Death of Me [Tartaglia]

chapter 12

I lay in my bed, freezing. The four blankets that usually keep me warm are not doing anything. I let out another aggressive sneeze, sniffling snot back into my nose. Archons, I caught a damn cold. I squint in the darkness of my room for anything to keep me warm; I spot Childe's jacket draped on the window sill and considering going to grab it. 

I hesitantly drag myself out of bed, wrapping my arms around myself as I make my way towards the coat. My heart sinks as I pick it up, and it is still cold and damp. I curse mentally, looking around my small room again. 

Holding his coat makes me think of his warm room, with the big fire place, and him. Not him, Yn. Why are you thinking him!? An idea to ask him for spare blankets flashes through my mind. 

He'd probably give you one, I convince myself. He gave you his coat with no hesitation. But it's also probably close to 2:00 am, I probably shouldn't bother him. 

I lay back in bed, pulling the thin blankets close to my chin. I curl into a ball, trying to conserve body heat before letting out another sneeze. I lay like that for another hour before caving. 

Grabbing a blanket off of my bed and wrapping it around me, I leave my room and head to Childe's. I'm surprised to see light leaking out from under the door crack when I arrive. I stand there hesitantly for a moment before raising my hand and knocking. 

There's a pause before I hear his clear voice welcome me in. I slowly open the door, shyly peaking my head in. The warmth wafts out of his room, hitting me in the face and inviting me further in. 

He's sitting at a small desk littered with papers, staring at the door expectantly. A confused smirk crosses his lips when he realizes it's me, "Miss me already?" 

I shoot him a glare, "Can I borrow a blanket or two? My room is freezing, and I think I caught a cold, and the blankets I have are really thin, and-" 

"Hey," he says, interrupting me. "It's ok you don't need to justify it. Um, if you want you can just sleep in here." 

He offers an awkward smile, glancing away to look back at his papers. 

"What?" I splutter in confusion. "I'm not sleeping in your bed, that's weird! All I want is a blan-" I sneeze, turning away to hide the snot starting to drip from my nose. 

"No not like that!" he says quickly. "I just mean I got you sick and your room doesn't seem very warm, so, uh, I thought maybe you could sleep in my bed, with all the blankets and stuff, and I could sleep on the couch. It's not like I plan on going to bed soon anyway." 

I sniffle, turning back to face him while eyeing his ornate king sized bed, "Are you sure?" 

"Yeah, here I'll dim my lamp so you can sleep better." 

His kindness is oddly sweet. I'm supposed to be finding a way to shut him up, anything to get him not to tell the Tsaritsa about me; so, why is he making me blush right now? His pretty blue eyes follow me to his bed, watching as I perch on the edge, sitting there awkwardly. 

"Go ahead, it's fine, really," he says, softly. "I owe it to you for taking you out in the cold." 

I let out an embarrassed laugh, "I don't want to get you sick too." 

"It's fine! I've had every sickness this palace has to offer, make yourself comfortable." 

I obey, pulling the thick quilts over myself. I sit there for a moment, the two of us just staring at each other before I glance away I lay down in his bed. It's so much softer than mine, and the blankets are much softer, offering thick warmth all around me. 

"Thank you, Childe," I mutter, not sure if he'll be able to hear me. 

"Any time, Yn," I hear him say back. 

Sleep finds me easier in the warmth of Childe's room. I doze off within minutes, falling into restless sleep. Vivid fever dreams of poison and torture about my discovery flash through my mind. I hear the Tsaritsa's cold laugh as I wraith in pain at her feet. All I feel his terrible fear.