Archive of Our Own

Aside from seeing Childe and Signora daily, Scaramouche rarely found reasons to enjoy the circumstances of school. He wasn't a bad student, leaning towards above average in terms of his exam scores, nor unpopular, per se, but the atmosphere just never paired well with his thinning temper. It was one of the flaws that got the better of him more often than not.

On the day Childe drags him to Student Council signups, Scaramouche stands idly at the doorway of the designated classroom. Clubs and extracurriculars were far from his ideal plans of afterschool activities, but the ginger boy that he calls his best friend has never failed to be quite the opposite of his personal desires. When Scaramouche's watch ticks past fifteen minutes waiting for the familiar head of hair to reappear, he heaves a sigh before reluctantly entering the unknown. 

Fortunately, Childe's voice is easy to pinpoint in the mass array of faces. The student body of the school took their jobs very seriously and, considering the club looked extraordinary on university applications, was always filled to the brim with members from all grades. 

Scaramouche makes his way past these members, giving curt greetings when someone recognizes his face as he walks by. It's easier said than done to direct himself in a cordial fashion due to this, and he's rubbing at his shoulder for fear of bruising as a result of the jostling he goes through in his path. 

Childe's leaning over a desk, eyes shining and laughter bubbling from his throat in a manner that is just so him. Scaramouche lets the slightest quirk of his lips at this sight, shaking his head at how constant the other boy is. His presence causes Childe to turn, another laugh escaping his friend as his hands latch onto Scaramouche's uniform. 

"Scara! Sorry for the wait." He says in a way that shows that he is not as apologetic as his words claim. "Albedo, you know Scaramouche. Scaramouche, this is Fischl and Mona." His motions are fluid, exaggerating the introduction as he grins to his friends.

Albedo gives Scaramouche a warm smile, reaching out to shake his hand, which he obliges. There's nothing wrong with Albedo nor his company. Scaramouche finds problems with most of the school's population, if not its entirety, but something about Albedo is kind and welcoming despite the little interaction between them. They strayed through different crowds, only connecting through Childe. Where Albedo is amiable and popular, Scaramouche is stoic and reserved. 

Fischl is a newer face to him, not recognizable in any shape or form prior to that particular day. "Greetings," she gives a small wave to acknowledge his presence, but the conversation stills after he returns it. 

Mona is also a foreign presence, but he highly doubts that she pays any mind to him by the way her attention pierces toward Albedo. Maybe he is more observant than the popular boy, but Scaramouche appears to be the only one that sees the tension coming from her emerald eyes. When she finally notices the new arrival, her gaze flickers for a second before returning to what seems to be its rightful place.

Scaramouche doesn't take this to heart, feeling more amused than hurt at the reaction. 

"Okaaay," Childe drawls with a grin, taking a step back to stretch. "I'll go check on Sucrose and the T-shirt orders. Scara, stay here with them for a second. I'll be back quick, I promise."

Albedo straightens up, moving to Childe's side. "I'll go with you."

A questioning gaze causes the ginger to falter before his smile grows wider. "The more, the merrier."

Scaramouche regrets not volunteering to stick by the only person he's truly comfortable with, but by the time he thinks of doing so, they're already gone. He's left with the two girls he has just met, and he inwardly curses out Childe for abandoning him in this situation.

Fischl, not noticing the awkwardness, departs with a brief "Bennett and Razor have requested for me” after a call she excuses herself for. Scaramouche is unsure who Bennett or Razor are, but Mona responds with a quick nod before watching her friend disappear into the crowd of people.

Scaramouche settles himself into the seat of a nearby desk, hand drifting to his pockets to retrieve his phone for any source of entertainment. The thing with Childe's promises is that, frankly, they don't quite live up to expectations. He wouldn't be surprised if the sun was gone by the time he left the school's premises. 

He barely notices when Mona starts to do the same, although the sound of the chair against the floor causes him to look up. She was far from subtle in her movements, everything seeming calculated and precise. This causes his eyebrow to raise for a reason he doesn't conclude, but he continues watching her once his attention is shifted from his phone screen.

"Any reason you're staring?" Mona asks, her voice clearer than the rest of the chatter happening around them. There's no malice, but the question comes out more like a statement.

He can't help but blink, mouth parting in surprise at her tone. "No." 

Her eyes bore into Scaramouche's, and he really doesn't understand how Albedo failed to pick up their intensity when he finds he can’t look away. She seems to question if there is more to his response than the one word, but Scaramouche has never been a talkative person, and she turns around to ignore him once again.

Swallowing, he allows himself a minute to indulge once she tears her fixation from him. Her hair is as black as his, styled in two pigtails that trail along her backside. Her uniform matches every other girl's, but there's something about the way she holds herself up that causes Scaramouche to take another swallow. He wonders how he has only heard of her today.

She doesn’t look his way for the rest of the afternoon, not even when Childe returns and bids her a farewell. Scaramouche doesn’t bother to follow his friend’s politeness, ready to leave and return to the comfort of his home.

“That took way longer than I expected but Sucrose is just so nice and she was talking about her day and then asked about my day and then Albedo’s day—you get it.” Childe rambles on, hands extending in the air as he replays his eventful disappearance. “But there’s a bunch of new people wanting to join for this year, so we’re making a better profit from the shirts than last year.” 

Scaramouche does his job as the listener of the friend group and chimes in with a few comments when Childe can’t think of anything else to say. They finally reach his car, parked farther than he would’ve preferred. The first day of school results in lots of early birds, which eventually dwindles down to the top ten percent that actually cares to make it on time.

“You know you’re my favorite, Scara.” Childe says with a happy sigh when he settles into the passenger seat. Scaramouche is well-off, bank account replenished by his father twice a month. The car was gifted to him for his 17th birthday, exchanged with a promise to get into a good university. 

The seats are heated, leading Childe to give another noise of relief. It had gotten windier than expected, and Scaramouche fixes his black locks in the mirror before turning to face his friend. “You owe me a lunch for making me drive you home today.”

Childe opens his eyes, shielding his heart with his hand. “So, you’re telling me this wasn’t out of the goodness of your heart? Fuck you, Scaramouche. You’re no longer my favorite.”

Scaramouche, used to the antics, starts up the car.

Mona doesn’t cross his mind again until a month after their first meeting. He’s seated with Signora, who is busy finishing up her application for Harbinger University four months prior to the early due date. The silence is comfortable between them, especially when Childe isn’t there to serve as a distraction. 

Almost as if the world could read his thoughts, Scaramouche looks to the notification on his lockscreen to see a text from his missing friend. And then three more following swiftly.

Childe (12:30 PM)
hiiiiii
heyyyyyy
scaramouche
hello

Scaramouche (12:31 PM)
What?

Childe (12:31 PM)
can i steal you from signora for a sec plz
plz pretty plz tell her plz

Scaramouche (12:31 PM)
Why?

Childe (12:32 PM)
too many questions
not enough telling signora

Scaramouche (12:32 PM)
Ok
Where?

Childe (12:32 PM)
WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT QUESTIONS????
room 32 though ~

Scaramouche puts his phone down, feeling an oncoming migraine from the conversation he just participated in. “Childe needs me for something.”

Signora merely hums, eyes glued on her laptop screen. He takes that as permission to leave her alone in the library, shouldering his backpack before making his way to the destination asked of him.

Room 32 was the classroom where the Student Council did most of their discussions. What the council could possibly want with Scaramouche was a completely different story. Save for hanging with Childe, he tended to lay low in crowds and avoided most school activities that called for certain populations. It’s one of the reasons he even agreed to Childe’s unprecedented text. Although he’d never admit it, he was curious. 

He can hear his footsteps in the hallway, empty besides him and an occasional passerby. Most students spent their study periods getting food off campus or actually being productive, like Signora. Others, such as the Student Council, decided the free time was best used for meeting up to prevent hours dedicated after school. 

“Oh, Scaramouche.” 

Scaramouche turns around at the sound of his name, wondering who would recognize him at this hour from the back of his head. Mona stands in his line of vision, and he silently asks himself how little sound she must’ve made for him not to notice her earlier. There’s a carton of milk pinched between her fingers, swaying by her side as she meets his gaze.

“Mona,” his greeting is simple, but he’s sure she doesn’t miss the questioning look in his eyes at her appearance.

With the exception of an occasional sight of her familiar hair strands, Scaramouche rarely saw the girl. Interacting with her was a situation unheard of. Despite the time spent undeliberately avoiding her, he had learned a lot behind the scenes. 

Mona Megistus was the Student Council president, voted unanimously for their senior year after doing such an exhilarating job as the junior class president. She participated in a number of clubs and scored exceptionally high marks on her assignments. To say she was well-known was an understatement. After their first meeting, Scaramouche had come to realize that her name was more familiar than he originally thought. Putting a face to the praise, however, came three years too late. 

When a moment of quiet passes between them, Scaramouche clears his throat. “Did you need something?” 

The question seems to surprise her, and she begins to shake her head rather quickly. “No… I just—did Childe call for you? If so, then let’s walk together.”

He pauses, before settling with an “Alright.” He doesn’t miss the way her grip on the beverage tightens as they proceed towards the classroom. It’s chocolate-flavored, a $1.25 fee from the school cafeteria. 

When they arrive, Childe stands up immediately from his seat and greets them with a signature grin. “My two favorite people. I knew you wouldn’t let me down, Scaramouche.” 

Scaramouche examines the rest of the people in the room. Albedo, Fischl, Sucrose, Kaeya and Diluc seem to be the key committee if Childe and Mona were to be excluded. He’s talked to Kaeya and Diluc, stepbrothers with a push-and-pull dynamic. Their interactions humor him from what he’s witnessed, and he can’t possibly picture how they contribute to the team without some scuffle. Fischl and Sucrose, polite as they are, give short “hellos” compared to the siblings’ flamboyant welcomes. 

Albedo, oddly enough, eyes Mona and Scaramouche’s presence long enough for the latter to begin to feel uncomfortable. “Nice to see you, Scara.”

“You too, Albedo.” 

Childe practically pulls his friend to the jumbled up desk formation they’ve arranged, a failed attempt of a semi-circle in front of the scribbles on the white board. Scaramouche sits down, although definitely forced, and looks at the ginger for clarification of the scenario.

“Alright, I don’t want to waste your time or anything and I know that you probably have somewhere else you’d totally rather be than right here, but I really need you to stay with us because we could definitely use your help right now.” His words come out more rushed than usual, and Scaramouche feels his posture straighten. Childe was never desperate when it came to things; he found loopholes and easy paths to get what he wanted. It must be serious if he’s seeking out Scaramouche as a last resort. 

His indigo irises stay put. 

Childe continues on. “There’s an event that the Student Council is planning to do. We need to raise a lot of money to set up our bank for the rest of the year and the next.”

“Do you need me to give you money?”

“What? Of course not.” The ginger’s tone is incredulous, as if he can’t believe Scaramouche would ever view him in that manner. And Scaramouche doesn’t. Even if his financial situation was greater than most, it was never used to take advantage of his friendships, something he’s always been grateful for when it came to Childe and Signora. “We just need a place to host the event. And I know your dad works with real estate or something… I don’t know, maybe it’s a long shot but believe me when I tell you we’ve tried everything else.”

Scaramouche’s eyes shift to the white board again, seeing all of the crossed out words. There’s multiple marker colors with varying levels of saturation, and he believes his friend when he claims they’ve done everything they could possibly do. The rest of the members are silent, but he can tell they’re listening intently to the words being exchanged. The hopeful glints in their eyes are hard to ignore, and Scaramouche feels a slight twinge in his heart at the rejections they must’ve gone through. He’s sure that the decision to consult him in the first place wasn’t an easy one, especially with Childe wanting to avoid using his social status at all costs.

He briefly meets gazes with Mona who, unlike the others, is staring right at him. The expression on her face is unreadable, and he sniffs before looking back at Childe.

“I’ll do my best to help.” 

His best is better than most can offer, which is why Childe grins once he recognizes that the Student Council has been relieved from worry. Scaramouche’s hands are immediately clasped, suddenly part of a dance that the other boy makes up on the spot. “I could kiss you right now, Scara.”

Narrowing his eyes, Scaramouche gently removes his hands from Childe’s possession, stifling a smile. “Please don’t.”

The atmosphere has lightened now that Scaramouche has agreed to be their saving grace, and everyone begins to make conversation about everything that they can. While there’s still time for Scaramouche to spend in the library, he concludes that Signora most likely has finished her tasks and won’t be able to grace him with her presence when he returns. This leads him to toss his backpack on the ground, settling further into the desk. He ignores the smile that widens on Childe’s face, especially when the expression morphs into something similar to pride.

The bell rings for their dispersal half an hour later, and Scaramouche can safely say he doesn’t regret the experience. When he stands up to leave, after waving goodbye to the other students, his eyes lock on a familiar item. 

Mona has already made her way out, but the chocolate milk that she had brought in the room is positioned on a desk. Albedo, seated at the desk in question, picks it up, not noticing Scaramouche’s fixation. It’s still unopened, condensation barely forming on the wood it was perched upon. 

It wouldn’t be good to drink at that point, Scaramouche thinks to himself.

The library is one of Scaramouche’s personal favorite places at school, considering it requires minimal talking. Signora and Childe had gone to order food, taking Scaramouche’s order with them. Burgers were the choice of the day, and Scaramouche’s request for extra pickles would echo in their heads forever.

When Mona slides in the seat next to him, he nearly stands up to find another place. Her hand reaches out to wrap his wrist, pulling him down. 

“Uh,” is the most intelligent thing that leaves his mouth. “Mona?”

There’s hesitation in her actions, something that Scaramouche has yet to see in the seemingly prideful girl. “You’re free right now, yes?”

He nods slowly, unsure of where the conversation could possibly go.

Mona glances around, her green eyes ricocheting across the room for fear of eavesdropping. 

“Is... something wrong?” He loosely moves his hand, hoping that she would get the hint and release him from her hold. She doesn’t, and he internally sighs to himself. “Mona?”

“I need to ask something of you, but I need you to be as serious as possible. Please?”

The request seems simple enough, but does little to still the curiosity beginning to brew in his veins. “I’m always as serious as possible.”

A dry laugh escapes her at his response, and she looks relaxed for the first time since she sat down. “Alright. I need you to pretend to date me.”

This time, Scaramouche frees his arm without second thought, barely avoiding slamming his palm on the table they’re seated at. “What?”

Her eyes are piercing, and she leans in closer to him. He can practically see his reflection in her irises, swallowing at the close proximity they’ve found themselves in. “I need you to make Albedo jealous.”

Her tone is the closest thing to genuine he’s ever heard, even beating Childe’s previous plea for him to help the Student Council. “Why?” He manages to muster.

“You... affect him.” She says, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s leaning towards negative and I’m—Archons, Scaramouche, this is so embarrassing—I’m just desperate right now. I probably sound so ridiculous and this whole thing is stupid, but it has to be you. So, please.”

Scaramouche is frozen in place, mind attempting to process the words that escape her mouth. This image of her is the complete opposite of the one she usually expresses, and he can’t help but furrow his eyebrows. “I affect him?” He failed to notice any changes in the blonde’s behavior towards him, thinking it in the same manner it has always been. 

“Yes. I don’t know how much you know about Albedo, but I swore he had feelings for me. You noticed mine for him, at least. I saw your look.” Mona gives him a sheepish smile, cheeks tinted. He can’t say anything in response to that. He did view it as rather telling. “I thought things were going well between us, but then he started flirting with Sucrose more and more, and they’ve been spending so much time together. I feel stupid.”

“Led on?”

“Yeah, that.” She releases a shaky breath, using her fingers to toy with her hair. “I want to make him jealous, and I know that he’d be upset if it’s you that I’m dating.”

The implication that Albedo dislikes Scaramouche makes a frown tug at his lips. “How do you know he hates me?”

She stares at him, head tilting to the side at his question. “I wouldn’t say he hates you. He just gave some weird glances every time he saw me with you. Any other guy, he’s completely normal.”

Scaramouche can’t lie and claim he doesn’t remember the look Albedo had shot at him. He had brushed it off directly after it had happened, but thinking back on it now with the context Mona provides enlightens him.

He’s about to kindly reject the idea when he hears his friends return. Mona jumps up from her seat, leaning over to look into his eyes again. “Let’s talk after school. I’ll be at your car.” He doesn’t have a chance to respond before she’s gone, dodging around a bookshelf to avoid being spotted.

Signora is holding the fast food bag, preventing her from seeing Scaramouche’s encounter with the student body president. Childe has never been attentive, especially when there’s a container of fries in his hands that requires his attention.

“Here’s your deluxe cheeseburger with extra, extra pickles.” Signora hands him his wrapped meal, pairing it with a fistful of napkins. 

“Scara, you’re not going to believe what happened at the drive thru window.” Childe starts, slamming his hands on the table. 

Scaramouche nods at him to continue with the story, thinking about Mona the entire way through.

She kept her word, although he’s still startled to find her seated at the curb he’s parked at. Her legs are long and slender, extending from the black skirt of the school uniform. 

“Okay, good. I was worried you had somewhere to be.” She gives a small smile of relief, looking up at him. Her backpack is beside her, and she puts it back on when she starts to stand up. 

“Look, Mona—“ Scaramouche begins, not knowing how to let her down gently.

“I know it’s completely crazy of me to ask you.” She cuts him off, and he blinks in response, her name still caught in his throat. “And I know it’s a very selfish thing, in general. You don’t have to go along with it, if you really don’t want to.”

She looks more fragile as ever in this state, heart completely exposed to him. Her face is already turning pink once again, and she holds up a hand to cover the blush forming. 

Scaramouche really knows it’s not a good idea. He knows nobody in their right mind would ever agree to something like this. If you asked him why he nodded then and there, he wouldn’t be able to give you a good reason.

“Really?” Mona’s voice is soft, almost tentative. “Are you sure?”

He breathes out. “Yeah. Okay. It doesn’t hurt me, and it might help you. So, I don’t know. Why not?”

“You really don’t have to do this. It’s out of pure pettiness and it’s a childish scheme, and I know you’re not a childish person so—“

Scaramouche interrupts her now. “Mona.”

“Yeah?”

“Calm down. The worst that can happen is Albedo hates me more.”

“No! I already said he doesn’t hate you,” Mona tries to explain, trailing off when she sees the amused expression in his eyes. “Oh, you’re joking.”

“I am.” 

Silence passes between them, something not foreign in their interactions. Although he’s seen Mona be quite talkative around people, he’s become accustomed to her presence alone. 

“Are you going home?” Scaramouche breaks the tension, fingers brushing the strap of his backpack when he sees her shuffle hers out of discomfort. 

“Oh, um. Fuck.”

The swear causes his eyes to widen. It sounds almost illegal coming from her, but as soon as it escapes her, it quickly turns into a natural occurrence. 

“Fuck, you’re right.” Her phone is out now, and her face contorts with exasperation as she stares at it. “Oh my Archons, I think I missed my bus.”

“I could drive you home. Do you need a ride?” He questions, wondering how someone her age was still traveling by bus. He had never had the chance to, due to his father hiring a chauffeur, but both Childe and Signora stopped near the end of their second year once driving lessons began. 

There’s a short flicker of relief in her eyes, but it’s masked with her usual seriousness immediately after. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that. I live kind of far.” 

Scaramouche only shrugs. “I don’t mind. I’m going home immediately after. No plans or anything. It’s fine.” His eyes trail to her hands, now drumming along her thigh out of anxiety. 

“I can walk, I swear.” Her tone wavers, betraying any chance she had of convincing him.

“Mona, just get in the car.” 

When she sees that he won’t budge until she does so, she opens the passenger door. 

He watches until she sits down before entering through the other side. Scaramouche notes her carefulness, the way that she bunches herself in one spot and tries her best not to move. She’s the opposite of Childe in that case, who makes a second home from his car. 

“You can adjust the seat.” He gestures to the buttons on the side of his own. “Childe likes to sleep there, so that’s why it’s all the way back.”

“Your car’s really nice,” she murmurs, finding a comfortable position. “Can I turn on the radio?”

At his nod, she reaches over to press the button. Scaramouche wasn’t an avid fan of a lot of bands, only recognizing the few that Signora and Childe blasted out when they hung out. He preferred to work in silence, focus not drowned out by tunes. 

“What’s your address?” He asks. 

She turns her phone in her lap. “I can text you. Let’s exchange numbers.” 

Once they do so, a notification on his phone causes him to glance back.

Mona (4:12 PM)
hi

Scaramouche shoots her a look, which elicits a giggle. She texts her address on the next line, and Scaramouche opens up his GPS app to punch the street name in. The ride to her house is fairly silent, minus the rhythm of the radio and the sound of her humming. She was far from tonedeaf, and Scaramouche wondered if she had perfect pitch. It was an enjoyable thing to listen to.

“This is it.” She gestures when his car comes to a rolling stop. There’s not much to look at, especially since Scaramouche has seen top tier neighborhoods and houses, such as his own. He unlocks the door for her and she pulls herself out of his passenger seat. The door shuts to announce her departure, and she begins to walk towards her front door. He’s about to say goodbye when she turns in the middle of her driveway to stare at him. 

“Would you maybe want to come in?”

“Sorry. Probably a completely different scene than you’re used to,” Mona says, lighthearted. Scaramouche can’t tell if she’s actually wary of how he perceives her house, though. It’s bigger than he expected, just from looking at the outside. Still, she’s not wrong with her original statement. “I don’t usually invite people in.” 

He looks up from the mug of coffee she’d fixed for him. It’s a cheap brand, he can tell by the taste, but it’s not bad. “Why’s that?”

She holds his stare before wrapping her hands around her own drink, a bottle of water. “Just because. I’m not exactly wealthy, if you can’t tell. I’m not… embarrassed of my living conditions, but people can be terrible.” 

Scaramouche hopes his face doesn’t show any signs of guilt. He had internally judged her the moment he’d driven into the neighborhood, even when she had mentioned her problem about riding the bus. People could be terrible.

“Anyways,” she says through a tight smile. “I think it’d be best if we had some conditions before we start everything.” 

He takes a sip of his drink, the price far from his thoughts after her spiel. “Conditions? Like, what, rules?” Scaramouche has never truly dated anyone, but the idea of having to follow instructions seemed a little farfetched to him. Being intimately involved with someone wasn’t a cardboard cutout experience for all. “Is someone going to question the legitimacy of this pretend relationship?”

“Albedo’s smart.” She says, matter-of-fact, daring him to argue with her about it. There’s nothing to argue about. Albedo’s brilliant, a sure choice to attend the top colleges that people in their year are applying to. “He’s not going to automatically believe that we’re dating. We barely even speak.”

“Yet I’m your first choice.” 

“I told you why. Don’t let this inflate your ego.” Mona rolls her eyes fondly. She turns to grab her backpack, unzipping it. When she zips it back up again, Scaramouche sees that she has taken out a piece of paper. He looks at it, unimpressed, which she catches. “What? Did you want me to text you a list of rules? That’s so unprofessional.”

He waves her off. “Fine. Be professional then. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

She ignores his comment, taking out a pen to use. Her handwriting is pretty, and he admires the way she gracefully writes the title of the sheet. Scaramona’s Rules. 

“Scaramona?” He holds back a laugh. The glare that she sends across the table makes him clear his throat, however, laughter quenched. “Okay, Scaramona.” It sounded a hell of a lot better than Monamouche, at least. He could give her that.

“First rule.” The pen is lifted off the table, now pointed towards him. Scaramouche stares at the tip, but the dangerous part is the way her eyes are still narrowed behind it. “You can’t tell anybody. Not even Childe and Signora. If we want it to seem real, it’s between us.”

“I’m not sure I’m that talented of an actor.”

“That’s why you have to learn from the best,” she quips, scribbling what she said down. 

Scaramouche smothers a smile with the back of his hand. “Second rule. I drive you home everyday.”

Her head whips up, mouth hanging open. “What?” 

“What? I’m not going to let my girlfriend go home alone on a bus.”

“Yeah, but… that’s after school. Like, not public. Private.” Mona stammers. 

He’s narrowing his eyes at her this time. “Childe and Signora often carpool with me. If they see that we’re not spending time with each other outside of school, they’re going to grow suspicious.”

Scaramouche can see the wheels turning in her head. Her lips are parted from each other, pupils rolling as she ponders the logic behind the decision. He feels his own purse at the sight. How anyone could be intimidated by this girl defied all current thoughts in his head. Mona Megistus, student council president with a lot to back that title behind, was really just an ordinary girl with feelings. She could participate in juvenile activities like fakedating for the sake of making someone else feel envy. A silly crush made her seem vulnerable and human. Scaramouche wonders if she realizes this, too.

“Okay. Fine. No more bus as long as this contract is going on.” She finally obliges, although the reluctance in her words is far from inconspicuous. “Third rule. You have to attend all of my meetings with me.”

“All?” It comes out more incredulous than he intends. “Sorry. Don’t I get a couple of freeby days? Or am I supposed to be a clingy boyfriend because, then, I’m definitely not suited for this.”

“More like I’m the clingy girlfriend that’s so in love I can’t have you out of my sight.” Her elbows are on the table, face held between her hands as she attempts a winning smile. “So? Agreed?”

“Sure. I guess.” Frankly, he had been spending most of his time with the Student Council the past couple of days. Their company was comforting, and he thought it was perfectly okay to consider most of them his friends at that point. It felt weird, extending his social circle past the two he kept close to him always. He merely wanted to annoy Mona with the complaints, which warranted a glimpse of what it would be like to pretend to date her. 

“Fourth rule.”

“Don’t I get to do that? It’s my turn.”

She laughs. “Were we taking turns? Okay, you baby. Go ahead then.”

“Fourth rule.” Scaramouche repeats, pretending not to have heard her baby comment. “If something comes up, we talk it out first.” 

This causes her eyebrows to raise in confusion. “Like an argument? Will we have arguments in fake relationships?”

“Friendships have arguments, too.” He points out, and she shrugs before jotting it down.

“Fifth rule. PDA is necessary. And don’t give me that look. Who’s going to believe a couple that stands five feet apart from each other?”

Almost as quickly as the look appears on Scaramouche’s face, it disappears with her words. He lets out a slight grumble, letting her know of his disapproval, but it doesn’t stop her from continuing on with the list of rules. She was right, unfortunately. If he refused to touch her throughout the so-called relationship, that would be the ultimate red flag. But, like established earlier, Scaramouche was a virgin in terms of having a love life. He doesn’t remember the last time he had feelings for anyone. Pulling this off would be harder than he thought.

“Sixth rule. We end this when someone doesn’t want to continue or you get what you want in the first place.” He states, flatly.

“What I want?” 

He doesn’t look at her, only feels the way her eyes trail over him. The pen is still in her fingers, but she seems to refuse to write down his rule without further explanation. Scaramouche’s tongue runs along his front teeth as he gives a slight exhale, pretending to think as he meets her gaze. 

“Albedo.”

They never formally announce the start of their relationship, much to Mona’s dismay. Scaramouche explained that if he truly was dating someone, he wanted as little attention to it as possible once it began. She goes along with it for his sake, but the subtle details they rehearse quickly sound alarms in their friends’ minds.

“Wait,” Childe says a week after their contract, attention focused on the chocolate milk Mona has bought. Originally, it had been in her hands, placed on the table before the start of the Student Council meeting. Scaramouche pauses, seeing the look of recognition in Childe’s eyes, as he begins to open the beverage for Mona. 

“Yes?” Sucrose asks, looking up from her laptop screen. She was planning out a spreadsheet for the booth signups, Kaeya and Albedo at her side to help.

Childe continues to stare, which grants Scaramouche enough time to place a straw into the milk and hand it over. “Wait. Don’t tell me… You’re not dating, are you? Oh my Archons, Scaramouche, what the hell!” 

The outburst catches everyone in the room offguard, and Scaramouche silently celebrates when he sees the way Albedo’s eyes flicker with surprise. “We are,” is the only thing he says in response. Mona’s cheeks are pink with embarrassment, and she absentmindedly plays with the straw of her drink as everyone begins to look over at her.

“For how long? And you didn’t bother to tell me? You’re kidding me.” Childe’s face goes through multiple phases, ranging from excitement to annoyance before settling on pride. “My little Scaramouche has grown up so fast… His first girlfriend.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Scaramouche scowls, reaching over to shove his friend’s shoulder. “It’s just a relationship.”

Mona rolls her eyes, standing up to start shoving him. “Oh, am I just a relationship to you?”

“No, you’re more than that. You’re also a fountain of knowledge to cheat off of.” He says with a small smile, which causes her to push him again. He shoots her an amused look, and she sticks out her tongue fondly before taking a sip from her beverage.

Childe’s face is scrunched in disgust. “Forget I asked. I think it was better when I didn’t know.”

“I thought there was something going on, but I really wish you didn’t ask.” Kaeya shakes his head, playfully. “Now, they’re going to think it’s okay to flirt in public.” 

“Archons. I messed up, didn’t I?” The ginger covers his face with a hand, eyes peeking behind the spaces of his fingers. 

“Yeah, yeah, and who introduced us to each other?” Mona meets Childe’s gaze through his poorly created shield. “You messed up twice.”

Albedo clears his throat, interrupting the banter between the members. “Let’s focus, shall we? There’s still a lot of sheets to go through.” His hand loosely motions towards the stack of papers, crowding the desks. Scaramouche had easily rented out a grand area for the event to be set up, deciding to take it a step further and mass print advertisements for the school and the city. It was going to be a major attraction, the most important part of the year according to a lot of whispers in the hallways. 

Scaramouche exchanges a knowing glance with Mona at this behavior, and he doesn’t miss the way she brushes her lips free of a smile. He can’t help but feel a sense of triumph as well. If only one day of public dating has already garnered a result, how far could they go with this? 

“Alright, everyone, settle down.” Mona quickly takes on her position as the president, and Scaramouche is impressed by the way she transitions to be in control. The Mona that he has gotten to know in seven days is loose and free, superior in a different way than she is now. “The festival officially starts in two months. Let’s finish up the rest of the applications today and begin contacting the participants about their setups.”

Everyone gets readily into work, and Scaramouche even aids a little bit. 

They manage to clear up the files before the free period ends, leaving them with a couple minutes before they depart for their next classes. Mona divides the applications between the other council members, making sure that they know of their next task. Because a lot of them didn’t share subjects together, that meant they could tackle discussions with those that signed up with events among their classrooms. 

Scaramouche and Mona are the last to leave the room, and she takes his hand into hers easily. Their fingers fit together in the childlike manner of puzzle pieces, and she tugs him towards her. It’s only now that he notices she’s a bit taller than him, an inch or two. She leans over to breathe near his ear, and he feels his cheeks tickle at the warmth coming from her mouth. 

“Want to ditch your next class?” is her question, and her voice comes out airy.

He glances at her, face stoic even if he’s taken aback. “For?”

“I want to go see the place you got us.” 

“So, now, you’re using me for my car.” 

She squeezes their hands together, backing away from his face with a grin. “Maybe so. Is that a yes?”

She’s in a good mood, he can tell. Her face is flushed lightly, eyes glinting with a sense of happiness. Her bangs are mussed, black strands falling in her line of vision, and they don’t look comfortable to see through. Scaramouche reaches over with his free hand to fix them for her. 

He briefly looks around, noting multiple people watching them between the class change. It creates a traffic jam in the hallway, and he shakes his head with amusement. Mona tilts her head at him, almost daring. It’s this look that leads him to cup her cheek and press a kiss on her lips. When he releases her, she’s smiling against his mouth. The other students that witnessed the exchange seem more flustered than her.

“That’s a yes to me.” She answers for him, making a beeline out the door.

The manner in which their fingers connect is the only distraction Scaramouche has from the realization that he initiated his first kiss. He presses his lips together, a hint of honey electrifying his taste buds. 

When they enter his car, Mona has already turned on the radio. He gives a small exhale of laughter, watching as she begins to dance in place to the music. “This is a good song,” she says when they’re halfway to the rented lot. 

Scaramouche had been hardly listening, giving a nod to appease her comment. He sees a grin split on her face when he finds a place to park. The place is much bigger in person, and Mona claps her hands together in awe when she sees this. 

“Scaramouche.” She says through a breath, jumping out of her seat.

He locks the car behind them, and she zips their hands back together when they meet. “Mona.”

“How fast are you?” 

Before he can reply to the question, she’s already dragging him with her. The pace grows quicker by the second, and he feels his lungs cycle with attempts to grab at any oxygen he breathes in. They reach the middle of the arena, where the projected stage stands in front of them. Scaramouche is still trying to swallow in breaths, clutching at his chest as he coughs raggedly. Mona turns to him with a look of concern on her face, though the exercise has made her absolutely stunning in the sunlight.

“Not very fast, I guess.” Mona teases, but removes her hand from his to rub at his back. He sobers up soon after, shaking his head as sweat shines on his temples. She uses her sleeve to brush the droplets away, flashing an impish smile before reaching up to rake her fingers through his hair. 

He fails to fix his dignified appearance, glaring at her. “You’re too much sometimes, you know.”

“You’re supposed to love me unconditionally, anyway.” She hums, looking around. Her posture is lax, and she folds her hands together behind her as she admires their surroundings. “This place is amazing. Literally perfect. I can already imagine my booth.”

Scaramouche looks at her curiously. “You signed up for a booth?”

She nods, lifting her hands in the air in the form of a shrug. “Yeah. I’m going to read people’s fortunes.” 

That was new to him. She never mentioned anything about fortune telling being one of her hobbies but, then again, he’s really only known her for a week. Scaramouche stands silently, thinking about what else there is to know about this girl positioned in front of him. “Maybe I’ll pay for one.” 

She just smiles and tilts her head back at the sky. After a moment of silence, she speaks again. “I think the stars would look pretty here. When it’s night time.”

Scaramouche follows her gaze, the clouds obscuring the vision she was currently daydreaming. There’s no skyscrapers to disrupt the visual, and he can’t help but agree to her statement as the day remains a painting above them. “The festival lasts late. You’ll see them then.”

“We’ll see them then.” She corrects him. “You’re not leaving my side.”

“Is that so?” He says, returning his stare to her.

“Getting rid of me already?” Mona asks, lighthearted. 

“Yeah, I’m a one-week free trial. Didn’t you know?”
She giggles, approaching him to tug at his sleeve. “Let’s stay here for a bit.”

“Skipping two classes in a row? Who is this and what have you done to Mona Megistus?”

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” She lowers her voice, leading the way towards the edge of the stage. She sits down, patting the space beside her for Scaramouche to occupy. He obliges, hanging his legs off the side as she brings her knees to her chest. Once they’re settled, Mona turns back to him. “My attendance record is far from perfect.”

“Your grades are so good, though.” 

“I didn’t say I wasn’t smart, did I?” She squints, mischievous. “Albedo and I used to do whatever during school hours when we had the chance. There was this time that we went to a cat cafe, and I was this close to taking one and leaving right then and there.”

Scaramouche thinks this is a good time to ask her about her and Albedo’s relationship, remembering the way he’d shut down the meeting earlier. “So, you said you felt led on by him.”

“Mhmm?” She makes a noise of confirmation, a lingering inquiry. 

“How’d you two meet? And start up whatever it is that you share.” 

Mona stretches her legs out, copying Scaramouche’s placement over the edge. Her palms find a place behind her and she leans back, slightly, almost reminiscing. “I guess you could say we’ve been rivals. Not in a bad way, though. And it was never a mutual thing. I always saw him as my competitor and he always just stared at me and encouraged me to beat him.” Her tone is wistful, but she laughs. “I was the second place to his first place. All the way from elementary to high school. I only realized later that I had spent my time trying to impress him above all. That’s how I won junior class president last year. I did it for myself. Not for him. And I think that switched something in him.”

Scaramouche eyes her expression, waiting for further elaboration.

“He saw me less as the childish enigma trailing behind him and more of a person to keep by his side.” She finishes. “But I guess he wants more than one person by his side.”

Her laugh is haughty, and Scaramouche puts a hand over hers because it’s the only thing he thinks to do. “This’ll work,” he says. It sounds like a promise coming from him, and he doesn’t know if it’ll come true once it leaves his mouth. But Mona beams at him, and his heart urges him to keep it if it’s the last good thing he ever does for her. He surrenders to the beating in his chest, and she rests a head on his shoulder as the afternoon dwindles in on them.

The day of the event stumbles on the Student Council faster than Mona would like. She’s fussing at the volunteers, whose arms are filled with decoration for the booths registered. Scaramouche hovers behind her, watching her voice grow louder as annoyance seeps in. When he sees the look in her victims’ eyes, he lets his fingers rest on her shoulder to save them from her wrath. She stops her rant almost immediately at the contact, turning to him with an odd glance. 

He presses himself to the other side of her face, keeping his voice quiet. “I think you need to give them a break. They’re just volunteers.” 

Mona visibly shifts, the sigh that escapes her leaving with the prideful attitude. She waves the students off, and Scaramouche briefly nods when he sees their grateful glances at him. His hand is still settled on the crook of her neck, and he snakes the rest of his arm around her like a chokehold to bring her towards him. Two months of pretend dating, and Scaramouche has found out his love language is physical touch. 

“You’re lucky that you’re cute.” She mutters into his sleeve. He grins against the back of her head, rocking her back and forth in an attempt to ease her emotions. “I need to go talk to Sucrose, though, give me a second.” 

Once he releases her from his grasp, she disappears in the middle of all the chaos. He’s left alone, taking a glance at his cellphone that has blown up with text messages.

Childe (03:42 PM)
i think i’m going crazy
when did we have so many kids at this school

Signora (03:42 PM)
?
It literally looks the same
wtf are you talking about

Childe (03:43 PM)
ok and who exactly is on stuco
you don’t understand my pain right now 

Signora (03:43 PM)
And who is going to Harbinger uni?

Childe (03:44 PM)
YOU APPLIED EARLY THIS DOESN’T EVEN COUNT
when i get my acceptance you will be dealt with.

Signora (03:45 PM)
Acceptance vs full ride lmaooooooo
go deal with student loans 
and your student council duties

Scaramouche (03:46 PM)
Hi
What are you all up to

Childe (03:46 PM)
SCARAMOUCHE
DEFEND ME

Scaramouche (03:47 PM)
Nvm

Signora (03:48 PM)
Scara has student council duties to deal with too
where’s your gf
?

Scaramouche (03:48 PM)
Idk
With Sucrose I think

Signora (03:48 PM)
still can’t believe you’re dating someone before childe

Childe (03:49 PM)
?????? 
WHAT
do lumine and zhongli not count to you lady

Signora (03:50 PM)
No because Scaramouche is actually domestic rn.
you’re just a whore

Childe (03:50 PM)
fuck you
ok brb my presence has been requested

“Who’re you texting?” 

Mona’s voice pulls his attention from the screen, and he turns it towards her so she can see. She nods, eyes skimming the messages as she lets out a small noise of amusement. He quickly puts his phone away when he notices she’s carrying the biggest crystal ball he’s ever seen in his life. 

“Is that… for your booth?” He reaches over to take it from her grasp, and she hands it over with a thankful expression. It’s a lot heavier than it looks, which is already pretty heavy, but Scaramouche manages to keep it steadily balanced in his palms. “Archons, how much was this?” It looked and felt expensive, and he knew better than everyone about her problems with money.

“I bought it a couple of years ago,” she says, reading his worried expression. “Don’t worry about the price. It’s too late now.”

“You’re, like, a legit fortune teller, then.” 

She punches his arm lightly. “Did you think I was a con artist?” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” The smirk on Scaramouche’s face gives her another reason to hit his side, and their laughs harmonize together. 

Pretending to date Mona was a better experience than he could’ve asked for. The look in her eyes that he’d mistaken to be daunting revealed itself to be warm and playful with each second. Her light, feathered touches on his skin sent waves of fire throughout his body. She bounced off his personality, and he saw into the depths of hers. He didn’t think it lightly when he considered Mona to be one of his closest friends. There was something about her that completed him. 

Her green irises meet his, and she leans in to give him a short kiss. It must’ve been uncomfortable, considering the crystal ball between them, but Scaramouche doesn’t see anything but a smile on her face when she pulls away. “Okay, I think all of the stuff’s on the way there. Let’s start going.” She lightly taps her foot against his leg, and he rolls his eyes before tailing her towards his car.

“I’m about to start charging you for these rides,” he says, gently placing the crystal ball on her lap after she’s buckled herself in. She wrinkles her nose at him, pushing him away from the doorframe to shut herself in the car. Scaramouche shoves a suggestive finger against the passenger window, and he hears her squeal in surprise at the sight. 

“You’re terrible!” Her voice is muffled, and he shakes his head to hide his smile as he slips into the driver’s side. 

By the time that they arrive at the destination, everyone else seems to have set up their booths. Scaramouche is held against his will to help Mona with hers, and once everything starts to look put together, he breathes a sigh of relief. The sky is just starting to darken, and he can see the lanterns they’d arranged turn on to present a clear path. 

“How do I look?” 

Scaramouche turns to face the booth he’s helped design, eyes landing on Mona. She’s changed out of her school uniform, like him, but a dark cloak is wrapped around her shoulders and a witch’s hat covers the top of her head. He’s absolutely dumbfounded. On anyone else, it would be a stupid outfit that he’d beg them to toss, but he knows that Mona Megistus is far from just anyone else in the world. “You look like you could fit in my hand,” he says, reaching over to frame her face with his palms. “There we go.”

“You look like you could fit in my palm. Since you’re so short. Get it?” She pushes his hands away, looking at him expectantly. 

He flicks her hat down so it covers the rest of her face, which causes her to blindly swat at him in retaliation. “You can’t even say you didn’t deserve that,” he glowers at her, although she can’t see him, dodging her movements. “The festival’s about to start. I’ll leave you to your customers.” 

“Okay, but you said you’d be one of them!” She reminds him and fixes her outfit, waving him off as he begins to explore what the rest of the school has to offer.

Scaramouche meets up with Childe and Signora on the sidelines to avoid the parading incomers, eyeing the bags of Teyvat candy his friends have bought. He takes a lollipop from their possession, sticking it in his mouth as they begin to wander mindlessly around the lot.

“It’s going extremely well,” Signora states as a compliment, commending her friends for the effort they’ve put towards the event. “I actually don’t want to leave and go home immediately.”

Childe throws an arm around her, puckering his lips in an obnoxious manner that makes her gag. “Signora, you do so many things to my little bitty heart. I especially adore the way that you phrase your words. Why can’t you be normal and say you’re having a good time?”

Scaramouche laughs. “That’s the best you’re going to get out of her, Childe. You better take it or leave it.”

“You know damn well that I’m taking it. It’s my ego fuel for the year.” 

Signora grumbles, peeling away from his body. “I take it back.”

“No take backsies, you bitch.” 

“You’re a child.” She reaches over to tug his cheeks to prove her point. “Oh, goo goo ga ga. My name’s Childe and I’m a baby that can use big words like bitch.”

“Oh, so you can call me a whore but I can’t call you a bitch? I think this friendship is one-sided on my end.” Childe growls, playing along.

“One’s the truth, the other’s just an insult.” Scaramouche quips, earning a shove from his ginger friend. 

Childe clasps his hands together, stopping in place as he bows his head. “You think you know someone until she gets into Harbinger University… You think you know someone until he gets a girlfriend… When did I lose my forever friendships?”

“Get a grip,” Signora hisses at him, but the smile on her face grows wider by the second. “You’re going to get into Harbinger, too. Don’t know about the girlfriend thing, though…”

Childe rushes over to Scaramouche’s side, shaking his shoulders. “Tell me your secrets, O’ Wise One.”

Scaramouche just balks at him. “What are you going on about now?” 

“Your first relationship has already lasted longer than any of my flings. I’m so upset, Scaramouche. I was supposed to be the man of the hour between the three of us.”

“Says who?” Signora chirps up.

Childe’s eyebrows furrow and his mouth forms a small pout at her question. “Says my dashing good looks, great personality, and tall height? Sorry about that last one, Scara.” He’s far from sorry, letting out a cackle that comes from far within him.

“Yeah, yeah, and who’s the one with a girlfriend? Sorry about that, Childe.” Scaramouche taps his forehead, nodding with a grin. That wins the argument for him, seeing how Childe’s lip juts out further in defeat. He laughs, reassuring his friend with a softer smile. 

“Oooh,” Signora waves her friends over to meet her gaze. “They’re selling little mask souvenirs.” That gets their attention, and they saunter over to the table to purchase matching keychains. Childe grins as he holds the one he bought up to his face, winking behind it. It’s red, matching the scarf around his neck.

Scaramouche pockets his after connecting it to his keyring, looking around for more interesting places to go. His eyes land on the speakers that the Student Council had ordered online, now delivered and stacked up against each other in the distance. “Anyone up for karaoke?”

Childe practically exclaims his excitement, skipping towards the stage Scaramouche faces. Signora rolls her eyes, following her friend to pay off the volunteers holding the microphones.

After three Ed Sheeran songs and a duet with Signora, Childe has nearly lost his voice. He groans, holding out his hand for Scaramouche to press a soda can into. With a quick swig, he shakes his head rapidly, like a dog out of water, before standing back up. “That was fun. What time is it?”

Scaramouche looks at his watch. “Quarter ‘til 8.”

“7:45,” Signora translates. 

“Don’t leave us,” Childe whines to Signora, pulling at her shirt. Signora had made plans to have dinner with her stepdad, meaning that she was going to drive home around 8:00. She lifts a brow at Childe, who knows that the decision was finalized a week before. That doesn’t stop him from pretending to sob into her shoulder, arms wrapped around her as if he was a koala. She pats at his back, thuds getting louder as she puts more force into them. 

“Man, you’ve got hands of steel.” He groans, not budging from his hold on her. “Please tell me we’re still on for tomorrow. I have to start my application before my mom murders me.” 

“Duh. I can’t be the only one going to Harbinger.” She confirms, finally able to push him off of her when he grins. Signora turns to Scaramouche, head leaning towards the side. “You’re applying, too, right?”

Scaramouche’s eyes are blank. He truly didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life after high school. A good university, fine. But his future seemed to stop directly after that idea. “Yeah, sure,” is the best answer that he can give, but it satisfies his friends who have seemed to already have planned their lifetime of friendship.

“Alright, I’ll head out now.” Signora says, taking a handful of the candies from earlier. She shoves them into her purse, zipping it up before giving Childe and Scaramouche quick hugs. 

“Text us when you get home safe!” Childe shouts into the distance when her silhouette begins to grow smaller. He locks his arms with Scaramouche, who gives a brief glance at him. “I know you’d rather spend your time with Mona instead of me, so I’ll leave you to it. Be safe, my little virgin.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Scaramouche says, wanting to say more but cut off when Childe runs off into the darkness. “Archons. That guy’s an idiot.”

The traffic was dying down now that it was turning into a full fledged night, so it didn't take too long before Scaramouche was able to go back to Mona’s booth. He spots the familiar environment once he turns a certain corner, noting that it should be a couple of feet away from the place Signora and Childe had purchased their sweets. A small smile forms on his face when he spots the obnoxiously large hat on Mona’s head. There’s a person in front of her, preventing Scaramouche from actually seeing her face. He can’t recognize the back of their head, especially in the darkness, which leads him to silently approach their conversation.

“Look, I’ll think about it.” Mona’s voice becomes clearer when Scaramouche finds himself close enough. Her words mean to come off flat, but the tone behind them is teasing.

The person standing with her lets out a laugh, realizing this. “I’m sure it won’t take much thinking, dear Mona.” 

It’s Albedo’s voice, and Scaramouche’s eyes can focus on him in the darkness once he’s a few feet away. Albedo’s in a suit, most likely to announce things through the microphone on stage, and his hair is styled in a different manner than usual. There was no way that Scaramouche would’ve been able to deduce him from far away. 

Scaramouche doesn’t want to come off as an eavesdropper, so he lets his presence be known by walking towards them. Mona’s attention turns to him, leading Albedo to look as well. There’s a flash of emotion in Albedo’s eyes, one that Scaramouche fails to conclude, but it’s quickly replaced with an amiable glint. 

“Scaramouche, I haven’t seen you all day.” Albedo says, friendly. 

Scaramouche holds up a hand as a greeting. “I was exploring the festival.”

“I see. I wish I had the chance when it was at its peak performance, but I had places to be. Fortunately, Mona gave me a discount to have my fortune read just now. She’s quite talented.” 

Mona grins, face heating up despite the black setting around her. “He’s only saying that because he wants another discount. My services are being taken advantage of.” 

“Make sure I have a reservation for later, then.” Albedo smiles at her. “I’ll be on my way now. Have a good night, both of you.”

Scaramouche watches as Albedo sparks a conversation with other passerbys, noting how easily they open up to him. His eyes trail back towards Mona, who removes the hat from her head. It’s made her ponytails frazzled yet stiff, and he’s about to point it out when she begins to untie her hair. His mouth gapes open. Her signature twintails seemed to be her permanent hairstyle, so it was a foreign experience to be looking at her now.

She notices his gaze, squinting playfully. “What?”

“Nothing,” he stammers. “What were you and Albedo talking about?”

Her face lights up at the other’s name. “Nothing much. Just what you already heard about the discount stuff. I think it’s going well, though. I haven’t seen him with Sucrose lately.” 

Scaramouche stops to think. “Me neither.” And it’s an honest answer. Mona was his company more often than not, which meant everyone else faded into the background when she was in his sight.

“Did you have fun?” She starts to clean up the booth, handing him the crystal ball once again. He wraps his arms around it, resting his chin on the top. Mona works fast, reversing all of the hard effort that Scaramouche had dedicated hours earlier. “I wanted to buy something to eat, but all of the lines were full when I had a break.”

“It was fun,” Scaramouche offers but doesn’t elaborate. “I think there’s a couple of food trucks still around. Let me get you something.”

She flashes a grand smile then, but it doesn’t even bother to compare to the one that she gives him when he returns with a takeout container and paired drinks. 

“Lemonade,” he says. “And chocolate milk.” 

Mona’s eyes flicker to his hand. “Archons, have I ever told you I love you?”

Scaramouche stiffens. He feels her gaze linger on him, unable to read the expression on her face. She keeps the same grin as before, breaking eye contact with him when he doesn’t respond in favor of her meal.

He lets her eat in silence, thoughts crowded as those last words play like a broken record in his head. Mona doesn’t seem to mind not speaking or, at least, does a damn good job of hiding it while she eats. It’s only when she’s throwing her trash out does she spare another glance at him. His eyes are still locked onto her, and he debates whether or not to look away when they make eye contact. 

“You promised to be a customer,” she says, slowly as if testing the waters. “Don’t tell me you’re going to back out last second.” A small laugh follows her quip, implying that he wouldn’t dare reject the offer. There’s something about it that comes out halfhearted, though, and he studies her for a trace of the unconfident Mona she’s so determined to mask. Still, she holds her ground, and he succumbs because there’s nothing else he can do.

“Okay,” he says. “Tell me my fortune then.” 

She gazes into the crystal ball and reads him out a future. He can’t tell if he believes her or not, especially with how she makes it sound like something worth looking forward to. But it leaves room for potential in his plans, and he decides that it’s better to have an expectation than none at all. So, he just stares at her when she begins to skip on the lantern-lit path, arms filled with cardboard and confetti that makes a sound every time she jumps, and comes to a sound realization. 

She was his present. Future or no future, Scaramouche decides that’s all that really matters.

Mona’s eyes glimmer with curiosity when he leaves her seated in his running car, driver’s door open behind him. It’s cold now, each breath painting out a line of fog. The night sky envelops the world around them, and he feels oddly small beneath the stars. He hears Mona turn off the radio, following his example as she exits to stand near him. She’s shivering, hair like ink against the null darkness. They don’t say anything, leaning against his hood where the headlights compete with the moon. 

Scaramouche sees her point something in the distance, tracing her finger to what appears to be a comet. A smile forms on Mona’s lips, growing chapped the longer they spend outside, and she scrunches her face to close her eyes. He watches as she makes a wish upon the celestial body, thousands of lightyears away from them. She turns once she’s finished, and he makes his own using the shine in her irises. When he drives her home, she says something about being thankful for the heater in his car. She rubs her hands together, and he nods as if to agree with her feelings. 

In reality, Scaramouche had been warm long before he’d reentered his driver seat and turned up the temperature for her. The stars were pretty, he thinks.

As four more months breeze past, Scaramouche finds a permanent place by Mona’s side. She’s handing out flyers for the next Student Council hosted event, something about the graduating class getting together for a party. He thinks it’s a dumb idea, and several other members voiced their own concerns at the meeting. “It’s tradition,” Mona explains, but she was equally as disappointed having to say so. “We’re graduating, so we’re celebrating. Woohoo, college. Acceptances. Getting out of this place.”

Scaramouche had applied to Harbinger’s, albeit not meeting the early registration, with the push from Mona. She’d spent hours and hours with him at the library and at his house, making sure he stayed focused until the very second he’d submitted. The look in her eyes when he finally did outshone the feeling he’d get if he were to be accepted, he believes. 

“Just because something’s tradition,” she sighs out loud, interrupting his thoughts, “doesn’t mean we should keep it tradition. You know, we used to have these potlucks with this family recipe and apparently it tasted like shit, except nobody ever said anything and it continued on until a kid threw up. Tradition is stupid.” 

“Tradition is stupid,” he repeats to back her up.

“Oh, don’t patronize me.” Mona rolls her eyes with affection, tugging at his hand to follow her. “I need to print more of these off, so wait here.” 

“Archons, I really am just your little lapdog, huh.” 

She grins, releasing her hold on him to muss his hair. “Yup. Now sit. Stay. Good boy.” 

“Yeah, yeah, go before I change my mind and refuse to listen.”

She does as she’s told, beelining straight to the administration lounge and leaving Scaramouche alone in the hallways. The moment of solitude doesn’t last long, cut off when a slightly familiar face approaches him. 

“Scaramouche, right?” The girl says, tipping her head to the side as she rakes her eyes over his appearance. He takes the chance to do the same. She’s pretty, light hair tied up in a ponytail and the faintest blue eyes to match. He can’t piece a name to her presence, though, feeling slightly guilty that she’s able to recognize him. She seems to notice this, which makes a smile form at her lips. “Ayaka, by the way.”

“Uh, yeah. Ayaka,” he nods. “How do you know me?”

His response amuses her, he can tell. “Who wouldn’t know Mona’s boyfriend?”

He realizes he’d asked a stupid question. Ayaka wasn’t the first person to approach him since their relationship had been announced. Dating someone like Mona Megistus, who was practically the head of the school, would surely turn heads at every corner. Scaramouche was perfecting small talk now that he was in the limelight, and he finds the attention oddly concerning. If he got this behavior being Mona’s boyfriend for a couple of months, what did Mona have to go through by being herself?

“I see,” he clears his throat. 

“Weird to have people talk to you all the time, huh?”

“Something like that.” 

The conversation that follows isn’t exactly compelling, but she doesn’t move from her spot next to him. There’s a couple of more questions shot his way about school, graduation, and university that leads to short responses from his side. He’s secretly grateful when she announces that she has somewhere to be, leaving him in a comfortable silence once again.

“Who was that?” Mona reappears, having seen the other girl leave his side. She’s holding the freshly printed flyers, giving one to someone that walks between her and Scaramouche.

He shrugs. “Ayaka. Just met her.”

“Huh,” is the only sound she makes. He watches her, carefully. If she was jealous, all of the signs pointed the opposite way after her initial question. 

He doesn’t think much of his interaction with Ayaka, and it’s not until a week later does Mona bring it up once again.

They’re in a classroom, vacant besides the two of them. The rest of their friends had left in pursuit of other things, such as food or classes. When Scaramouche had stood up to leave, he half-assumed Mona to do the same. She’s fixated on her phone screen, though, and he walks over to peek like he usually does.

Instead of seeing a text from Fischl or a typical news website launched up, his eyes land on a conversation between Mona and Albedo. Mona doesn’t move away from his presence, so he skims the messages.

Albedo (12:54 PM)
I do think you’re cute btw

Mona (12:55 PM)
is that so?

Albedo (12:55 PM)
I always have
I thought you were aware

Mona (12:56 PM)
what about sucrose????

Albedo (12:56 PM)
Were you jealous?

Mona (12:57 PM)
i have a boyfriend

Albedo (12:57 PM)
I know
And I’m jealous

The texts, although putting a bad taste in his mouth, aren’t the reason Scaramouche is upset. She had told Albedo that she had a boyfriend, which looked like a rejection from the plain words. It’s the smile on her lips that makes his heart stop still in his chest. Mona didn’t say that to turn Albedo down. She said that to egg him on. She still liked him.

“You got what you want,” he says, having seen enough. “Rule number six.”

“What?” Mona turns to give him an incredulous look. “What are you talking about?”

He shoulders his backpack, taking a step away from her and closer to the door. “He’s jealous. That’s what you wanted. It means our contract is null. Wasn’t that the reason we even did it?” He’s hurt. He’s sure that she can see it in his face, hear it in his words, feel it when his voice cracks in response. But why was he hurt? They weren’t dating. They weren’t real. 

“Well, yeah,” she chooses her words warily, avoiding his eyes. “I get Albedo, and you can get Ayaka.”

Ayaka? “What the fuck are you saying?” 

A flash of emotion comes over her pale green eyes. Scaramouche has never cursed at her. Not like this, anyway. He had been making good progress with keeping his temper behind the scenes, especially when it came to her. Especially when it came to her. 

“What?” She hisses in response, and he knows that he can’t take his words back now. “You heard me.”

“Why would I get Ayaka? I don’t even know her.” He’s confused, although it does little to mask anything. 

Mona watches him as if she doesn’t believe a word that comes from his mouth. “But you just let her stare at you like that and flirt with you.” 

“Flirt?” 

“She’s been eyeing you for months. Ever since we first started… dating.” 

Scaramouche doesn’t miss the hesitation in the last word, and that makes him feel even worse. “We had one conversation.”

“And I’ve heard multiple about her wanting to steal you from me.” 

“So, why didn’t you bother to tell me?”

Mona meets his gaze. “Because there’s nothing to tell. We’re not together. You can flirt with whoever you like. That’s why I said you can have her.” Her tone is ice cold, but it wavers. 

“Maybe I will.” Scaramouche doesn’t mean it, but he refuses to back down. Not when she’s pushing at him for something that isn’t his fault. “Have fun with Albedo. I just really thought you were smarter than that.”

“What?”

“You’re going to go to a guy who led you and another girl on for months? No, not even. Years.” Scaramouche scoffs, but it lacks any sign of humor. “Way to go, Mona Megistus. Setting yourself up for heartbreak. I hope it was worth everything.”

“You don’t even know Albedo!” 

He stares blankly. “I know enough.”

“Yeah?” It’s a challenge.

“You’re supposed to have a boyfriend, and he has no sense of morale but to tell you he’s jealous. To tell you that he’s jealous when he strings Sucrose behind him like she’s some sort of puppet. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“I’m 17 years old, Scaramouche.”

“If you’re trying to say you’re old enough to make your own decisions, go for it. I’m not stopping you.” Every second arguing with her makes the annoyance deepen.

“Just go then. Contract over. Are you happy?”

He laughs. “Fucking peachy, actually.”

“Why do you care so much?”

He knows what she’s trying to get out of him. She wants to know the underlying motive. He’s selfish for wanting her to himself. But he’s already aware of this. He beats himself up for it every second he spends longing for a girl that doesn’t look his way. They were more alike than meets the eye.

“Have a good life, Mona.”

She doesn’t say anything in response, and Scaramouche can see the tears she’s trying to force down. The attempt comes in vain, and he feels his heart break in his chest when they begin to make a path along her cheeks. Scaramouche holds her gaze, feeling just as defeated as she looked. His hand is still tightened around his backpack strap, and he knows that the door is only a few steps away. He could walk away and end the contract for good, just as she said. He could leave Mona Megistus in the past, letting her deal with her own choices in life, just as she told him. He could easily disappear from her side and watch as Albedo fills the gap instead, just like she wanted. But he’s selfish.

“Fourth rule,” his voice comes out softer than he expects. She’s still looking at him, eyes red and dark locks wet against her tears. “If something comes up, we talk it out first.” 

“Isn’t it a little too late for that?” She gives a sad smile, not bothering to clean her face. She inhales a shaky breath, tears pooling back in her eyes. “Scaramouche, I’m sorry.” The apology starts off strong, but her facade breaks and she’s crying even harder than before. He drops his backpack, ignoring the thud it makes against the floor, and then she’s in his arms sobbing into his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything,” he repeats into her hair. “I’m sorry for everything. I’m really sorry.”

They stay like that for a while, the sound of their breaths the only reminder of each other’s presence. Scaramouche wants to apologize again, but he thinks better of it when his uniform begins to dry between them and her hiccups begin to sober up. Instead, he presses her closer to him and she lets him. A sign of forgiveness.

He doesn’t know what’s supposed to happen following this. Maybe Mona would stick with the original plot and go with Albedo, as they had planned from the start. It was what they had agreed to happen, oblivious to exactly how attached Scaramouche would get to this girl he can’t privately call his own. Regret momentarily slips into his mind, but when he thinks about how she’s changed his life for good, he decides that a world where he knows Mona and loses her is better than a world that never considered her a thought in the first place. 

He closes his eyes tightly and envisions the stars in hers. A leap of faith.

Scaramouche gets accepted into Harbinger University the week before graduation, which leads to a lot of celebration from those around him. Childe and Signora parade into his house the day of, setting off party poppers and flying balloons to his ceiling. He just laughs, letting them do as they please. His father takes him and his friends out for dinner, and they spend the night over in his bedroom. Mona had texted him a quick congratulations, making him promise to reserve the morning after for her. 

Mona doesn’t choose Albedo over him, and once Albedo realizes this, he and Sucrose start a steady relationship. Scaramouche lifts a brow when Mona tells him, but she presses her hand into his shoulder and confirms that Albedo has ceased flirting with any other person, including her. He simply shrugs, hoping that’s the case. 

“Look at you,” Mona grins at him when they meet up for breakfast. She had prepared a picnic, food that she made herself a couple hours earlier, and Scaramouche holds up the cooler of drinks he’d brought. “Mr. Smarty Pants bringing in the beverages.”

He rolls his eyes, settling on the blanket she picked out. “Like you weren’t accepted into Mondstadt.”

She had received a full ride for 2 years, planning to do a part-time job on campus to pay off the remaining time spent there. When Scaramouche found out, he waited outside of her house that morning with flowers and a charm bracelet. He sees it on her wrist now, and his lips quirk up at the sight. 

“Okay, but this is your day.” She tells him, and he knows she’ll shut down any other attempts to change the subject. 

“Can’t believe you skipped school for little ol’ me.” 

She throws a napkin at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is way more important than Chemistry.” 

Scaramouche has to agree, but only because he’s not a fan of the sciences. “Please tell me you don’t have to go back for the party.” The look in her eyes isn’t exactly the answer he hopes for, and he lets out a small groan when he sees that’s the case.

“You say that like you’re not coming with me, too.”

“Do I have to?” He sounds like a child, whining into his bitten sandwich. “Tradition sucks.”

“That’s what I said! But, yes, you have to because I say you do. You think I’m not going to be bored out of my mind without you there?”

“You have Fischl and Sucrose and Kaeya and everyone else. You’re the president.” 

“And you’re the president’s boyfriend.” She says it so easily, like they’re actually dating and not the result of a prolonged contract they’ve yet to address. The lingering question in his head is why they’re continuing if the goal has shifted, but he refuses to be the first to bring it up. Not when things are going his way now.

So, she gets what she asked for, and Scaramouche saunters into the school, albeit not without a scowl on his face. It’s there until Mona catches his expression and scolds him, entangling their fingers in order to drag him around the campus at a faster pace. He tails blindly behind her as she gets to signing people’s yearbooks, hats, foreheads, and sparks up conversations with each one that asks her for a scribble. In any other case, he would find it unbelievably boring to do absolutely nothing but she keeps their hands zipped together and squeezes every so often that it shoots energy into his body and livens him.

He doesn’t even want to think about the next week, let alone the next year. To say he was used to Mona’s presence was an understatement, and although the past seven months had been dedicated to her, he wished he had the chance to replay them.

Mona shoots him an apologetic look when the crowd around her refuses to dissipate, replenishing itself over the multiple hours spent. He shrugs with one shoulder, sending motion toward their connected palms, and she lets herself relax. 

When the sun goes down and the seniors begin to leave, Scaramouche smothers a yawn into the back of Mona’s uniform, waiting for her to finish saying goodbye to a couple of more people. He’s jolted awake when he feels a strong pull at his hand and, suddenly, his feet are moving faster and he’s tugged around a corner and against a wall. 

He stares at the girl, eyes in a daze. “What—” 

Mona cuts him off. “Stop talking. I need to say this before I regain my sanity.” 

Normally, he would have a witty comment in response, but there’s a glint in her irises that tells him to listen to her. He dips his head in a nod, and she exhales in an unsteady manner. She’s still looking deep into his eyes, and he knows. He knows.

“Okay,” her voice is breathy. He’s not sure if it’s because of what she’s about to say or a direct result of pulling him this far from where they stood. Maybe even both. “Archons, I don’t know how to start this, but I’ve already got you in front of me, so here really goes nothing. Hear me out, though. Well, I guess I’m basically forcing you to hear me out… Fuck, this is going terribly.”

She’s rambling, and he hopes she doesn’t detect the amusement in his face. Seeing her in this state is nostalgic at the same time it is endearing, and Scaramouche thinks back to the day Mona had first approached him and sought his help. A relationship built on a platform that they eventually threw away, landing them in the situation they find themselves now. 

“We graduate tomorrow, and I’ll regret this for the rest of my life if I never pluck up the courage to tell you myself. All of these questions are going to be rhetorical, alright? So, don’t respond or else I really won’t be able to get it out.” Mona stammers. “Did you know that I was jealous of Ayaka? You must think I’m an idiot for it; I still think I am. We argued over my stupidity, but I’m kind of 50-50 on my regret for it. I wasn’t sure why I was so upset about it, then, but maybe I’m just blind when it comes to realizing exactly what I want in life. I applied to Harbinger too, you know, and I never was going to tell you because Mondstadt had always been the dream for me but, now, there’s been a slight change in my priorities.”

Mona’s eyes get brighter with every word, something that Scaramouche never thought could be possible. There’s a slight furrow in her eyebrows as she speaks, and he swallows to fight back the urge to interrupt her spiel and kiss it. 

“This isn’t me saying I’m going to Harbinger or whatever, although if I had the—uh, you know—financial status, it would definitely be more than just an idea in my head. It’s really me wanting to admit to you after taking months of convincing myself,” she trails off, cheeks turning pink, “that I wanted to be wherever you were. Are. Like, every step of the way kind of deal. And, yeah, I guess that’s a little selfish of me because I was acting upon my feelings without thinking of yours, but I’ve learned that I’m a lot more selfish than I’d like to be when it comes to you. This is selfish, too. I’ve pinned you against this wall, telling you all of this without letting you say anything back. It’s an unfair situation, isn’t it? Don’t answer that. Rhetorical.” 

She takes a deep breath, preparing herself to continue on. Scaramouche can’t hide the expression on his face now, but she seems too distracted and fixated on her own thoughts to let it phase her confession. 

“Remember when I told you about feeling second place to Albedo? Sure, I started doing things for myself last year, but some insecurities never really do go away even when you pretend to no longer care.” Mona gives a small laugh, lighthearted. “Maybe that’s why I was so adamant on getting him to like me. I thought I could win that way; be on equal playing fields and everything. But then it actually happened, and I didn’t feel like I deserved any sort of trophy for that. Archons, I’m rambling again. You’re probably sick of my voice by now… My point is I was never myself before I met you, Scaramouche. It was always bits and pieces of who I thought I wanted to be, and I figured if everyone saw me in such a good light, I might as well go with it too. Take my advice and never stray down that mindset, by the way. It keeps you grounded. You made me want to be free.” 

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” Scaramouche breaks his silence, echoing her words from the festival.

Her gaze, while it had always been on him, grows more intense when he speaks. She doesn’t miss a beat. Her lips are on his in a second, and he’s holding her face in his hands like he never wants to let go of her. And he doesn’t. Her black strands dance around his fingers, and he wills his lungs to withstand the lack of oxygen. I love you, I love you, I love you, he whispers against her mouth, hoping she’s able to hear it above the beating of his heart. He likes to think she does by the way her grip tightens on the back of his head, softening the blow of the wall against his back, refusing to part from him. 

The moment they finally release each other, Scaramouche rests his forehead against hers, eyes closed to remember this moment for the rest of his life. Her breathing is shallow, lips bruised, and cheeks flushed when he looks at her again. She’s beautiful. Mona Megistus has always been beautiful.

“Your fortune was right,” he smiles.

She squints at him, mirroring his grin. “You doubted me?”

“Never. Well, maybe for a second.”

Mona leans over to kiss him again. “You have so much to learn.”

“I have all the time in the world.”