2mie
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“I had fun,” Childe said, and for a second, thinking the other didn’t hear him, he reached out a hand to touch his wrist. “We should do it again sometime.”
“You asking me on a date?” Scaramouche laughed then. Childe thought it was the first time he’d heard him laugh— it was, perhaps, the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
“And if I am?” He didn’t know if he was being serious or not. They’d only just met a few days ago, but if Scaramouche wanted to call it a date, then Childe would be determined to make it the best date in the world.
Scaramouche’s face fell in an instant, any bit of amusement or teasing washing away with the drops of rain that slid down his flushed cheeks. “I don’t date.” He crossed his arms, a small scowl on his face as he squinted up at Childe. “We can fuck, though.”