“You should’ve told me this earlier,” her voice was sharp, demanding.
You sighed in frustration, running your fingers through your hair. “I said I’m sorry, it’s my fault that I fell asleep too early last night.”
“Even so you could’ve told me earlier before you went to sleep that you weren’t going through with it instead of telling me like what—6 hours ago?” she was sounding more and more agitated as the words flowed out her mouth.
“Look—” you took in a deep breath and set the phone to speaker mode. “Yes I am acknowledging that I am the shitty person here for canceling last minute, but you can’t blame me for you choosing to not set an alarm.”
“I chose to not set an alarm because you told me you’ll be coming over today!”
You closed your eyes and sat down on your couch, leaning back into the cushion. Her voice was making your head hurt.
“That cannot be my fault. You choosing to not set an all arm was ultimately your choice. You were well aware that it’s not even the weekends yet, and you still have class the next day.”
A bitter groan trailed from your phone. “But then again you should’ve said something last night! I even messaged out four times about it and told you to call me when you have it figured out. You quite literally had all night to reply to me.”
This is getting out of hand. “I am apologizing to you for not replying to your message on time, however you did text me at 12 in the morning, and I was already asleep by then.”
Knock knock.
You looked up, and Alhaitham stood there leaning against the doorframe, a questioning look on his face. One moment, you mouthed.
“You’re a horrible friend.”
You froze, words caught in your throat. Alhaitham seemed to notice your body tense up and hurried over.
“I’m sorry what?” you said, unable to process what you’ve just heard. “I’m a bad friend?”
She scoffed on the other end of the line. “Yes, you’re a bad friend.”
Alhaitham placed a gentle hand against your arm. You muted yourself for a moment and turned to your boyfriend. “Give me a moment,” you said before grabbing your phone and rushing out the living room and into the bathroom.
“A horrible friend you say? Are we really going to go down that path?” you laughed. “You fucking hypocrite. You have zero—ZERO—rights to call me a bad friend when you’re the epitome of one. These four years I’ve put up with your annoying ass everyday. You think I don’t know that you and him have been talking shit behind my back for the last two years?”
Silence on the other end.
“Now I don’t give a shit if you’re listening or not, since you never do, but have you ever stop and wonder why the original friend group fell apart? Ever wonder why everyone else hates your guts? Find the common denominator. Ever since you and that bitch isolated Collei this entire dynamic was wrecked. You two are really the duo in the trio, the match made in hell. For fucks sake, you two are so fucking self-absorbed that you pushed everyone—and I mean everyone—who ever gave two shits about you. Not to mention,” you paused and took a deep breath.
“Not the mention how you two would clown on everyone else’s appearance when the two of you look like that. I don’t usually talk about the way people look but you two really gotta take a good look in the mirror before talking about others. You hide behind a face full of makeup and a shitty facade of a good studious girl, and he uses his narcissistic personality to defend himself. You two are the lowest of the low.”
“Wait—”
“No shut the fuck up and listen. I am sick, SICK, and tired of letting you two walk all over me. You made it look like I was always playing victim with my mental health—and you know what? You’d never understand because you grew up privileged enough that you never had to worry about the things I had to worry about. I don’t understand why you’d be so upset about missing a day of class when you quite literally skip every other day of the week. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, gone, you show up for Thursday and disappear Friday. I can’t believe I put up with your ass for four years—four fucking years and hundreds—if not thousands—of mora gone and wasted.”
“Fuck you both.”
Your heart was racing with adrenaline as you hung up on her. It was quite the surprise that you didn’t stutter, not a single word while yelling at her. You sighed and returned to Alhaitham’s side, leaning your body against torso. He wrapped an arm around you and gently squeezed you.
“Feeling better?” he asked, voice soft.
“Yeah,” your voice cracked. It felt amazing lifting the weight off your chest, yet it had also left a hallow feeling inside your chest. Tears began to well up in your eyes. “I don’t know, I’m sorry I’m crying again.”
“Baby, it’s okay. You did it, you got rid of them,” Alhaitham whispered, pulling you closer. “I’m really proud of you.”
You couldn’t contain it any longer, tears streaming down your cheeks as you quietly sobbed. Four years wasted just like that, it hurts. Erupted over a tiny mistake you made.
“I know… I know…”
Alhaitham held you as you let your emotions run free, running his fingers through your hair as your cries turned into sniffles, and eventually into deep, rhythmic breaths. He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
He was really really proud of you for finally standing up for yourself. Watching them pick and prods at you hurts him, even when it wasn’t directly affecting him. Alhaitham couldn’t bear to see the hurt on your face very time you’d interact with them.
And now, they’re gone. For good.
✩ ·┆ masterlist
notes—
— this was a watered down version of how I got rid of four year toxic friendship with two of the people who I once loved and cared for. Good riddance. I didn’t yell at them through the phone, though i really should’ve, but I did send them a 800 word text, and sobbed writing that. Thank goodness for my boyfriend and my close friend for getting me through that. The last two months were ROUGH.
cw: angst, hurt/no comfort, forbidden love, slight religious trauma i think, homophobia, wlw, NOT proofread
The church was easily the biggest building in town, being able to accommodate well over 200 people at once. And despite growing up in a small community, there was still a large number of residents who could easily fill every space available. Though on most days, half the seats would be empty.
Weddings are, if not, the biggest event that the church could host. You’ve been to a fair share of weddings growing up. Every time it was the same process. The bride would walk down the aisle with their father and the groom would be by the altar, usually crying. Then the priest would bind the couples together and recite a prayer. Afterwards, the newly-wedded would kiss and the crowd would start clapping and tears would be shed.
“Someday that’ll be you,” Mom said.
It was subtly hinted at, that same-sex marriage wasn’t allowed. When you became of age, your parents sat you down and told you straight-up, dating—or worse, marrying, the same gender as you was a sin. Something that God couldn’t forgive. They stressed that it would bring shame to not only the family’s name, but to them as well. You’d listen and nod, soaking in your parent’s words.
And for years on, you followed their beliefs. You fell in love with a blond hair boy, and dated for a while before breaking up with him. He was the only boy you’ve ever dated. “He just wasn’t the right one,” Dad reassured you.
It wasn’t until one Sunday afternoon, during mass, that you caught sight of a newcomer. Having new residents move in wasn’t at all uncommon, but something about her immediately piqued your interest.
Her blue hair was cut short at an angle, just barely below her chin. Her eyes were the prettiest shade of blue, glittering impishly. When she smiled, you noticed, her canine teeths would just peek out ever so slightly. She was gorgeous. The prettiest girl you’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Hey.”
She’s suddenly in front of you—shit, were you staring too hard? You opened your mouth to speak, but your parents got to it before you could. “You must be the neighbor’s daughter!” your mom exclaimed.
The blue hair girl smiled and nodded. “Yes, that’s me. Call me Yelan,” she said.
Yelan. You have never heard of this name before. It’s cute.
Your Mom’s smiled grew bigger. She grabbed Yelan’s hand and introduced everyone before popping the question. “Please ask your parents if you guys would like to join us for dinner tonight. It’d be lovely to meet our new neighbors.”
For a moment Yelan looked uncomfortable with the sudden physical touch, but she didn’t say anything. Instead she nodded. “I will, thank you for the invitation, Miss. It is a pleasure to meet you all.” She winked at you.
She winked at you? Were you seeing things? You blinked and she was gone, already settling back in her seats, next to her parents.
When it was all over, your parents rushed home and began preparations to welcome the new guests. Mom had told you to stay in your room and clean it up, which you didn’t really get the point of since 1) it was clean, and 2) who’s coming into your room? Hours passed by with the occasion clatters of pots and pans downstairs, and you laid in your bed, staring up at the ceiling.
By the time you counted to 7,448, the familiar voices of your neighbors came within earshot. They’re here. She’s here.
You had just gotten up from the comforts of your bed to change into a more appropriate wear when you heard your mother calling out for you. Frantically brushing through the tangled mess of your hair, you shouted back that you’ll be down in one moment.
By the time you ran down the stairs to group up, everyone had already taken a seat. Your mother quickly ushered you over, and you took a seat across from Yelan. She flashed you a small smile, and you smiled back, heart racing. Was it from seeing her, or was it because you were running down the stairs? It could be a little bit of both.
“Now that we’re all here…” your father began.
You weren’t listening to whatever your father was saying, instead keeping your gaze on her. Yelan was absolutely breathtaking. Prettier than everything else you’ve ever came across in all the years of your life. Her sparkling eyes shone with confidence and pride, the colors within mimicking the shimmers of the great sea. Your father tapped his spoon against the side of his wine glass and cleared his throat, signaling to everyone that everyone can begin dining.
“Amen,” he said.
As you ate, you couldn’t help but wonder if what you were thinking was appropriate. It was all pure admiration for someone, you reasoned. After all, you’ve never met anyone remotely similar to Yelan. You took a sip of water to wash down everything. Her eyes met yours when you look over to steal another glance, and you nearly choke on the water.
Your mother gave you a look of concern. “Are you okay honey?”
“Yeah,” you managed out. “I’m finished with dinner.”
You grabbed your cleared out dishes and hurried to the kitchen, trying to get out as fast as you can. Unbeknownst to you, Yelan was right behind you. So it was quite the surprise—and scare—when you turned around and nearly bumped into her.
“Yelan!” you gasped. “Goodness, you scared me.”
She grinned. “Sorry about that.”
Your breath hitched, and you hastily looked away. “It’s fine.”
It was not fine.
…
Nothing was fine.
Girls cannot like girls. It was going against God’s wishes if you even thought about such temptation.
But you really like Yelan. You like her far more than just a friend.
You can’t. It’s wrong, wrong—wrong. What would your mother think? How would your father react? They’ll shun you. Everybody. They’ll label you as nothing but an outcast who went against God’s wishes.
Yelan was wonderful. It was for the first time in your life that you felt such strong attraction to someone. You love her for all the right reasons, but for all the wrong reasons, you cannot. You mustn’t.
Your parents have taken so much from you—it can’t hurt to be selfish for once. Right?
The world was cruel.
Yet it felt like paradise when she leaned in slowly, so slowly you’d think time stopped just for this moment, and pressed her lips to yours. It was gentle. Yelan was always gentle with you.
It was wrong. You shouldn’t be kissing a girl. But it felt right, it felt so right—so good.
And when she broke away, you grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled her back. You wanted more. It was a selfish act, but she didn’t seem to mind. You could feel her smile into the kiss.
It burned. You could feel your blood on fire, heart scorched and sinned. It all felt painfully wonderful. Doubt, hatred, anger—seared through your mind. The horrible feeling of wrong pushed down on your chest. It was heavy.
Bliss and ignorance dare cross paths. Yelan pressed a firm hand on your shoulder. And you let yourself slip away.
This is your moment. You must live it.
…
“They know.”
The two words that made you stiffen up. You felt your heart jump. “What?”
Yelan couldn’t look at you. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Our parents,” she whispered, choking on her words. “They know.”
Oh.
Oh no.
They’re going to be mad. Really mad. You didn’t want to go home. You knew what awaited you behind the closed doors. You were scared. They’ve caught you doing the very thing they’ve warned you against for your entire life. Yelan squeezed your hand. She could feel your anxiousness.
Even though she tried to hide it, you could tell that she was scared too. What if this was the end?
Yelan pulled you in and kissed the top of your head.
The night was cold, colder now that the winds have begun to pick up. Strands of your hair slipped loose and danced with the breeze. You sucked in a deep breath. They can’t take this from you.
They can’t.
“Yelan,” you whispered, so quietly the wind could’ve swooped in and whisk your voice away.
“Yes?”
“What’s going to happen to us?”
Silence hung in the air. Tight, sickening, crushing silence. You felt sick.
“…I don’t know.”
You chewed at your bottom lip. Anxiety clouded your mind, and all you could think was the consequences that followed. You’ve been waiting for someone like Yelan for your entire life, and to have everything taken away in such a short moment… you’d rather die.
Three months. That can’t be the amount of time the two of you have spent together. It can’t be the last time. You were going to walk down the aisle and meet her by the altar. You were supposed to have your hands bounded to one another while reciting your vows.
Why can’t they understand? Mom and Dad always wanted to make sure you were happy, no matter what. So why is everyone suddenly so against it when you’ve found the very thing you’ve been craving for for so long?
Was it because you were born a girl?
You closed your eyes, and the background noise faded into nothing but a ringing sound resonating in your ears. When you reopened them, all you could see was the sight of Yelan yelling at her parents. The world was ringing.
There was something gripping to your arm. The touch felt somehow both familiar and distant. You tear your eyes away from Yelan and turn to face your Father. There was an intense look in his eyes. A sickening fury flickered within, a fire so fierce that you felt your breath drop.
Where is Yelan?
You looked back at Yelan, but she wasn’t there. Nobody was there. The house where Yelan used to reside in was now vacant. It looked like it’d been vacant for a while now. That wasn’t right.
Father dragged you into the house and pushed you onto the couch. Words came spilling from his mouth, but you heard nothing. Not a single word.
The world kept ringing.
Mother sat next to Father. She was crying, ugly tears streaming down her face.
You’ve lost her.
The ringing stopped.
“It’s over,” Father said.
“May God lead you down the right path.”
✩ ·┆ masterlist
notes—
sorry this isn’t as sad as it was suppose to be, im just incredibly stressed about college decisions atm 😕
You cried for days on end. No matter how hard you tried to stop the tears from flowing, it was all to no avail. It wasn’t easy getting over this breakup, no, this situation was completely different than what you had expected. Nothing like how the media has portrayed it. But then again, you never saw this coming.
The thought of Scaramouche telling someone else that he loves them made your heart hurt even more. You still don’t understand why he chose to go down that path. Everything you had with him was perfect. Sure, you’ve had your fair share of arguments, but they’re nothing more than maintenance for your relationship. And definitely not enough of an excuse to cheat.
Xiao has been by your side ever since you called to asked to stay for a few days. On the nights where your emotions become far too overwhelming and you break down again, he was there next to you, consoling you until you fall asleep. If it wasn’t for Xiao’s unrelenting support, you’d be completely alone and hopeless—and most likely homeless as well.
You grabbed another tissue, wiped your nose, and tossed it into the nearby trash bin. It was on the verge of overflowing. You took mental note of it to empty it out later, when you feel better. If you feel better.
You groaned, rubbing at your right temple. There was another headache coming. It was nearly two in the morning, inching closer to three, yet you still couldn’t sleep. You sat up from your bed. There was a soft yellow light spilling in from under the crack of the door. Xiao was still up.
Two soft knocks on the door followed by a muffled “hey” brought you back to your senses. The door creaked open slowly, and Xiao poked his head in. “Feeling any better?” he asked. “I brought some soup.”
You gave Xiao a weak smile. “Still feeling as terrible as ever, but I’m glad I have you here, Xiao. It’s nice to have company.”
He pushed the door further open and stepped in, carrying a tray of food. “I made miso. It’ll help you with your throat,” he said softly, setting the food down on the night table.
“Thank you Xiao,” you said.
“You should try and sleep soon,” he muttered, taking a seat on the bed. “Staying up so late very night isn’t healthy.”
You quietly sighed. The salty aroma of the miso soup was making you hungry. “I know,” you replied, taking the small bowl of soup from the stand. “It’s just… strange.”
He nodded, amber eyes sharp, yet soft, as he watched you take a sip from the bowl. “Do you want me to stay the night with you?” It won’t be the first time he’d done it, and certainly, he hoped, won’t be the last.
You down the last bits of your food and set the bowl back down. The salty flavor lingered on your tongue. “…will you?” you asked, meeting his eyes. The amber specks in his eyes glowed.
“Of course.”
Xiao’s POV:
He had pined for you for four years, closing in on five years now. The year he spent knowing you became two years of unspoken love, a sort of chemistry that you never picked up on. On the night of the fourth year, Xiao had finally gathered the courage to confess.
It was quiet. It always was just before the firework show started. Crowds of people dispersed evenly on the grassy hill, the faint glow of a firefly flashing every so often. Somewhere among the thick shrubbery, crickets chirped in quiet rhythms. Xiao trudged through the forest’s path and pushed a loose branch away, finally stepping into the clearing. He wondered if you were there already, set up for the watch party.
His heart began to race when he saw you. The thought of him finally confessing made him nervous—far too nervous for his own good. Xiao couldn’t focus when all he could hear was his own heartbeat drumming loudly against his thoughts. The small bouquet of flowers quivered. An assortment of your favorite flowers—sunflower being the center piece. The light in his life, bright and beautiful. You reminded him of a field of sunflowers.
No, there was no way he could back down now. He had to tell you.
Tonight.
“Hey—” Xiao began.
“Oh I need to tell you something!” You exclaimed. “Wait no, you go.”
Xiao shook his head. “No, you go first.”
There was a whistle, a shrill scream of a firework being released as it shot up into the air.
You beamed up at him happily. “I got a boyfriend!”
The firework exploded with a deafening boom into a rainbow of color, tiny gold sparks fizzing off to the side as it slowly died down. He felt his heart drop.
Oh. He was too late.
“So, what is it that you want to say?”
“…I forgot.”
But even despite the fact that you were in love with someone else, someone that wasn’t him, Xiao still chose to stay by your side. He didn’t want to throw away years and years of friendship over some guy.
Although he constantly wished that it was him there next to you, holding your hands, instead of your boyfriend. He didn’t understand what you saw in Scaramouche. But if that’s who you love, then he’ll accept it as it is.
…
The color yellow was something you never thought you could look at the same way again. The memories that were carved into them hurts. Hurts far more than you’d like to admit. You want to forget. Forget everything that ever happened. The good and the bad, everything.
But no matter what, you just couldn’t hate the color yellow entirely. Xiao seemed to make you like the color more and more. Xiao, the green hair boy with his yellow eyes. Eyes that watched over you the nights you fell into a restless slumber. It was him who had supported you throughout this time. And not just this tough time. There were countless situations where it was the same dynamic.
It made you realize that Xiao was there more than your ex ever was. Xiao showed a level of respect and love that was nothing compared to what Scaramouche had shown you.
The clock ticked on slowly, and still you lie there, wide awake. Xiao was fast asleep next to you, his arm lazily wrapped around your waist. You were so close to him, so close that you were able to feel the rhythm of his heart drumming along steadily.
He was so gentle with you, and it only made your heart break even more. Has Xiao always loved you? Even when you had started dating someone else? The once dark night sky began to pave way for the sun to rise, bits of lights slowly spilling in the room.
You shifted your body to face his sleeping form, tired eyes scanning over every tiny feature. Subconsciously, your fingers traced over his cheek gently. It’s only been two weeks since your breakup, was it acceptable to fall in love again? Were you moving too fast?
Xiao groaned and opened his eyes. He seemed to be unaware of what was going on. You quickly pulled your hand away, scared. He blinked and took notice of you. Without saying a word, he tightened his grip on you and pulled you closer, pressing you up against his body.
You tensed, then relaxed, and closed your eyes.
Yellow seemed to follow you everywhere you go, but maybe just this one time, you’ll allow that.
✩ ·┆ masterlist
notes—
— angst yelan fic next, maybe a wholesome fic if i’m feeling up to it
“Let’s live together when we get married! Oh oh, and we can get cat too,” you exclaimed. “Or a dog, if you prefer.”
“No kids?” a smile tugged at the corner of his lips at your bubbling excitement.
Your nose scrunched up at the mere thought of having children. “No, no kids,” you said, shaking your head.
Scaramouche laughed, the corner of his eyes crinkling up as he looked at you, eyes filled with just pure adoration and love for you.
“Our bedroom can be painted.. hmm..”
“What about yellow?” Scaramouche suggested. “It’s is your favorite color after all.”
You clapped your hands together, eyes lighting up with excitement. “Ooh yes! Great idea. Let’s go look at furnitures, please?”
“I still think you’re thinking too far ahead,” he mumbled, yet nevertheless, he took your hand and guided you out the living room.
“It’s never too late to start planning,” you said, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his lips.
…
“Mmm, no. Too… blue.”
“How about this one?” the sales lady gestured to a simple pastel couch placed upon a soft plush carpet. “This one just came in, part of out newest collection of furniture.”
You looked at Scaramouche, who had an unpleasant expression on his face. He didn’t seem to be a fan of the colors—nor the shape of the furniture itself. You turned back to the sales assistant and gently shook your head.
She looked slightly disappointed at your rejection, but she quickly led you to another set of kitchen setups, all the while explaining the benefits provided and how nice it looks. You ran a finger over the waxed surface of the wooden dining table. A cloth of yellow and white checkered pattern lay over the center of the table, a vase of yellow daffodils sitting atop of it.
Yellow.
For as long as you can remember, it’d always been your favorite color. You’ve taken quite the liking to sunflowers recently, and coincidentally enough, they were a beautiful shade of yellow too. Scaramouche knew—he somehow always knew—and made sure to surprise you with bouquets of fresh flowers every once in a while, the giant sunflower being the centerpiece.
Scaramouche knew you, inside and out. The good and the bad. He’s seen through with you through your worst and your best. He knows exactly how to cheer you up when you’re feeling down, via a long cuddle session; how you like your coffee, always black with a splash of vanilla creamer; the people you love and hate; that you adore the color yellow.
Never was there a day where Scaramouche would hear himself say that yellow was lovely color. For some odd reason, ever since he was a young child, he’d always hated yellow. But after meeting you, it’s as if yellow had been completely painted in a new light. Everything yellow he saw, he saw you in it. Splashed across the sunset, blooming in a field under the stars—you. You were always there.
“Do you like it?” Scaramouche asked.
You met his eyes and smiled. “Yeah.”
…
“Yeah, its… true.”
You said nothing.
Scaramouche shifted uncomfortably in his seat at your silence. You kept your eyes trained on the nearly dead daffodil leaning helplessly against its ceramic cage. The petals had begun falling off, you noticed. When had that happened? Just a couple days ago everything was fine. It was healthy and thriving. Happy.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Did he think that such a measly apology was enough to compensate for your broken heart? Nothing Scaramouche did or say could soothe the burning ache that hollowed you from the inside-out. He’d been playing with your emotions for nearly two weeks now. Had it not been Scaramouche slipping up, you would’ve never caught on that he was being intimate with someone else that wasn’t you.
Tears brimmed, the water tension so close to falling. You blinked, and it broke, tears trailing down your cheeks. Does he feel anything seeing you cry? Does he regret his actions? Will he hate himself for what he’s done to you? You gritted your teeth. Even if he begged for you to stay, you won’t waver. It’s his loss.
You sniffled and wiped away your tears. It’s useless. Crying won’t reverse what’s been done. “Whatever,” you muttered, pushing away from the dining table. Your heart aches, but you pushed the pain aside and slowly collected yourself.
The place that you’d once shared with Scaramouche—a place that you once dared called home, was now nothing more than a painful reminder of what once was yours. A place where you’d spent creating countless day and nights painting up a paradise where you’d raise your children with your husband. Everything you’ve done was futile. It’s over.
It was bitter. The process of packing your belongings as Scaramouche remained at the dining table was cruel. Everything you wanted to take only serves as nothing more than a taunt to your now dead relationship. Everything you ever loved you shared with him, and now, you don’t think you’d ever be able to look at them in the same light anymore. Your hands hovered over a pot of crocheted sunflowers sitting above the fireplace. Crestfallen, youfelt your heart twist once more.
In the end, your tiny backpack was only filled with everyday essentials. You swallowed back a cry and dialed a friend as you prepared to leave this god forsaken place.
“Hey Xiao,” your voice was quivering.
Scaramouche stiffened up at the mention of your friend’s name. You didn’t see it however, for your back was turned to him. He wanted to stop you from leaving, to stop you from stepping out the door. But he refrained from doing so. He chewed anxiously at his bottom lips. Don’t leave. Please. He wanted to say. I’m sorry.
Yet he did nothing, only squeezing his eyes shut, listening to the sound of the door slamming shut. When it was finally just him alone in the apartment, he buried his face in the palm of his hands and cried.
The yellow curtains fluttered gently, and the last petal of the daffodil fell.
✩ ·┆ masterlist┆ >> part 2 <<
notes—
— quick life update: haven’t played genshin in a year now, and it’s college application season so i’m going to start stressing; sorry if i disappear again it will keep happening, unfortunately
cw: fluff, lots of fluff, slow burn-ish, fluff, reader gets harassed, cursing, oh did i mention fluff? — [long fic ahead]
wc: 7.3k
⤷ ❝ ft song— 《小城夏天》 ❞
“rainfall, a storming encounter— spring.”
"Do you remember the night we first met? Or well, at least when I first met you?" you asked, snuggling deeper into the warmth your blanket, and your partner, provided.
Xiao smiled and pulled you closer. "I could never forget.”
>>—<<
The night was still young, light rain pattering against the windows. It was hard to tell if the sun was still up or not, for the dark clouds covered everything. It was only you left, still clearing out the store, handling the remaining few customers here and there.
“Your hot americano, sir,” you said, handing the customer their ordered drink. “Would you like a bag with it?”
“No, I would like your number with it though. Say, you’re single, aren’t you?”
“Wh— huh?”
“Oh, come on, a charming fellow like you is still single, am I right?"
You really weren’t sure how to respond to his advancements, so you stood there, dumbfounded. “Um—”
“Why don’t you leave her the fuck alone?” the voice of a random customer cut you off.
You looked over to the whoever it was helping you deal with this man. ‘Oh shit, he’s really pretty,’ was your first thought upon sight.
The customer glared at the interrupter. “Look, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but I ain’t going to listen to whatever the hell you say.”
“Then I’m sure you’ll have a fun time talking to the police,” pretty boy said, staring down at the customer. He flashed the screen of his phone, the number 9-1-1 on dial.
“You—” he stopped himself, took a deep breath, and turned his attention from pretty boy over to you. “Listen here, you bitch. Shits would’ve been so much easier if you just gave me your fucking number, yeah?”
You flinched. “I’m sorry?”
“Sorry doesn’t fucking do shit,” he yelled, lifting up his cup of coffee.
Your eyes widened. “Don’t—”
Too late.
You nearly screamed when you felt the burning hot coffee sizzle against your skin. The now empty cup rolled to the side. You hastily wipe at your face, crimson from where the coffee had made contact.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” pretty boy got up from where he was seated. The man turned to look at him.
You quickly took this opening to disappeared into the back kitchen, searching for a cold towelette to ease the burning pain. You could’ve sworn you had ascended to heaven there and then when you pressed the cool towel onto your face.
‘That feels so much better…’
A loud crash pulled your spirit back down. Keeping the towel pressed against your cheek, you made your way back to the front counter— just in time to see the customer that had harassed you flee the scene. Pretty boy stood there, arms crossed, rolling his eyes as the glass door swings shut.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” he asked the moment his eyes laid upon you.
“There’s no need,” you smiled at him. “Thanks for helping me, by the way.”
“It’s… nothing,” he adverted his gaze from you.
You finally got a good look at him. His facial features were mostly obscured by a black mask he wore, but his striking amber eyes was a prominent detail, you noticed. There was also a greenish tint to the edges of his hair and along his bangs. Peeking out from under his turtleneck, you saw a trace of some sort kind tattoo. ‘That’s hot,’ you immediately thought to yourself.
You must’ve been staring for too long, for his voice suddenly broke off your thoughts. “Can you please stop staring…” he sounded and looked flustered. Even with the mask on, you could faintly see the red of his cheeks.
“Ah, sorry…” you were quick to reply, embarrassment crawling in showing as the pink that lightly dusted your face.
The atmosphere of the cafe suddenly felt very awkward, with neither side willing to talk. You cleared your throat, hoping to break the silence. Perhaps you could treat him to a free coffee for helping you rid of that costumer. You put on a smile. Your cash register blinked red.
“Would you like a—” you glanced down at the register for just the slightest moment, then look back up, only to find the pretty boy gone. “Free coffee…” you finished.
‘Ah.’
“starfall, the sparkle in your eyes— summer”
“Oh FUCK.”
You scrambled about, hurriedly changing from the comforts of your pajamas to whatever you’d dug out from your closet.
“Why didn’t my fucking alarm go off?!”
“What the fuck?” the groggy voice of Aether mumbled.
Panic was racing though your body, you glanced at the clock as you stuffed your boots on.
8:57am
You have three minutes to spare. 180 seconds to make it from your dorm to your campus, from your campus to your lecture hall. Under most normal circumstances, you would’ve just skipped the exam altogether, but your professor just had to be a bitch and make the exam a major part of your grade— and if you wish to pass his class, you must take it.
Exam starts the moment the clock ticks 9:00, and nobody is allowed in anymore after— as your professor had specifically told the class.
“Sorry Aether!”
Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you slammed the door shut and booked it.
8:58am
Two minutes was all you had left. You didn’t waste your entire high school life practicing in the track team just not make be able to make a 300-yard dash in two minutes. You can— no, you will. You will make it.
Your peripheral vision of the environment blurred together as the wind began to catch up, heart racing with every stride you take.
In your haze of sheer panic, you had failed to notice the boy you were gunning towards scrambling to move out of your way. You yelped when you absolutely bodied them. He managed to steady himself, but you on the other hand, found yourself sprawled on the concrete.
“Ow…” you muttered, rubbing your lower back regions. “I’m so sorry you see— oh it’s you!”
Pretty boy looked bewildered; his eyes trained on your figure sitting on the ground. He reached out a hand to help you up, but there was no need. You weren’t sitting for very long, for a quick glance at your watch had you up instantly.
“I am going to be late. Sorry about that,” you called out.
He stood there. “You dropped something…” he slowly said.
But you were long gone, leaving nothing but a slight breeze that tickled his cheek.
>>—<<
Just a little under a minute remaining. Your lungs felt like they were on fire. The sight of your class building was just in sight. Just a little bit more, you thought.
15…
You pulled out your student ID and swiped through the scanner, barley giving the poor machine time to unlock the door before you rammed your way through it.
11…
Scrambling up the stairs like a madman, you could care less about the student that screamed at the sight of you— going on all fours crawling up the stairs at an inhuman speed.
4…
You’ve finally made it to the third floor; your legs were uncontrollably shaking by then. The final stretch, and with the time quickly ticking away, you ran as if your life was on the line.
1…
The door to the lecture hall opened with a loud bang, echoing throughout the quiet room. Every head was turned to stare at you, even your professor stopped midway in handing out tests to look at you.
“I’m not late,” you panted, face flushed red.
You made it with barley a second to spare. The clock struck nine.
>>—<<
“Ugh, I for sure failed that exam…” Lumine grumbled, stuffing her reference papers back into her backpack. “You done organizing yet?”
“One moment…” you replied, zipping up your bag. “…okay, let’s go.”
Lumine hooked her arm around yours as the two of you exited the lecture hall. “You know when you slammed that door open, everyone jumped. I think the prof got scared too.”
“Don’t remind me. I nearly broke my back trying to get here on time… hey speaking of which. Why didn’t you wake me up?” you said.
“I tried; you were dead asleep… I accidentally woke Aether and Tao up trying to get you awake,” Lumine replied.
“Oh— ow, my back,” you muttered. The scene where you rammed into the pretty boy flashed in your mind. You suddenly frowned. “Wait a moment.”
You stopped in the middle of the hallway, realization catching up to you. “Wait a damn moment.”
“What is up with you today? Let’s go before they trample us over,” Lumine said, tugging you along as another current of students flooded your way. She led you out the school building. You winced and squeezed your eyes shut as the unbearably bright sunlight caught you off guard.
Now it was Lumine’s turn to pull you to a halt. You felt the hand grip around your arm tighten. “Ow,” you complained.
“Oh sorry— but look at that guy over there!” Lumine exclaimed, slightly gesturing over to someone.
You squinted, trying to see through the blazing glory of the sun. “Where?” you asked. “I literally can’t see, it’s so bright.”
“Over there,” Lumine hissed. “Oh, crap I think he saw us, let’s go let’s go.”
Lumine quickly began to usher you away, and you blindly followed suit. You felt her panic when she suddenly began dragging you as she sped walked away.
“Hey, wait—” a voice called out from behind.
Lumine stopped, frozen over. You turned around, using one hand to mask away the sun. “It’s you again!” you exclaimed.
“It’s me.”
“You two know each other?” Lumine quipped, turning over to look at you. Her eyes narrowed. “You aren’t stalking my friend here, right?”
“Lumine, relax. Remember what happened at work? He was the guy I was telling you about. Not a stalker.”
“Ohh— him?!”
“Why are you so shocked?”
“Need to have a word with you,” Lumine whispered, grabbing ahold of your sleeve. “Excuse us.”
She brought you over to a more secluded area— under one of the many oak trees and began talking in a hushed voice.
“Do you even have a clue as to who he is?” She lightly jabbed at your chest.
“No?” you replied. “All I know is that he’s the regular that appears and orders the same thing every day.”
“That’s Xiao?! Like the Xiao??”
“Oh, that super-hot guy that everyone loves? … THAT’S HIM?!” jaw dropped, you stared at Lumine in utter disbelief.
“Yes!” she hissed.
“Now I see why everyone was staring at him… you too.”
“How did I not know? No, how did you not know?! Your so-called protector is Xiao…”
You ran your fingers through your hair. “I didn’t think it was necessary, besides, you never asked.”
“Fuck you, let’s go back,” she said, sweetly smiling at you. You suddenly had a bad feeling. The iron grip she had on your arm slightly terrified you. Lumine led you back to where Xiao stood.
“Hi, sorry for keeping you waiting,” you said, sending Lumine a glare. She pinched you in response.
“It’s fine,” he said. “You dropped his, by the way, when you uh, bumped into me.”
“Ah.”
Bumped was too nice of a word to replace what had really happened. You laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, sorry about that, you aren’t hurt, are you?”
He shook his head. “Here,” he said, handing you your keys.
“Oh, so that’s where my keys went,” you exclaim, taking your item back. “I was wondering where it went. Thank you!” You beamed at him.
He turned his head away. It went silent again.
Lumine took one look at the sudden mood change, then gave you a sly smile, and slipped away from the scene before you could even latch on to her. You watched as she ran away, her figure gradually merging in with the other students.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked once Lumine was out of sight.
“What?”
“Your cheek, where the drink burned you. Does it still hurt?”
“No,” you said. “Thank you, again.”
“It’s nothing.”
“And uh, last time you left before I could ask you,” you said. “I would like to treat you to a cup of coffee as my thanks.”
“There’s really no need.”
“I insist. Are you free this Saturday?” you asked. “I’m [name], by the way.”
“Xiao,” he replied. “I’m free anytime.”
“Wonderful! I’ll see you this Saturday at Angels Hall then,” you said.
You hadn’t given Xiao much of a chance to speak before you left, giving him a small wave as you disappeared under the bright sunlight to look for Lumine. If you had stayed a little longer and observed a little closer, maybe you would’ve seen the furious blush that covered his cheeks that he so desperately tried to hide.
“Ooh-la-la, my goodness Xiao,” a cheeky voice came trailing up behind him. “Who’s the lucky one?”
Xiao glared at the newcomer. “Nobody, Venti.”
The short boy in green placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt. “Oh Xiao, you won’t even tell me? That’s fine then, I’ll get Heizou to do it for me.” His voice had a slight tease to it.
“Shut it…”
The week passed by in a blink of an eye, and Saturday came faster than Xiao liked. You had told him the details when you— coincidentally, bumped into him while running some errands.
2:00pm, you had told him.
The clock was striking close to 1:45 and he was not ready to have a one-on-one conversation with you.
Xiao paced around his dorm anxiously, muttering incoherent nonsense to himself. His dorm mates looked at him curiously, but no word was said between them. Venti sat in one corner of the room, silently giggling to himself. He seemed to be the only one amused at Xiao’s demise.
“What’s got you so stressed out, Xiao?” one of his dorm mates asked. His green eyes glinted with interest.
“Nothing…” Xiao muttered.
“Doesn’t look like nothing to me. Are you meeting her?”
Xiao froze. “How do you know? Did Venti tell you?”
“Ah, so you ARE meeting up with her.”
>>—<<
“You did WHAT NOW?!”
Aether winced at Hutao’s sudden outburst. “Tao, volume please.”
“Did she actually do it? You saw her ask him?” Hutao gripped tightly onto Lumine’s shoulders, gently shaking her. Her bright red eyes widened.
“I don’t know,” Lumine sheepishly admitted. “I ran away so they could have some time alone, you know?”
Hutao looked miserable, the way her bangs drooped down and covered her face. She dramatically sighed and spun herself onto her bed, the mattress squeaking as she did so.
You got up from where you sat and began rummaging through your tiny closet for a bag suitable for today's meeting. You couldn’t find one to your liking, so you began searching through Lumine’s closet. “Hey Lum, mind if I borrow your bag for the day? It’s the black messenger one.”
“Sure, just don’t get it dirtied,” Lumine replied nonchalantly. She crumpled up a piece of scrap paper and threw it at Aether. It landed directly on his forehead with a tiny bonk.
“Lumine!” he whined, rubbing at where the ball had hit him.
You quickly slipped on a pair of boots and opened the door. “I’ll take my leave now.”
“Have fun on your date!” Hutao cheered enthusiastically, her voice muffled. It seemed her glum mood had just dispelled.
“It’s not a date,” you groaned, exasperated.
“Make sure to tell us EVERY single little detail when you get back,” Lumine said, her eyes boring onto yours. You shivered.
“Bye [name]!” Aether waved at you, stopped short when another paper ball hit him. “Lumine! Stop throwing those at me, you’re cleaning them up.”
“Bye everyone,” you said. “Be back in an hour or so.”
>>—<<
Xiao was incredibly nervous. He really should’ve said no to your offer. But… he squeezed his eyes a shut and groaned. He couldn’t bear seeing the disappointment washing over that sparkle of joy in your eyes.
Curse his feelings. To hell with them.
“Xiao!”
Your eager voice snapped his out of his thoughts. He looked up at you, and his heart began to beat a little faster.
It’s just a friendly meetup, not a date.
“Hey.”
“I didn’t keep you waiting for too long, did I?” you asked.
Xiao shook his head. “I just got here.”
“Great, let’s go in, shall we?” you said.
He nodded.
The door to the cafe opened with a jingle, and the ambiance of the environment allured you in further. Xiao followed closely behind you, his eyes darting around nervously.
A peculiar figure caught his eye, and he wanted to die right there and then at the sight.
Venti pushed his sunglasses up further and gave Xiao a shit eating grin. Seated around him was his dorm mates, everyone was there, watching him. Heizou gave him a wink, as if to say, ‘good luck’.
How they managed to get there before Xiao is beyond him.
“You fuckers…” Xiao mumbled under his breath.
You ushered him into a seat and handed him the menu.
“Order whatever,” you told him. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
When Xiao had made sure you were gone, he set the menu down and got up, making his way over to his friend group sitting in the corner.
“What the fuck are you guys doing here?” Xiao hissed.
Venti took off his sunglasses and gave Xiao an innocent look. “We just so happen to be passing by, didn’t know you were coming here too.”
Scaramouche scoffed, rolling his eyes. Heizou jabbed him.
“You know damn well…” Xiao said.
“Well Xiao, you shouldn’t stay for too long. Your date should be back soon,” Venti mused.
Speak of the devil, his sharp hearing picked up the sound of the bathroom door being open— despite the loud chatter of the cafe. He gave Venti a glare before returning to his seat and picking up the menu, acting as if nothing had transpired.
You reappeared, taking a seat across from him. “Chosen what you want yet?”
Xiao skimmed through the menu and quickly picked the one that looked the most appealing. “Yeah, an Angels Blessing, whatever that is.”
You called the waitress over and placed your orders.
“You really didn’t have to,” Xiao said, watching as the waitress left for the kitchen.
His words completely crossed your mind. Caught off guard by your silence, Xiao looked back at you.
Your eyes bore into his, an unreadable expression on your face. Xiao couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from you even if he tried. Something compelled him to keep staring.
Suddenly the noises of the cafe blurred out, fading into nothing but a tiny buzz. It was just you and him, alone, sitting across from each other.
When had you become so pretty?
You smiled at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling up. “Xiao did you know?”
When did the butterflies began appearing?
“Know…” he swallowed the lump in his throat.
When did it happen? Why?
“You have really pretty eyes; they remind me of the stars glittering in the galaxy.”
Maybe that’s what had confirmed his skeptical feelings for you, because at that moment, Xiao felt like he fell in love all over again.
In love with all of you again.
“memoirs, anew remembrance— autumn”
Memories. Taken in the form on pictures, notes, anything.
Xiao could remember the time he first laid eyes on you clear as day.
It was on campus last year autumn, during the annual sports festival, where you were one of the many participants racing for the win. Xiao stood together with his friends, betting on who would come out victorious.
He wasn’t particularly interested in who won or who lost, in fact, Xiao didn’t even want to be here in the festival in the first place. It was only under the solemn promise of free almond tofu that he agreed to go.
“I’m betting on the one in green,” Venti said. “5 dollars he wins.”
“The player in purple,” Kazuha pointed to the billboard listing all the players. “How about you Scaramouche?”
“I don’t fucking know, the black one?” Scaramouche muttered.
“I’m calling the purple one,” Heizou said. “Who are you betting on, Xiao?”
“Uh, the blue one?” Xiao blurted out.
Venti clapped his hands in glee. “Wonderful! May the gods be on my side and let the green player win!”
“Venti that’s not how it works.”
>>—<<
“Nervous?”
“Of course I’m fucking nervous…” you mumbled, fidgeting with your gloves.
The pink hair girl laughed, her green eyes twinkling. “You’ll do just fine. Those months of practice won’t go to waste.”
“I really do hope so…”
“Have some faith in yourself.”
“Thank you, Fei,” you said, feeling the strings of agitation pulling away.
“Best of luck,” Yanfei said, sending you a wink just as the booming voice of the announcer came on.
It was your time to shine— or horribly embarrassed yourself.
>>—<<
“They’re finally starting!” Venti exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Oh there’s the green one!”
Xiao watched closely as each player began taking field. The player he had betted on stood in the far corner. He hadn’t expected himself to be so interested in the game. Perhaps it was because he didn’t want to lose five dollars today.
‘And the players had taken field!’ the announcer shouted.
The crowd cheered.
‘A soon to be fantastic yet suspenseful game tonight, five players competing for the title of king. Only the best out of the best in the field tonight, this game surely will be an interesting one. And now without any further delays…’
Xiao held his breath, his eyes trained on the player in blue.
‘…may the game commence.’
>>—<<
The pressure was killing you. The eyes, the cheers, the lights. Yet none of those stopped you. All those months of ruthless training— not even a single second will be left to waste away.
You dropped into a trance, body moving on autopilot. The voice of your coach commanded your every move.
It was only when the stadium erupted into screams that you broke out from your daze, startled at the sudden outburst.
‘And we have a clear winner!’ the announcer broadcasted, her voice echoing over the crowd’s cries.
Lumine jumped over the railings and ran into to the field, successfully dodging the security trying to grab her. She body slammed you and engulfed you in a tight hug. “YOU WON! YOU DID IT!” Lumine screamed. “Oh my god I’m so proud of you. See I told you you’ll win.”
I won? …
Suddenly you felt weak, head spinning, vision blurring. “I won?” you muttered.
The rest of your friend group came running towards you too, and security didn’t even bother to try and stop the two kids barreling for you. Hutao smashed into you, one hand holding a small bouquet of flower. Aether slowed to a jog and brought out a spray bottle, showering cool water on you.
“Congratulations my dear!” Hutao cheered. “We all fucking told you you’ll win this. Dinner is on me tonight.”
“You did great,” Aether said, handing you a bottle of water.
The crowd of people was still cheering for your victory, and cheered even louder when you held up your hard-earned trophy high in air for everyone to see. You laughed, a tear of happiness rolling down your cheek.
I won.
>>—<<
“Aw damn,” Venti groaned. “I was so sure green would win…”
“Xiao got lucky today,” Heizou laughed, handing Xiao a five-dollar bill. “Twenty dollars and a free dessert.”
“Say, where are we going out tonight?” Kazuha asked, also handing Xiao a five.
“Thanks…” Xiao muttered. He wasn’t even paying attention to the group's conversation. His interest was driven onto somewhere else— someone else.
For some odd reason, Xiao couldn’t stop staring at you.
Enveloped by your friends in a giant bear hug, the trophy glinting under the stadium lights, you stood there, crying and laughing.
Xiao smiled softly to himself.
The second time Xiao saw you was during the week before midterms, and at that time, you looked like a mess.
You were in Angels Hall with your friends, paper upon papers scattered all over the table. The coffee you had ordered was left to the side was half drank, long gone cold.
“I can’t,” you whined. “This is so.”
Lumine sat next to you, head buried in her arms. “I agree.”
“How about we finish this unit then we go, because I don’t think I can’t last any longer either,” Aether said. “Right Tao?”
“It’s been 2 hours, not sure how much longer I can go for,” Hutao mumbled. “I feel like shit.”
You straightened up. “Let’s go back to our dorm. None of us here wants to be here any longer.”
“I second that,” Lumine said, downing the last bits of her drink in one go.
Hutao began organizing all the papers into a neat stack before stuffing it into her bag, regardless of if it wrinkles. The waiter dropped by and handed you the bill with a forced smile.
“Let’s go,” Hutao said, getting up from her seat. Lumine was already by the exit, impatiently tapping her foot.
You set down a twenty-dollar bill and left with the rest of the group, the twinkling of the silver bell indicating your departure.
Xiao couldn’t help but feel disappointed, watching you leave.
Kazuha tapped his arm. “Xiao, are you good? You seem distracted.”
“He’s probably got his mind on someone,” Heizou said.
“Xiao? Liking someone? No way,” Venti gasped.
“Can you all just shut the fuck up and focus?” Scaramouche growled, already fed up. “Especially you, Venti.”
“Aha, sorry…”
The third time Xiao ran into you was at the coffee place you worked at. He had just randomly chosen a cafe to get a breather, a break from his work and from the rain. He had figured that this tiny cafe was the best place to enjoy his time and peace. It was during the evening, when there were just barely any more costumers coming in.
You stood behind the cashier, a bright smile plastered on your face.
“An iced black coffee,” he told you.
It hasn’t even been two minutes after he had paid, and his order was already ready to go.
“…thank you,” Xiao managed out. He quickly turned away and found a seat in the corner of the store, the tip of his ears already tinted red. There was no way he could return that bright grin of yours without turning into a tomato.
The way you smiled at him… the way you looked with your hair tucked behind your ear. In his eyes, you’re the literal embodiment of the ethereal celestial being send from the skies above. He had never felt like this towards someone ever before, this was a first for him. But all the signs made it clear— the way his heart pounds abnormally fast, the way his words get caught up in his throat, the way the butterflies flutter around in his stomach— it was all enough for Xiao to know that he had developed a crush for you.
No. He does not have a crush on you, he just merrily found you attractive. That is all there is to that.
“… single, aren’t you?”
Xiao snapped his head up, thoughts interrupted. He glanced over at the customer who was leaned over the counter, trying to act cool. The way your shoulders were tensed up, the stutters in your words— it was clear you were uncomfortable with his sudden advancements.
“Why don’t you leave her the fuck alone?” he snarled, caught off guard by his harsh tone.
What transpired afterwards was history, but ever since that incident, he has been coming in every day. By then, you had recognized Xiao as a regular in the new cafe you worked at. Every day he would appear exactly at 3:00pm, and order the same thing— a black coffee, and leave minutes before you get off your shift.
You found it endearing, how a mere stranger watched over you so protectively. Although your friends begged to differ.
“Pretty boy?” Lumine snorted. “Oh please, what if he’s going to kidnap you one day?”
“As if,” you retorted. “I trust my guts.”
“crystalline, frosted confessions— winter.”
“Black—”
“— coffee. Got it right here,” you said, holding up the cup of freshly brewed coffee. “As per usual, that’ll be 2.35$. But since you’ve been a regular here for so long, I’m cutting the price down to 1.75$.”
“Thank you,” Xiao handed you two dollars and took the coffee, where then he proceeded to sit in the same spot he had been sitting in for past few weeks.
The store was completely empty expect for Xiao. As expected, you thought. Nobody would want to be out when the weather had predicted an snowstorm. Flurries of snowflakes bend and shaped by the wind covered the outside world in a softened blanket of white.
“It’s snowing pretty hard outside,” you thought out loud, elbow resting against the marble counter. “Are you cold? I could turn the heater up.”
“It’s fine,” Xiao replied. “Why are you still working today anyways? It’s snowing really hard out there.”
“Who’s going to run the store if not me?” you laughed. “The boss offered me a pay raise if I stayed to attend the store today. Obviously, I can’t turn that offer down.”
Xiao gave a hum of acknowledgment. “I’ll drive you back to campus. It’s too dangerous for you to walk out there alone.”
His words caught you by surprise. Never would you have thought Xiao would be offering to drive you back to the dorms.
“How kind of you, thank you Xiao,” you said. “I’ll be closing down in maybe a couple minutes. Then we can go.”
Hail had slowly begun to mix in with the snow. The tiny ice fragments pattered against the window, creating a clicking sound. You began cleaning up— there wasn’t much to be done, but you still liked the store to be spotless before you leave. Setting the dried towel by the sink, you took off your apron and hung it in the back.
Xiao finished up his drink and threw the disposable cup away, making sure to grab napkins to wipe the table clean.
By the time he had cleaned his table, you were ready to leave. Xiao narrowed his eyes.
“Where’s your jacket?” he asked.
“Oh, I forgot mines,” you said, pushing open the door. You shivered at the cold blast of wind. “Left in a hurry this morning... ha-ha.”
Xiao bit down on his lips. “Can’t be helped,” he sighed, walking out the door.
You locked the store and flipped over the OPEN sign to CLOSED. “Let’s go,” you said. Your nose was already turning red.
“Here,” Xiao muttered, draping his jacket over you. “I… don’t want you to get sick.”
You felt your face heat up and your heart race. "I— thank you, Xiao.”
Xiao turned away and began walking towards his car. His heart was pounding mercilessly against his chest as he unlocked the door to his sleek black Toyota. You stood by him, snuggled up in his jacket, and stepped into the car when Xiao opened the door for you.
What a gentleman, you thought to yourself.
The car reverberated to life as Xiao turned the engine on, and with it, the heater was turned on too. A blast of warm air surrounded you, and your body relaxed, taking in the warmth.
You felt yourself slowly dozing off as Xiao drove through the storm. You weren’t even tired, perhaps it was the environment that had lulled you into a dreamlike state.
Time passed by slowly, and when Xiao had parked by your dorm, you were fast asleep. He almost didn’t want to wake you.
“Hey,” he whispered, nudging your shoulder.
“Five more minutes…” you mumbled, shrugging his hand away. “Five…”
He stifled a laugh. “We’ve arrived at your dorm. I think I see Lumine up there.”
You snapped open your eyes and sat up straight. “Where?!”
The laugh he had been keeping in bubbled out. You looked at him, eyes half lidded, confusion written all over your face.
“We’re at your dorm, let’s go, the storms getting worse,” Xiao said, getting out the car. He jogged over to the other side and opened the door before you could. “Careful there, the roads iced up.”
Your movements were sluggish as you got out from the car, grabbing onto Xiao for support. “Sorry,” you mumbled.
You felt Xiao wrap one arm around your waist to support your weight, slowly guiding you through the path and up the stairs to your dormitory. The harsh wind that slapped you in the face was enough of a wakeup call, and you fumbled to fish your keys out your pocket.
Pushing the key into the lock, you turned back to face Xiao— but he was already down the stairs by his car. He caught your eye, and you hastily gave him a wave before disappearing indoors, where the warmth awaited you. “Thank you,” you mouthed, and the door closed behind you.
Xiao stayed outside your dormitory for a little bit, watching the shadows of your friends engulfing you through the sheer curtains that fluttered around. An unmistakable feeling of heat rushed throughout his body, and he smiled to himself, then sneezed.
>>—<<
“Wait, wait, WAIT,” Lumine grabbed your sleeve and pushed you onto your bunk. “You got home awfully fast today, and whose jacket is that?”
Hutao walked out from the bathroom, a towel slung over her shoulders. “I think I’ve seen that jacket somewhere before.”
“Oh, wait isn’t that Xiao’s jacket?” Aether piped in, setting his headset aside and spinning around to face the two of you.
“That’s where I’ve seen it,” Hutao said with a snap of her fingers. “That emo guy that everyone seems to be obsessed with, I’ve seen him walking around campus several times in that same jacket.”
“That emo guy,” Aether repeated. “Isn’t he your cousin?”
“Did something happen between you and Xiao?” Lumine asked, eyes glittering with excitement.
You laughed nervously. “Well yeah, sort of? I mean, he drove me back here…”
Lumine’s eyes went wide open. “Now that’s a first. Oh, girl he definitely likes you.”
“He did it because it was snowing like crazy out there and I didn’t have a jacket with me!”
“Excuses,” Hutao snorted. “I can tell you that Xiao never lets anyone else in his car other than his close friends. I’ve asked him for a ride once and I had to beg for it, EVEN though we were cousins, and I still had to Uber back home.”
Lumine nodded. “Can confirm, I was there to witness it all.”
You shook your head. “There’s no way. Anyways! To celebrate me getting a pay raise, dinners on me tonight!”
“Wooo!” Hutao cheered, throwing on a thick puffer jacket. “Where are we off to?”
>>—<<
“Is he… sick?” Kazuha asked worriedly.
The boys gathered around Xiao’s bed, listening to his coughs and sniffles.
“Leave me be…” Xiao mumbled, pulling his blanket over his head.
“He definitely sounds sick," Heizou commented.
"This is what you get for not wearing a jacket out yesterday... I'd say it's well-deserved." Scaramouche snorted, tossing yet another packet of tissues at Xiao.
"He wasn't wearing a jacket?" Venti echoed, his loud voice traveling from the kitchen into Xiao's room. "Didn't he leave with a jacket though? The green and black one?"
Heizou raised a brow, one hand under his chin. A quizzical look appeared, followed by a know-it-all one. "I think I know where his jacket went," he said, a sly grin dancing on his lips.
"Get the fuck out of my room."
>>—<<
“Tao, whenever you’re able to, can you help me return this jacket to Xiao? I haven’t been able to find him anywhere,” you said, hanging up your bag. Xiao’s black and green jacket hung next to your school bag, a scent of fresh laundry within the fibers.
Hutao popped a piece of gum in her mouth and chewed loudly. “I honestly have no clue where he is. I can help you get in touch with the pests he hangs around though.”
“That’d be lovely,” you replied, shooting Tao a grateful smile.
>>—<<
“Hey Xiao.”
“…”
“Xiaooooo.”
Silence.
Venti sighed in defeat and turned away from Xiao’s room, instead plopping himself down on the couch. Kazuha hummed to himself as he stirred the giant bowl of batter he had in his arms— as far as Venti remembers, he was making chocolate chip cookies. A classic favorite among everyone.
Scaramouche was out of town, called back home for a family emergency. Heizou on the hand, had locked himself in one of the many study cubbies in the campus’s library to study for his upcoming exam. And Xiao— well, he’s passed out sick.
Venti sighed once again, bored out of his mind. He lazily opened up his phone and was greeted by a text from Xiao’s cousin: Hutao.
[5:14pm] Hutao >> u available rn?
>>—<<
“Hey! You must be Venti, right?” you asked, standing up from the park bench you were just sitting on moments ago.
“And you’re the girl that Xiao’s been fawning over I presume,” Venti replied, smiling.
“My name— wait what?”
“Oh, it’s nothing— hey that’s Xiao’s jacket!” Venti pointed to the black jacket draped over your arms. “Right?”
“Yeah, I was hoping you’d help me return this to him,” you said sheepishly.
Venti pressed his hand to his chest. “Oh, I would love to, but I think it’s best if you do it!”
Puzzled by his response, you ask, “Why?”
He sighed dramatically and collapsed onto the bench, feigning heartache. “Well you see, poor Xiao had locked himself up in his room, burning up a fever— and wants nothing to do with me at the moment. If I were to try and enter his room, I’m afraid I won’t see the light of day again.”
You blinked at Venti’s performance, slowly soaking in the information given. Does Xiao hate him? Why? You wanted to ask. “He’s sick?” was what came out your mouth instead.
“Terribly so.”
>>—<<
“Xiao?” you called out softly.
A shuffle was heard as the sickly student attempted to sit upright. You quickly entered the room and closed the door behind you, rushing over to Xiao’s side the moment the door clicked shut.
“Hey,” you said, smiling. “Hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”
Xiao blinked groggily, fighting against the sleep medication he had taken hours ago. “What are you”— he sneezed “doing here?”
“Came here to return your jacket,” you replied, draping his jacket over his pink gaming chair. An odd expression crossed your face, but you didn’t speak of it.
Xiao managed to sit upright despite being in absolute agony. His head throbbed painfully, an unfortunate side effect of his medication. You placed a hand over the small of his back and helped him ease into a more comfortable position. "Easy there Xiao..." you murmured. "Don't strain yourself too much."
"I'll be fine," he said. "You shouldn't be here— you know, with me being sick and all. You might get sick too."
A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "You're the one here sick, and you're worried about me? Besides, I didn't see you for the past week and I miss your presence."
There was a tease in your voice, and Xiao caught it. Yet he couldn't control the way his heart sped up. He cleared his throat, adverting his body away from where you sat. Perhaps being sick isn't so bad after all, he could at least use the fever as an excuse as to why his face is burning a scarlet red.
You felt your smile grow bigger seeing his reaction. "Don't turn around now— we've known each other for so long now, it's weird being somewhere without you." You were confident, almost too confident with your words. But with graduation so close, you knew that there wasn't much time left for you to spill your feelings. It was like gambling, gambling time and memories away.
Outside, the sun began to dip below the horizon. Snow resting upon the frail branch of the young oak crumbled when a chunk of ice shattered against the trunk.
“Heizou!” the shrill voice of Venti shrieked.
Either you win, or you'll lose it all.
Xiao remained silent, unsure of how to process your words. He wanted to believe everything you said, but some part of himself won't allow him to. For all he knows, you could just be tugging on his heartstrings, playing it like a sick sort of a puppet show. But... he glanced at you. You weren't looking at him anymore, instead your attention was fixated on the scene happening outside his window.
The way the sunset created a golden aura around you made you look absolutely breathtaking, hitting all the right angles in all the right way. He didn't know there was a way for you to be any prettier than you already are. Would he have gotten to see you like this if he wasn't sick?
"Xiao." the seriousness laced with your tone made him tense up. You pushed yourself away from the window ledge and turned to face him. “Xiao,” you repeated. “Can I tell you something?”
Your heart was pounding. A year worth of buildup— he’s seen you at your worst, as you had seen him, how much longer are you able to hold it in for? There’s nothing you could really hide from this man; he was bound to find out about your crush sooner or later.
Xiao took in a deep breath. “Go on,” he croaked out. He wiped his sweaty palms on his blanket.
You bit the insides of your cheek. The words are at the tip of your tongue, but that’s the furthest they’re willing to go. “I— fuck I can’t say it,” you groaned, turning back to face the window.
"No," he said. "No, tell me."
That intense voice you knew all too familiar— now you know that there is no backing out. Xiao's stubbornness had been a constant pain in the ass for you, yet it was also a part of him that you found endearing.
"You promise this won't change anything?" you asked, voice small.
A creak followed by a shuffle, and you felt Xiao's arm wrap around your waist. His disheveled hair tickled against your cheek as he rests his head upon your shoulder. '"Nothing will change, I promise," he muttered.
Touch. In no way was this unusual for the two of you. But this time, it felt new. In this stifling environment, where the air was tense, everything feels unfamiliar. Xiao's touch felt unfamiliar. What if this ruins it all?
Fuck it.
"I really like you, you know that, Xiao?" you whispered.
Time seemed to freeze for a moment, and you felt your heart drop. This is it. The signs point to it all, it tells you that Xiao is the one, yet you can't help but think otherwise. Overthinking has always been a bad habit of yours.
After minutes of painful awkward silence (it was only a few seconds), Xiao replied. "I know."
"I really like you too, [name]. I've liked you since last year, since the moment I saw you on the field for the annual sports festival. And I fell deeper in love with you over the course of the year, seeing you around campus, at the cafe you worked— your very presence seems to bring comfort. I wanted to confess for so long, you know? But I didn't, I feared that it would've tampered with whatever we already had going on."
he paused to clear his throat.
"I like— no, I love you."
Through the window, the view of the night sky was in perfect sight. The stars above twinkled, and flashing by for just a second, was a shooting star.
Even the stars have spoken.
✩ ·┆ masterlist
notes—
— the number of times i accidentally typed ‘ciao’ instead of ‘xiao’ is diabolical
stranger! xiao whom you encountered through a unexpected bank robbery one sunny afternoon. It definitely was love at first sight for you, especially after he had tackled you— a mere stranger to him at the moment— down to shield you from the stray bullets being fired. It was chaos amidst the environment, but all you could think about was how close he was to you… archons he’s pretty.
stranger! xiao whom you practically had to chase after after the entire ordeal just to get his contact information. He had first denied your approach, but you just seemed far too determined to give up so easily. “Sir please,” you begged. “You quite literally saved my life back there, the least I can do is repay you with something.” … “Fine.”
— ༉‧₊˚ 🐈⬛ ༉‧₊˚. . 。！
companion! xiao who has a grumpy face on at all times no matter the situation. You had invited him out for lunch as a way to thank him for his heroic act couple days ago, and this would be your chance to properly introduce yourself to him. The weather was near perfect today with the temperature hanging around in the low 70’s (20°C) and the skies cleared of clouds. His intimidating expression was also enough to make you nervous, but you pushed through. “Hi! My name is [name], what’s yours?” … “… Xiao.”
companion! xiao who you took out on a little amusement park hangout on a bright sunny Saturday afternoon. You hadn’t been to one in forever, and considering the fact that both of you had nothing better to do today, you dragged Xiao out with you.
companion! xiao who went near deaf after agreeing to go on a rollercoaster with you— which was a poor choice. The ride was exhilarating, but if you hadn’t been screaming bloody murder throughout the entire ride, it might’ve been a better experience. “I’m sorry!” you exclaimed, hands clasped together in a praying motion. Xiao didn’t say anything. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. As an add-on to your apology, you treated him to a plate of almond tofu. Yeah no, he forgives you.
companion! xiao who gets an unwanted feeling of annoyance when he sees you occupied with someone else other than him. A stranger had stopped you to ask for direction to the nearest bathroom, and being the kind hearted soul you are, pointed to the map and gave the path to his destination. Too close, he thought. What? Why was he feeling like this? Is this what people called jealousy?
— ༉‧₊˚ 🐈⬛ ༉‧₊˚. . 。！！
Xiao is in denial. He’s only known you for a month or two now, and feelings are beginning to worm its way into his heart. Unwarranted feelings that he wants no part of— yet it’s constantly in the back of his mind. You’re always on his mind. He can’t get you out, no matter what.
Your smile, your laugh, your mesmerizing beauty…
Archons, what is he meant to do now?
— ༉‧₊˚ 🐈⬛ ༉‧₊˚. . 。！！！
lover! xiao who wrestled with his feelings for weeks on end before finally caving in to it. You were blabbering on about some drama unfolding at your workplace at a cafe he’d invited you out to when all of a sudden he stopped you. He couldn’t even pay attention to your words, for all he could do was stare at your lips moving. “Is there something wrong with my face?” you asked, fingers dragging across your cheeks. Xiao was quick to answer, giving a hasty ‘no’.
lover! xiao who kept stuttering his words when confessing his feelings to you. The sun had begun to set, and you had brought him to a secluded area of the woods, where there was a near perfect view of the sunset. Your heart was pounding so heavily against your chest— it felt like it could burst out at any moment. Although Xiao looked more of a hot mess than you did; his face crimson red.
“I.. I like— archons. Oh fuck it [name] I like you. Not as in just friends if you understand, you know what I mean right? No, it’s totally okay if you don’t like me back like—”
lover! xiao who you had to shut up with a kiss to his lips, arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer to you. He seemed to had to take a moment to register what had just happened, and when it did finally process, he kissed back— hard. Is he dreaming?
just lover! xiao being the epitome of you fell first but he fell harder.
cw: angst, hurt/no comfort, major character death, hints at suicide, probably unhealthy coping methods idk
The taste of bitter coffee and overly sweetened scent of dandelion tea lingered, lingered for a little longer than he liked.
Wilted flowers lay by a small vase of fresh ones. The pile of dead flowers seemed to grow bigger with each passing day.
The house was dim, with the only source of light being a weakly lit candle surrounded by empty dishes and untouched cutlery on the dining table. For a place that had felt so big not too long ago, it suddenly seemed to be so small.
Scaramouche hummed quietly to himself as he gently dusted at the debris that clung onto the picture frames. His touch was delicate as his fingers brush against the cold glass. The tune he has been singing echoed off the walls, traveling down the silent hallway.
How long has it been? He wonders.
Three days? A week? Two weeks? Scaramouche had long lost count.
Once he was sure that the picture frame was clean, he stepped back and admired his handiwork. In this empty house, the only thing that stood out most was the wall of what Scaramouche called ‘memories’. Golden frames surrounded photos of all kind, taken by you and hung by him.
He misses you.
On most days, Scaramouche would stay huddle in what once was a shared bedroom, buried deep beneath the blankets, scrolling through past messages. Dark circles heavily marked his under eyes, a stark contrast to his porcelain pale skin.
For the first month, he was a utter mess. Unable to process the tragic news of your sudden death.
It had just felt like yesterday, when the two of you were just out on a date, laughing and giggling.
The world was mocking him, taunting and laughing, watching the hallow shell of the man he once was as he stood there alone in the cemetery. Flowers previously placed by your grave was removed and tossed away, replaced by a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers.
The night you were buried under the willow tree, was the only night he had ever worked up the courage to sit by your grave, and wallow in the despair.
“I miss you,” the three words etched into his mind, quietly spoken into the empty void.
What about the plans you’ve made with him? The promises of a happy ending, a beautiful future.
Gone… all gone, far too soon.
“Will we get a cat too?” your voice was eager, full of hope.
Scaramouche smiled and pressed a small kiss to your temple. “Whatever you want.”
You giggled. “Let’s get a black cat then. I can see the resemblance between you and them.”
“Hey,” he whined.
You beamed up at him. “I love you.”
How he wished time could’ve stopped right there and then, allowing that precious moment to last for an eternity.
“I love you too.”
God, it was so fucking unfair. Why did you have to be the one to die?
It could’ve been anyone else, but you just had to be there at the wrong time.
He slumped down on the empty couch, cushions and throw blankets sitting in the same spot as before. Scaramouche didn’t dare touch anything. He was scared— terrified that if he even so as much move anything a centimeter away, he’ll lose the remaining parts of you that he had so desperately been trying to cling onto.
Scaramouche had already lost you once, he couldn’t lose you for a second time.
The soft golden glow of the ceiling lights flickered in and out for a brief moment, a sign that the electrical bill was long overdue. It was fortunate enough that the landlord took pity upon him and gave Scaramouche an extension to pay his bills.
3 months.
It’s been three whole months since the accident. Three months since he’s shut himself off from the outside world. Three months he spend crying and grieving, fantasizing scenarios of you and him. He knows it’ll never come true, but he can only hope.
Head barely above water, the bits of hope he has is all that’s supporting his weight, preventing him from drowning. Yet as the clock moves, he finds himself sinking lower and lower.
Two hollow knocks to his door startled him out of his trancelike state. “Who,” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
When the answer was delivered with another two knocks, he spoke louder. “What.”
“Scaramouche,” the muffled voice of Childe floated through the thick wood. “Open the door.”
He scowled, body already moving before his mind had even processed Childe’s words. The door cracked open with a soft creak, a silver of the sunlight spilling into the dark house. Scaramouche squeezed his eyes closed, momentarily blinded by the light. It’s been so long since he’s seen the sun.
Childe’s shadow stepped in and blocked out the light. He gave Scaramouche a tired smile. “Archons you look like shit.”
Scaramouche said nothing and kept his silent gaze on him.
The ginger sighed. “I was hoping you’d come visit… them, with us.”
There were no names mentioned, yet Scaramouche almost instantly knew who Childe was referring to. He felt his body tense up.
“Look, I’m not trying to force you or anything, but we all miss them, and you too, ‘mouche… you haven’t talked with any of us in three month now.”
Guilt gnawed at his heart, eating away yet another piece.
He hadn’t meant to neglect his friends. None of the things he was doing was intentional.
“… I’m sorry,” he whispered, lowering his gaze, unable to keep eye contact with Childe. He fear that if he continued, tears would begin to formulate, and there’d be nothing to stop them from flowing.
“Mind if I come in?” Childe’s voice softened.
Scaramouche felt tears prickling at his eyes. Childe placed one hand on his shoulder, gently giving a pat— and that was what finally broke him. The water droplets fell uncontrollably, rolling down his cheeks. A pitiful sight to behold.
Childe pulled him into a hug and remained quiet. There wasn’t much he could say to comfort Scaramouche’s pain. Everyone was still grieving, him included.
His quiet sniffles slowly died down. Just this one time, he thought to himself, wiping away at a tear. It’s the least he can do.
“Let me get my things,” Scaramouche’s voice was hoarse. A pain-like expression was scrawled across his features as he pulled away from Childe and step back into the shadows of his home.
There wasn’t much he needed to do to get ready. He’d given up on life the moment he was given the news that you didn’t make it. Why he had been fighting for so long, he didn’t understand.
He threw on a simple black cardigan, it was a handmade gift from you to him. In your words, it took you a week and a half to make it— “i hope you’ll like it,” you said sheepishly.
Of course he’ll love it. Cherish it even till death.
He took in a deep breath and went to look for Childe. The medications stored in his pockets jangled against the hard plastic with each step he took.
The last strands of hope snapped, and he sunk. Bubbles floating to the surface as his darkened silhouette slowly disappeared under the void of water.
Tonight, he decided. Tonight, he’ll be able to see you again.
The lights sputtered out as Scaramouche flipped the switch. With the last bits of power it has, the lights illuminated the series of letter sprawled across the glass coffee table— each one address to someone dear to him.
The stars were cruel and unrelenting. He had come to learn the hard way.
There was nothing he could do, as he watched you link arms with someone else that wasn’t him. The smile you gave them was meant for him, not for the loser that captured your heart. His nails dug into the palms of his hands, skin on the verge of breaking.
But what was he to do?
He was dead. Gone.
…
Perhaps in another reality, he was well and alive, spending the precious moments with you.
He’ll still be yours, and in turn, you’ll be his.
The two of you will travel the world together, and he’ll take you to the highest cliff of Mondstadt, where he had laid out a small blanket upon the grass. Baskets and plates of food he had cooked himself sits neatly upon the checkered sheets, its aroma alluring you in. Cecilas dotted the plains, the white specks of floral inviting the presences of the butterfly and bees. “Surprise,” he said, giving you a crooked smile.
He’ll have to fight back a laugh as he watches you trip over a camouflaged root somewhere in the heart of Sumeru’s forest, only helping you up when he was done laughing at your clumsy mistake. You’d whine and playfully punch him, but he’ll dodge out the way and catch in a tight hug, muttering sorry’s and I love you’s.
He’ll be on one knee, the sand digging into his skin, a camera held up as he playfully shouts at you to stay still for the picture— the image of you standing underneath a canvas of the sunset in the beaches of Fontaine, wind gently tugging at your hair, giggling as you watch your beloved struggle.
Click!
He’ll be the one to paddle the tiny canoe that he had scrounged up in an old shed around the bioluminescence beach in Inazuma. And you’d be sitting across from him, eyes bright and curious, laughter spilling from your lips as you watched the stars dance along with the shimmers in the sea. The moon hung high in the skies, blanketing you with a soft white glow.
He’ll be the one to introduce you to his family, your fingers anxiously fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt as the two of you stand outside the large brass door, waiting. You tell him that you’re nervous, and he reassures you that everything will be fine. His family will adore you. And even if they don’t— which isn’t true— he’ll still take you as his lover, because there is nobody else in the entirety of Teyvat that he wants.
It’ll be the first night of the annual lantern rite, and he’ll take you to a secluded area within the trees to release lanterns of your own. Sweet promises scribed in the lantern that captures a glimpse of your future with him, the path that you’re willing to take down with him.
…
You were his first everything, just as he was your first everything. So when Scaramouche had suddenly departed from your side, it left you in a crumbling wreck of emotions.
He hated seeing you like this. Eyes puffy and red from all the crying, voice hoarse and body weak.
He hated even more the sight of you with someone else, all lovey-dovey.
Yet seeing you finally open up to someone new brought him a sense of relief. He may not like it, but if it meant that you’ll finally stop sobbing your heart out every night, that you’ll finally regain that bubbly personality of yours, that you’ll find that light to guide your path— he was willing to accept the loss.
Still, it was unfair.
Maybe in my next life, he whispered, words carried away by the wind, falling deaf to the wonders of nature.
✩ ·┆ masterlist
notes—
— (it’s been a year daddy) :: jokes aside, junior year had been insane, and I’ve been stu(dying) for the upcoming SAT while also trying to write a book of my own WHILE looking for internships, maintaining good grades, stressing about EVERYTHING… you get the idea... ending was slightly rushed sorry 🫶
List of “things they say that makes my heart melt and my knees weak” prompts
“I can kiss you forever,” Character B murmurs. “Yeah?” Character A says, laughing a little, only to stop when Character B leans in and presses a kiss against their cheek. “Yeah,” Character B says, “Yeah, I can. You think I’m lying?” (As I said, forever ingrained in my brain. I cannot fucking believe this isn’t just fictional shit characters in books/fics say-)
“You make me so happy.”
“I’m just… Happy for your existence, y’know?”
“You’re going to have to teach me so many things because I’m not familiar with any of this.” “Okay. So… What do you want me to teach you? Where should we start?”
“Here, put your hand under my shirt. It’s more comfortable that way,” Character B says as they lift their shirt slightly, encouraging Character A to slip their hand underneath and letting their warm palm rest against their bare skin.
“You’re so cute.”
“You’re so adorable.”
“You’re so comfy and cozy.”
“You’re so warm and cuddly.”
“You smell so good,” Character B whispers as they continue to litter kisses down Character A’s jaw and neck, revelling in the noises Character A lets involuntarily slip out of their mouth.
“Mm, I think you’re the one who wants more cuddles,” Character B murmurs, pulling Character A back into their arms. “Nah, I think you’re the one who wants that. I mean, look at you,” Character A teases, settling comfortably in their arms.
“Why don’t you try kissing my neck? If you don’t then I’m gonna kiss yours.” “You’re acting like you weren’t just kissing my neck for the thousandth time already just then.”
Character B saying “Stay for tonight?” throughout the whole thing and asking “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” as Character A gets out of bed still in a daze, ready to leave (but not really wanting to leave but they’ve already told their parents they will be home by the end of the night), while Character B looks up at them imploringly while they’re tying their shoelaces.
“Sorry, I’m just really new to this,” Character A mumbles, burying their face in Character B’s chest out of embarrassment. “Mm, that’s fine. We can take things slow. There’s no rush,” Character B reassures in a hushed murmur, carding their fingers through Character A’s hair.
“I’m not familiar with this,” Character A whines as Character B continues to hug them to their chest. “Yeah? Well, you’re going to have to get familiar because I’m going to be doing this a lot,” Character B teases.
“So… What’s the next date going to be?” Character B murmurs, nuzzling their face on Character A’s neck.
“Tell me if this is too much, okay?”
“You seem a little warm in that, you sure you don’t want to take that off?” and then after Character A says no a few times because they’re wearing only a singlet under that shirt, they say, “You can always wear my shirt instead if that’s the case.”
“You know, you can hold my hand in public if you wanted to,” Character A murmurs into Character B’s chest. “Well… I did want to hold your hand but I wasn’t sure if you were comfortable with it,” Character B answers, holding Character A a little tighter to them. “Next time, though,” Character B tacks on affectionately.
Saying “Let’s go back home” rather than “Let’s go back to my place” (to me it feels like they’re implying “This is your home too and you can come back any time you’d like”, even though that’s probably not what they’re saying but I’m gonna interpret it that way because I am: Delusional as fuck!)
(‼️‼️) this blog will not be updated for the time being. I am currently experiencing quite the burnout from writing, so I am going to take a LONG break from Tumblr bc I am tired asf 💀 I don’t expect myself to be writing for the genshin fandom, or any fandom in fact, after this 🙏
cw: angst, blood, scaramouche uses a sword, violence, cursing, death threats, bits of scaras past, attempted murder lol
‘The Fatui’
Scaramouche felt his blood run cold at the sight of the two words. The organization he works for was the last thing he wanted you to get involved in.
He scanned through the rest of the contents, hoping that it was an error in your writings. Scaramouche knew it was futile. You were bound to investigate The Fatui eventually. It was just a matter of time.
His heart only further sank when he saw the folder you’ve created, storing almost everything you knew about the Fatui. Which if presented to a Harbinger like him, even they would claim it was a dangerous lot.
Scaramouche looked high and low, searching for anything that might contribute to your disappearance. He dug through your desk— or whatever remains of your desk, yet nothing, nothing, was found.
Not a single clue as to your disappearance. Scaramouche punched the table in a fit of frustration, adding an extra hole to your already broken desk. He hated feeling like this.
Anxious helplessness tangled with his emotions. He bit down on his lips, the bitter taste of blood blooming in his mouth.
Kazuha seemed to sense Scaramouche’s restlessness. Even Tomo felt unease at Scaramouche’s presence, clambering back onto Kazuha and tucking his small form inside his jacket.
“Scaramouche.”
“What?” even he was startled at his sharp tone. “What…” he tried again, in a calmer voice.
“I was going to suggest asking her coworkers, maybe they would know something.”
Scaramouche frowned. Why didn’t he think of that? They were someone you see on a daily basis, if you were to suddenly disappear, they would be the one to notice first.
He got up, brushing the dust stuck on his knees away. Even though Scaramouche would have liked to organized your room back to how he remembered it to be, he figured it would be best not to temper with evidence.
“Let’s go,” there was no trace of emotion in his voice as he walked passed Kazuha and down the stairs.
…
The streets of Inazuma hadn’t changed one bit from how it used to be. It’s been a while since Scaramouche had walked through the markets filled with merchants selling all sorts of goods.
He missed the days where he would hold you in his embrace so gently, as if you were porcelain that would shatter in nothingness with the wrongest move.
Those days are long gone, he bitterly thought to himself.
A frightful yelp drew his attention away. Scaramouche scowled in annoyance. There was a person standing in his way, pointing an accusing finger at him.
“That’s him!” the old man screeched. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to stare. “It’s him! He’s The Balladeer, those crimes that happened in our town is all because of him!”
By now a crowd had gathered to see the unfolding spectacle. Kazuha squeezed his way through the crowd and grabbed Scaramouche’s arm.
“Gotta go, fast.”
Scaramouche didn’t need to be told twice. He shook off Kazuha’s hand and began running after him, but not without the citizens chasing after them with anything they could use to attack.
He scowled again when he felt something— it felt like a potato, hit the back of his head. Kazuha had somehow found his way up to the rooftops, and was now hopping over the gaps, following Scaramouche closely. It seemed that the townspeople was only targeting Scaramouche.
“Fucking bitches…” he muttered, drawing out his weapon from the scabbard. He skidded to a stop and pointed the sword at the crowd.
The mob of people instantly slowed, stumbling onto one another for support.
“Somebody really wants to fucking die,” he mused, the tip of his sword dug into the pavement below. It was an old fashion way to fight, but Scaramouche had long grown use to its constant company.
A tomato flew his way, and Scaramouche, with ease, sliced the vegetable in half with a flick of his wrist. “I’m not here to cause shit here. If I was, all of you,” he pointed at the crowd, nodding. “Will be dead.”
“Scaramouche,” Kazuha’s voice was urgent as his voice trailed down from the roof. “The Tenryo Commission is coming, we need to go.”
“To hell with them,” Scaramouche scoffed. “They’re so easily destroyable. Just a tiny step on them and they crush like a bug. Pathetic seeing them try.”
“You’re— you’re a monster,” a fearful voice cried out. It was the same person who had exposed him as the Balladeer.
“So I’ve heard,” Scaramouche grinned, sheathing his sword.
Those who hadn’t already fled the scene beforehand began to slither away. When the old man had found himself standing alone, he too, wavered and broke, scrambling away as Scaramouche stared him down. His purple eyes glinted with amusement and malice.
“How pitiful,” Scaramouche laughed. “Haven’t even done anything and they all ran.”
What once was the bustling streets of people was now empty, not a single soul in sight. Well, expect for the people dressed in black and purple running towards him.
Scaramouche clicked his tongue in disapproval. He pulled out his gun, aimed, and was about to pull the trigger when Kazuha stopped him, grabbing his arm. The serious look in his eyes told him no. Scaramouche rolled his eyes and set his gun aside.
“Whatever,” he said. “Let’s go before I feel the need to kill them.”
Kazuha dragged him over to an empty alleyway and pressed a finger over his lips, signaling for Scaramouche to stay quiet.
The group of Tenryo Commission members thundered past the two, with nobody noticing the two suspicious shadows crouching in the corner of the alleyway.
When Kazuha had made sure the coast was cleared, he motioned for Scaramouche to follow him. He deadpanned at Kazuha, watching him scale the walls and jump onto the rooftop.
“Hurry,” Kazuha hissed.
There really wasn’t an option for him to choose from.
“Why can’t I just use—” his words were cut off when a gust of wind started swirling under him before lifting him off the ground completely. Scaramouche froze, and didn’t move until he was down on solid ground again.
“There, that’ll get your slow ass moving,” Kazuha said. He threw a smile at Scaramouche and turned around, silently trailing away towards the direction of the Tenryo Commission. Particles of Anemo danced around him with every step he took.
Scaramouche rolled his eyes and scoffed. The lingering power of Anemo set his steps light as he sprinted after Kazuha, the slight breeze picking at his hair. Scaramouche glanced down at the empty streets. The pests the Commission sent out must’ve cleared the streets of everyone. Stalls were left unattended, the fire of some still left roaring. How hazardous, Scaramouche thought to himself. Would be a shame if I were to…
He snickered to himself, eventually deciding against his actions. There’s no need for Scaramouche to cause any more trouble for himself.
The sight of the Tenryo Commission building was getting closer. With the building being one of the fanciest things the city has build, it was hard to miss it, even if one was just passing by. It was by far the grandest thing the council had ever invest in.
Scaramouche leaped down from the rooftops and landed with a silent poof of air. The entrance to the Tenryo Commission beckoned at him. There were guards pacing around the premise, but they be easily taken care of.
The sky darkened, and the tingling feeling of electricity hung low in the air. Scaramouche took his time walking to greet the nuisances, wearing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Meanwhile Kazuha began to investigate the surroundings. He was quite certain that somewhere around this area, he could find a trace of you. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Immediately he picked it up as Scaramouche doing something idiotic, again.
He didn’t tried to interfere with whatever Scaramouche had planned. Not only will Scaramouche beat his ass for interrupting him, but it’ll only add fuel to the flames that is already raging uncontrollably.
Kazuha sniffed the air. There was a familiar scent to the wind. He followed where to the breeze led him, and he ended up in an abandoned part of the town. There, everything was run down. Windows were boarded up, doors were bolted shut.
A glint caught his eyes. It was a broken mirror, with droplets of splattered blood dotting the ground around it. Kazuha looked closer at it.
Ah. So that’s what was familiar scent was.
…
The sparks of electro fizzled away into the air, and with that, the bodies of everyone began to drop, one by one. Weapons clattered to the floor as the numbness overtook their vessels. All expect for one.
Scaramouche chucked, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “Oh relax General, they aren’t dead. I’m not that cruel.”
“Don’t move,” Kujou Sara’s voice was stern, unwavering as she stood a distance away from Scaramouche, her bow raised and aimed. Even with the room being near pitch black, she could still see as clear as day.
Scaramouche grinned. “And what are you going to do? Kill me? You know well enough that even if you tried, you’ll still lose.”
The electro vision strung up by her hips glowed fiercely, a sign that she was beyond pissed. Scaramouche’s grin only grew wider. He took a step forward, holding both hands up in the air mockingly.
“Shoot me,” he said. “Do it.”
Sara let an arrow loose at Scaramouche’s words. Infused with the cackling energy of electro, the power alone was enough to knock out four grown adults. The arrow zipped through the air, it’s tip aimed dead at his head.
A crack of Electro came slashing down, effectively slicing the arrow in half. Sara kissed her teeth and lowered her bow. As expected.
“Good try, general. Better luck next time,” Scaramouche laughed. “Now, I believe I came here asking questions, not a fight.”
“What could the Fatui want with us,” she spat out the word Fatui with distaste, hatred clearly rooted in her tone.
“Oh no, I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Scaramouche plopped down on the office chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I didn’t come here on the behalf of the Fatui. Do you by any chance…”
He folded his hands together and leaned forward on the messy desk. “…know where [name] is?”
The main entrance banged loudly, it’s hinges trembling with every slam. Muffled voices could be heard shouting from the outside. Sara narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“Oh, General, don’t be so tense. I have no intentions of hurting her.”
“Who am I to trust you?” The lock keeping the door jammed cracked.
“I’ll offer you a deal, how’s that? “ he smiled. “You tell me where she is, and I’ll tell you where that girl of yours you’ve been looking for is.”
Sara’s breath hitched.
“Wonderful deal, isn’t it? I mean, you’ve been looking for her for almost what? Three years?.”
Silence.
“I don’t have all day, General. Pick. Lest you want me to go find it myself.”
Pick..
The lock couldn’t support the battering beating its been receiving, and it finally succumbed under the pressure, the doors crashing down with a loud resonating boom.
Sunlight filtered into the dark empty room.
Sara sat there, not a single word uttered. Her eyes bored holes at where Scaramouche had stood. Whatever remains of her bow laid by her feet, and in her her hands, held a crumpled up sheet of paper.
“General? Are you alright? Do you need to seek a medic?”
Gone with the breeze was he, leaving only papers slowly descending to the ground. The pattering footsteps of her underlings echoed in her head as they began scouting the area.
“… In the left drawer, the third one. It holds her resignation letter there.”
Scaramouche raised a brow. “Resignation letter?”
“It was left on my desk yesterday. No sign of [name] when I went to look.”
“Oh?”
“You can go check her office if you don’t believe me, last door to the right of the hall,” Sara said through gritted teeth. She had given away more information that she had intended to.
“Did the cameras capture footage of her handing in letter?”
“Someone sabotaged the security system a few nights ago, it’s still in the process of getting fixed.”
“I see,” Scaramouche mused, tapping one finger against his cheeks. “Mind sharing the footage of the night when it got sabotaged?”
“Now that I cannot give away—”
In a flash, Scaramouche was out of his seat and had Sara by her throat before she could even finish her sentence. “It wasn’t a question,” he hissed, his nails digging into her skin, deep enough to draw blood. “We can either do this the easy way, or we can go the hard way.”
Sara had known about the evil doings of the man holding her in a chokehold, the stories whispered held enough warning to steer clear, but to experience it herself was terrifying. Black spots danced in her vision as her air was abruptly cut off.
“I— I can get it for you,” Sara gasped.
Releasing the women from his grasp, he stepped back and crossed his arms. Sara rubbed at her neck and winced, trying to brush away the pain prickling at her tiny wounds as she clicked away on the computer.
“Here,” she said, handing Scaramouche a USB drive.
“Thank you, wasn’t that hard at all, was it?” he flashed Sara a cold smile before disappearing all together with a swift swoosh of the wind, leaving no traces of there ever being a second person in the room.
She was left alone.
“A resignation letter,” he said, waving the crinkled piece of paper in the air. “And footage of the night the cameras was messed with.”
Kazuha raised a quizzical brow. “A resignation letter?” he echoed. “That’s out of character for her. Oh yeah here, I found this while searching the area.”
He handed Scaramouche the broken mirror. “It was near the abandoned part of town— quite close to where I saw your lover get taken.”
Quite close to where you disappeared.
Scaramouche shoved the USB drive and the letter into his pockets. “Take me there,” he demanded.
Borrowing in the resonance of Anemo from his friend, Scaramouche surged forward just a few steps behind Kazuha. The wind played at his hair, tossing it to the left then to the right. In less than a minute, Scaramouche arrived at the scene.
“Here?”
He scanned the environment. This area does seem like the type of place where people tend to do the unspeakable.
“Here,” Kazuha led him to where he found the item. “Look, that’s the smell of blood.”
Scaramouche got on one knee and took a closer look. With all his years of experience, he should know better than anyone what a scene of crime looks like— and this place, even without there being actual evidence of what took place, aroused heavy suspicion.
What made it worse was that Scaramouche realized that this part of town is what one would call a ‘ghost town’, a place isolated from everyone else, even when it was so close to the lively city. There were no cameras, nothing to record down what had transpired the night you disappeared other than the small droplets of what Kazuha claimed to be blood. Your blood.
It wasn’t that Scaramouche didn’t trust Kazuha’s senses, he had placed full trust in his keen nose. It was one of the prominent reasons why Scaramouche had spared his life that day and allowed Kazuha to work for him. But the thought of you bleeding— wounded, brought up an uncomfortable sensation.
He checked both the front and the back of the mirror, hoping it would show him something he can’t see with his naked eye. Nothing.
“Let’s go back,” he had tried to mask his bitter disappointment, but it was evident. There was no use trying to hide it.
The journey back to your house was swift, thankfully having nobody starting up any more trouble than they were worth for the two. With the sky being dipped in a golden red hue as the sun slowly sets, Scaramouche pushed open the door and gestured for Kazuha to step in.
The house was cold despite Scaramouche having the heater turned on all the way. Kazuha sat on your couch with his cat curled up on his lap, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he read through the resignation letter you left.
“Kazuha.”
“Hm?”
“Did you bring your laptop with you?”
“…no.”
Scaramouche muttered a curse under his breath. “Well I can’t find a laptop in the house. The only one she had probably got destroyed.”
“It’s quite bold of you to assume I would carry such things with me at all times,” Kazuha chuckled lightheartedly. “I can ask for Xiao to bring it over.”
“How fast can he get it here?”
“Depends on his mood, really. But all in all, he’s pretty fast.”
“Have him bring it over. Tell him it’s urgent.”
“Mmhm.”
Scaramouche trailed back into whatever remains of your bedroom and sat down on the broken bed frame. There, his thoughts slowly began consuming him.
How did he manage to mess up? He was gone for only two days. Two days, and something happened to you.
Scaramouche was a careful man, he knew to steer clear of you as to not place harm over your head. If the past were to ever come to light, it’ll only further damage both of your reputations. He bit down on his tongue. Having to shroud the past wasn’t too difficult, Scaramouche had easily blocked it all out. But to bring it back up again hurts.
He buried his face into the palms of his hands. It hurts.
Meow.
Scaramouche looked up, meeting eye to eye with Kazuha’s cat. The tiny feline jumped up onto his lap and yawned, his sharp fangs peeking out. His claws dug into Scaramouche’s skin as he began kneading.
For the past 24 hours he’d been looking nonstop, searching nonstop— fighting nonstop. He hadn’t allowed himself to rest, no. His muscles ached, but that was nothing compared to the pain that had rooted itself deep within his heart. It hurts.
The night he chose to left was ultimately the hardest decisions he had to made. It broke him, but he knows that it’ll hurt you even more than it’ll ever hurt him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Sorry does nothing— nothing.
He wanted to stay. Stay in your tiny bedroom, cuddling with each other as the night gradually fades away into a new dawn. Sometimes he wonders, would things have gone differently if he had stayed?
Idiot, of course it could’ve gone differently.
He should’ve stayed. God, he hated himself for the decisions he had chose. He missed you.
“Scara,” your voice echoed in his head. “Scaramouche.”
He’s spiraling.
He wanted you to leave, to disappear from his mind— but you lingered there, bounded to be a ghost that roamed in his nightmares. No, Scaramouche cannot forget you even if he tried.
Even if his memories were wiped clean, he knows that somehow— just somehow he’ll still recognize you in the sea of strange faces.
It was unbearable.
“Scara…”
Love. Love hurts.
“… Scaramouche.”
His eyes snapped open. “What?”
Kazuha gave him a worried glance. “Xiao’s he— good god are you alright? You look paler than usual.”
He frowned. “I’m… okay. Just tell him to on leave the computer on the kitchen table.”
“If you say so,” Kazuha spared another worrying look at the violet hair man before disappearing downstairs, his cat trotting right next to him.
Scaramouche ran his hand through his hair and sighed in frustration. He can’t stand this anymore, now he’s more determined than ever to find you and tell you all the words he had meant to say before he left.
The USB sitting in his pocket jabbed at him, and his hands closed around it. First things first, examine the clues.
Scaramouche got up and hurried down the stairs, right into the kitchen, where the laptop Xiao had brought was placed on the island. Kazuha was nowhere to be found, but he was sure that the wanderer wouldn’t be gone for too long. After all, Kazuha does play an important role in his hunt for you.
The laptop brightened to life, and Scaramouche hastily plugged the USB into the port. It took a while for the technology to process the information dump, but eventually a file popped up on screen labeled ‘11/16’.
It was the night you disappeared.
His eyes narrowed as the video footage played on. For such a grand company, the quality of both the camera and the video was absolute shit. The time played all the way until near midnight, and that’s when Scaramouche noticed something amiss. He paused the video and took a closer look.
There was no mistaking it. The black shadow definitely wasn’t just the camera acting up— it was someone. Scaramouche felt his heart skip a beat as he rewinded all the way to the footage of two nights ago. He needed to confirm his arousing suspicion.
Pause.
Right there, at 4:21pm. Yep, that was someone, sneaking around the perimeter of the building, looking through windows. Scaramouche fast forward the video by just a little bit, and the camera screen switched, giving him a perfect view of the suspect.
Dressed in all black— not very conspicuous in board daylight, yet nobody seemed to noticed them. He watched as the stranger unlatched one of the many windows and slipped in, completely oblivious as to the fact that they were being recorded.
Scaramouche didn’t need to have footage to prove that the window the suspect had entered through was your office, it was obvious.
The video sped up once again, and the figure appeared back in the camera frame twenty minutes later, looking to be in a rush. In their arms were a duffel bag containing something— if Scaramouche had to guess, it could’ve been case files on something.
But what would they need with the files?
“Reviewing the camera footage already?”
Kazuha’s sudden reappearance made Scaramouche jump.
“Ah, apologies,” he said. “How’s it going? Got any clues yet?”
“Look,” Scaramouche said, pausing the video and pointing to the black figure. “That happened Tuesday morning. Just three days before she… disappeared. And then the next day, the footage crashed.”
Kazuha frowned. “Isn’t that… her office?”
“That is,” he nodded. “Now I don’t know who that person is, or why they barged into her office, but I know that that has something to do with her disappearance.”
Kazuha zoomed in on the stranger's face. While there were a couple of pixels of their face, it definitely wasn’t enough to do a full face analysis on their identity. The only prominent feature was the tiny tussle of blue hair peeking out from the hood. He paused. “What about their letter? Have you found anything odd about it?”
“Haven't checked yet, but I’ve read through it multiple times. The contents just don’t make sense.”
“Hold on, I’ll go find a recent file of hers. We can compare the handwriting. It is a handwritten letter, right?”
Scaramouche nodded, his eyes still glued to the screen. “Tell Xiao I said thanks.”
Tuesday afternoon, someone broke into your office— what they took was unknown. Their identity cannot be confirmed, for they were covered completely, head to toe in black. That was all he had.
He was at a dead end.
Scaramouche groaned in frustration, slamming the computer shut.
It doesn’t make sense.
Why? Why were they unable to see what went wrong? They’d been with you for years— they should know.
Nothing made sense.
What was the motive behind your kidnapping? The criminals you’ve caught is still locked behind bars, cut off from the outside world, meaning they couldn’t have been the one to sought after you. Could it have been the Fatui?
No… Scaramouche would know if it were to happen under the very organization he works for.
And why hasn’t anyone noticed? Even if you were to resign from your position as a detective, you would still be widely recognized if you were out on the streets walking.
According to what Kazuha had gathered over the past months, you were seen outside taking a stroll atleast once a day, even if you were down with the flu. The locals had long adopted your habit— yet nobody, nobody noticed. Not a single person called out on the strange anomaly of your disappearance.
Fucking dammit.
“Scaramouche,” Kazuha’s voice brought him back to the present. “So I did an analysis on both, and I thought maybe you’d want to look at it yourself.”
He handed Scaramouche two pieces of paper. One was the resignation letter, the other was a document written on about the Doctor. At first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Both handwritings matched near identical to each other.
Scribbled along the margins of both papers was Kazuha’s flawless penmanship.
“I’ve written down the differences I noticed, they may not seem very obvious, but it’s there,” Kazuha said.
Scaramouche scanned through the notes, and his frown deepened as he read through it.
“See what I mean?”
“Yeah, that’s really weird.”
‘Hope this finds you well and alive.’
‘Decided to resign due to personal issues…’
Well and alive? That phrase alone was suspicious enough, almost as if you were expecting death to deliver its final blow towards her. Why would you wish death upon someone who had been looking out for you during the years he cannot?
He reopened the computer and clicked on the footage, then brought out the broken mirror he had been given and placed it next to the computer. Kazuha followed by setting down the two documents side by side next to mirror.
Scaramouche took a hard look at the items placed on the table. While everything seemed to be connected in some way, there was just something missing. A good portion of it was still yet to be discovered, and if Scaramouche were to find it— it’ll connect the dots.
“Let’s get this straight, two nights ago someone broke into her office and took something away. We aren’t sure what it was, but I can always go investigate. The only feature we could find on the said suspect was the tiny pixels of blue hair, and that we can’t even confirm if it’s real or just a trick of the camera,” Kazuha said.
“And then on the night your beloved was taken, I didn’t see anything sort of suspicious, other than a couple of buildings exploding. Which leads us to the mirror I found in where I presumed she was taken,” he pointed to the broken mirror. “And the strangely phrased resignation letter she left.”
“The thing is,” Scaramouche spoke up. “Right after that we reach a dead end. Even if you do go to her office, it won’t be guaranteed that you’d find what’s missing. We’re still not looking hard enough, there’s a large chunk that we’re still missing.”
“Scaramouche.”
A soft thump follow by the light pattering of paws against the hardwood floor was heard as Tomo approached the two men. He dropped something on the floor and meowed as he stared into Scaramouche’s eyes.
Kazuha picked up the item that was dropped, and Scaramouche felt his heart drop and blood run cold once again. The look the two shared said more than enough.
He had hoped it wasn’t, but once the evidence was brought into light— there was really no arguing when the truth was placed right in front of him. Something inside of him snapped, and suddenly a turmoil of emotions raged within his mind. There was only one thought consuming his mind as he ran out the house.
He was going to kill that bitch.
previous || series m.list || next
notes—
— I HAVE SEASON ONE AND TWO PLANNED OUT FINALLY after two months of not updating this series 💀
synopsis —
— you, the hero, disappears overnight, and the only person who looks is the villain. Not your friends, not your family, not the news reporter or any of the people who claimed to love you. Just him, Scaramouche, the very same person who claimed to hate you.
husband scaramouche! who cried the day the two of your held your wedding. He couldn’t control the tears that spilled when the two of you exchanged your vows, his voice often breaking down as he read through his lines. Despite the embarrassment he’ll definitely have to face later on, it was all worth it when the two of you finally kissed, completing the last bits of the ceremony. Oh, finally— he was yours and you were his.
husband scaramouche! who is the sole reason why you’re late to work everyday— because no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to wiggle out from his grasp. The way he had his arms wrapped around your waist had you trapped with no way out, and he knew that it wouldn’t take too long for you to succumb to his wishes. He could only hide a sly smile when he feels you snuggling back into his embrace.
husband scaramouche! who take cares of the household chores while you go out to work. He doesn’t it mind it one bit if it meant that the need to communicate with others will be lessened. Grocery, laundry, breakfast, lunch, and dinner— he’s got it all, don’t worry. You weren’t sure when it started, but bringing a bento Scaramouche created for you had become a staple routine of your life. It was a surprise everyday to see what sort of creation your lover had conjured up for you.
husband scaramouche! who found a random stray cat while grocery shopping and insisted that you keep it. The charm from both him and the cat utterly broke down that wall of reluctance, and soon you welcomed your new friend into the family. Only that Scaramouche didn’t plan on stopping with just one cat, oh no. It was only when you did a quick head count of the pets you have did you realize you had somehow accumulated a total of 7 cats. Maybe it’s time to have a talk with him about it…
husband scaramouche! who loves to bake for you on your days off. The sweet aroma of freshly baked goods filling up the entire house as the oven worked its magic. You would be sitting off to the side, having a mini duel with your cats in an attempt to keep them off the messy countertops. The battle with your cats was coming close to an end, with sure sight of victory in your eyes— if Scaramouche hadn’t butt in and ambushed you with a splash of powdered sugar. The evening ended with a tray of cookies cooling to the side while the two of you cleaned up the absolute mess left behind, flour paw prints scattered all over the kitchen.
just life with husband scaramouche! who loves you to bits and pieces, who’ll support you through the ups and downs, and will 100% start a fight your cats if it meant having all your attention focused on him.
✩ ·┆ masterlist
notes—
— since boyfriend! scaramouche did so well, I thought I’d follow up with some headcanons on how life would be like after he marries the reader! Literally screaming I want a man like that 🙏🙏
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cw: light angst (sort of), hurt/no comfort, major character death, mentions of war, slight description of a wound, kissing, forbidden love
The storm rumbled.
Thunder clashed, lightning strikes— eliciting the world in a flash of white. The rain pelted down, banging against the window in loud patters.
You let out a small cry when the lightning flashed again. The grip you had on your the collar of your mothers gown tightened. She held you closer in her embrace, her touch slow and gentle, whispering sweet things to you in an attempt to soothe your fear.
“The storm will pass,” she mumbled quietly.
You gave no response, only burying your head deeper into the crook of her neck. Both hands cupped against your ears in an futile effort to drown out the storm.
“Your mother is right,” a deeper voice carrying wavering confidence spoke up. It was Scaramouche.
Though you could see from the corner of your eyes that he was scared— the slight tremble in his voice, he still managed to maintain a calm composure. As expected of the knight in duty.
The wind whistled and howled, bending the branches of trees to an impossible angle. Lightning flashed, and the thunder crashed. You whimpered.
The storm befalls.
Swords clashed against each other, sending up tiny sparks that quickly fizzled away. Arrows pelted down from the skies, raining down upon the targets. A explosive detonated somewhere in the middle of the battlefield, and for a moment, the world was lit in a flash of white.
Scaramouche brought up his sword, parrying a strike from the enemy. Blood mixed in with the mud, and he nearly slipped. He looked around frantically for an opening while fighting off another.
You were right behind him, your own weapon in hand, also fighting off the enemies. The heavy armor weighted you down, but atleast it was keeping you alive. Your sword work was clumsy, inefficient, and the opposing side caught on quickly that you couldn’t wield a sword as well as the knight protecting you.
Scaramouche felt an electric spark running up his spine. He shivered, a sudden ominous feeling shadowing him. With a swift thrust of his blade, the few remaining enemies surrounding the two of you fell.
“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing ahold of your arm. “This place to far too dangerous.”
You stumbled as you ran, ducking as arrows whizzed past you.
Using the smoke as a cover up, Scaramouche brought you over to an house that was just barely on the verge of collapsing. It was a miracle the building hasn’t already been obliterated into nothingness.
“Stay here,” he said, guiding you to a dark corner of the house.
“You’re staying with me, right?”
He nodded. “It is my duty to protect you as your knight, princess.”
“Scara… you can drop the formalities.”
“Force of habit, sorry,” he muttered.
You laughed, a sound akin to the silver bells that twinkled in the autumn breeze. The laugh quickly faded away, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “Sometimes… I just wish we could’ve been normal people, you know?”
Scaramouche felt his heart squeeze at your words.
“Maybe then we could’ve been together and escape from the war, living somewhere where nobody can find us,” you shook your head, knowing full well the future you envision will never be reality.
A knight and a princess could never be together.
“Scara, come here,” you said, beckoning the boy over.
He did as told, getting on one knee as he faced you. With no warning, you cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer to you. It was a short-lived kiss, and when you pulled away, both your faces were dusted a light red.
“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” you sputtered out, stumbling over your words in the haze of panic. “Sorry…”
Delicate fingers came up to trace his lips, the tingling feeling of your lips still dancing. It was crazy, seeing you so calm and collected, when the kingdom that belong to you— was being slowly teared apart, bit by bit.
The amber of the raging fire reflected in your eyes as you stared out at the bloodied battlefield. You kept your gaze trained on anywhere but him, your thoughts still jumbled up from your impulsive decision.
“It’s fine,” he whispered, heart thumping.
He sat down next to you and pulled you into his embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.
The world was falling apart, but for just the tiniest moment, here in this dark corner of a house, everything seemed to be alright. It was just you and him, and nothing else mattered. Just two idiots in love, but unable to love each other.
You pressed your body against him, feeling the warmth that radiated off.
Suddenly you were 8 years old.
It was storming again. You were hiding in the closet of your bedroom, a blanket tightly wrapped around you.
Scaramouche bursts into your chamber and yanked the closet door open, his hair disheveled and eyes crazed. His breaths were ragged as he looked at you, a wave of relief visibly washing over him.
“There you are,” he mumbled, crawling into the tiny space next to you. “I thought you got kidnapped…”
No response was heard from you, but the extra weight on his shoulder said more than enough. Scaramouche could only muster a tiny smile. Though the boy was only two years older than you, he had shown an incredible progression in his maturity level— this leading your parents to make the final decision and officially appointing him as your personal protector.
“Hey…” he whispered, patting your head. “There’s no need to be scared, I’ll always be there to protect you.”
That was his pledge.
His voice echoed loudly in his head.
“Hey.”
He could barely hear himself over his pounding heartbeat.
“Hey..” he nudged at your still figure. “Hey don’t do this to me. This isn’t time for jokes.”
Very carefully, he lifted your body up and held you close to him. A warm liquid seeped slowly seeped into his attire. You were still alive, Scaramouche could confirm with that faint heartbeat of yours. But it won’t last long, he knows it.
The lightning strikes. Purple streaked across the skies, bringing with it a deafening clap of thunder. All sorts of emotions raged in his heart, but the one above all, was fear.
“Scaramouche,” your voice was faint, just barely audible.
The silent was deafening.
How did it happen?
…
He had lowered his guard and allowed a silent attacker to intrude.
It was my fault.
A tear slipped and rolled down his cheeks. Even though the enemy had long gone cold, it was still too late. That bloodied gash that hastily marked your neck signaled at your death.
It was futile to try and save you. He knows. Yet he tries.
It was only when your body had gone limp, when the light in your eyes dulled out, when you couldn’t feel his warmth anymore, was when he stopped—
— stopped trying to care for the world around him, for what was there to care about when the only person he had ever really loved was gone? A strangled laugh escaped him.
Gone.
He brought your body over to an untainted field, where the surviving flowers flourished. Gently, Scaramouche laid your body down on the bed of flowers and took one final look at you before closing your eyes for the last time. He sat a small clutch of orchids where your hands met.
“Maybe in another lifetime, you and I, could be together,” he whispered. “I’ll wait for you, always.”
With his final words, Scaramouche stood up and faced the warzone ahead of him, his blade clutched tightly in his hands, and the stone hanging by his neck glowed a fierce purple.
Dark heavy clouds began covering the sky, the aura of electrical hanging low in the air. Slowly, rain began to plunge.
And amidst the rain he would fight, fight until the world had finally taken account of what they done, fight until his final breath, fight until he drops dead— fight like that of a warriors final pledge.
The storm was back, and this time, it won’t hold back.
✩ ·┆masterlist
notes—
— bruh I finished this fic at like 12am so the ending might not make sense; making reader suffer in the next fic, I’ve caused scaramoochie too much pain 🙏
