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Scaramouche tensed up, body wrapped in a warm embrace like every other time Childe came over.
“I don’t get why you always hug me.” Scaramouche sighed, one arm awkwardly hanging by his side as the other one gently pat his friends back.
Childe paused, letting go immediately.
“Sorry, did I press against your chest too much?” Scaramouche chuckled lightly as the others eyes remained glued to his.
“No, it’s alright I guess.”
Childe often worried that he triggered Scaramouche’s dysphoria, he was always anxious like that.
Scaramouche struggled a lot with depression and mental health issues due to his transition, often falling into breakdowns and depressive episodes, which Childe happily rushed to the rescue every time. He was basically an emotional support dog, but he didn’t care if it meant his best friend was safe.
Knowing Scara struggled with mental illnesses, Childe greeted the smaller boy with big, open arms every time they met. Wanting to remind him of how much he mattered by pulling him into a tight (almost suffocating) embrace every day, worried it would be the last they ever shared.
——
“Not again…” Scaramouche turned on his heel, bolting down the hallway upon seeing Childe, arms open and charging straight for him with a stupid grin.
He sprinted, slipping in his socks on the hardwood floor while slowing down for a nearby turn.
“Gotcha!” Childe giggled demonically as they clashed to the floor and wrestled, resulting in Scaramouche pinned down in a big hug. He nearly suffocated on the strong, expensive perfume that Childe practically bathed in while trying to scoot away.
“Yeah yeah I get it, now get off me”
——
“Again?” Scara groaned playfully, fighting a smile as he was pulled into yet another hug. At this point, both of them lost count of how many they’d had.
Scara never liked physical contact but unfortunately he was starting to like Childe’s bear hugs, maybe it was Childe’s warmth that thawed his frozen heart, or maybe it was just due to the millions of hugs forced on him daily.
——
“Come on, what’re you waiting for?”
Scara greeted his tall friend with open arms, already knowing what was yet to come.
He was immediately wrapped up, inhaling deeply and taking in Childe’s scent which was heavy on his shirt. It wasn’t the best smell since Childe had just got back from the gym, but it made Scara feel safe nevertheless.
——
Hundreds, thousands of happy memories flooded Childe’s brain. Today wasn’t a usual meeting of theirs, they hadn’t seen each other in a while because of an argument on their last meeting a week ago. Childe (like always) came crawling back, like a puppy with its tail between its legs. He desperately needed a hug, nothing special today. The memories of the horrible things he said that night came rushing back, guilt crashing down on his already exhausted body. He missed the smile, he missed the laugh.
So like every other argument, he was brought back to Scaramouche, arms open for an apology hug.
The cold cement rubbed against his soft skin, while the angle at which he was sitting sent pain shooting through his spine. His arms tightened around the headstone as tears fell, soiling the flowers on his lap he brought as a gift, an apology.
Childe designed Scara’s grave, the boys mother was too disappointed in her child’s ‘unnatural’ identity to even care when he took a pill too many. The stainless steel plate on the front read, “from a sister, to a brother, to a memory that will never be forgotten.” It glinted, cold and knowing in the moonlight. Childe was all poor Scara had in this life, and he didn’t even get to say goodbye.
“I’m sorry love.”