Chapter Text
Tuesday, October 7
Scaramouche, currently staring at the club plaque that announced "CLUB ROOM" and—under it—a sticky note that said "EX. PHYLOSOPHY" because Venti had always said he'd order them a plaque with their club name and eventually forgot, grabbed the key from his pocket and opened the door. Thankfully, he'd seen Childe at the entrance an hour ago while he was playing basketball — which was weird, since Scara thought he played rugby — and demanded his key back. Thankfully, Childe hadn't forgotten to bring it. Now he was opening the club room to nap for an hour before his next class. He figured Mona would still be in class with Mr. Zhongli and grimaced, knowing she wouldn't get out of there for a long time, considering how that man could talk for hours uninterrupted, especially at the mention of the Great War. He felt slightly pleased at the thought of being alone for a while, now that the club felt like a communal space.
He entered the room and left the keys on the table, checking a poster that said something about the Homecoming party on Friday. Ignoring that, he skimmed the club and noticed how everything looked the same as when he'd left the day before. He was momentarily glad no one had broken a chair or punched a hole in the wall — he didn't know what to expect at this point. Nevertheless, the thought made him scowl, instantly remembering the scene: Kaeya looking at him with that horrible smile and talking about things Scaramouche knew he wouldn't understand. He quickly tried to think about something else, but eventually realized he wouldn't be able to nap because he'd keep thinking about Kaeya and the cigarettes and… He sighed and looked at the shelf, scanning it, scanning for anything that would quiet his mind for a while.
He bent down and started looking for a movie to watch. The old TV was horrible and he couldn't get normal channels, so he'd started buying DVDs of movies he liked. He grabbed a copy of Coraline and looked at it strangely. He had not bought Coraline. After a second of thought, he concluded it had probably been Mona. Of course he had watched Coraline, but he'd never bring it to the club. That would be embarrassing. He put the Coraline copy where it belonged and grabbed a Nosferatu one (the 1922 version, obviously), but then realized he needed to distract himself with something else. He'd watched Nosferatu way too many times; he knew everything in the movie.
After a few more minutes of thought, he settled on Maurice, the only romance movie he'd ever watch without being forced to. He'd read the book a while ago, and the movie wasn't a bad adaptation, so he'd bought a DVD to watch there. Mona didn't like it as much as he did, so he usually rewatched it alone. Somehow, the movie still absorbed him completely, and he thought that if he ever had to have a romance story, it would be that one. Minus the whole repressed homosexuality thing.
He grabbed the DVD and went to put it in the DVD player. It was a big thing, and he always struggled to connect it. For some reason, he thought of Lumine and her long, manicured nails. She'd surely never be able to do this, considering he, with his short, black nails, always spent a good five minutes at it. He remembered Lumine's short hair and Childe's indifference. Nope, he thought, not thinking about that. As he was trying to eradicate Childe from his mind, someone opened the door, but since it wasn't done roughly and accompanied with a loud thump like it usually was, Scaramouche hadn't noticed, too concentrated on making the TV work.
"Is the TV broken?" A deep voice asked. Scaramouche turned to face the person and found himself looking at Dehya. He only knew her because his auntie had talked about her a few times, mentioning how reliable she was. Her hair was damp and she was wearing a sports top. He wondered if she wouldn't get dress-coded with that clothing, but then remembered that teachers were always more lenient with rugby players. He frowned, thinking that if Mona ever wore that, she'd lose her scholarship.
He shook his head. "No, I'm just trying to put a DVD in here." He pointed to the DVD player. "The TV just always acts up whenever I do, so I have to fight it. I'll be done in, like… five minutes."
Dehya nodded and sat on the couch. She looked at the cover of the movie, which featured a brunette man, and frowned. "Maurice?" Scaramouche nodded, waiting to see if Dehya would press for more information. "What's it about?"
He hummed and replied after a second. "Well… It's a book adaptation. The movie basically follows Maurice's university life. It's set at the start of the twentieth century, and Maurice is a gay man, so you can imagine how that goes. He meets two guys, and he falls in love with one. It's kind of about his struggle to accept his homosexuality and stuff." He explained the plot while he tried to connect the DVD player to the TV.
Dehya had been silent for a while. Scaramouche had almost thought she'd left with how quiet it was, but when he turned around to face her, he simply saw her looking at him without saying anything. Her face had a conflicted look, and Scaramouche could only wish he hadn't been wrong about her. She was Childe's friend, but he could almost swear she liked women. Scaramouche thought it was ironic that Childe, who was apparently gay-repulsed, had many gay friends: Kaeya, Beidou, Dehya (probably)... And maybe even him. When he noticed his thoughts creeping into Childe territory, he retreated quickly, leading them back to where they were before: to Dehya.
"You're really gay, right?" She asked. Normally a question like that would feel malicious, but her tone was slightly different. Scaramouche nodded, not knowing if he should add something else.
After a few more seconds of quiet, Scaramouche spoke. "Aren't you gay too?"
Dehya looked surprised for a fraction of a second, but then she just gave a low chuckle and nodded. "I guess everyone knows at this point."
Scaramouche turned away to continue his fight with the DVD player, but his attention was still on her. "You're not out yet?"
"I don't know. I've never told anyone but the team."
That surprised Scaramouche. He nodded, thinking about whether it would be rude to ask about Childe's reaction. He couldn't help but admit he was curious. "So… How did they react?"
She shrugged. "It was okay, I guess. It got a bit awkward at first, but then Beidou tackled me to the ground, so that made it smoother."
Scaramouche slowly nodded, finally getting somewhere with the device. "Cool… What about Ajax? How did he…" He slowly looked behind while he said that, and when he saw the face Dehya was making, he wasn't able to finish the sentence. She looked like someone who was picturing a horrible scene in her head.
Dehya cleared her throat and looked away, muttering something unintelligible. Scaramouche nodded and, after a small hit to the DVD player, it finally worked. He got up and sat down on the couch as the movie started playing. Dehya was playing with her hands awkwardly, making Scaramouche immediately feel guilty about his words. He had no right to pry into anyone's personal life, especially not something he knew would be difficult to talk about. He wanted to apologize — he really wanted to — but what would he tell her? Hey, sorry for asking. I know Ajax is a homophobic jerk. Ha, ha.
He heard Dehya sigh, still not looking up. "I shouldn't get like this, sorry." She shook her head. "Just… You know how he…"
Before she could finish, Scaramouche nodded. "I know." Dehya smiled, relieved to leave the taboo subject aside. She stretched and looked at the TV. "You'll explain any weird 20th century thing, right?" making Scaramouche snort and nod in response.
Hanging out with Dehya, he realized, wasn't bad at all. He'd expected a higher level of tackling and screams, but she was quiet, although not disinterested. He could tell she was watching the movie and even enjoying it. Her face was serious, but she clutched the blanket during the high-tension scenes, reminding him of how Mona did that too when they were watching horror films and got scared. When he noticed, he couldn't help but smile.
After a while of watching the movie like that, the door thumped open — God, Scaramouche would kill whoever that was — and he immediately regretted looking behind. Ajax and Kaeya stood there, with damp hair and towels around their shoulders. When Kaeya saw Scaramouche, he was sure there was a slight frown there. The slightest crease, but it was so different from any usual Kaeya face that it turned out to be remarkable.
Ajax, when he took in the scene, gasped. "You're watching a movie without me?!" He walked close to Scara, holding his shoulders from behind. The posture made Scara unconsciously sit up straighter, and a drop of water from Childe's damp hair fell onto Scara's face. His hand reached up to wipe it, but Childe was faster. He wiped the drop with his thumb innocently, not understanding that touching his face like that did things to him—things that anyone would feel if an unarguably hot guy touched your face like that. He smiled in response to Scara's expression. "Or are you trying to flirt with Dehya? Shooting your shot on the second day like a true man." He continued jokingly. After those words left his mouth, Scaramouche noticed how Dehya immediately tensed when she heard that. He understood the situation better now. He understood how Childe dismissed her feelings. He began to open his mouth, preparing to explain how neither he nor Dehya would ever be attracted to each other, but he was beaten by Childe, who was faster. "What are you watching, anyway?"
Scaramouche, annoyed by the interruption, looked at Dehya, whose face was screaming Please don't say anything, so he begrudgingly did not say anything. Frowning, he thought that if he couldn't say that he was gay, he'd just say he was watching a gay movie.
"Just a movie." He muttered. Childe nodded, waiting for more. "It's about a guy who goes to college and meets guys."
Childe frowned. "Ugh, like… intellectual guys? That's so boring."
"What? No. Like… homosexual guys… And he's a homosexual too." That didn't seem like enough, so he continued. "We're watching a gay movie."
After the last sentence, he saw the flick. How Childe's face turned from amusement to what Scara did not want to call disgust simply because it was directed at him. Even if he knew Childe was disgusted by gay people, he had not clocked that he would be disgusted by him, and that the look of disgust he'd give to gay people would be a look of disgust directed at him. He felt paralyzed, as if someone had shot a tranquilizer into his heart. His brain was moving, thinking and making conclusions, but his heart — the part that was shot — was still.
Childe removed his hands from Scaramouche's shoulders and backed up. The removal made him feel cold, almost as if something was missing. Maybe Childe had held his shoulders so much that the weight of it had become grounding, but as he looked at Scaramouche with that face, he felt as if those calloused hands from rugby were dirty and sinful because they had touched him. He felt as if Childe could see that they were dirty and sinful now, and that's why he'd removed them.
Ajax shook his head, once, twice, then clutched his fists. "That's not okay. You can't be… You can't…" He spoke, but seemingly struggled to get the words out. He inhaled and continued. "That's not okay. I'm leaving." Just as he finished his sentence, he stomped away, leaving the warm room freezing in the early October fall. The movie was still playing, the characters now fighting, but the tension in the room wasn't because of that, and God, Scara wished it had been.
Scaramouche would have wanted to stand up and chase Childe, to ask him what was wrong with him and — with how angry he felt — beat him up, but, again, his body was still. In fact, he was still staring at the ceiling, at where Childe's face had been before.
He looked at Dehya, who was staring at the door with the face of someone mourning, and then, inevitably, at Kaeya. Kaeya's expressions were hard to crack, not only because you could barely see one eye with the eyepatch and hair-covering-eye thing he had going on, but also because, just like Scaramouche, he had walls around him. They were similar, him and Kaeya, but his walls were extremely different. While Scaramouche's walls were made of brick and were cracked and had barbed wire decorated with a "STAY AWAY" sign, Kaeya's walls were nothing but a mirror. You could not see anything there. Scara's walls were more evident, yes, but Kaeya's were twisted and dangerous. He could not tell what he was thinking.
"He's an asshole. He's got no right to act like that. I just… He treats us as if we're a disease." He said, the words flowing out of his chest. He could not act like he had the night of the party — unbothered and fun. He had a feeling that stung, as if the barbed wire that had been protecting him had ended up cutting him.
Dehya looked at him and shook her head, sighing. "No, it's… Don't say that. Childe just has a hard time…" She paused, looking for the words. "Understanding us."
Scaramouche was dumbfounded. He simply did not understand why she had said that. Maybe he had gotten the answer wrong. Maybe what had happened had altered his hearing somehow. He hoped that was it, because he didn't want to believe the possibility that Dehya was defending Childe.
To his lack of surprise — because he had quickly accepted that it would go like that — Kaeya nodded. "He's just like that. You're pushing him too hard."
Scaramouche shook his head, his mind now working in loops. He wasn't in an intolerant area. Teyvat Springs was pretty open to gay people, and although he had experienced his fair share of name-calling — usually screamed "faggot"s on the street and a few moments where a line was crossed and it escalated — he'd never gotten something like that. Childe's reaction was bad, he knew that, but it obviously couldn't compare to the time someone broke a bottle of beer in his face, resulting in a broken nose, or the punch he'd gotten while he was kissing a boy at the park. The thing was, those were aggressive and physical, but they hadn't hurt as much as Childe's disgusted look, which now hurt more because not only had he gotten Childe's disgusted look, but he'd also gotten scolded by people who held loyalty to someone who hated them rather than to themselves.
He couldn't say anything. His mouth wouldn't work and his body wasn't cooperating. He knew he was feeling the itch he felt when the barbed wire got too close to his heart, and he knew that he needed to smoke right now. He knew he couldn't smoke right there, that it wouldn't be right, so he stood up and left. He wouldn't have been able to remember the details even if he'd wanted to. One second he was in front of Kaeya and Dehya, and the next he was sitting on the empty bleachers smoking. He exhaled, letting the smoke out. He felt angry and confused, and those feelings wanted to break free and punch Childe. Screw the bubble, screw the cigarettes, and screw him.
He scowled and put out his cigarette on the ground, leaving it there. He'd surely get in trouble if someone snitched or if a teacher found out, but for that they'd have to find out. He sighed and checked the time, noting that he had no more time to mope around and had to get to his next class. If I see Ajax, he thought, I'll beat him up and make him smell cigarettes and force him to watch me kiss a guy. That would surely be Ajax's personal hell.
After two more classes, he was free for exactly 45 minutes to have lunch. He thought about going to the cafeteria and eating whatever the school had provided — which would not satisfy him and his picky eating — and thought that a cigarette would, in fact, satisfy him. Mona had told him that he wouldn't reach his thirties if he kept puffing smoke like a chimney. He looked at his cigarette pack, almost new — he'd bought a new one yesterday after his encounter with Kaeya and thrown the other one in the trash — and, before he could go to the bathroom to smoke one because he'd be dead if anyone saw him smoke in the hallways, he saw the person who'd been occupying his thoughts compulsively for the last two hours: Childe.
For a second, he was transported back to the club room. For a second, he wasn't able to move, and his eyes encountered such disgust in Childe's eyes again, empty as they were. He quickly regained composure, though, and went to where the other was standing, next to the lockers, looking at his phone.
When he arrived and was standing right in front of him, looking up, he realized he had not thought this through at all. He'd pictured the scene in a thousand different ways, but in all those scenarios Scaramouche was 6'5" and his punch knocked Childe's teeth out, and he was able to express what he felt as well as Kazuha did. He chose to wait there until Childe noticed him, which took no more than a minute. When he did, Childe's eyes widened and he closed his phone, immediately looking down at him with a conflicted look that only got worse when he registered that Scaramouche was right there in front of him.
"Kuni…" He muttered, with a pinch of guilt that only felt mocking now after what had happened before.
"Jerk." He spit out.
Childe was silent and looked, frankly, confused. It wasn't like at the party, though. This time he didn't burst out laughing but morphed his face into something blank. Scaramouche quickly realized that Childe with a blank expression was unnatural, and he hated it as much as when he looked at him with disgust. He preferred to see him smirking or pouting or laughing, not blank. Blank meant it could turn into disgust once again easily, and that scared him.
"What?" He asked. Not because he hadn't heard, but because he hadn't understood.
"I'm saying that you're a jerk. You're acting like a jerk. An asshole. You're so selfish!"
Childe didn't say anything. His face didn't change. Scaramouche took that as a cue to continue.
"You're being horrible to your friends. Not to me, because you've been horrible since the first time we met and I got the clue — we're not friends — but to your real friends. To Dehya and Kaeya. To the ones that defend you even when you hate what they are."
Childe's face, which had been blank, composed, and which Scaramouche knew was a fraud because Ajax wasn't a blank canvas but a very intense painting, and it was useless to cover it with a mask if you knew there was something behind, showed something. A hint of hurt, of emotion, and Scaramouche, whose venom could only think of hurting and getting there, noted the crease in his eyebrows and the widening of his eyes.
"What does Kaeya have to do with this?"
Scaramouche frowned. Denial always came first, it seemed.
"You know why. Kaeya likes…"
Childe quickly interrupted him. "Stop! Stop. Kaeya is not like you. Don't lie to me." His voice had started to tremble, and he knew he'd hit a nerve.
"You know damn well Kaeya has had his tongue inside like… half the male school population!" He shouted.
Childe shook his head and pursed his lips. "That's not true." Scaramouche would've liked to keep the fight going, but Childe quickly left like last time. He'd always liked to run away, but Childe was beating him to it.
"You're a coward!" He screamed, and realized that a few people were looking at him and Childe's spectacle. He looked at the audience and, hiding behind a blue-haired girl, was a very pretty blonde with a choppy bob, currently frowning. Scaramouche immediately noticed Lumine. When they locked eyes, he thought she'd come to him and insult Childe, but instead, she quickly left, as if being seen by someone who knew Childe wasn't okay. Scaramouche could understand her: he also hated to think about Childe right now.
He scowled and rubbed his temples. He wished he could stop time to get a fucking moment to rearrange his thoughts, or be able to read minds to get a glimpse into everyone who was suddenly appearing around him. He didn't know if everyone was so complicated or if he'd just gotten involved with the worst people in history. That's why he didn't have friends — except Mona — because they were troublesome and stupid, and he had enough problems without fighting with jocks like he did in sophomore year.
He sighed. The thought of smoking came to mind, but since it was lunch time, everything was packed at the moment. His other option was the club, but just thinking about that reminded him of Childe. Frankly, Childe was making his life hell. He hadn't been so stressed out since Mona had told him he was forced to go to the HOCO party.
Some people were sitting on the floor playing cards. That usually wasn't allowed, but it was lunch, so people who didn't like the bleachers nor the school cafeteria usually just sat down in the hallways or went to an empty room. Scaramouche, who had no place to go and no appetite, sat down and grabbed his phone, choosing to just kill time by waiting thirty minutes until his next class.
The hallways were starting to get more packed by the second, the first bell ringing. Scaramouche was by his locker grabbing a few books. When he closed it, he saw Kaeya's face staring into his eyes. Scaramouche swallowed a scream, not wanting to be remembered as the guy who was constantly screaming at rugby players — he'd gotten over that.
He scowled. Kaeya was the last person he wanted to see at the moment. "What?" He demanded.
"Did you tell Childe I like guys?" Kaeya asked. He had the same face Ajax had before. A blank canvas. Contrary to Childe, it settled perfectly on Kaeya.
"Don't even fool yourself, God. He already knew, okay? I'm tired of this shit." He mumbled, crossing his arms.
Kaeya was silent for a long time. The outside chatter drowned Scara's thoughts into something he couldn't find nor understand.
"Not everyone is as brave as you are, you know? Not everyone can like boys in front of Childe or smoke freely."
Scaramouche, confused, couldn't help but raise his voice slightly. "Yes, you can. You can do those things! I don't get it. Why don't you smoke if you want to?" He asked, even if he already knew the answer.
"Because…" Kaeya started to say. Scaramouche already knew what was coming out of his mouth, and it slipped out. "Childe doesn't like the smell of cigarettes." They finished together.
Kaeya looked slightly surprised when he heard that answer, and nodded, almost as if he'd forgotten he'd been the one who told him that the day before. Scaramouche just felt frustrated and pursed his lips, the words like a thunderstorm in his throat.
"I don't even understand what that means! Just smoke! Just do it! You don't need…" He pursed his lips again, his whole body tense. He grabbed his cigarette pack from his pocket and slammed it into Kaeya's chest. "There! Smoke it!"
Before Kaeya could say anything else, Scaramouche sprinted off to his next class. He thought about everything but Childe and cigarettes, and the only thing left in his world were bubbles and thumbs that wiped water drops. He wished it could always be like that.
Classes were done and no one was in the club room. The windows were open and he could hear Coach Mavuika again, this time screaming at a kid named Gorou who was probably on the rugby team for being too slow. He was sitting on the couch, one arm over his eyes. He had been mourning the loss of his cigarette pack for the last fifteen minutes. Before Childe, Kaeya, and their extensions had appeared, he'd never have given up a whole pack of cigs. He'd even thrown one in the trash yesterday because it felt prohibited to smoke it after knowing that Childe didn't like the smell of cigarettes… How many times had he thought about that? He couldn't understand what it meant, but there was something he wasn't seeing, something important about that sentence that carried more than the eye could take in.
He wanted to keep thinking, but he was so tired. The exhaustion started creeping into his bones and his vision slowly darkened, the sound of the wind like a lullaby to his ears. His eyes, now closed, could feel every sense amplified, so when the door opened softly, he could only hope it wasn't Childe.
The steps were too soft to be Childe's. He was loud and he didn't care about taking up space; Ajax's steps could never sound so tender and careful, especially not that day. He just wished it was Mona or someone, anyone, who wasn't Childe.
Of course, with his luck, hoping for something only meant the exact opposite would happen. There was no point in wishing; he already knew who it was. He'd known from the start.
"Kuni. Are you sleeping?" He spoke as if the words could be heard and stolen by anyone who wasn't them. Low, precise, and thoughtful. If they'd been softer, Scaramouche was sure they would've been blown away by the wind.
Scaramouche couldn't speak. To be more exact, he didn't want to. He felt that, if he spoke, feelings that weren't made of venom would be set free, and he couldn't accept that. He simply couldn't. Instead, he slowly nodded, waiting for an answer.
He felt the weight of the couch shift. Childe was sitting next to him, leaving a considerable amount of distance while being too close at the same time. They stayed in silence for a long time. Scaramouche had not looked at Ajax there, didn't know if he could, and Childe hopefully had looked at Scaramouche. Not like he could know, but a very small, repressed side of himself wished he did. Wished Childe would look at him — not blankly, nor hurt, nor disgusted — but happy. What an awful thing to wish for, something you weren't able to control: someone else.
He slowly removed his arm from his eyes and looked at Childe. His wish, he thought, had come true. Childe was indeed looking at him. His eyes were focused and a little shy, too. Scaramouche felt the sudden urge to hide from his piercing gaze.
"I'm sorry for earlier. I just… I don't want to talk about that." He muttered, looking at him guiltily. He had begun to understand Dehya and Kaeya. It was normal to protect Childe so much if he gave them that look. How could you not? Childe could've ripped his heart out and apologized a second later with his dead eyes getting as close to alive eyes as they could, and you were obliged to forgive him because he was sorry and he meant it, and honestly, it's not like you could do anything else.
Scaramouche nodded, the words flowing like they'd always been there. "Okay. We won't talk about it." He lied. He knew that no matter how good they were at hiding and avoiding and running away from it, something like that would burst. For some reason, he couldn't help but remember Kaeya's words: Not everyone is as brave as you are. And that made him wish — again — that there was something more to Childe and that the look of disgust wasn't directed at him but at a memory. He could only wish that going around the problem would be good enough for now, and that when it blew up, it wouldn't be too strong, that it wouldn't hurt as much as the barbed wire had.
Childe smiled. That was what Scaramouche was waiting for: the smile, Childe's smile. His smile widened and his eyes crinkled. "Okay. I don't want to fight with you, yeah? And what you said earlier…"
Scara looked up and gave him an interrogative hum.
"That we weren't friends." Childe continued, looking a bit hurt for some reason. Scara simply nodded. "Okay, I want us to be friends. I really like you, dude, you're fun." His voice missed the perpetual amused tone and had been stripped to something honest and a bit scared, resulting in the sound of a child who was scared of getting scolded.
Scaramouche was quiet for a while, feeling how Ajax got gradually more embarrassed about what he'd said. Scaramouche chose his next words very carefully. "I don't know. I kind of like being rivals, you know?" He said with a sarcastic edge to it. "Screaming at you is a pretty good way to relieve stress."
Childe opened his mouth, his eyes widening, and immediately burst out laughing, something like relief bubbling from inside. He could not help himself and had to hold Scara, causing him to snort and end up laughing softly too. After a few seconds, Scaramouche composed himself and simply watched Ajax laugh. Childe was grabbing his arms now, and his face was so close Scaramouche would've been able to count every individual freckle and lash he had. He would've done that if he was able to.
When Childe calmed down a little, he breathed out and looked at Scaramouche. His expression changed to something slightly confused. "You smell like cigarettes." He said.
When he heard that, Scara wished he hadn't smoked earlier or that he had brought cologne or perfume with him to change his smell into something less cigarette-ish. He could not control the words that came out. "Do you hate it?" He asked like the silly guy he was, looking for something certain in Ajax's eyes.
He looked into them, deep and mesmerizing, thinking that he could drown himself in his eyes. After a second, Childe's smile — the honest one — came back. The bubble was back somehow. "No. I usually hate it, but it suits you…" His smile, Scara thought, was like the light, and today more than ever, Scaramouche felt like a moth that could not get away from the light. Sun-kissed was a good name for him, yes.