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Scaramouche didn't understand what the aliens saw in him. He didn't understand why he was so high up on the popularity leaderboards, or why alien children would whisper to each other and point at him whenever he was outside.
In his eyes, getting accepted into Alien Stage was practically a sure thing, but his voice didn't seem to be the only thing the aliens took interest in.
"Scara! Scara!" A brunet boy ran up to him, nearly tripping over his own feet, and he showed his palms. Above them was the same message Scaramouche had received as well.
PASS
"You passed as well, didn't you? I'm sure you did, you're suuuper talented!" the boy pressed closer. Scaramouche didn't appreciate his personal space being invaded like this but no matter how many steps back he took, the boy was always in his face.
He rolled his eyes and showed his palm, an uninterested look on his face.
"Duh. Happy now? I want to be alone," he pulled away once again. This time, the boy didn't follow.
"Grumpy as ever, aren't you?" the boy laughed. "The others and I are going to have lunch together to celebrate. You should join us."
Scaramouche scoffed.
"As if you don't already know I'm not joining." He turned away.
"Well, doesn't hurt to try. The invitation stands if you change your mind."
"Whatever."
The boy ran away, leaving Scaramouche alone in the garden.
-
A child no older than six years old was left all alone in a transparent box drifting through darkness. The boy was seated seiza-style, a cold, calm aura preventing any of the kids around him from trying to get his attention from their floating prisons.
There was nothing the boy could do to change his predicament; he was disposed of like a piece of trash, something useless to his owner - if he could even still call her that. He was ready to accept his fate, this death that surely awaited him at the end of the dark tunnel.
But an end like that never came. Up in the distance, a beam of light painted the world red over his closed eyelids. The boy carefully took a peek, distraught by the sudden, drastic shift in the environment. He was blinded by the sharp, white light as his eyes had gotten used to the darkness around the prison cell.
As his box was approaching the light, the boy weighed his options. There were two possible outcomes waiting for him in the light; death or freedom.
Behind the giant gate was neither. There was a vast meadow leading up to a facility of some sort. The boy looked around, only to find the hole to the void he came in through was now sealed; instead, there was an illusion of the meadow going further and further. When the boy touched the wall, his hand was stopped by a strange barrier. The boy tried to press onto it and he found it felt like pushing onto a memory foam pillow - just like the one his owner had in her bedroom - while the illusion wavered around his hand.
It was a fake meadow. A lie.
-
A boy with eyes of the prettiest shade of green bumped into him on his way out.
"Sorry, Scara, my bad. You just finished shooting, yes? Care to wait for me and grab a drink? My owner would allow it," the boy offered with a warm smile.
Scaramouche stared at him for a moment, then he scoffed and turned away.
"Cool. My owner would kill me," he turned Sethos down in a cold manner and he walked away without looking back.
He lied, he lied so badly. His owner got bored of him long ago. She wouldn't care if he met his end in the streets. She wouldn't care if he didn't return home. Hell, he even came to the studio on his own while everyone else was here with their owner, some even with the whole alien family.
Sethos was one of those people. His owner adored him and took good care of him while Scaramouche could easily consider himself a street rat.
He walked out of the studio, not bothering to raise his eyes from the ground to look around. He went through the streets, skillfully avoiding the attention of the passing aliens. Blending into the alien crowd was a skill he had acquired the hard way when his owner stopped dragging him around - which was pretty soon after getting him.
The alleys were no safer than the main streets. Human pets without owners were crawling behind every corner and if Scaramouche got caught by them, he was certain they would eat him alive.
Figuratively or literally, Scaramouche would rather not know.
-
"Hi! I'm Sethos! What's your name?"
The boy didn't expect to be approached, especially not this head-on. He stayed quiet, looking at the brunet in front of him as if he was scanning him with his eyes. The sea of green he was met with was so warm the boy almost felt compelled to open up to him on the spot.
"Name?" he asked, his voice hoarse since he didn't bother with speaking for weeks by now. He made it clear to the rest of the kids that he didn't want to be approached, and he only opened his mouth without singing during their classes. Thankfully, the teacher didn't bother to check in with them individually - at least not yet.
The last time he had spoken was on the day he arrived at Anakt Garden. He briefly answered some questions, but even then, he avoided anything but yes or no questions. He wasn't sure how he got away with that, but he didn't question it.
"Yeah, name. I asked around, nobody knows your name," Sethos said as he squatted in front of the boy to see him eye to eye.
The boy moved a few inches away.
Sethos moved the same distance closer to him again, balancing on a fine line between invading his personal space even more than he already was.
"I don't need to tell you," the boy said, darting his eyes away.
"Do you even have one?" Sethos pushed him further.
And that question stung. It was only for a short moment but Sethos noticed the slight change in the boy's expression.
"You don't, do you?"
"Shut up. Leave me alone."
"I will call you Scaramouche then," Sethos said proudly. "Nice to meet you, Scara!"
The boy looked at Sethos again. Did he hear that right? A name, just for him?
"Scara...?" he asked in a daze.
"Yeah! I found the name in a book. It's pretty, like you."
The boy stared at Sethos as if he was a ghost. Emotions were boiling inside of him and he wasn't quite sure how to process them.
Before he could lash out, he was quick to get up and turn away. He ran away from the sole good thing that had ever happened in his life. Perhaps he wasn't ready to accept kindness after being thrown around like a ragdoll for his whole, short life.
-
Scaramouche was an immediate runner for the fan favorite after his performance in Round 2. He swayed the audience with his mysterious demeanor and beautiful voice. His opponent was eliminated with a mere 27 points compared to his crushing 134.
Which, to be fair, was to be expected after he gracefully stole his opponent's part of the duet on top of singing his own part.
And the audience wasn't the only one who was swayed - Sethos was watching from his seat and oh, how charmed he was. He had watched Scaramouche perform countless times before but compared to this show, it was nothing. Sethos was almost sure Scara wasn't actually ever giving it his all until now.
He watched Scaramouche turn to his dead opponent and bow to her politely to pay respects. He truly looked like a porcelain doll at that moment. Not a single muscle on his face moved, even as he was escorted away by the guards.
For a moment, a bad thought crept into Sethos's mind; if he wins his round...
He slapped his cheeks. He couldn't allow himself to think about such things, not right now. He could figure something out later. Now, it was his turn to perform.
He was led out of his pod through a labyrinth of sterile hallways which led all the way under the main stage. On the way, they were passing by Scara, who was being escorted to one of the pods to watch the rest of the show.
Sethos gave him a bright smile.
"Hey, you did great," he chirped. Perhaps not the most appropriate thing to say after Scaramouche's performance just killed a person.
One of the guards hissed at him to shut him up. Sethos ignored them.
"Keep your fingers crossed for me too, will you?"
Scaramouche watched him with a blank face, though deep in his eyes, emotions were clashing. He didn't respond to Sethos, nor did he do anything as he was looking over his shoulder while Sethos was getting pushed forward roughly. In the end, there was nothing he could do. He would only get punished as well if he tried to step out of the line.
Once on stage, Sethos publicly shook his opponent's, his friend's hand, earning himself a wave of displeased sounds from the audience. The aliens weren't here to watch the human pets be all goody-goody with each other.
Sethos didn't care. He came with the intention to show a fair fight and he wanted to convey that to his opponent as well. The poor girl was shaken by the events of the previous performance. Sethos planned to scout the situation and perform accordingly, but he wasn't going to throw his life away just like that either.
In the audience, for sure, Scaramouche was cheering on him after all.
-
"Scara! Scara!" Sethos called to the boy from far away, dashing towards him at an incredible speed for an eight-year-old. Scaramouche almost had the urge to move out of the way, but he knew Sethos would just redirect towards him again anyway.
Once Sethos came close, he dropped to the ground, letting his body roll in the grass several times before he landed right in front of Scaramouche. He tilted his head back to see him better (though, upside down), and he extended his arms towards him. Between his fingers were two snails.
"Look what I found, aren't they cool?"
Scaramouche sighed. He could've seen this coming - another one of Sethos's attempts to get his attention and befriend him. He had been bringing him various different trinkets and small animals he found around Anakt Garden over the past few weeks and frankly, Scara was not amused in the slightest.
Sethos was the most complicated person he had ever met. He made him feel so many different things at the same time Scara sometimes wondered how his head was still sitting firmly on his neck. He was grateful for the warmth his presence brought with him everywhere he went, and he was grateful for the name he had received from him. But he was also scared. Interactions with other kids weren't something Scaramouche wanted to get himself into, even if it was Sethos. He was scared and he couldn't really point out why.
"I don't care," he tried to brush the brunet off coldly. By now, he already knew that wouldn't be enough to send him away, but he always tried anyway.
Sethos chuckled and rolled onto his stomach, carefully placing the snails on the grass. Both of the creatures stayed hidden inside of their shells for a while longer - only when they felt the threat was gone did they dare to stick their little antenna eyes out and continue on their journey.
"You know, you're kind of like a snail too. You also have a shell you hide in and you only peek out when you think no one's around," Sethos said, watching the snails with great interest. Scaramouche could see little excited sparkles in his eyes even though the snails were two such small and insignificant creatures.
"Then you're annoying like a bee. Always buzzing and poking your nose where it doesn't belong, too," Scara countered, though his take wasn't nearly as lighthearted and friendly as Sethos's comparison.
"That's fine, bees are rather cute, don't you think so?" Sethos laughed it off. He always seemed so unaffected by anything he said and it was starting to piss Scara off.
"Whatever," he mumbled, and he looked away, resting his chin on his knees as he watched the fake meadow they were trapped on for... God knows how long.
Not like Scaramouche believed there was such thing as a God in the first place. Surely, any deity would free the innocent of this suffering. It did bring up a question though: was there anything anyone could even do? Was there something he could do...?
Obtaining the power of a God seemed surreal; not to mention he didn't even know what powers such a God would have.
But if God was a human... he was ready to do anything, anything to become the God who would drive the shitty aliens away forever.
-
Since his first performance, Scaramouche was practically lying in books whenever he wasn't sleeping or shooting an ad or an interview.
How could he call himself a God if he couldn't even save one person?
During his performance, he believed to get to his goal, he needed to win at all cost. Haypasia's death was simply the first stepping stone on his way to becoming a God.
It was only after he fully realized he just took another human's life that his opinion changed. What was freedom for if there were no humans left to tell the tale?
And what was a God without followers? He also realized there was power in numbers, and as much as he wanted, he couldn't do this alone. He was desperate for help, but with his history of being an outcast, he didn't know how to ask for it.
"Ah, you're here again? I should've figured that out earlier, heh. What are you reading about today?"
Scaramouche jolted in his chair. Sethos dragged another chair over next to him, shamelessly looking over his shoulder. Scaramouche quickly closed the book with a loud thud, making sure to keep his hand over the front cover in a way Sethos couldn't see the title either.
"None of your concern," he barked. He immediately scolded himself for it in his head. Of all people, Sethos was most likely to lend a helping hand, if only he asked.
"Man, are you good? You look like you've seen a ghost. I didn't get to ask earlier, but are you feeling okay after your Round?" Sethos changed his tone. He did genuinely sound concerned, but Scaramouche was too set off by his words.
Who did he think he was? How could he just ask about something like this with that annoying, careless smile?
No, if he was going to ask for help, it would be anyone but Sethos. The guy would make him go insane sooner than he'd achieve anything.
And so, he pulled even further than he already was, and the walls he built around himself grew taller.
"Read the damn room. I'm busy. I don't want to chat with you, go bother someone else," he said, his voice cold, almost poisonous. He wanted Sethos gone so he could continue his research in peace.
His heart told a different story though; it was beating quick and loud, almost as if it was screaming at him not to make such a mistake.
Scaramouche didn't listen to his heart.
Sethos was surprised by the sudden explosion. He was used to Scaramouche being distant and sending him away, but it was never like this. His words never stung like this.
"Oh... Alright, alright, alright. I'll leave you be then, see you... at dinner?" he got up and returned the chair back where he had taken it from. He walked out of the library more confused than upset or angry. He didn't understand Scaramouche, he never truly did. No matter how hard he tried, the boy kept pushing him away.
There would be another chance. Surely, he would figure something out.
He hoped he could do it sooner rather than later. His time was limited after all.
-
The day of Round 6 came faster than Sethos would've liked. He only managed to try to talk to Scaramouche a few more times since the unpleasant encounter in the library, and neither of them went well. Sethos was almost hopeless. He was too stubborn to give up though, even today.
He wore a white suit for the performance, something he had one day hoped to wear on a different occasion. That time would never come though so Sethos figured he might as well go all out.
Until today, he had banned himself from thinking about the worst. He was matched against Scaramouche, the only person he never managed to charm. The only person who caught his eye on day one, the only person he wanted to be close to through best and worst.
Today, he might get the chance to experience the latter.
What was his plan though? He didn't want to be the cause of death of his loved one. He would never be able to live with himself if he did that. He couldn't just drop out either, he wanted to see Scaramouche one more time, even if it would be the last.
Scaramouche, on the other hand, had his mind full of scenarios. He needed to prevent the inevitable somehow, but he still didn't have a solution. He couldn't have another Haypasia incident, he couldn't mindlessly throw another life under the bus just for his gain.
No, there had to be something. During the previous round, one of the participants went missing. He saw it with his own eyes... sort of. There was a huge cloud of smoke just before Faruzan was neutralized while she was yelling at her opponent about what a dirty dog he was for using her dead girlfriend against her. Through the cloud, several silhouettes could be seen though. And then, everything went quiet.
Clearly, there were some outside forces who meddled in with the aliens' business. He strongly believed Faruzan was alive and well despite the news painting the disappearance as a bad omen and that she was probably dead by now.
No, Scaramouche was sure that was a lie too, a mere cover-up so the show wouldn't get a bad reputation of letting its participants escape.
If these mysterious people came once, Scaramouche could only guess they would show up again for the upcoming round. Their objective was clearly saving lives. It was a variable he couldn't 100% count on, but it was better than nothing.
Standing on the platform which would take him on the stage, for the first time ever, he prayed. He was ascending, and he was praying to every good force, spirit, and anything that came to mind, that the rebels would make an appearance and take one of them away.
He started the duet. He did his best to convey the hope and the sight he had for the future through his voice. He could easily sweep Sethos's part as he did in Round 2, but this time around, things were much different. So he shut up, and he let Sethos do his part.
... And he loved it. He never looked Sethos's way during his performance, but he could easily read through the emotions in his voice. Sethos put so much warmth and care into his performance that Scaramouche almost felt like he was getting embraced by him.
He sang his first line of the bridge, connecting to what was supposed to be the grand finale, and he panicked.
The rebels still haven't interfered. There was no guarantee they would come anymore.
Sethos delivered his line flawlessly.
Scaramouche hesitantly glanced at him, missing the cue for his line. So he stayed quiet.
Sethos looked back at him, and he could see something he had never seen before; Scaramouche's eyes were filled with fear. Sethos never thought he would get to see something so rare coming from him. No matter the fear's source, he couldn't just ignore it.
A thud could be heard through the speakers as Sethos's microphone fell to the floor. He walked up to Scaramouche and he took the chance, the only chance he would ever get, to gently run his fingers through Scara's hair as he secured it on the back of his head, and he pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss.
The initial shock prevented Scaramouche from reacting until two seconds later, but his attempts to push Sethos away were useless. Just when he came to accept Sethos's advances, his neck was held in a tight grip.
Despair took over him. He was going to die by Sethos's hand of all people. What a God he was, failing at every step of the way.
But then, just as he felt himself slipping out of consciousness, he could suddenly breathe again. He brought his hand up to his neck, almost to protect it from further harm, but when he opened his eyes, he was met with Sethos's trademark annoying smile, though this one was rather weak and sad.
"Sethos...?"
Another thud sounded through the giant room, the instrumental music still playing in the background. Sethos was lying on the floor beneath Scara, still smiling at him. His eyelids were growing heavier with every passing second until he couldn't keep his eyes open at all.
And Scaramouche was still standing above him, frozen in shock.
"You... silly bee, get up, now," he said quietly. His jaw was so stiff the words were barely coming out of his mouth.
"... Please?" He finally dropped to his knees and he reached for Sethos's hand. His skin was still so warm to the touch that he couldn't help but bring it close to his face to feel the warmth while it lasted. His clothes were getting soaked with blood as he was now sitting in a puddle of Sethos's blood.
"Come on... I need..." He gulped, his breath hitching as tears welled up in his eyes. "I need you..."
It was too late. Scaramouche had failed again, and this time, the sacrifice was much bigger than he could bear. He prayed and he begged while gripping onto Sethos who couldn't hear him anymore, until he was dragged away by the guards. Even then, he was in a daze, completely detached from reality. All he could think about was his failure.
Would things have been different if he asked Sethos for help? Yes, most definitely. In fact, his best bet was running away when Sethos offered him a way out during the meteor shower fourteen years ago. But there was no going back, especially not that far back.
Perhaps he wasn't meant to be a God after all.