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“you’re tired,” you said quietly, hovering behind where scaramouche was sitting on the ground cross-legged, staring at the book in his hands, knuckles white and eyes heavy.
“i’m not tired,” his voice was harsh, it was always harsh, but the exhaustion in it was more prominent than usual, proving your point.
“kuni-“ you began but faltered when he cut you off instantly.
“don’t call me that,” he hissed, voice so cruel and sharp that it had you reeling for a second. you stayed quiet, watching his shoulders tense from behind until they finally gave in. the book fell limp into his lap and scaramouche pressed his face into his hands, elbows on his knees as he leaned forward.
slowly, you dropped to your knees behind him, wrapping your arms around his abdomen and pressing your forehead against his shoulder blade.
“you’re pushing yourself too hard,” your voice was soft, barely over a whisper. your thumb traced gentle circles against his abdomen until he finally relaxed into your touch, slumping back into you.
“there’s no such thing,” he murmured. “i need to get stronger.”
“that will come with time, kuni,” you told him, pulling your forehead off his shoulder blade to shift to the side so you could look at him. he wouldn’t meet your eyes, keeping them trained on the closed book in his lap instead.
you sighed heavily, one arm slipping from his waist so you could cup his cheek, letting your fingers card through his hair. he leaned into your touch, but only barely, as if he didn’t want to let himself do it but couldn’t quite stop himself.
“you cannot force progress,” you said quietly. “you-“
“you don’t understand,” scaramouche shook his head but he didn’t draw away from your touch. finally, his eyes met yours—lidded and heavy and tired. he looked so tired, drained, you had never seen him like this before. “i can’t figure out how to use it, this new vision is-“
“and it will come,” you interrupted him this time, swallowing thickly as you leaned in to press your lips to his forehead. and it was testimony to how tired he was when instead of jerking back, he leaned forward, letting his forehead fall to your shoulder. his own shoulders were shaking, you pretended not to notice as you smoothed your palm over them, small and gentle circles to try to calm him down.
“you were meant to have this vision,” you reminded him, kissing the top of his head. “reading up on other anemo users will not help you find your own style of using it. it will come, you need to give it time.”
“i don’t have time-“ he tried to counter, shaking his head against your shoulder.
you smiled against the top of his head, “i think time is the one thing we have plenty of right now, kuni,” you said dryly—the dendro archon made sure to not treat you guys like you were prisoners but you both knew that you were to some extent.
“come to bed,” you said, it was a request and you weren’t entirely sure that he would agree to it but you had to try. if not for him, then for yourself, you never slept well without him sleeping next to you. “tomorrow maybe we could see if lesser lord kusanali could find some eremites for you to train with. perhaps some actual combat experience will speed up to process.”
“you think so?” and you hated the twinge of hope in his voice, heart clenching. you knew how much the inability to wield his new vision was affecting him better than anyone, scaramouche hated being weak. he hated being vulnerable. he was certain it was the reason he had been abandoned the first time, by his mother, and then the second time, when the doctor came back for the gnosis but not him.
you’ll leave me too.
you knew that was the thought running through his head every time he failed to make process with his new vision and no matter how many times you tried to subtly reassure him that was simply not the case, you knew he didn’t believe it.
“i think it’s worth it to try,” you agreed, pressing your lips to his temple. and he really must be tired, you realized, when all he did was let his eyes slide shut when ordinarily he would have pulled back at any sort of affection like this. “but… there’s no use in trying if you’re not well-rested.”
scaramouche let out a puff of air, short and irritated, but you were undeterred, waiting for him to stand up. and he did this time, legs a bit wobbly from sitting down cross-legged for so long but you knew better than to steady him.
he followed you to bed, slipping beneath the covers, and you curled up at his side before he could turn his back to you, as he usually did when he was stressed and in his own head.
scaramouche was unamused. you could feel his eyes trained on you but you only smiled against his side, wrapping your arm loosely around his waist.
and as much as he pretended to be annoyed, you could feel him relax against you, and when you took the risk of peeking upward, you noticed his eyes were already sliding shut.
as soon as you noticed his breath evening out—faster than usual, you wondered when the last time he slept was—you tilted your head up and pressed your lips to the underside of his jaw before resting your head back on his shoulder.
freedom. that was what the anemo archon stood for, and that was what his vision searched for. scaramouche still saw himself as a discarded tool for the raiden shogun, a failed puppet. and you had a feeling that so long as he did, the anemo vision would not react to his desires.
but that was not something you could help him with—it was a realization he would have to come to on his own. his own acceptance of identity and self-worth.
you supposed that all you could do was be there for him. maybe try to guide him in the right direction, if you could. you hoped that a spar for the first time in… years without the power of electro to help him could help him take a step forward, realizing that he was still strong even without the shogun’s element supporting him.
you sighed, letting your own eyes slide shut as you shifted up his body, burying your face in the crook of his neck, letting yourself doze off to sleep to the steady rise n fall of his chest.
tomorrow would be another day, you told yourself, and perhaps the first push he needed to get the ball rolling for the inevitable realization that he was more than just the failure he thought he was in the eyes of the shogun.