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Four days.
It has been exactly four days since Scaramouche started avoiding Mona.
Though according to the boy, he’s not counting, nor is he avoiding the said girl. Yes, hiding and running away when she’s around isn’t counted as avoiding. He just “can’t stand her presence”. Childe watches his friend’s every move. The way his head keeps looking around to the point where he might as well just turn it 360 degrees, how he gives him a glare when he mentions her name, does he really need to go on?
“Mouche,” The ginger says, “Can you just tell me what happened?”
“What are you talking about?” The indigo-haired boy replies.
“You’re acting so weird; it took me four—wait. Sorry, I didn’t stress that enough—FOUR fucking days to drag you out of your apartment,” Scaramouche rolls his eyes, “And now, you’re dressed like THAT.”
“Dressed like what?” Oh, it infuriated Childe even more, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ajax—”
The ginger inhales sharply, “You’re literally dressed like you’re hiding from the fucking paparazzi! Just tell me what happened! Did you kill somebody? Did you fail to pay your student loan?!”
The lack of response from the other made Childe groan, rolling his eyes in the process. Scaramouche brushed him off with a shrug and continued sipping his coffee. If he won’t tell him, he needs to find out himself. It’s unlikely of him to suddenly lock himself in his apartment. Maybe he’s having a hard time with his studies? They’re on their midterm, anyway. Blue eyes silently scanned his friend’s features; he seems normal. Eyes not puffy nor red, not sniffing, not laughing for no reason.
Childe internally crosses out the hunch that he may be high.
--
“I was expecting your home to look like shit, but wow, I was wrong.” Was the first thing that left Childe’s mouth as he set foot in his friend’s apartment.
Scaramouche rolls his eyes at the remark, “I’m not like you, Ajax. You fucking rat.”
The latter raises his middle finger and the indigo-haired boy fought the urge to throw a punch at his irritating face. What the fuck did Lumine even see in this guy? He sighs and makes his way to the kitchen while Childe plopped himself on the sofa. Alright, Mission: Find Out What the Fuck Is Wrong with Scaramouche is looking good. He successfully infiltrated the place. The boy silently scans the place for clues. He’s not giving up and he’s surely not one to let his friend suffer on his own.
“Oh, right!” Scaramouche turns to look at him while drinking water. “Can I connect to your wi-fi?”
The indigo-haired boy chokes on his water; coughing so hard Childe was worried he might cough out his lungs or whatever, “Fuck, man, are you okay?”
“No,” He says in between his coughs, “You can’t.”
The ginger pouts, “Come on, you never let me connect!”
“I don’t know the password.” Scaramouche replies.
Childe was baffled at the response, “That has got to be the dumbest excuse you’ve ever given me—you’re not even trying!”
Instead of getting a response, he gets ignored. Holy shit, maybe he got hacked and he doesn’t want me to get dragged into the mess? The ginger felt his heart throb because of how sweet his friend is. He never thought he’d be that considerate and nice. But, no, he won’t let Scaramouche suffer alone. He’ll do his best to help his dear friend who spared him from hackers. He’ll be the nicest friend.
“Hey, doesn’t Mona live in the same apartment as you? Do you see her often? I’m surprised you haven’t—”
They both turn to look at the door as the doorbell rings, but Childe didn’t miss how terrified Scaramouche looked when he mentioned their schoolmate’s name. The ginger takes note of it as he got up and headed for the door. Without even asking who it was, he opened the door.
“Hey, are you there? The wi-fi’s really slow today. Are you watching po—oh,” Mona gives him a smile, “What’s up, Childe? Is Scara there?”
What?
The ginger dramatically turns to face his friend, “So Mona can connect to your wi-fi but I can’t?! I thought we were besties!”
“He doesn’t let you connect to his wi-fi? How dare you?!” Mona gasps dramatically and glances at the indigo-haired boy before returning her gaze to Childe, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you the passw—”
Scaramouche felt his whole face heat up, “Don’t you fucking dare, Mona!”
Childe and Mona look at him; the ginger gasping silently after realizing that he was blushing so hard he looks like a tomato. Mona, on the other hand, flashed a mischievous grin. The boy has been avoiding her for days and now she’s got him cornered. Not because she’s worried about him or anything. It’s not like that!
Everything makes sense now.
Childe bit back a smile as he watched his friend. He was worried for nothing, after all! Poor Scara just likes Mona Megistus. He always thought that he did, but didn’t want to make assumptions get kicked for teasing the boy. But why did he not want him to connect to his wi-fi? The ginger turns to look at Mona and as if the girl had telepathy, she mouths something that made him gasp and burst out laughing.
“W-What are you laughing at?” Scaramouche says.
The ginger places a hand on his stomach as he continued to laugh, “You could’ve just told me, man.”
“What are you—did you tell him?!” Embarrassment was evident from the indigo-haired boy’s voice.
Mona shrugs in response. Just when Childe was about to join in, his phone rings. Looks like he has to take care of his own business now. He’s glad his friend is okay and in safe hands, and his suspicions were wrong, so it’s time for him to go home. He needs to help out on Lumine’s project anyway. The ginger bids a quick goodbye before running off, leaving a baffled Scaramouche who feels utterly betrayed as he made his way towards the door.
“Did you tell him?” He says without even looking at Mona.
The latter lets out a laugh, “Did you actually think that I would?”
“I don’t know,” The indigo-haired boy mutters, “If you don’t have anything else to say, I’m closing the door.”
In the blink of an eye, a tiny red bag was in front of his face. So that’s why she had one of her arms behind her, huh? He gives her a blank stare and ends up getting smacked in the face with the said red bag. It had some things in it but he can’t tell. Scaramouche grumbles as he takes it from Mona’s hands.
“Cookies,” She says, “To, you know, thank you for not changing the password and letting me connect even if I just forced it. I’ve been wanting to give you those but you keep avoiding me. I thought you got mad at me because—why do you even have my name as a password?”
Scaramouche snorts, “You dumbass.”
“Excuse me?” Mona places her hands on her hips, “I give you cookies and this is what I ge—”
Everything happened too fast.
Before Mona knew it, his lips were already pressed against hers. All she could hear was her erratically beating heart and she was worried that he might’ve heard it too. He pulled away and the first thing that she noticed was his stupid shit eating grin and she wanted nothing more but to slap it off his face. Mona was furious—he just stole a kiss and he even looks so fucking proud and she’s—
“I like you, Mona.”