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Eavesdropping is a habit Scaramouche never particularly found the need to get rid of, because why would he? Does he particularly care about the lives of insignificant citizens of Sumeru? No, but it’s interesting as a form of entertainment. So as usual, he’s listening in on the conversation between the two people in front of him as he returns home, when—
“Did you hear?” one of them says to the other beside them. “Lumine came out with a new album a few days ago.”
“Wait really?” their friend says, intrigued. “That’s really cool, she always has good music. I can’t believe I somehow didn’t hear about that sooner.”
Lumine. These people somehow know of her, and that has Scaramouche surprised. Not that she’s unpopular by any means, unfortunately, but this is the first time he’s heard her name like this.
“The whole album is so good,” the first one continues, “And the title track is already number one on trending. I think it’s gonna be super popular.”
“Ooo, I’ll definitely give it a listen later today.”
Scaramouche scoffs from behind them, shaking his head disapprovingly because these people are just now hearing about Lumine’s new music? After nearly a week of it being out? And they’d probably call themselves fans of her, if he were to ask. Looks like Lumine’s fans aren’t very dedicated. How sad.
Their conversation doesn’t stray from Lumine the entire time he has the displeasure of walking behind them. He’s subjected to hearing animated speak about how talented Lumine is, and how she has an it factor like nobody else, and various other statements of similar quality.
“I saw Lumine a few times back home in Liyue last year when she was on tour, it was such a good time she’s so amazing on stage.”
“She came to Mondstadt for a performance with Barbara, I think I saw her then. Barbara is good, but I think Lumine has something special.”
“You did? No way! I wanted to go to that so bad but I was busy.”
Scaramouche has half a mind to speak up so he can correct their opinions on her, and subsequently ruin their mood a little. But ultimately decides it’s not worth his effort. He doesn’t care enough to try and fix strangers’ opinions when there are more important things for him to do. Subconsciously, he brings the bag by his side a little closer to his body, placing a hand over the sturdy box inside. This small object is worth a lot of mora, but more than material costs, he needs it for tomorrow.
It’s no fun anymore, listening if these people are so adamant about discussing Lumine, so he pushes directly between them to get ahead.
When he’s home, he sets the box on his table and carefully unwraps the kamera lens inside. No scratches or imperfections—good. If there were, there’d be no time for him to get a replacement before tomorrow, and he doesn’t want to have to rely on his old lens.
Relieved at this, he settles down into bed, pulling the body pillow atop it closer to him with one hand, and holds his phone with the other. Immediately, the first thing he does is find the most recent music show performance Lumine has done, only mildly curious about it. Perhaps she’s made an embarrassing mistake, one he can laugh at, but there’s none to be found.
He watches it a second time just to be sure. And then a third. And maybe even a fourth.
—:—
Lumine is nothing special, Scaramouche reminds himself as he steps into the room that is quickly filling with people. He’s been to dozens of these already—more specifically, every single one since her debut—and he knows this. She’s just an idol, nothing different about her, and Scaramouche has no interest in idols; they’re all full of themselves. And the fans, those people are infuriating, to say the least. They buzz around Lumine like pesky flies, trying to get closer to her, to touch her and be noticed by her. None of them deserve her attention.
It’s not like he’s here because he wants to be, Scaramouche thinks as he stands in line. No, the only reason he’s here is to snap unflattering images of her and post them online to ruin her image. Lumine’s fansigns are usually pretty difficult to get into, but it had been especially difficult this time around. Her new album has been doing really well, so more fans unfortunately. Not like there’s anything special to her, so he doesn’t get why anyone bothers.
He scans the room with narrowed eyes, wondering how many of the people here are new fans. As if they’ll ever be as important as those who have been here since the beginning.
“Hi!” Lumine says when he approaches. “What’s your name?”
He drops his open album on the table with a thud and sits down before scowling. “As if.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Unique name, I've never heard that one before.” Cheap, lame joke. At the same time, she signs in the album, To: Scaramouche, with a heart next to his name. “Anything special you want me to write?”
He shrugs. “Not really.”
“Hm, I’ll put something anyways.” She writes something else quickly but closes the book before he gets a chance to read it, and slides it back to him. Then, she holds her hand out.
It’s bait, when idols do things like this, like they’re trying to get their fans to get more attached to them. But he takes her hand anyway, intertwining their fingers.
“It’s been a little while, hasn’t it?” Lumine says. “A month, yes?”
He laughs. “What, you missed me?”
“Mmm, maybe I did. You’ll have to decide that for yourself,” she says, then leans forward. “Then, let’s hear your thoughts on my new album.”
“It’s alright.” He shrugs. “I’ve heard better, but I suppose it could be worse.”
Lumine’s eyebrows raise and she smiles. “Alright?” she repeats. “So you like it?”
“I didn’t say that,” Scaramouche asserts quickly.
“Ah,” she nods, “of course not. You just think it’s alright.”
“Yes…” he says, hopelessly.
“You don’t have to buy the albums if you don’t like them,” she says. The fingers on her free hand drum against the table. “You shouldn’t spend mora on things you don’t like, Scara. I won’t be hurt if you miss a fansign or two.”
“I don’t—…” He frowns. “I can spend mora however I like, Lumine.”
“Yes, but wouldn’t it be better to do so on things you enjoy? You’re not obligated to come here.”
“Well,” he starts, looking for an answer. “You need someone to take pictures for you. Fansites. None of your other fans know how to do it properly. So. You’re welcome.” It’s true; they all have blurry pictures, poor quality kameras—useless. He’s the only one who knows how to do it right.
“Mm, that’s so kind of you.”
“Exactly.”
“And is that all?” she asks, leaning her head on her hand, gazing at him through her eyelashes.
He hesitates, opening his mouth but then closing it. It's not fair, how she looks at him like that. “Fine,” he says, relenting just a little. Only because he's feeling charitable. “Your music is…good.”
“Wow…” she marvels. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard a true compliment come out of you.”
“Don’t get too used to it,” he mutters.
She hums, shifting her hold on his hand to run a finger over his knuckles, tracing over a new ring that’s from her merchandise, but she doesn’t comment on it. He’s so focused on that action that he almost doesn’t hear her next words.
“What would you do, if I gave you my phone number?”
“What?” He gapes, blinking rapidly. Digesting her words. “You can’t just—…you can’t give that out.”
“Can’t I?”
“No! Because…you can’t do that. You can’t trust fans like that.”
“You’re a fan,” Lumine points out. “I can’t trust you?”
He pauses. The obvious answer should be no, but…
“I guess you can…” he decides, looking away.
“Hm,” she says after a moment. Then, another pause. “How about next time?”
“Wh—Next time?” He darts his eyes back to her. “Why not now?”
“We’re out of time today. See?” She uses her chin to gesture to the other people in line, but is still looking at him carefully. “They’re waiting. I can’t have you here forever. But, you’ll come next time, won't you?”
He scowls at the people waiting. Then to Lumine says, “Perhaps,” even though there's no real doubt about the answer.
Maybe she knows this because his response seems to satisfy her. She smiles as she unclasps her hand from his to wave goodbye.
He’s there for a while after, sitting farther away, unfortunately being subjected to watching her talk to other people. He takes pictures and makes use of that new kamera lens. Lumine poses for him more than all the others, he notes smugly. It’s almost like she knows nobody else is worth her time. He wonders if she ever looks at the pictures he posts—there’s no way she doesn’t. He is, after all, her biggest and most popular fansite, and for a reason.
He sorts the pictures out back at his place after the event is finished. They all fall into one of three categories: the ugly ones, the decent ones, and the exceptional ones. The decent ones are what he throws online for the public to see. It’s almost like scattering seeds of which birds flock to—humorous to watch how people flock to pictures in such a way. The ugly ones, Scaramouche will post someday. Whenever Lumine’s fans get a little too egotistical, he puts some of them up, to remind them that she isn’t as flawless as they think. And the exceptional images… they’re the kind of images he imagines people—not him—would worship. They’d hang them up on their walls and probably stare for hours. Scaramouche wouldn’t do that. But people would, he imagines. And of course, it’s only due to his work. Not because of Lumine.
He prevents this disturbing scenario from ever happening by keeping the pictures just for himself. Nobody else needs to see his best work. Especially not Lumine’s fans.
So as usual, Scaramouche uploads the pictures he deems okay for the general public to view.
And then finally, it’s time to open up his album and see what she wrote for him. He waits to do this every time until he’s back home by himself—what she writes, after all, is something solely intended for him, and so nobody else should be in his vicinity while he views it.
Not that it’s a big deal. It’s usually a sentence or two, nothing major. Not like she’d be proclaiming her love for him or anything, though he thinks that would be rather funny. He’d have a laugh at that.
This time, when he opens it up, the message reads: To Scaramouche♡ my favorite fan (don’t tell anyone else)
He’s not a fan—she must have forgotten—but…this will do, he decides with a smile.