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That night has never been so memorable for someone who thinks feelings are unnecessary and will only drag you down. The thrill of the blade touching his throat, the glare he received from the adeptus.
He could never forget the Adeptus' eyes and how he stared him down. He had been itching to go back ever since he left.
The night fills the air with a cold breeze. He counts the stars in the sky as if he's counting the colors in his eyes. You've fallen for him, the stars tell him.
"You are not my ally, and I have not fallen for him." He says coldly to the stars. If others could see him now, they'd think he was deranged.
Oh, but the longing fills up his being. He has to see him again.
He, who has wandered all nations of Teyvat, finds himself returning back to Liyue. To that particular inn. To that particular Adeptus.
It was night when he got there. Even better, he thinks to himself. And up there on the roof reveals the Adeptus.
His hair and the thin sheet of cloth hanging from his back flowing with the wind. Scaramouche's bells do, too. The Adeptus turns around in shock.
"It’s you." The Adeptus says softly, pulling a dagger from behind his back.
"Relax, Adeptus. I'm not here to hurt you or this nation anymore."
"What do you want?"
"A favor, perhaps?" He pauses, "it involves you."
"No." The Adeptus turns to leave. In a pathetic attempt of making him stay, Scaramouche sprints to hold his hand, but before they could touch, the Adeptus disappears in the night.
Scaramouche stayed awake and waited.
A week passed by, and there they were again, under the moonlight. Scaramouche does not tell him how many times he went to the roof wanting to see the Adeptus, but alas, he wasn't there.
Scaramouche doesn't tell him that every interaction they have makes him long for him more.
Scaramouche doesn't tell him how many night he stayed up just to wait for him to appear again, but he didn't.
Scaramouche does not tell him he loves him. Even now.
Standing before Scaramouche is the same jade polearm the Adeptus threatened him with on the first night they met.
"You must leave now," says the Adeptus. "I am not leaving here. No, not again." He insists.
He had a feeling the Adeptus was fighting the urge to kill him then and there. Yet he'll gladly let him kill him if it meant he'll die in his arms.
The Adeptus slit Scaramouche's arm, "If by some miracle, that won't turn into a nasty scar, then I will do your favor. I'll see you again in a week."
Scaramouche's confusion was swept away with a gush of excitement and thrill.
A moment prior, he thought he'd kill him, and he'll die in his arms. But alas, the Adeptus left him there to bleed and disappeared again.