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“I like you.”
Scaramouche’s face instinctively scrunched up when he heard those archon-forsaken words come out from Childe’s mouth.
The latter even had the nerve to scratch his neck awkwardly, and add “Romantically, that is,” as if he wasn’t the one who just left Scaramouche completely vulnerable. Open to emotions.
A fool.
Scaramouche decided it was pathetic.
Pathetic that he even believed it for a second.
“Get the hell out of my way,” Scaramouche said, sharp and commanding. It made Childe flinch back (not that he was watching). “We have a mission to complete.”
As Scaramouche turned to leave, Childe desperately grabbed his arm. “I’m not letting you leave until you properly answer me.”
Groaning internally and sighing physically, Scaramouche pushed the arm off him. “Fine. I hate you. I can’t stand the thought of us together. You disgust me.” hell. That hurt hurt hurt hurt - No. Shut up. “Can we move on now?”
“No,” Childe looked the shorter boy in the eye (and oh - how he regretted holding the stare). “I’m not fucking blind, Scara.”
The use of the nickname immediately made Scaramouche tense up, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it he hated every second of it.
“I know that your eyes linger on me longer than you’d like. I know that during some nights when we had to share a bed for a mission, you hold my hand when you think I’m asleep. I know that you’re the person that always brings me water when I finish a particularly hard spar,” curse Childe and his stupid sapphire eyes that pierced him the whole time. Unmoving. Stable. Genuine. “I know. I know, I know, I know, I know. ”
Scaramouche knew too.
He was furious. Had his feelings really been that open? That obvious? That weak ?
How vulnerable had he really been? Did this giant man-child really do that to him? Reduce him to emotional shreds?
However, he couldn’t help but think that Childe’s faint blush was absolutely adorable as he continued to list different memories.
Ah.
Fuck it.
He supposed he could be weak just one more time.
“Stop talking,” Scaramouche interrupted, pulling Childe down to his height. “You’re prettier when you shut the hell up.”
And that’s when the gap between their mouths closed.