Chapter Text
“Are you ready to go?”
The melodic voice, that was now laced with sleep, rang within the apartment while the streets outside were dim. It was early morning; the sun had not risen yet, so only the streetlights and lonely windows were false stars in the dark night. Not that it bothered you or the melodic voice nearby.
“Is it time already?” you replied, searching for the Ballader’s face with your half lidded eyes. When you did, the violet ocean waves couldn’t help but glint happily glint back.
“Yes, we have around an hour to catch up to the sunrise,” your lover replied. “We’ll have to hurry if we don’t want to be late for it.”
To the small tease you merely yawned back, still in the shackles of rest, and decided to sit up in your bed. As you expected, Scaramouche already wore the clothes you chose yesterday evening: a dark red Fontaine-style vest with similarly colored pants, along with a white shirt. It stood out from the rest of the dark room, like luminescent stone inside a cavern. Or perhaps, if you were awake enough to voice your thoughts, like a pearl inside its oyster.
“Iridescent…” you remarked out loud, already moving out of your bed and towards where you had put your own disguise.
“Are you lost in your thoughts again?”
“I am lost in you, my dear,” you said absentmindedly and began removing your nightclothes. Unlike your sunrise-watching disguise, they were teal; the lace details were white, as was the colour of so much lace in this world, and highlighted the hills of your skin, its imperfections that were so perfectly adored by your partner. Yet, to protect him and yourself, you began to put on the grey pants, shirt and vest, fastened their buckles and flattened the creases.
You looked at yourself in the mirror then. In the reflection was not you, at least that is who you saw at first: a Fontaine citizen of the present times, dressed adequately yet plainly, hiding their fears behind a mask of indifference. Luckily, these qualities were not you but a character you would have to play in the event you were recognized outside at this hour.
From the mirror, your gaze made its way back to Scaramouche, who still stood by the foot of the bed, watching you. He appeared amused as you asked him for the reason behind his near eerie stance, to which he replied with equal amusement:
“I’m getting mentally prepared to play the role of a Fontaine local.”
“Your gaze tells me otherwise,” you replied, finally catching on to the reason for your lover’s gaze. “Perhaps seeing me in period-accurate clothes is a weird sight to you?”
“It’s new, not ‘weird’,” Scaramouche corrected, preparing himself to start a new sentence, “I…” but the sentence never came to light. Instead, the Inazuman hid his thoughts behind his lips as he exhaled in annoyance:
“... You rarely wear grey.”
“Is that all?” you chimed and moved closer to him; his hand instantly sped towards yours.
“There’s more,” interlaced fingers, a hushed tone, “and there is always the unknown.”
The unknown, you thought to yourself. Of course; not knowing if someone stalks you, if either you or your lover gets recognized, if your preparations for this morning were in vain, all of the intrusive thoughts plagued your mind. Was it too much to ask of the universe for a sliver of serenity? You couldn’t know, nor could the man who stole your heart tell you.
So, with a bit of confidence and a kiss to your cheek, you left your apartment behind to join the foggy streets of Fontaine. There was always fog during this time of the year: it piled up in the bodies of water first, then seeped through dirt paths to join the alleys, then the streets and finally the boulevards of the capital. It was a fascinating sight, but also your means of staying hidden from the watchful gaze of the universe.
Eventually, you led your lover out of the city and onto a dirt path that ran uphill. It wasn’t the biggest hill, but it would take physical effort to walk up the path.
“What’s wrong?” Scaramouche suddenly broke the silence of your walk. “Did you see someone watching us?”
“No, no I have not,” you replied, squeezing his hand. “I am surprised we have made it this far without separating.”
“It’s all thanks to you and your knowledge of the city,” your pearl retorted.
“Your ways of evasion have also played a key role!” you said, smiling softly. “Neither of us would be here without the other.”
“You’re right,” the violet ocean smiled back. The ocean’s master knew too well of the implications behind your words, and thus didn’t pry more. You indeed walked this far thanks to him, and he advanced in his own journey the equal amount. In short, you both grew; the blossoming, deepening emotions joined in on the growth as well.
While you two walked uphill, you couldn’t help but fantasise about what sight would await you at the top. Perhaps the morning fog would ruin your escapade, or improve it tenfold? Or maybe your seat to watch the sun had been taken by another, more worthy couple; would your unwavering love for the Inazuman not be enough to grant you the place? You hoped that your feelings were enough, for Him and for the universe. After all, only Scaramouche dared to call you such tender things that began to escape your mind when the two of you were finally at the top of the hill.
Objectively speaking, the hill’s panoramic view of the cityscape was breathtaking, both in the day and night hours. At the present moment, somehow, despite your lover standing next to you, the landscape appeared lonely. Why was that? It was supposed to be a nice morning, a small escape from reality.
“Darling?”
“Yes, dear?”
“May we sit over there?” you pointed to a rock perch nearby.
“Of course.”
With ease, Scaramouche led you to the perch, letting you sit down first and make yourself comfortable. Only then did he move to sit next to you; his hand found yours once more and brought its knuckles to his lips. He kissed them gently, letting a certain warmth penetrate your whole body. Then, the Balladeer let the hands rest on his lap, holding tightly to yours while you smiled at him. You didn’t feel the need to say or add anything else then: you were more than happy with the small gestures and His smile.
He always smiled genuinely at you; not a day went by when you didn’t remember his lopsided smirk, or the hidden small smile, and of course the times he showed his teeth from happiness. Those moments filled you with so much joy that you couldn’t help but smile back wider. After all, Scaramouche deserved this.
That was your opinion on the matter, at least.
The quiet minutes passed the two of you by as the view became more blue. Hand held like it was your last day on the continent, you watched the fog slowly become more opaque, gain shades of aquamarine and melancholy, all the while the sun remained below the horizon. You began to wonder if you would even see the sunrise you hoped to: what if it wouldn’t be what you or Scaramouche expected? What if an uninvited cloud blocked the sun? How would you respond then? You didn’t know, and that made you squeeze your lover’s hand.
“What’s wrong?” The same beautiful voice broke the morning silence. Scaramouche looked slightly worried, leaning slightly to make out your expression. Of course, he would not be able to, for the darkness still hid your face, just like his usual veil hid his in the daytime.
“I..” a small pause, another squeeze to his hand, “I’m scared of what will come when the sun rises, love.”
Then came another silence, but this one filled with reflection. It seemed you both needed time to properly think of the future: how you would evade the morning pedestrians, how to avoid craving another escapade, what to do in case of disappointment. You didn’t know an answer to most of those questions, so you relied on Scaramouche to quell your worries.
“When it rises,” he started, “we walk back to your apartment using the same alley. If someone sees us, we separate paths like we discussed last night.”
“I don’t want it to rise,” you replied. “I don’t want to lose you to the sun again.”
“You won’t. The sun is going to guide us home,” Scaramouche said in a stern voice. “I promise you that you will be fine.”
You decided to hold on to this promise, however empty it could become. First and foremost, you had no counterargument to what your Balladeer had said. He always kept you out of harm’s way, he tried to at least. Then, you also didn’t want to argue this early in the morning about something that was out of your control. Neither of you were gods, and thus neither of you could control the rules of this world. You only hoped that things would end well, or at least end on a comfortable note.
Suddenly, or maybe at last, you noticed a change in the scenery.
Little gemstones, orange and yellow, trickled into the blue fog and began to spread. They then began to grow in size, to expand and chase away the remaining night hours from the city; a bird broke into song; and then another joined it. At the same time, the sun itself rose from beneath the mists, slowly and gracefully, as if it were a slow morning for the celestial object. You even thought that you could see it stretching and yawning like you had just an hour ago. It was fascinating to look at, comforting even.
You only lost eye contact with the sun when it began to hurt your eyes to look at it; humanity wasn’t supposed to come this close to its perfected power. So, you looked to what you decided to be the most perfect thing in your world: Him. Scaramouche, for a lack of better wording, didn’t seem to be affected by the sunrays. His eyes were open in the same neutral way, observant and regal; the sun covered his violet ocean with warmth momentarily, a warmth that was unnatural, even in your company.
“What did you notice in the distance?” you asked quietly so as not to disturb your lover, but he did not reply. Instead, he returned the gaze and his eyes magically softened, silently telling you more things than words could describe. So, you took that silence as a positive answer and asked another question:
“Are you ready to go back?”
“Yes. I wasn’t planning on encountering any disturbances after… this.”
A part of you wanted to stay at the clifftop for longer, though. You didn’t want to return back to the city, to face reality once more. You didn’t want to lose your sun’s smile again. However, neither you nor your partner had the option to remain frozen in the early hour of dawn: sighing to various degrees, you stood up from the perch and began the walk back to your home in a heavier silence. You didn’t encounter any pedestrian, Fatui member, or even a stray animal, surprisingly, and the remaining morning fog gave enough coverage to hold on to your lover.
In another life, you assumed, you would watch the sunrise again with Him, but without restraint. He wouldn’t be a Harbinger, and you wouldn’t be a prisoner of bureaucracy. You two would be able to love openly then.
But this thought is but a mere pipe dream, is it not?
You concluded, for your own happiness, that such a day would come; Scaramouche, changed back into his Fatui attire, gave you the sorrowful smile he always gave before leaving, and thus he disappeared into the murky morning of the capital.