Archive of Our Own ^beta

Scaramouche cried himself to sleep.

Normally, he would gasp and shudder as much as he needed to keep tears at bay- but tonight was different. Tonight he was no longer under the roof of his home. Tonight he was thrown out like a doll onto the streets.

It was past midnight and their neighbours had all gone to bed; Scaramouche was busy calling Childe and Rosalyne when his mother entered the room. She had accused him of breaking her favourite decorative plate.

“I didn’t do it!” He had yelled.

His mother had glowered at him, “That’s not what your sister said.”

He spun in fury to face his twin, Ei. She merely shrugged when their gazes met and went back to texting the pink-hair girl.

“You can’t just believe everything she says!” He cried, eyes ablaze.

It was getting hard to breathe. He needed out.

Raiden Baal pointed furiously at the broken plate. It was so obviously faked- how could she not tell? “Oh? Are you suggesting I’m being unfair, hm?”

Scaramouche couldn’t take it anymore. His legs were crippling beneath him, and he was drowning under emotions that he bottled up for years.

N-need air. He gasped and his hands shook. He trembled towards the door like an alcoholic gone without wine for days.

A fiery pain ripped through his head.

His mother had shoved a hand into his hair and promptly threw him out the door.

“You stay put. Don’t come in until I say you can.”

The door shut with a slam.

His head was on fire and his hands hurt from the impact. His knees were scraped and bleeding and his eyes were slowly breaking into tears.

At first, he told himself this is what he wanted. He wanted to be away from that goddamned family. He wanted to be in the calm, refreshing night air.

But the part of him that loved his mother shattered in his chest.

It was becoming unbearable.

He felt so weak.

He shouldn’t have loved. He shouldn’t have cared.

Silly, stupid human emotions.

Under the intensity of the moment, Scaramouche let out a choked sob.

He hated her.

No, he despised her.

He gritted his teeth and tried to get up, but his knees wobbled and collapsed.

Splayed on the floor like a toy they no longer played with, the night air became suffocating. He choked on his hair, tears and snot as he lay defeated.

Darkness slowly crept around him, whispering promises of sleep.

Scaramouche couldn’t fight the way his eyelids succumbed to the lulls of peace.

He woke up with a start.

Momentarily forgetting the pain in his legs and palms, Scaramocuhe looked wildly around. This place didn’t look like his home… it was too clean.

Wait- no- where was he? Scaramouche tried to get off the bed but grunted with pain as the bedsheets scratched the wounds on his knees.

A pearly white ceiling adorned by a small wooden shelf with greenery splattered all over.

Small, poorly made pots and cups were displayed proudly in the morning sunshine.

Morning- morning? How long has he been out?

Panic fought the eerie sense of peace he was feeling. He should be screaming, turning, fighting and clawing his way out of this place. But he didn’t. Scaramouche just sat there, as if he was a patient waiting to get treated.

Plitter-platter, plitter-platter.

He turned around.

A small round face with big green eyes met him.

“Hello, kitty-boy.” She whispered slowly.

Scaramouche cringed, kitty-boy?

As the little girl approached, he took notice of her odd white hair that faded green at the ends. She held a little doll that looked like a vegetable in her arms.

“Who are you?” He asked accusingly.

Strangely, his piercing gaze did not make the girl back off. Instead, she sat on the tiny stool beside the bed and put a small hand on the white sheets.

“Nahida,” she replied simply.

Scaramouche’s mind was thumping in his skull. Where was this place? What kind of name is Nahida? Where was he? Is he in danger?

Has Mother… abandoned me?

Nahida patted his arm softly, “Don’t be scared, kitty-boy.” She said bravely, “I was scared too. But Miss Venus is very, very nice.”

Who’s Miss Venus? He wondered.

“She looks after me,” Nahida replied, reading his thoughts. “We are in the orangephase.”

The sheer complexity of that word startled him.

“Orangephase?”

“Where the kids with no grown-ups go,” Nahida prompted.

Oh, Scaramouche scowled. His Mother left him. She actually let him sleep in the streets. She didn’t- she never cared. A hiss of torment snarled in his heart.

“You mean orphanage,” He corrected, trying to hide his resentment from the little girl.

Nahida looked confused but nodded her head. She clutched onto her toy tightly before raising it to Scaramouche's eye level.

“This is Mister Aranara,” she said. “He protects me from monsters.”

“Ah,” he replied.

“If you’re ever scared, you can find Mister Aranara up!” Nahida pointed at the wooden shelf to his left.

Scaramouche gave her a quizzical look, “But won’t you need it?”

She gave him a tiny, reassuring smile, “It’s okay, I have lots!”

And with that, she wobbled off the side of his bed and placed the ‘Aranara’ onto the shelf. Nahida gave him a small shy wave before disappearing around the corner.

Scaramouche’s grip on his sheets tightened. He shouldn’t get attached.

Silly, stupid human emotions.

A high-pitched scream.

Scaramouche ran in the direction of the cry. Blood roared in his ears, and his heart thumped painfully against his chest. He left her there for a second, and Nahida disappeared.

Never again, he cursed to himself.

His legs were sore by the time she came into view. Nahida’s pearly white hair was dirty and poking out at the ends. Her grubby hands were brown from the dirt beneath their feet.

She was crouched on the floor, blocked against a wall. Two older boys menacingly hovered like snakes reeling in to strike. One of them held… held…

“Give him back!” She cried, reaching for the Aranara in their hands.

The boys snickered, “Oh yeah? You want this, pretty girl?”

Scaramouche growled. The rage in his chest flared. His hands gripped a rock from the floor.

Nahida’s emerald eyes were watery as she nodded. Tears stained her chubby cheeks.

Her favourite dress- a white one with little sunny flowers- was smudged and torn at the seams. He quivered with disgust and bitterness. Who would want to harm a little girl like Nahida?

He wanted to punch their faces. He wanted to yell and scream and cry until they left her alone. He was not Ei. He was not his mother. He would protect Nahida no matter what.

Without thinking, the rock sliced the air as it crashed onto the boy’s skull.

He stumbled backwards with a pained yelp and gripped the side which had started bleeding, “You little punk! Who do you think you are!” They shouted.

Scaramouche bluntly ignored them and tried to help Nahida up, but her eyes focused on something else-

Time stopped.

Aranara’s arm came peeling off his body.

Clumps of white cotton from the inside fell to the floor.

Nahida let out an ear-splitting wail, “NO!”

He watched as the toy bounced from the impact of the floor and rolled away into a dark corner.

He blinked.

BAM.

His face made contact with the ground as a fist hurtled his way.

But all he could think at that moment was Nahida.

How dare they make her cry like that?!

How dare they.

The moment he got back up and retaliated, the world became a messy blur of bloody tears.

What happened to not getting attached? A voice asked as darkness blacked out the edges of Scaramouche’s vision.

Silly, stupid human emotions.

Their adoptive mum had left out a single plate of toast.

Scaramouche peeled it in half and gave it to Nahida.

She quietly munched while Aranara sat on her lap.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

She nodded, seemingly lost in thought.

“You’ll be fine,” He tried. “School won’t be that scary.”

Nahida blinked big green eyes at him, and Scaramouche managed a small smile. “You should smile more,” she commented slowly. “I’m sure you’ll make more friends if you do.”

His smile immediately became a playful scowl, “Says the one who’s always too busy thinking to talk to anyone.”

She grinned, “You only ever be nice to me, though.” Nahida then looked dazed, “Why’s that?”

He faltered. His harmless scowl fell off his face.

Scaramouche was nice to her because he wanted to be. Did it make such a big difference?

You don’t want to be like Ei, his mind offered helpfully.

“Just stuff,” he replied. But the look in Nahida’s eyes told him she already knew.

“Whatever, let’s head off.” He said as they left the house.

The walk to school was quiet- but not the awkward quiet.

Nahida played with Aranara, making flying noises as she held him in the sky. Scaramouche walked and watched slowly from behind. She looked so happy- he wanted everything to stay like that.

Movie-like sunshine fell into their hair, and warmth drizzled over his back. Nahida’s silhouette was framed by the early light.

As they approached the school gates, the hand now held in his tightened. Scaramouche looked down at the silent Nahida with Aranara tucked neatly in her school bag.

Without needing to ask, he knew she was already overthinking every single possibility that could go down.

“Hey, you see those girls over there?” He pointed at a small blonde in red and a pinkette with cat ears, “You should go talk to them.”

Nahida visibly gulped, “But what if they don’t like me?”

Scaramouche rolled his deep purple eyes, “There’s no one that can’t like you, silly.”

The blonde fell over with a yelp, and a new kid with brown locks held up in pigtails approached to help them. A smaller girl with a light purple braid followed quickly behind.

“They look like a fun bunch,” He said, nudging Nahida towards them. “Go try.”

She whispered bye-bye and trotted off in their direction.

Scaramouche watched as they waved hi and invited her over.

They grow up so fast, he thinks, as a certain ginger called his name.

“Hey, Scara!” Childe hollered, bag slung carelessly over his shoulder. Beside him, looking much neater and regal, was Rosaylne with her stern glare and makeup.

“C’mon, purple boy,” She said, turning around to head off to class.

Childe grinned at him and tugged out his phone, “You know who texted me last night…?”

Any thought or worry about Nahida dissipated as Scaramouche joined a conversation about Childe’s latest date.

He didn’t see Nahida at all until after school.

Their mom placed a single bowl in front of him. Nahida waited patiently for hers, but it never came. Scaramouche knew their mother was tired and busy, but that didn’t mean she could neglect his sister.

“Mum, you forgot Nahida’s again.”

She looked confused, “What?”

“You didn’t give Nahida a bowl.”

Their mother came to the conclusion, “You guys can share.” She smiled tiredly before retreating to her room.

Frustrated, Scaramouche felt Nahida put a hand on his, “It’s okay.” She said.

“Why didn’t you say anything to remind her?”

She shook her head as if he was the child who was puzzled.

“Sometimes it’s just like that,” she continued. “Mum’s trying her best. It’s hard to look after two kids by yourself, you know?”

Scaramouche got off his seat and got Nahida a bowl. He scooped up some of the noodles from his into hers. He watched as she smiled a little at the food but did not attempt to eat it.

“You’re not hungry?” He asked.

Nahida gave him a sad smile, “I think I’ll eat later. Thanks, anyways.”

He watched her pick Aranara up and leave.

Scaramouche stared at the shadows as she disappeared.

The bowl was still full the next morning.

“Diona and Klee made us all clay figures during art class!” Nahida said happily, showing off a small statue of her with Aranara. It was surprisingly good for ten-year-olds.

“Wow,” he complimented, studying it a little closer. “I think they made your head a little too large, though.”

She laughed, a soft noise that filled the air and calmed his nerves, “They tried their best!”

Nahida dug into her bag- most of the space was taken up by Aranara.

“I made us this!” She beamed, presenting a figure of him and her together. Aranara, of course, was between them holding hands so they connected.

Scaramouche examined the smaller version of himself. It didn’t have eyes, as the figure was too small, but he could still see it was him. Nahida looked a little taller, however.

“Did you try to make yourself look taller?” He teased lightly.

She pouted with a smile, “I’ll catch up to your height one day, just you wait!”

He laughed at that and she smiled, “Whenever we have art, I’m going to make it better and better!” Nahida gently placed the figure into his hands.

“You can keep it for now,” she winks.

Sure enough, every Wednesday, Nahida would walk him home showing off a sculpture of him and her. Sometimes, there would be an accompanying dolphin made by YaoYao or a finch made by Qiqi. Nahida proudly displayed them on her shelf with her creations.

Scaramouche, however, has the first one she’s ever made sitting on his night desk.

It stood with all its glory as the sun rose and night fell.

He looked at it whenever he fell asleep.

B̶u̶t̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶i̶c̶e̶d̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶d̶i̶s̶a̶p̶p̶e̶a̶r̶e̶d̶.̶

“Rise and shine!”

The video played.

Video-Nahida poked her head under her sheets and giggled, “No! Mister Aranara, I command you to protect me!”

The video glitched and she disappeared, but she was back soon enough.

“Oh no! The Aranara has defeated me! How dare he! I am the robot king!” Scaramouche’s panicked voice came from the recording.

Nahida’s laughter filled the room as he flicked through his photos, “We should make another video! In this one, the princess goes missing and the prince has to find her!”

“Let me guess, I’m the prince,” Scaramouche said as he rolled his eyes.

Nahida closed his phone, “Duh.”

She got up from her bed and rummaged through her drawer, bringing out a small sparkly tiara. She then moved across the room and slipped on her white dress with bright sunflowers. Scaramouche learned how to sew to fix it up- their mother couldn’t afford to get it fixed professionally. It was a little small now, but a miracle it still fitted her.

“Who gave you the tiara?” He asked.

“Hehe,” she chuckled and whisked him over. “Klee gave it to me when we were playing dress-ups! It was her favourite but she said I could keep it!”

Nahida pulled out one of her blankets from the cupboard and tied it expertly around his neck. Bending over, Scaramouche allowed her to fix the cape into “the most princely shape!”.

“Alright, alright!” Nahida said enthusiastically, “Start filming!”

He flipped open his camera and gave her a thumbs-up.

“Oh, deary me! I have gotten lost!” She dramatically wandered in a circle, “I wonder who will come and save a sad, lost princess like me!” She beamed and gestured for him to start.

Maneuvering the camera and his theatrics at the same time, Scaramouche played his part the best he could. “It is I! The prince! I heard there was a beautiful princess lost in these woods!” He pretended not to be able to see Nahida’s grinning face. “But alas! Where could she be?”

A dramatic gasp, “Is that the prince?” She asked, masking her agape mouth with a mocking hand. “Here, over here!”

Scaramouche faked a look of concentration, “I can hear something! A call! It must be the princess!”

He slowly made his way towards a giggling Nahida, “No way! Princess Nahida, is that you?”

“It is! Yes!” She laughed and jumped into his arms. “You found me!”

Scaramouche lowered his camera and grinned, holding Nahida up, “I’ll always find you!”

She snatched up his phone, and they both lay on the ground, kicking their feet into the air. Nahida let the video play on repeat as many times as possible. They laughed at themselves- enjoying being children.

“You looked so funny here!” She cried, pointing at the screen where Scaramouche’s face was blurred and disorientated to make it look extra long. He chuckled in response and tried to find an equally embarrassing shot of Nahida- but the camera kept glitching.

“Eh, whatever,” he said, dusting off his clothes and putting the makeshift cape back into the cupboard. “We can play another time, but you know it’s time for a bath, missy.”

Nahida rolled her eyes- something she learnt from him- and said goodnight.

Scaramouche retreated into his bedroom and gave the small sculpture of them together a pat.

“I’ll always find you!” Repeated in his head until he fell asleep.

He woke up with a start.

Momentarily forgetting the pain in his legs and palms, Scaramocuhe looked wildly around. This place didn’t look like his home… it was too dark.

Wait- no- where was he? Scaramouche tried to get off the bed but grunted with pain as the bedsheets met the wounds on his knees.

A miserable, black ceiling adorned by a small wooden shelf with dead greenery splattered all over.

Large, empty jars glittered grimly in the moonlight.

Moonlight- moonlight? How long has he been sleeping?

Panic fought the eerie sense of peace he was feeling. He should be screaming, turning, fighting and clawing out of this place. But he didn’t. Scaramouche just sat there like he was a patient waiting to get treated.

Plitter-platter, plitter-platter.

He turned around.

Nahida ducked her head around the corner, “Shhh…” She said, climbing onto his bed. “Mum doesn’t know I’m up here.”

Scaramouche breathed a sigh of relief as he saw her. Then a cord in him snapped, “Where’s Aranara?”

She looked puzzled, “What’s an Aranar-”

He blinked.

BAM.

His face made contact with the ground as a fist hurtled his way.

But all he could think at that moment was Nahida.

How dare they make her cry like that?!

How dare they.

The moment he got back up and retaliated, the world became a messy blur of bloody tears.

Scaramouche wiped his face with a sleeve, turning around to check if she was okay.

“Nahi-”

She was gone. So were the boys.

He stood there underneath empty moonlight.

The stars winked at him, inviting him forwards.

Foot after foot, he made his way through the darkness.

He heard laughter.

Spinning around and looking behind, a video played on an old projector.

“Oh, deary me! I have gotten lost!”

“I wonder who will come and save a sad, lost princess like me!”

“_t is I! T_the prin_e! I h___d there was [UNINTELLIGABLE] lost in these woods!”

“[UNINTELLIGABLE]. Where cou_d she __?”

“Is that the prince?”

“Here, over here!”

[UNINTELLIGABLE]

“̶I̶’̶l̶l̶ ̶a̶l̶w̶a̶y̶s̶ ̶f̶i̶n̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶!̶”̶

Scaramouche backed away from the screen. But the further he got away, the louder those words repeated.

“I’ll always find you!”

“I’ll always find you!”

He broke into a sprint.

He dashed out of the alleyway, blood still leaking from his broken nose.

He ran, and he ran, and he ran.

Scaramouche did not look back.

Where was he?

Was he lost?

“I wonder who will come and save a sad, lost princess like me!”

His breathing came short, and he tripped over uneven ground.

Panting, he choked on his hair, tears and snot as he lay defeated.

Darkness slowly crept around him, whispering promises of a new day.

Scaramouche fought the way his eyelids fluttered with trembling lips.

He had to get back up.

“Hey, Scara!”

Scaramouche turned around to face the voice- except it wasn’t a person who called him.

A phone with a glitching screen appeared in view. Its flickering light is a temporary brightness in the dark.

Drawn like a moth to a flame, Scaramouche pawed his way to it.

“C’mon, purple boy.”

He faltered…

And the world collapsed into a void.

“…You know who texted me last night…?”

“…know if he’s going to wake up?”

“I’m sorry Mister T…aglia……………..don’t know.”

The voices faded in and out of his ears.

Scaramouche decided to keep his eyes shut for a little longer…

Bad decision.

A nerve spiked in his body.

The smells invaded his mind.

Where am I?

“....You should…. now, it will be closing… soon.”

“It’s okay….. I’ll leave when…. do.”

Closing time? Leave? Who…?

Scaramouche’s eyes flickered open.

Scorching, blinding white light gripped his eyesight. He scrunched them shut again.

Trying to use his voice, he was caught off-guard by how hoarse it was.

“W-where’s Nahida?”

He didn’t sound like himself.

“Scara?”

He tried to open his eyes again. This time, a mop of messy orange came into view.

What the…

“You’re awake!” The giant orange blurred, and it moved. Was the orange speaking?

“Mrs! He’s awake-“

A silencing shhh came- followed by mumbled speech.

Scaramouche blinked, trying to get his eyes focused on the orange. What year was it? Have oranges started to evolve and talk?

No, Kunikuzushi. That’s ridiculous.

Steadily, it turned into the shape of…

“Childe, get your hands off my face!”

The ginger had a few tears running down his smiling cheeks, “I can’t! You’re awake!”

Scaramouche spluttered, trying to speak coherently, “What-? Childe you- why do you look older?”

The ginger looked torn between punching and hugging him, “Argh- why you-.”

He paused, wiping a tear, “I missed having you around. Year eleven was so boring without you!”

Year ele- I’m in year ten.

“What?” Scaramouche managed.

“It’s been a year, Scara. Almost everyone else has moved on.” Childe fiddled with the pearly white bedsheets nervously.

Pearly white, like Nahida's hair… Nahi…who again?

What was her name?

“Are you okay?” Childe’s voice wafted in the air.

Scaramouche blinked, dazed, “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? On ‘Google’, it says people go crazy after being in a coma-”

“I’m fine. Leave.” He said blankly, “I-I just need time to think…”

Childe seemed hurt but left. His deep blue eyes flickered over him sadly.

It wasn’t like him to show vulnerability, but Scaramouche had to think. He had to stretch his mind out. He had to remember…

I am Raiden Scaramouche. Also known as Kunikuzushi. I go to... to... T-Teyvat High. I’m in tenth grade.

I am Raiden Scaramouche- also known as Kunikuzushi. I go to Teyvat High. I’m in tenth grade…

I am Raiden Scaramouche- also known as Kunikuzushi. I go to Teyvat High…

I am Raiden Scaramouche- also known as…

“I-I am Raiden Scaramouche.”
.
.
.
.
.
.
He was Raiden Scaramouche- and he has no idea what just happened.

“No. You’re wrong. I did not imagine her.”

Childe looked confused, but empathy glittered in his eyes, “I’m sure you’re confused, Scara. But-”

“SHE WAS NOT A FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION.” He yelled. “SHE WAS REAL. SHE IS REAL.”

He bit his tongue when Childe flinched, “I-I’m sorry.”

“No, I understand,” The ginger said, running a hand through his hair. “I, um, you remember Tuecer and…?” They gave him a look.

How did he forget? Childe was the sibling guy. He was the guy who went around every shop in town to buy his little brothers and sisters gifts. If anyone could understand his panic right now- it was Childe.

“...If someone ever told me they weren’t real, I would be breaking down.”

Scaramouche didn’t know how to respond, but a slow question formed on his lips, “Am I- Is this real?”

A brief confusion crossed Childe’s eyes, and his response was measured, “Yes. It is.” He gently laid a hand on his and patted it. “All this is real, Scara.”

He took a deep inhale and felt the air fill up his lungs.

He exhaled until there was no more air to keep him going.

“It’s just that everything in my dreams felt so real, too,” Scaramouche said, eyes flickering to the pearly white curtains separating him from the world. “She seemed so real.”

“I understand.”

But Scaramouche knew he could never understand. He knew that no matter how hard Childe ever tried, he would always be a universe away from the emotions and feelings he encountered.

He knew that no matter how hard he tried, the little girl who liked to play princess would be gone forever.

Not gone completely, his heart whispered, she’ll still be here.

Scaramouche retorted with his brain, Ew. That’s sappy.

“C’mon, tell me about her,” A playful spark glittered in Childe’s eyes.

Deep purple eyes rolled in annoyance, but he had someone to talk to, and that’s all that mattered…

The rest of the night continued with Scaramouche oversharing and Childe listening. As the winds from the window breathed softly into his hair, Scaramouche let his eyes flutter. Childe’s hair was milky silver underneath the moonlight, and his dark blue eyes showed a rare glint of silent happiness.

Scaramuche hadn’t felt this light in days. He felt like if he tried, he would be able to fly.

“I missed you,” Childe muttered.

The wind shifted, and Scaramouche looked down at his friend, “Heh. Who wouldn’t?”

Their conversation ended with a smack on his leg.

The buzz of work-life envelops his senses. Muscle memory guides him down the flights of stairs with practised ease.

Meetings for the day had just finished, and Scaramouche was heading down to the coffee shop to meet up with Childe.

“Hey,” he says when the ginger fades into view.

“Yo,” comes the reply.

He grabs the smaller cup and pursed it to his lips. Relishing the way warmth spilled on his tongue and melted in his mouth. Out of spite, he gave Childe a look, “You added too much sugar again. It’s too sweet.”

“Just to make up for what you lack.” His friend says with a flirty wink.

Scaramouche rolled his eyes mirthfully, taking another sip. The autumn wind blows merrily around them, scattering red leaves across the pavement. Weak sunshine lights up the purple in his eyes, making them seem lavender. With a look at Childe, he can’t help but notice the rosy cheeks and smile.

He leans into the other, breathing a sigh of contentment.

Everything was so peaceful now. He didn’t need to worry about going home to an empty house; he didn’t have to call and text in secret anymore.

Just two friends walking together, talking and sneaking in harmless teases-

“Ah! Please excuse me!”

A bike skids to a stop in front of them.

Childe and Scaramouche jump apart.

A girl brushes debris off her white dress ornamented with little sunflowers. Childe, ever the gentleman, assists her in picking up the fallen bike. She looks awfully familiar, Scaramouche thinks to himself.

Scaramouche looks around and picks a vegetable-looking keychain up, “Is this yours?”

The girl gasps in surprise and nods, “Yeah, thanks!”

Funny, we have matching tastes for bag charms.

“Be more careful next time, yeah?” Childe smiles.

Her pearly white hair bounces in the light, and her cheeks blush in embarrassment, “O-of course! Thank you again!” She looks up at Scaramouche with emerald green eyes and a shy, apologetic smile, “I’m really sorry, sirs. I best be going now.” And with that, she disappears behind them.

“Strange girl- cute, though,” Childe remarks.

Scaramouche elbows him in the stomach, “Stop that- it’s weird.”

“Only because I’m not complimenting you for once?”

He growls, “You can’t keep calling strangers pretty and attractive! You don’t even know how old they are!”

The ginger grins at him, “Oh, so you don’t know her either?”

The shorter huffs, “I haven’t seen her in my entire life.”

Childe chuckles, wrapping an arm around Scaramouche’s shoulder. The breeze tickles their noses and the smell of warm coffee lingers in the air, “Good. We don’t want you running off with a girl now, do we?”

“WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SUGGEST?!”

“Nothing… nothing.”

SMACK!

The small keychain of a vegetable-looking doll shakes from the impact.

Silly, stupid human emotions.

THE END.