Work Text:
Four days.
It’s been four days since Rosaria has last seen Eula. Seven days since she’s last felt her arms wrapped around her waist, head buried into the crook of the nun’s neck, and legs tangled with hers while they laid in bed, talking about everything and nothing as they basked in each other’s presence in the dim light of the spindrift captain’s bedroom.
Four days but Rosaria misses her like they’ve been apart for weeks, which is why she decides to ditch choir practice for the third time this month, leaving Barbara with no choice but to come up with an excuse so she wouldn’t get in more trouble than she already is.
She was grateful for having Kaeya to let her know that Eula was staying at the Knights of Favonius dorms that day, else she would’ve walked all the way to her house only to find out she wasn’t there.
(Not that she minded—it was fine as long as it was for Eula, after all.)
Rosaria hesitates the moment she was at her front door, clenching her first and biting her lower lip before deciding to knock.
“Miss Rosaria...?” The captain greets, surprise evident in her expression, but is soon replaced by a sweet smile and Rosaria wants to bite her own fist and cry. Eula looks like a goddess—soft pale skin, sunset eyes, and a smile she wanted to see in every waking moment of her life. The thought terrifies her.
“Hey, you.” She manages to sound calm and composed even though her heart was only a few beats away from leaving her chest with the way it pounded.
Eula opens the door wide enough for rosaria to pass through, ushering her inside her dorm.
“You look nice,” she comments, stepping inside as she keeps her eyes on the knight. “New blouse?”
“Oh! Thank you,” the latter looks away in embarrassment, obviously still not used to the nun’s compliments. “And um, yes, this is new. I’m surprised you noticed.”
The pink that dusts Eula’s cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed, and it only makes the corner of Rosaria’s lips curl upwards.
“A-Anyway! you’re right on time. I just finished making tea.”
Eula leads her into the living room right across the kitchen space before she leaves to prepare the refreshments in her favorite porcelain tea set, Rosaria watching her from the sofa.
It was only when Eula bent down slightly to set down the tray she was holding did Rosaria notice the silver piece attached to her hair, reflecting the light peeking through the curtains. How come she didn’t notice this when she arrived?
Her eyes were trained on the accessory, even as she accepted the cup of tea from the latter’s hands.
“You’re wearing it.”
“Hm?” Eula looks up from her drink and smiles when she notices where Rosaria was looking, subconsciously reaching for the hairpiece. “Of course. I have been wearing it since you gave it to me.”
She slowly nods and trains her eyes away from the captain to hide the blush creeping up on her face and the tips of her ears, bringing the cup to her lips for a sip.
“Does it not... look good on me? Or do you want it back, maybe?”
Rosaria chokes on her drink, almost spilling the tea all over her lap and on her sofa. she decides to set it down on the table. “Archons, no, it looks perfect on you.”
A moment of silence falls between the two. Rosaria watches as Eula’s face turns into a shade of red before she even realizes what she just said and when she does, she freezes in her seat.
“Oh… Thank—Thank you, Miss Ros—”
“Eula.”
“Yes?”
“May I kiss you?”
It takes everything in Rosaria to not run away and leave through the window when the latter realizes what the question was, looking at her with wide eyes.
She breaks off eye contact, scared that Eula’s answer might be the opposite of what she wants to hear. It was a stupid question, anyway—how could someone like her, cold and hard and broken, ask such a thing from someone who’s warm and soft and everything she was not?
All her thoughts come to a halt when she feels Eula scoot closer and closer until she’s seated on Rosaria’s lap, gentle hands cupping her cheeks as she leaned down to press her lips onto hers.
She returns the kiss and does her best to be gentle and soft—the complete opposite of what she’s used to, her hands taking residence on Eula’s hips.
“You’re beautiful,” was all Rosaria says against her lips, still quite unsure if she was dreaming or not. She thinks this was all too good to be true.
Despite the red dusting her cheeks, Eula smiles softly when she notices rosaria was just as flustered as she was, resting her forehead against hers.
Maybe Rosaria doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve Eula, doesn’t deserve to hold her the way she’s holding her now, but she doesn’t care about that, doesn’t care about anything aside from the woman she was holding in her arms.
For her, all that matters right now is Eula and nothing else.