep eluded him. It took a monumental effort to relax, so instead he focused on the steady pitter-patter of the rain, and if he concentrated enough, he could hear Lumine snoring beneath the blankets. It was the quiet sort of snore, each inhale and exhale a gentle rhythm against the loud noise of the rain outside. Tartaglia found it quite adorable; it reminded him that despite the air of mystery around her, she, too, was human just like him. In the end, he fell asleep to her snoring, the cutest lullaby he’d ever heard.

A piercing scream interrupted his shallow slumber. Tartaglia jolted awake, and immediately his entire body felt as stiff as the chair he was sleeping on. His instincts kicked in and he leapt to the bed, yanking the blanket away from the source of the screaming.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, trying his best to steady his voice, shaking Lumine awake. “You’re dreaming.”

In the instant he laid a hand on her, she grabbed onto his shirt, her eyes still closed. “No, no, no, don’t leave me, please!”

Frantic, he tried to recall what to do: was it better to forcibly wake them or leave them alone? Her hands clutched his shirt with a tight and white-knuckled grip, pulling him down on the bed. She sobbed onto his chest, her words now turning gibberish. Tentatively, he gently placed a hand on her back to soothe her.

“Don’t leave me—”

His heart pounded. He had no idea she felt this strongly about him leaving. That was the nature of his job, after all, and she knew, so why was she—

“—Aether, please—”

Heat crept up his cheeks, a wave of embarrassment washing over him. Did he really think she was talking about him? Of course not. Of course it’s her brother, of course, of course. Don’t be an idiot, Ajax.

“It’s okay, I won’t leave you,” he said, only to reassure Lumine in her nightmare more than anything else. Nothing else.

Tartaglia rubbed small circles on the small of her back, and to his surprise, she leaned further into his chest, her words gradually fading into a soft murmur. He wrapped his other arm around her, enveloping her in his embrace.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his breath gently grazing the top of her head.

They stayed like this for a while, him swaying her softly as he hummed a Snezhnayan lullaby, a technique that always worked with his little siblings. He had half a mind to move back to the chair, but Lumine was still holding onto him, and no, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk waking her. The world seemed to fade away in that moment, the steady rise and fall of Lumine’s chest against him and the soft, gentle tapping of the rain on the windowpane.

Lumine was right. This wasn’t so bad, after all.

The sunlight filtered through the window, waking Lumine up from her slumber. Except she wasn’t alone on the bed, and dear Barbatos, what happened last night? Her arms were wrapped around Tartaglia, her face buried in his chest. They were both fully clothed, which was a relief, but she could not remember what happened for them to end up this way.

Not that she was complaining. His embrace was surprisingly warm; the rainy weather had left a chill in the air, so it was all the more reason to stay still and relish the comfort before he awoke. She tilted her chin to look up at him, and her chest twinged. Tartaglia rarely had a quiet moment; he was always a tempest, leaving chaos in his wake. And that was exactly what she liked about him and his company—his unpredictability brought her a thrill that no one else had. Plus, she enjoyed the exercise from their sparring sessions. Gazing at him now, calm and asleep, she couldn’t help but marvel at the rarity of such a sight.

Lumine leaned her ear into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. She sighed, memories of the previous night flooding back. It had been a nightmare, a recurring one at that. She and Aether pitted against the Unknown God, suffering defeat at her hands. The scene would play out in her mind again and again, wondering if there was something different she could have done, something to change their fate. It did not stop haunting her, not even in her slumber.

She struggled to piece together exactly what happened last night, but from the way her chest tightened at the memory, Lumine could only guess it was drastic enough that they’d both end up like this, in each other’s embrace. A smile graced her lips at the thought of him comforting her, though a part of her wished he hadn’t seen her vulnerable like that. Would he think of her less? Would he think her weaker because of it? But more importantly, when did she start caring what he thought of her?

Her face nestled against his chest, she breathed him in, the mingling scent of his sweat and perfume, a strange but welcome comfort. Tartaglia sighed above her, pulling her closer.

“Stay,” he mumbled. Lumine wasn’t sure if he was addressing her or merely talking in his sleep. Still, she complied, because she had no intention of doing anything but.

The morning sun would soon turn to the afternoon, and the time for their slumber would then be over. But for now, they had each other in a warm embrace and all the time in the world to drift back to a peaceful sleep once more.

NOTES

I was the receptionist btw

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