Chapter Text
“Did you bring a light?”
“Obviously.”
“Give it to me.”
“The fuck? No.”
“Wh- Come on! Just give it here!”
Xiao rolled his eyes from where he sat beside Rosaria, watching boredly as the other two bickered about something as trivial as borrowing a lighter. Signora was busy with trying to snatch the item away from Scaramouche, who snickered and stuck his tongue out at her before flipping his waist-long hair over his shoulder. Immature little idiots, that’s what they were, but they were also the only crowd he could stick around due to his less than fortunate reputation.
“Stop causing a scene.” He muttered, taking a slow drag from his own cigarette as he leaned against one of the metal pipes lining the back wall of the school. “You two are gonna get us caught. Again.”
“Ah, shut up you square.” Scaramouche rolled his eyes, pointedly kicking a stray rock at the boy. “Fuck are they gonna do about it anyways?”
“Doesn’t his dad work here?”
“Zhongli isn’t my dad.” Xiao immediately refuted, a scowl drawn on his lips as the three others exchanged knowing glances. It was infuriating. They knew nothing.
“He’s totally your dad. Old man drives you to and from school every day, and he’s always making sure you get all your homework done. He’s the only teacher who even gives a shit about your delinquent ass.” Signora snickered.
Xiao clenched his jaw, flicking ash from his cigarette with a sharp, irritated motion. “He’s my guardian, not my dad,” he muttered, voice icy. “And he doesn’t give a shit what I do outside his classroom.”
Rosaria let out a low chuckle, blowing smoke into the air as she stretched her legs out in front of her. “Yeah, sure, Xiao. That’s why he dragged you out of detention last week like he was rescuing some kind of lost puppy.”
Signora leaned forward, smirking as she looked Xiao up and down. “Just admit it- you’re the teacher’s pet. How else would you get away with half the shit you do?”
Xiao rolled his eyes, shifting away from them as if that might somehow distance him from their relentless teasing. “If he knew half the shit I do, he’d kick me out on the spot.”
Scaramouche let out a bark of laughter. “Bullshit. He’d probably write some tragic poem about his disappointment first, maybe throw in a lecture about ancient whatever.”
Xiao couldn’t help the slight smirk that tugged at his lips. They weren’t wrong; Zhongli’s endless lectures were legendary, even if Xiao managed to tune most of them out. He took another drag and blew the smoke out in a long stream, hoping it’d distract them from the faint hint of amusement on his face.
“Anyways,” Signora drawled, looking lazily between them, “you idiots planning on doing anything today besides screwing off? I wanna go to the mall.”
Scaramouche scoffed, leaning back against the wall as he flicked the lighter in his hand, making the flame dance just to taunt Signora. “What else is there to do? This place is a prison.”
Signora narrowed her eyes, finally giving up and reaching into her own pocket for another cigarette, though she grumbled, “Could at least be useful and pass me that lighter, jackass.”
Scaramouche dangled it just out of reach, his grin widening as she swiped at him. “Beg for it.”
“You are such a weird piece of–”
“Alright,” Xiao cut in, exasperation thick in his tone, “can we cut the drama? We’ve got five minutes before classes start.”
Rosaria snorted, raising a brow at him. “Since when do you care about being on time?”
He shrugged, leaning back, taking one last drag, and then stubbing out his cigarette on the ground. “I don’t. Just don’t wanna listen to Zhongli lecture me about it.”
“Oh yeah,” Scaramouche sneered, flicking the lighter shut, “wouldn’t want to disappoint Daddy Zhongli. Sure.”
Xiao’s face twisted in distaste, and he didn’t feel bad at all with the way he sent his foot crashing into Scaramouche’s shin. Scaramouche cursed loudly, shooting him a glare and throwing one of his stray pens back at him in retaliation. Signora started urging them to fight, causing much more commotion than they intended, and before they knew it, a pair of footsteps sharply rounded the corner, and they were face to face with a certain irritated blonde.
“Seriously, again?” Aether frowned, crossing his arms and openly glaring at the small group. “Don’t you people ever get tired of getting caught doing stupid shit?”
Xiao lost his voice at the sight of him, his hands going limp at his sides as his face burned with embarrassment. Seriously, he could never catch a break from getting caught by Aether of all people doing.. less than respectable things. Like getting in a childish scuffle with his shitty friends.
“Ah, nice of you to join us, Prez.” Scaramouche rolled his eyes, uncaring as he waved his cigarette around. “Want one?”
“Put that out and get to class.” The blonde sighed. “Seriously, I don’t have time for this today. So don’t be late, and I won’t report this, got it?”
“Ooh, what a generous leader we have.” Signora laughed, stretching tiredly and only getting more comfortable where she sat. Rosaria paid the entire situation no mind, scrolling on her phone as if none of them were even there.
Xiao, trying to keep his cool, stepped forward, practically glaring at his friends to shut them up. “Just- shut up and come on. Class is starting.”
Scaramouche raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. “What’s the rush, huh? Trying to score brownie points with the student council president?” He flicked ash from his cigarette in Xiao’s direction, his expression mocking. “Don’t be such a kiss-ass, Xiao.”
Aether shot Xiao an unreadable look, as if weighing his response. For a second, Xiao thought maybe, just maybe, Aether had noticed that he was actually trying not to be late for once. But when their eyes met, Aether simply sighed, gaze moving over Xiao’s disheveled appearance, his shirt untucked, blazer nowhere to be found, and his tie only half done. “Fix your uniform,” he said, voice calm but almost… disappointed.
And with that, Aether turned on his heel and walked back toward the building, leaving Xiao standing there, caught between frustration and embarrassment.
The second Aether was out of sight, the other three burst into laughter.
“Oh man, you are such a bitch for him,” Scaramouche choked out, cackling as he slapped Xiao on the back. “Did you see his face? He was just waiting to tell you off.”
Rosaria, smirking, shook her head. “No offense, Xiao, but there’s no way Aether’s gonna go for a punk like you. He’s the school’s golden boy, and you’re… well, you.”
Signora laughed, elbowing Xiao as he looked down, embarrassed and pissed off. “Seriously, you’ve got no chance. But hey, good on you for trying.”
Xiao’s jaw tightened, but he shrugged, trying to brush it off. “Shut up. I don’t care what any of you think.”
The bell rang, and Xiao jumped at the opportunity to leave these assholes behind.
“He’s hopeless.” Rosaria sighed, resting her cheek in her hand and only blinking as Signora pulled the cigarette from her hands to finally get a drag. “Think he’s got a chance?”
“Fuck no.” Signora scoffed. “He’s got as much of a chance with Aether as that Ajax kid has with Scara.”
Scaramouche almost immediately sneered, sending his foot into the back of Signora’s leg. “Fuck off with that. How many times do I have to tell you that idiot doesn’t like me like that?”
“Oh, right. I forgot, jocks tend to always befriend burnouts just for the hell of it.” She retorted sarcastically. “He wants to fuck, Scara. Why the hell else would he always be hanging around you and bothering you like a desperate puppy?”
“To try and get the opportunity to make fun of me.” Scaramouche growled, taking a rather long drag from his cigarette before idly fixing his bangs. “That asshole is only trying to make his friends laugh by befriending the loser. Well he can kiss my fucking ass-”
“Bet he’d love that.”
“-Because I’m not entertaining that.” Scaramouche finished with a pointed glare in Signora’s direction. “He could go die for all I care.”
Both girls exchanged a bored look, varying noises of a laugh and snort leaving their lips. “Sure, Scara. Sure.”
“I’m serious.”
—
“Ah. Scaramouche. Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence.” His teacher droned as he unceremoniously slid the classroom door open, dragging himself in with a bored glare painted on his face. He gave his teacher a barely concealed roll of the eyes, pushing down the urge to give her the finger, before plopping down in his seat at the back. From the corner of his eye, he saw Xiao glancing at him, a smirk on his face that screamed ‘i told you so’, as well as Aether, sitting at the front and giving Scaramouche a look of pure disappointment and disapproval.
Not like he gave a damn. They could take their thoughts about him and shove it up their asses.
He slid down in his seat, crossing one thin leg over the other and tugging his phone out of his pocket, keeping it tucked beneath the desk as he idly scrolled through it.
Of course, his peace was short lived, as his idiotic excuse of a desk mate leaned into his bubble and grinned.
“Hi Scara.”
“Fuck off, Ajax.” He growled, jabbing an elbow into his side and mentally despairing at the complete lack of pain he clearly brought him.
“I’m just saying hi..!”
“That’s the entire problem. Go away.”
“Where were you? Why are you late?”
“Fuck. Off.”
Ajax only chuckled, unfazed as he leaned further into Scaramouche’s personal space. His grin was as bright and obnoxious as ever, and it made Scaramouche’s blood boil. Not because he felt irritatingly flustered by it- no, definitely not because of that. “You’re always late, you know. Bet you were off doing something shady again.”
Scaramouche scowled, angling his body away from Ajax and making a show of staring at his phone. “What I do isn’t any of your business, dumbass.”
“Come on, it’s not like I’m judging,” Ajax said, shrugging. His voice was light and teasing, but there was something genuine in it, and that irritated Scaramouche even more. “You’ve got your thing, I’ve got mine. Speaking of, are you coming to the game tonight?”
Scaramouche whipped his head around, glaring at Ajax as if he’d just said the stupidest thing imaginable. “Why the hell would I go to one of your stupid games?”
“To support your favorite star athlete, obviously,” Ajax replied without missing a beat, leaning back in his chair and flexing just enough to make his letterman jacket shift, showing off the numerous patches from different sports. “Come on, Scara. I’ll even save you a seat in the front row.”
“Pass,” Scaramouche spat, eyes narrowing. “The last thing I need is to sit in a crowd of screaming idiots pretending to care about a ball.”
“You wound me,” Ajax said, clutching his chest as if he’d been physically struck. His grin didn’t waver, though, and Scaramouche hated how boyish and charming it was. “You’d be the coolest person there. Plus, I could always use a good-luck charm.”
Scaramouche shoved his phone back into his pocket and sat up straighter, his glare intensifying. “Do I look like a fucking cheerleader to you?”
Ajax tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “Well, you do have the legs for it…”
Scaramouche didn’t even hesitate before shoving Ajax’s desk into his ribs, eliciting a startled laugh from the taller boy. “Get lost,” he hissed, his face heating against his will. “Go bother one of your fangirls if you’re that desperate for attention.”
“But none of them are as fun as you,” Ajax said, his voice dropping to something almost sincere. His blue eyes softened just slightly, and for a brief moment, Scaramouche found himself caught in them before snapping back to reality.
“Keep it up, and I’ll make sure you’re on crutches by your precious game,” Scaramouche threatened, crossing his arms and sinking lower into his seat.
Ajax’s grin widened, as if he knew Scaramouche didn’t mean it. “You’re in a good mood today,” he teased, nudging him lightly. “What, did you have a nice chat with the student council president earlier?”
Scaramouche froze, his fists tightening in his lap. “How the fuck do you know about that?”
“Just a guess,” Ajax said with a shrug, but the glint in his eyes said otherwise. “Aether’s been looking real stressed lately. I figured you were probably part of the reason why.”
“Bite me,” Scaramouche growled, though his tone lacked its usual venom.
“Only if you ask nicely,” Ajax shot back, and Scaramouche could practically feel the smirk radiating off him.
“God, you’re insufferable.” Scaramouche shoved his desk away from Ajax’s, pointedly turning his back on him. But even then, he could still feel Ajax’s gaze on him, warm and annoyingly persistent. It was the same gaze Ajax always had- like he was looking at something he actually cared about.
And that was the most infuriating thing of all.
“Come on, it costs nothing. Just come out to this one game for me. I’ll do anything you want if you do.”
“What about never talking to me again?” Scaramouche glared over his shoulder, only to be met with Ajax sheepishly grinning and rubbing the back of his neck.
“Okay, anything but that.”
Fuck, Scaramouche hated him.
He did. He swore it.
“I’m not going. Screw off already.”
Ajax slumped in his seat dramatically, letting out an exaggerated groan. “Scara, you’re breaking my heart here,” he whined, resting his chin on his palm as he pouted at him like a kicked puppy. “You’re the only person I actually want to come.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t care,” Scaramouche snapped, though his words came out sharper than he intended, a weak attempt to ignore the little twinge in his chest. “You’re acting like I’m your goddamn mom or something. Go cry to her instead.”
Ajax didn’t even flinch, his blue eyes wide and pitiful. “But she wouldn’t look at me with those adorably annoyed eyes of yours.”
Scaramouche could feel the tips of his ears turning red, and he silently cursed every deity he could think of. He spun back around, facing the front of the classroom. “Shut the hell up before I report you for harassment.”
“Harassment? Please,” Ajax said, his voice practically dripping with fake innocence. “I’m just a poor, rejected athlete trying to bond with his desk partner. Is that such a crime?”
“It should be,” Scaramouche muttered under his breath, glaring holes into his desk. “I swear, if you don’t leave me alone–”
“What if I bribe you?” Ajax interrupted, leaning in closer again, completely undeterred. “I’ll buy you lunch for a week. No, a month! Anything you want. Think about it- no waiting in line, no dealing with cafeteria food. Just me, spoiling you like the royalty you clearly are.”
Scaramouche glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, a skeptical brow raised. “You’re seriously this desperate?”
Ajax grinned, completely unashamed. “Desperate for you, yeah.”
The audacity of this man. Scaramouche opened his mouth, ready to snap back, but then Ajax pulled his trump card: the pout.
It wasn’t just any pout- it was the most over-the-top, ridiculous, kicked-puppy expression Scaramouche had ever seen. His bottom lip stuck out just enough, and his big blue eyes shimmered with what could only be described as fake sadness.
“Please, Scara?” Ajax asked, dragging the word out in the most annoying way possible. “Just this once? I’ll even stop calling you Scara for a whole week if you say yes.”
“That’s supposed to be tempting?” Scaramouche scoffed, though his voice wavered just slightly. He hated how that stupid pout was starting to chip away at his resolve.
Ajax clasped his hands together in mock prayer. “It is! Please? I swear, if you come to the game, I’ll- I’ll even let you call the first play. Or something. I don’t know how that would work, but I’ll figure it out.”
“Call the first play?” Scaramouche turned to him fully now, incredulous. “What the hell does that even mean?”
“Who cares?” Ajax said, grinning again. “Point is, you’ll be there. Front row. Maybe even cheering my name if you’re feeling generous.”
Scaramouche rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of his head. “You’re so fucking delusional.”
“Maybe,” Ajax admitted, the grin never leaving his face. “But you like it.”
“I hate you.”
“Sure you do.” Ajax winked, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied look, as if he’d already won.
And the worst part? Scaramouche was starting to think he might actually go, just to shut him up.
The bell rang not long after that, which didn't come as a surprise since Scaramouche spent the majority of the time he should have been in class smoking behind the school and wandering around the halls. The class stood in near unison, chatter filling the room as they all paired off with their friends and made their way out to lunch.
“So?” Ajax smiled, watching with a look so entranced as the shorter slung his backpack over his shoulder that it made Scaramouche slightly ill.
“So what.”
“You’ll be there?”
Scaramouche narrowed his eyes, giving Ajax a sneer that he hoped conveyed just how agitated he was, before shoving his headphones into his ears as turning sharply on his heel, leaving him behind entirely.
He missed the way Ajax sighed dreamily, watching him leave and regarding every movement as if it was sculpted by the gods themselves.
“Really? Him?”
Ajax only grinned as Aether stood by his desk, a look of barely concealed disappointment on his face. “Yes. Him. Every time.”
“He's bad news, Ajax.” The student council president sighed. “And incredibly rude to you. You’re better off putting your sights somewhere else. Like, oh I don't know, someone who’s actually even slightly kind to you?”
“You're probably right. I don't care, though. He's..”
“..He’s..?”
Ajax smiled. “He's everything.”
—
Sometimes, Aether really hated being the Student Council president.
No, most of the time Aether really hated being the Student Council president.
From the outside, it might look prestigious- an honor, even. But day after day, he found himself trapped in a mountain of annoying tasks that had little to do with making the school a better place. Instead, it felt like he was the school’s personal fixer, cleaning up messes and listening to complaints that, if he was honest, half the time didn’t even make sense.
For instance, there was always Bennett, the first year who seemed to have a knack for causing minor disasters, whether it was spilling a science experiment in the hallway or knocking over a display in the cafeteria. Aether had lost count of how many times he’d been called to clean up after Bennett’s “accidents,” each one more ridiculous than the last. And sure, he felt bad for the guy, but there were only so many apologies one could make to the janitors before they stopped caring.
And then there was Hu Tao. She was a prankster through and through, always finding ways to stir things up. Last week, she’d somehow managed to sneak a skeleton model into the Principal’s office and position it at his desk like it was working late. The entire office had freaked out, and, naturally, it had been Aether who was called in to deal with it. Hu Tao had laughed her head off when he confronted her, leaving him with nothing but an eye-roll and the knowledge he’d probably be seeing her antics again soon.
Even the quieter students seemed to add to his plate. Another first year, Xingqiu, had been in a feud with the librarian over something as trivial as a book recommendation that went wrong. Aether had tried to mediate, but between Xingqiu’s smug remarks and the librarian’s steadfast hardheadedness, he’d ended up listening to them argue for nearly an hour. In the end, they’d both been annoyed with him for “not taking sides.”
And of course, there were the teachers. Ms. Minci expected him to enforce library etiquette, especially when Mr. Varka (who refused to let anyone refer to him by his last name) decided his study group could double as a hangout session. He’d tried, but confronting a teacher wasn’t exactly easy- he only laughed, slapping him on the back and saying he appreciated his “commitment to duty.” As if that helped.
Then, just when he thought his day couldn’t get worse, Mr. Neuvillette from world history insisted that Aether organize an entire assembly in honor of an obscure poet’s birthday, because, apparently, “students needed to appreciate fine culture.” As much as Aether respected his senior’s love for literature, he doubted his classmates would feel the same, and it was always him who had to smooth things over when they didn’t show up or, in Hu Tao’s case, disrupted it with some “artistic interpretation” of her own.
And Mr. Morax, the social studies teacher, seemed to take pleasure in offering him increasingly cryptic advice about his “duties as a leader,” which was more confusing than helpful. “The weight of responsibility,” he would say, as if that was supposed to fix anything. He didn’t even leave Aether with anything useful, just trapped him in his all too cold classroom, stuck with listening to a near 2 hour lecture-turned-ramble.
Lunchtime was hardly a reprieve, either. Instead of relaxing and eating, he’d find himself in a meeting room, discussing some new initiative with one student, who insisted the council fund her astronomy club despite their ever-tightening budget. Then he’d listen to another propose a “science fair” that she was far too nervous to organize alone, leaving him to handle half the logistics.
By the end of each day, Aether would be exhausted, barely able to stand the thought of another complaint or crisis. But somehow, he’d still find himself answering every request, solving every problem—even if he hated it more with each passing day.
Which is why he found himself here now, slumped over one of the beds in the nurse’s office and complaining unabashedly to his Vice President, who was helping the nurse reorganize the nurse’s office. The girl rolled her eyes at his dramatics, idly slapping him right across the face with a warm, damp towel that she had tossed over.
“Ugh- Ouch? What was that for?”
“Stop complaining about how bad your head hurts and maybe it’ll go away.” She scoffed, though she was smirking slyly as he was left peeling the stupid thing off his face. “Why did you even come today if your head hurt so bad?”
“I had no choice, the student council is helping the teachers organize the basketball game tonight..”
“Another one?” Lumine raised her eyebrow.
“No no- this one is taking the place of that stupid one Mr. Neuvi wanted me to organize. Given that this one is actually for important reasons, it thankfully took its place.”
“Mr. Neuvi would faint if he heard you say that, y'know."ye
“Yeah, I know..” Aether sighed, slowly draping himself over the edge of the bed to look over at the girl, who was busying herself with sanitizing a new batch of thermometers. “Interested in trading jobs?”
Lumine snorted. “Yeah, no way in hell am I trading doing relatively nothing for the nurse, for busting my ass as the full-time president. Try your luck elsewhere.”
A loud groan is what she got in response. “Why do you hate me?”
“Get over yourself, drama queen.”
Aether rolled his eyes at her, giving an exaggerated sigh as he flopped backwards onto the bed again, still clutching his throbbing head.
Lumine’s amusement faded slightly, a small furrow now finding its way to her eyebrows as she took in his slightly disheveled appearance. “Hey, seriously though. If you’re in pain, you should really go home. Lack of proper rest leads to burnout, and you seem to already be showing signs of it.”
As if he could just get up and do that. No, Aether had responsibilities, ones that were regrettably more important than his own wellbeing. So, rather than respond in a constructive way, he let a weak excuse of a smirk cross his lips, and laced every word with snark.
“You spend a few weeks in the nurse’s office, and suddenly become a medical expert?”
The girl promptly scowled at him, but before Lumine could respond, the doors to the nurse’s office suddenly slammed open. Both third-years whipped their heads toward the entrance, Aether’s exhaustion instantly replaced by alertness.
The heavy doors of the nurse’s office banged against the walls, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the sterile quiet.
Xiao stood framed in the doorway, chest heaving, his dark hair falling untidily over sharp golden eyes. One hand was fisted in the collar of another student’s uniform, hauling the boy like dead weight. The poor kid’s face was almost unrecognizable- one eye swollen shut, lip split, cheekbone blossoming purple with bruises. Xiao himself looked far from unscathed: a fresh slash ran diagonally across his cheek, angry and red, the blood smeared down toward his jawline.
The silence stretched for a single, stunned second. Then, without a word, Xiao strode inside. He dropped the battered boy onto the nearest cot with all the gentleness of someone setting down a sack of laundry. The kid groaned, rolling weakly to his side.
“Patch him up.” Xiao’s voice was flat, stripped of inflection, like it had been dredged out of stone.
Lumine’s gasp filled the space before either boy could speak. She darted forward, already tugging open drawers, snapping on gloves, and muttering to herself about ice packs and concussions. Her hands were quick but steady as she gently tilted the injured student’s chin, checking his pupils for dilation.
Aether, however, didn’t move to help. He was staring at Xiao. Hard.
His yellow eyes raked over the other boy, taking in the taut set of his shoulders, the thin sheen of sweat at his temple, the way his chest still rose and fell a little too fast. And, of course, that fresh cut on his face, stinging raw against pale skin.
Aether’s jaw clenched.
“…Did you do this?” His voice was low, quiet enough not to carry, but heavy with accusation.
For the first time, Xiao faltered. His gaze slid away, dropping to the floor as his fists tightened uselessly at his sides. His usual sharp defiance wasn’t there- just silence that stretched uncomfortably before he muttered, barely audible, “Who knows.”
Aether’s scowl deepened. He pushed off the cot and crossed the room in three strides, seizing Xiao by the arm just above the elbow. The contact made Xiao jolt slightly, his head snapping up. Aether didn’t give him the chance to resist; he dragged him unceremoniously toward the corner of the nurse’s office, away from Lumine’s fussing and the injured boy’s shallow groans.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Aether hissed, shoving Xiao back against the wall- not with enough force to hurt him, but enough to keep him pinned in place. “Do you enjoy making my life harder? Do you realize how many times I’ve had to cover for you this month alone?”
Xiao swallowed, his throat bobbing. He could feel Aether’s hand still wrapped firmly around his arm, the heat of his skin searing through the fabric of his uniform. His own hands twitched uselessly at his sides, itching to lift, to grab back, to cling- but he forced them still. His heart was thundering so loud he swore Aether must be able to hear it.
“I…” He hated how quiet his voice came out. He hated that he couldn’t meet Aether’s furious gaze without his own composure cracking. “I didn’t-” He stopped himself, pressing his lips into a thin line. His usual sharp retorts and cold bravado evaporated under the weight of Aether’s scorn, leaving him subdued, muted.
Aether’s frown only darkened at Xiao’s lack of resistance. “Do you even care how this looks? You walk in here, bleeding, dragging some kid who can barely breathe- what am I supposed to tell the principal? That it was self-defense? That it was an accident?” His grip on Xiao’s arm tightened, his voice snapping like ice. “You can’t just keep doing this, Xiao. You can’t keep dragging me into your messes and expect me to keep cleaning them up!”
Xiao’s golden eyes finally flicked back up to meet his, and for once there was no fire there, no bite. Just something raw, painfully vulnerable, buried under the mask of indifference. He could have fought back–verbally, physically, anything–but instead he let Aether’s words wash over him, let himself be dragged, scolded, and scorned. Because it was Aether. Because for all his harshness, all his frustration, Aether was still close- closer than he usually ever got.
And Xiao couldn’t bring himself to push him away.
“…I’m sorry,” he murmured, the words clumsy and foreign on his tongue. “I'm not.. trying to drag you into everything...”
Aether blinked at him, surprised for the briefest second before his expression hardened again. He released Xiao’s arm abruptly, turning back toward the beds with an exasperated sigh.
“Just- sit down. Let me see that cut before Lumine yells at both of us.”
Xiao obeyed without a word, shoulders tight, but his chest unbearably warm despite the sting of blood on his cheek.
“...I didn't know you would be in here.” Xiao murmured. “Honestly. I thought it would just be the nurse, not..”
Aether huffed as if he didn’t want to acknowledge what Xiao had just said, but his footsteps carried him straight to the supply cabinet. He tugged the first aid kit free with more force than necessary, the metal latch clattering loudly in the otherwise quiet room. He set it down on the counter with a sharp thud and flipped it open, his motions brisk, almost irritated, as he sorted through gauze, antiseptic, and cotton pads.
Xiao sat where Aether had directed him, back stiff, hands curled into loose fists in his lap. The gash on his cheek stung with every twitch of his muscles, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t even try to dab at the blood himself. He just… waited.
Bright eyes flicked up at him briefly as Aether unwrapped a roll of gauze, then narrowed again in exasperation. “You realize this is becoming a routine, right?” Aether muttered, his voice tight but lacking the earlier bite. “You show up banged up, I give you the benefit of the doubt and defend you to the principal so you don't get expelled, and then a week later we’re right back here again.” He shook his head, tearing open a packet of disinfectant wipes. “It’s exhausting, Xiao. Do you understand that?”
Xiao’s jaw worked, but no words came. His silence only made Aether sigh harder.
“I get it,” Aether continued, softer this time. “You’re still relatively new here. It’s not easy adjusting, especially with some of the idiots in this school.” He pulled out a chair and sat directly in front of him, leveling him with a look that was both weary and stern. “But that doesn’t give you the right to punch anyone who pisses you off. You can’t solve everything with your fists.”
Xiao kept his gaze fixed somewhere over Aether’s shoulder, golden eyes dimmed. The muscle in his jaw twitched again, but still, he said nothing.
“And your uniform–” Aether’s scolding tone flared up again as his eyes caught the wrinkled, half-untucked shirt and the loose tie dangling in a sorry excuse for neatness. “Seriously? I told you this morning to fix it. Is listening really that hard for you?” He gestured irritably at the disheveled state of Xiao’s blazer. “No wonder teachers are on your back all the time. You’re practically asking for it.”
Xiao’s ears burned faintly at the reprimand, though his expression remained carefully blank. He dipped his chin slightly in something that wasn’t quite an apology, wasn’t quite defiance either.
Aether let out another long breath through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair before refocusing on the task at hand. He soaked a cotton pad with antiseptic and leaned in, his knee brushing lightly against Xiao’s as he angled himself close enough to reach the wound. “Hold still. This’ll sting.”
The cool press of the damp pad against Xiao’s cheek drew the smallest flinch out of him, though he quickly forced himself still again. His ears, however, betrayed him- tinting red as Aether’s face hovered close, golden eyes narrowed in concentration. Xiao dropped his gaze instantly, staring hard at the linoleum floor as though it might swallow him whole.
Aether frowned faintly. He noticed the way Xiao’s eyes refused to meet his, the faint heat lingering high on his ears. For a moment he hesitated, wondering if maybe the redness wasn’t from shame but from something else.
“Are you running a fever?” he asked, suspicion creeping into his tone. He pressed a little more gently, brows furrowing. “Or is it being in the nurse’s office that makes you this jumpy? You look… uncomfortable.”
Xiao made the smallest sound in his throat, a half-swallowed answer that never left his lips. His chest ached with how close Aether was, the faint brush of his breath against his skin as he worked. The sting of antiseptic was nothing compared to the way his pulse hammered, demanding to be noticed.
But Aether didn’t notice. Not even close.
He shook his head faintly, oblivious, and muttered, “Maybe I should have Lumine check you after this. Last thing we need is you hiding the fact you’re sick on top of everything else.”
Xiao clenched his hands tighter in his lap, fighting the urge to say something–anything–but in the end, he only gave the smallest shake of his head.
And Aether, exhausted and too focused on keeping his peer in one piece, completely missed the truth glowing red in Xiao’s ears.
“Alright then.. do you plan on telling me how this all happened?”
“..What's the point?” Xiao finally rasped out. “You aren't going to believe me. Besides, there's no point in trying to justify my actions. I know what I did, and why I did it. My consequences should be separate from that.”
Aether froze for a moment, caught off guard by the weight in Xiao’s words. There was something startlingly mature in the way he said it- something that didn’t fit the reckless, delinquent reputation Xiao carried like a second skin. For a beat too long, Aether just studied him, the disinfectant pad hovering at Xiao’s cheek. His brows pinched faintly, as though he were trying to reconcile two clashing images: the troublemaker who seemed to survive on causing chaos, and the boy in front of him now, speaking with a kind of conviction that felt… older.
He cleared his throat softly and went back to dabbing at the cut, his tone quieter but edged with a stubborn sort of patience. “If you did it for a reason more than just… picking a fight, then yes, it’s important for me to know. I can’t keep defending you on nothing but hope you’re not being an idiot.” His lips twitched faintly, not quite a smile. “Unless you’re about to tell me you fought this kid because aliens told you to, I’m most likely going to believe you. So just… get on with it.”
The silence stretched, broken only by the soft rustle of gauze. Xiao’s gaze stayed fixed on the floor, his jaw tense, his shoulders taut. Seconds bled into longer ones before, at last, his voice surfaced- low, rough, almost reluctant.
“…I was skipping fifth period,” he admitted.
Aether’s hand stilled mid-motion. He blinked once, then twice, his expression flashing with immediate disapproval. “Skipping?” His voice was flat, incredulous, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. “Great. Just great. Add truancy to your record while you’re at it–”
“Wait.” Xiao cut him off, not sharply, but firm enough that Aether faltered. He exhaled through his nose, shoulders lowering just a fraction as he went on. “I was behind the gym when I saw him. He was cornering some girl.”
Aether’s scolding expression faltered, his brows drawing together.
“At first, I thought it wasn’t my business. I was going to walk away.” Xiao’s voice grew quieter, but harder somehow, like flint striking against steel. “But then I saw him trying to tear her shirt.” His fists tightened in his lap, knuckles paling. “And I couldn’t just stand there. I didn’t think. I just… moved.”
Aether’s hand, still holding the cotton pad, slowed until it stopped altogether, pressed lightly against Xiao’s cheek but unmoving. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly as the weight of Xiao’s words sank in.
Xiao noticed. And the silence that followed–Aether’s silence–burned him more than the antiseptic ever could. His chest tightened with something hot, defensive, sharp. He clenched his teeth and went on quickly, voice rising just a fraction.
“I have a baby sister.” His gaze finally flicked up, fiery now, but the heat wasn’t directed at Aether. “The thought of sick people like him–touching her, touching anyone–makes me want to wring their necks.” His tone turned darker, vibrating with restrained violence. “He’s lucky he walked away with the minor injuries he did.”
“Xiao–”
“He’s really lucky I don't go over there and finish the fucking job.”
“That’s enough.” Aether cut him off firmly, his voice sharp enough to slice through the tension. He dropped the pad to the tray beside him and shook his head quickly, almost too quickly, as though banishing the image Xiao’s words had conjured. “Stop. It’s fine. I believe you.”
The certainty in his tone landed like a weight between them, surprising even himself. His jaw was tight, his chest still taut with the aftershock of shock, but his words didn’t waver.
Xiao froze, thrown off by the simplicity of it. His ears still burned faintly, his fists loosened fractionally in his lap. His eyes searched Aether’s face, looking for the skepticism he’d braced himself against- yet all he found was a tired, steady kind of conviction.
“…You do?” he asked, quieter than before, something raw seeping into his voice.
Aether didn’t hesitate this time. He pressed a clean gauze gently back to Xiao’s cheek, his expression serious but softer now. “Yeah. I do. I’ll.. I’ll talk to the principal after lunch, okay?”
“No.” Xiao immediately refuted. “I’m not going to let you do that for me anymore.”
“Relax, it's fine.” Aether chuckled weakly, lowering the bloodstained gauze to apply a thick white bandage to Xiao's wound instead. “Cleaning up messes like this is just part of my job. I only bitch at you about it because I.. I just get the sense that you're smarter than all that.”
“You.. You do?”
“Yeah. Maybe I’m wrong, but something about you.. I don't know. I feel like you understand what you're doing is wrong, which is why it's so infuriating to me that you don't just stop already.”
“..It's not that simple.” Xiao mumbled, his ears only growing in their red tint as Aether brushed his hair behind his ear to keep it from interfering with the bandage. “I-I-.. U-Um… I-It’s not easy to just.. break off from what you know.”
Aether’s hands slowed as he finished smoothing the bandage across Xiao’s cheek, his gaze lingering on him in silence. He let Xiao’s words settle, the stammer in them, the subtle tremor that betrayed how much of himself he’d just let slip.
“I know it’s not simple,” Aether said quietly, tone even but not dismissive. “But just because it’s hard doesn’t mean it’s impossible. You clearly recognize that what you’re doing is objectively wrong. That means somewhere inside you… you already want something better than this.” His fingers brushed the edges of the gauze gently, as if double-checking it would stay secure, but the motion felt almost too careful, too deliberate.
Xiao shifted under the touch, his shoulders tense, his eyes flicking briefly away. “…Wanting better and being able to get it aren’t the same thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
Aether’s brows knit slightly. He leaned back a little, resting his palms against his thighs now that his work was done. “You think I’ve never wanted something I thought I couldn’t have? That I’ve never felt stuck?” His voice wasn’t sharp- just steady, carrying a quiet kind of weight. “I get that it’s not the same. But don’t act like you’re the only one who knows what it’s like to feel trapped in something.”
Xiao’s lips parted slightly, then pressed into a thin line. He looked down at the tiled floor, almost as if he was afraid to meet Aether’s eyes. “…Maybe. But for me, fighting is… it’s what I know. It’s how I keep people away. How I keep myself safe. You don’t just throw that away like flipping a switch.”
Aether studied him for a long moment, his expression softening. There was no judgment there- only a kind of quiet respect that hadn’t been there at the start. “…No. I guess you don’t,” he admitted. “But maybe you don’t have to throw it away. Maybe you just… point it in a different direction. Like you did today.”
That made Xiao’s head snap up, his eyes wide with something between confusion and defensiveness. “That wasn’t as different as you seem to think.”
“Wasn’t it?” Aether countered softly, tilting his head. “You fought someone who was hurting someone else. You said it yourself- you could've minded your own business, but you chose to help that girl. That wasn’t reckless. That was… good.” His lips curved in the faintest shadow of a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “If you’re going to fight regardless of what I say, of what everyone else thinks is right, then at least fight for something that matters.”
Xiao’s mouth opened, then closed again. He looked at Aether as though he wanted to argue, but the words seemed to die before they reached his tongue. His chest rose and fell with a quiet breath, his hands clenching once before relaxing in his lap. “…You make it sound easier than it is,” he muttered at last.
“Maybe it’s not easy,” Aether admitted, rising slowly from his seat. He set the last of the medical supplies back onto the tray before stepping back to study Xiao from a small distance. “But you already proved you can do it. That means something.”
For a moment, he just looked at Xiao, really looked- at his messy hair, his disheveled uniform, the faint pink creeping up his ears despite his usual cold demeanor. There was something in the juxtaposition that held him still, the contradiction of Xiao’s rough edges and the strange, stubborn integrity and wisdom he carried in his chest.
Finally, Aether exhaled and said, softer than usual, “Go get some lunch while there’s still time.”
The tone made Xiao hesitate, his eyes flicking up. It wasn’t the clipped authority Aether usually used, nor the exasperation he often laced his words with. It was something else- measured, almost friendly. Respectful.
Xiao swallowed, uncertain. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. Then, just as Aether turned to start tidying the counter, Xiao rose to his feet. His voice came quiet, almost swallowed by the hum of the air conditioner.
“…Thanks,” he muttered, his gaze angled down but the sincerity in his tone undeniable. “For… taking care of it.”
Aether’s hands stilled on the tray, but he didn’t turn around. “Don’t mention it,” he said simply.
Xiao lingered half a second longer, then gathered his bag in a quick motion and all but rushed out of the nurse’s office, the door clicking softly shut behind him.
The silence that followed was heavier than before, though Aether didn’t immediately move to fill it. He just stood there, staring at the door Xiao had disappeared through, his jaw tight, his eyes shadowed with thought. Something had shifted between them- he could feel it, even if he couldn’t name it yet.
—
Lunch was even worse.
Scaramouche had stretched his legs out across the abandoned desk that lay stranded behind the school, worn down with dirt and rust. Between his fingers was, yes, another cigarette, and sitting beside him once again was Xiao. Xiao was okay, he didn’t talk too much, and was plenty of fun to bother since he always got so flustered so quickly. He was alright, and much less agitating to be around than Signora.
“Not hungry?” He asked blandly, watching with half amusement as the aforementioned continued to poke at his bento box with his chopsticks. Xiao huffed, shaking his head and ultimately putting the entire thing to the side.
“Zhongli made it for me.” He grumbled. “Do you want it?”
“No. I have my lunch right here.”
“Right, I forgot you consume a pack a day for every meal.”
“Asshole.” Scaramouche rolled his eyes, though a small smile of amusement crossed his lips. “You’re such a shithead, you know that?”
“Mm.” Xiao shrugged, his expression as stoic as ever, though the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement. “Takes one to know one.”
“Whatever. What happened to your face?” He asked, eyeing the thick white bandage that hadn't been there last time he saw Xiao.
“Wanna raise your fists and find out?”
“..Fucking edgelord, shut up.” Scaramouche snorted, leaning back against the rough surface of the desk. The faint breeze tugged at his hair, carrying with it the scent of stale smoke and fresh-cut grass. The world felt distant here, tucked away behind the school where no one dared to bother them- except for the occasional stray cat or groundskeeper who knew better than to interrupt their quiet sanctuary.
Xiao’s gaze drifted to the horizon, his eyes catching the light as he idly kicked at the dirt with the tip of his shoe. He was quiet, and that was what Scaramouche appreciated most about him. Xiao didn’t pry. He didn’t push. He just existed beside him, the way an old, stubborn tree might cast a protective shadow over someone trying to hide from the sun.
The silence was comforting- until the sound of footsteps shattered it.
Scaramouche groaned loudly, not even bothering to look up. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“Who’s that?” Xiao asked, already tensing like a cat ready to pounce. He turned toward the sound, his brow furrowing slightly.
Scaramouche knew before he even looked. “The bane of my existence,” he muttered, dragging his cigarette away from his lips and blowing out a stream of smoke with a glare.
Sure enough, Ajax came bounding into view, his letterman jacket hanging loosely off his shoulders, over his uniform, and his trademark shit-eating grin plastered across his face. He looked insufferably cheerful, his blue eyes practically glowing as he approached. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he called out, his voice obnoxiously bright. “Didn’t know you two were friends!”
Xiao and Scaramouche exchanged a look–one filled with mutual exhaustion and annoyance–before turning their attention back to Ajax with identical unimpressed stares.
“What do you want?” Scaramouche snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.
“Relax, Scara,” Ajax said, waving a hand as he sauntered closer. “I come in peace.”
“That’s a first,” Scaramouche muttered, already irritated.
Ajax ignored the jab and set a bag of takeout on the desk in front of Scaramouche with a flourish. It smelled maddeningly good- some kind of greasy, savory dish that made Scaramouche’s stomach betray him with a quiet growl. He sneered at the bag, his lip curling in disdain.
“What the hell is that?” he asked venomously, as if Ajax had just handed him a bag of garbage instead of food.
Ajax grinned wider, rocking back on his heels. “Lunch. You know, that thing people eat instead of cigarettes.”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Scaramouche growled, jabbing a finger toward the bag. “What’s your angle?”
“No angle,” Ajax said, his voice practically dripping with false innocence. “This is me holding up my end of the deal.”
“What deal?” Scaramouche spat, glaring daggers at him.
Ajax’s grin turned lopsided, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You know, the one where I promised to buy you lunch every day for a month if you come to my game. Remember?”
Scaramouche’s fists clenched, his face twisting in fury. “I never agreed to that!” He snapped, his voice sharp enough to send nearby birds scattering from the trees. He sat up straighter, jabbing a finger at Ajax like he was about to launch into a full tirade. “I don’t know what delusional version of events you’ve cooked up in your pea-sized brain, but there was no agreement, no deal, no–”
“You just did!” Ajax interrupted, his grin so wide it was almost unbearable. He folded his arms across his chest, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You didn’t say no to the idea when I mentioned it earlier, so I took that as a yes.”
“What?!” Scaramouche’s jaw dropped, his glare somehow intensifying. He threw his hands up in disbelief. “That is not how consent works, you absolute moron! Saying nothing doesn’t mean I agreed! Are you brain-dead or just this annoying on purpose?!”
Ajax didn’t look fazed in the slightest. In fact, he laughed– laughed –his shoulders shaking as if Scaramouche’s fury was the most entertaining thing in the world. “Okay, okay,” Ajax said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “You didn’t technically say yes, but come on, Scara. Would it really kill you to come to one game? I even got your favorite takeout for you! That’s gotta count for something.”
Scaramouche’s eyes darted to the takeout bag, and he had to physically restrain himself from grabbing it. He hated how good it smelled, how tempting it was. He hated that Ajax knew him well enough to pick something he couldn’t easily ignore. His fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms as he glared at Ajax like he was personally responsible for every annoyance in Scaramouche’s life.
“I never agreed,” Scaramouche repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “And I’m not going to your stupid game. Take your bribe and shove it.”
Ajax’s grin faltered for half a second before returning in full force. “Come on, don’t be like that. You’re gonna break my heart, Scara.” He even pouted, sticking his bottom lip out in an exaggerated show of disappointment. “I was really looking forward to seeing you there.”
“Good,” Scaramouche snapped. “Now you won’t have to suffer the disappointment when I don’t show up.”
Xiao, who had been sitting quietly through the entire exchange, shifted uncomfortably. His golden eyes flicked between Scaramouche and Ajax, his expression unreadable. “…You’re really pushing it,” he muttered, mostly to Ajax, though there was a hint of sympathy for Scaramouche in his tone.
“Of course I am,” Ajax said brightly, as if he hadn’t just been insulted. “You have to push if you want results. First rule of basketball!”
“Or if you want to get punched,” Xiao muttered under his breath.
“See? Xiao gets it,” Scaramouche growled, pointing at him as if to emphasize his point. “And yet you’re still here, wasting my time.”
Ajax ignored him, instead nudging the takeout bag closer with a playful grin. “At least eat the food. It’d be a shame to let it go to waste.”
Scaramouche glared at the bag like it had personally offended him. He wanted to argue more, to shove the food back in Ajax’s face and tell him exactly where he could stick it—but his stomach growled again, louder this time, and Ajax’s grin widened triumphantly.
“You’re impossible,” Scaramouche hissed, snatching the bag and yanking it open with a venomous glare. “If I eat this, will you finally leave me alone?”
Ajax raised a finger, his grin almost blinding. “If you also promise to think about coming to the game.”
Scaramouche let out a strangled noise of frustration, shoving a piece of food into his mouth just to keep himself from screaming. He chewed angrily, his glare never leaving Ajax, who looked like he’d just won the lottery.
Xiao sighed, muttering something about “getting dragged into nonsense,” but didn’t move to leave. He just watched silently, his expression somewhere between confused and exasperated as the two of them continued their battle of wills.
And Scaramouche, for all his fury, couldn’t shake the tiny, infuriating warmth in his chest at the sight of Ajax’s ridiculous, earnest smile.
As he shoved another bite into his mouth, glaring at Ajax with the same intensity as someone planning murder, Ajax casually turned his attention to Xiao, who had been trying to stay invisible throughout the argument.
“Hey, Xiao,” Ajax said, his tone light but sly, the kind that immediately put people on edge.
Xiao blinked and looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly. “…What?”
“I just thought you’d like to know,” Ajax began, leaning against the desk like this was a perfectly normal conversation, “Aether’s going to be at the game, too.”
Whatever response Xiao might have had instantly caught in his throat. His cheeks turned an unmistakable shade of pink, and he quickly ducked his head, pretending to adjust his shoelace. “I don’t… I don’t know why that matters,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.
“Oh, I think you know exactly why it matters,” Ajax teased, his grin taking on a sharper edge. “He’s going to be there all night, you know. Said he’d stay for the whole game and even do the commentary.”
Xiao’s blush deepened, creeping all the way to the tips of his ears. His shoulders hunched slightly, and he fiddled with his sleeves, clearly wishing the ground would swallow him whole. “That… doesn’t mean anything,” he mumbled, his voice even quieter.
“Oh, come on,” Ajax pressed, his tone so overly casual it was obvious he was doing it on purpose. “You’re telling me you’re not even a little interested in coming? You could cheer him on, or maybe–oh, I don’t know–strike up a conversation during halftime?”
Xiao’s head shot up, his eyes wide with mortification. “I wouldn’t–! That’s not–! I’m not–!” He stumbled over his words, his face now fully scarlet. He ducked his head again, his hands clenched into fists on his lap. “It’s… it’s not like that,” he muttered, his voice trembling slightly.
“No no, it’s exactly like that,” Ajax said, leaning closer with a knowing smirk. “I bet if you don't go, he’ll be all mopey and stuck looking for you the entire time. You don't wanna let him down, do you?”
“Stop!” Xiao snapped, his voice higher than usual. He covered his face with his hands, clearly struggling to keep his composure. “You’re making things up! A-Aether doesn't- he doesn't–”
Scaramouche, who had been watching this exchange with increasing irritation, suddenly slammed his palm on the desk, startling both of them. “Enough!” he hissed, his sharp voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “I see what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”
Ajax turned to him with a feigned look of innocence. “What am I doing?”
“You’re trying to guilt-trip Xiao into coming so you can use him to drag me along,” Scaramouche snarled, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Don’t think I can’t see through your stupid little plan.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to be a good friend,” Ajax said, throwing up his hands in mock defense. “If Xiao wants to come to see Aether, that’s totally up to him.”
Xiao shot him a look that was equal parts mortified and grateful, though he quickly looked away again, still visibly red.
“And if you just so happen to come along with him,” Ajax continued, giving Scaramouche a pointed look, “then that’s a bonus.”
Scaramouche looked like he was two seconds away from launching himself at Ajax and strangling him. “You’re insufferable,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “The most annoying creature I have ever met.”
“And yet, you’re still eating the food I brought you,” Ajax shot back, his grin unfaltering.
Scaramouche opened his mouth to retort but closed it again with an angry huff, instead shoving another bite into his mouth as if to make a point.
The conversation might have continued escalating if not for the sudden interruption of a gruff voice barking from somewhere down the hall.
“Hey! What are you punks doing back here?!” The voice was raspy and filled with authority, the kind of voice that made your spine straighten instinctively. “Is that cigarette smoke I smell?”
All three of them froze. Their eyes widened in synchronized panic as the realization sank in. Scaramouche’s grip on his half-finished cigarette tightened before he hastily flicked it to the ground, stomping it out with a muttered curse.
“Shit,” he hissed under his breath.
“Shit,” Xiao echoed, his voice just as quiet but tinged with alarm. He quickly snuffed his cigarette with his heel, glancing at Scaramouche and then toward the direction of the voice.
They didn’t need to exchange words. Their bodies moved in unison as they grabbed their bags and bolted, scattering in opposite directions without a second thought.
Scaramouche darted down a narrow alley behind one of the school buildings, his bag slapping against his back as his sneakers pounded against the pavement. The adrenaline buzzed through his veins, sharp and electric. He didn’t dare look back- until he caught a glimpse of someone running alongside him.
“What the hell?” he snapped, whipping his head to the side to see Ajax jogging easily next to him, his long legs keeping pace like this was some kind of casual afternoon jog. “Why are you following me? Get lost before you get us both caught!”
Ajax only laughed, his breath slightly uneven but his grin still firmly in place. “What? You think I’m gonna let you have all the fun?”
“This isn’t fun, you idiot!” Scaramouche hissed, throwing him a furious glare. “Go the other way!”
But Ajax didn’t waver, only picking up speed to match Scaramouche’s pace. “Do you always run away like this from school security?” he asked, his tone maddeningly amused. “You’re like a little delinquent gremlin.”
Scaramouche groaned, resisting the urge to scream. Instead, he glanced behind them to see if the security guard was still in pursuit. Sure enough, the man was, though thankfully a good distance back.
With a low growl of frustration, Scaramouche suddenly reached out and yanked Ajax by the front of his shirt, dragging him into a narrow gap between two buildings. Ajax stumbled but followed, his grin faltering slightly as Scaramouche shoved him against the wall and clamped a hand over his mouth.
“Shut up,” Scaramouche hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. His sharp eyes flicked toward the opening of the alley, watching for any sign of the security guard.
Ajax blinked at him, his blue eyes wide and slightly startled. He said nothing, though the corners of his mouth quirked upward beneath Scaramouche’s palm, as if he was trying not to laugh.
Scaramouche glared at him, his hand pressing firmer against Ajax’s mouth. “Not. A. Word,” he warned, his tone low and threatening.
Ajax’s wide eyes met Scaramouche’s, and for once, he didn’t try to speak or crack a joke. He just nodded, his breath warm against Scaramouche’s palm.
They stood there in tense silence, the narrow alleyway casting them both in deep shadows. Scaramouche’s ears strained for any hint of pursuit, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest that he was sure Ajax could hear it too.
The footsteps grew louder for a moment, then began to fade as the guard moved in a different direction. Still, Scaramouche didn’t move, his hand remaining firmly over Ajax’s mouth as his narrowed eyes scanned the alley’s opening for any sign of movement.
Finally, when the silence stretched on for another minute, Scaramouche let out a slow, quiet breath and stepped back, lowering his hand.
“Idiot,” he muttered under his breath, brushing his fingers against his pants as if Ajax’s breath had physically dirtied him. “Why the hell were you following me?”
Ajax’s grin returned, albeit smaller and softer than usual. “What can I say? I guess I wanted to see if you’d actually outrun him.”
Scaramouche rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. “Congratulations, you’re an idiot and a liability.”
Ajax chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the opposite wall. “You know,” he said, his voice low but still infuriatingly casual, “you’re kind of good at this whole getaway thing. How many times have you done this before?”
Scaramouche shot him a withering glare. “Shut up,” he snapped. “And next time, run the other way like a normal person!”
“But then I wouldn’t get to see you in action,” Ajax teased, his grin widening. “You’re like a little criminal mastermind. It’s kinda impressive.”
Scaramouche groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re annoying.”
“And you’re fun,” Ajax shot back, his tone playful. “Maybe we should do this more often. You know, make it a regular thing. It's a date?”
Scaramouche glared at him, his violet eyes practically glowing with irritation. “The only regular thing you’re gonna get is me kicking your ass if you keep talking.”
Ajax just laughed, clearly unbothered. He tilted his head, studying Scaramouche’s flushed face in the dim light. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice light but sincere, “you’re pretty quick on your feet. I bet you’d make a great point guard.”
Scaramouche glared at him, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and exasperation. “Are you seriously trying to recruit me for your stupid basketball team right now?”
“Just saying,” Ajax replied with a shrug, his grin widening again. “You’ve got the reflexes for it. But again, if that's not your speed, I meant it when I said you've got the legs for a cheerleader.”
Scaramouche let out a low growl, shoving off the wall and brushing past Ajax. “You’re disgusting. If you get me caught because they recognize you, I swear–”
“Relax,” Ajax interrupted, falling into step beside him with infuriating ease. “We’re in the clear. But you’ve gotta admit, that was kinda fun.”
Scaramouche shot him a glare but didn’t dignify the comment with a response. Instead, he quickened his pace, his mind already racing with plans to avoid Ajax–and the inevitable pestering that would follow–at all costs.
Ajax could go fuck himself.
He wasn't going to that stupid game.
Somehow, Scaramouche found himself at the stupid fucking game anyways.
The gym was loud, the echo of cheers and squeaking sneakers ricocheting off the high ceilings. Scaramouche stood just inside the entrance, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stared at the bustling crowd with a mix of annoyance and resignation. The air smelled of sweat and overly buttered popcorn, and the garish fluorescent lights overhead only worsened his already foul mood.
Scaramouche mentally groaned, arms crossed tightly as he leaned against the doorframe at the edge of the gym. The place was loud, bright, and overcrowded- everything he hated in one claustrophobic package. The only thing louder than the squeaking of shoes on the court was the constant chatter of the students surrounding him. He could already feel his head pounding.
Why did he even come?
He scowled, tugging his hoodie over his head as if to shield himself from the chaos. He could’ve been at home right now, sprawled out on his bed, ignoring Ajax’s messages with ease. Instead, he was here, glaring holes into the back of some poor freshman’s head. All because Ajax had insisted that he “had to come” and “everyone’s gonna be there,” as if that was some kind of bait Scaramouche would actually care about.
Yeah, right. Scaramouche mentally rolled his eyes. He wasn’t here for anybody, and he certainly wasn’t here for Ajax’s asinine matchmaking attempts. He should just turn around, leave, and spend the evening doing literally anything else. Maybe he’d even grab something sour on the way home- a reward for enduring this nonsense for all of five minutes.
The idea grew more tempting by the second. Scaramouche tapped his foot impatiently, eyes darting toward the exit. One step, two steps back- he could slip out and–
A sudden hand snatched his wrist. Scaramouche turned sharply, ready to hurl an insult, only to come face-to-face with Xiao.
“What the hell are you doing?” Scaramouche demanded, his voice dripping with irritation as he wrenched his wrist free. Xiao’s face was faintly flushed, and for a moment, he avoided Scaramouche’s glare. “Why are you here?”
“You can’t leave,” Xiao said finally, his tone firm but edged with something almost hesitant.
“Oh, I can’t, can I?” Scaramouche sneered, his lips curling into a sharp smirk. “And why is that? Don’t tell me Ajax actually convinced you to come here too. That’s almost pathetic.”
Xiao’s flush deepened, his golden eyes narrowing in frustration. “Ajax convinced you to come, didn’t he? So don’t act like you’re above it.”
Scaramouche’s smirk faltered for half a second before sharpening. “Touché,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “So, what? You’re saying you dragged yourself out here because of his ridiculous insistence that Aether would be here? Oh, that’s rich. Haven't I already told you he’s not going to go for someone like you? Stick up his ass won't let him do anything that his kiss ass teachers wouldn't approve of.”
Xiao’s gaze flickered, his cheeks reddening further. “You’re one to talk,” he shot back, though his voice wavered slightly. “Besides, if you leave, I’ll be stuck here alone. And that’s not happening.”
Before Scaramouche could argue, Xiao grabbed his wrist again–this time with more resolve–and tugged him toward the bleachers. “Come on.”
“Hey–what–let go!” Scaramouche sputtered, half-stumbling after Xiao as the other boy led him up the crowded stands to a quiet, more secluded corner. Xiao didn’t stop until they reached a shadowed section near the top, where the noise of the crowd dimmed slightly.
“Sit,” Xiao said curtly, releasing Scaramouche’s wrist as he plopped down onto the bench.
Scaramouche glared at him but eventually relented, lowering himself onto the cold metal seat beside Xiao. “You’re bossy, you know that?” he muttered, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket.
“And you’re an asshole,” Xiao countered, though the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips.
For a moment, they sat in silence, the noise of the game and the distant roar of the crowd filling the space between them. Scaramouche leaned back, his arms crossed as he stole a glance at Xiao. He was still flushed, his sharp features slightly softened in the dim light.
“Why’d you really come?” Scaramouche asked suddenly, his voice quieter than before.
Xiao hesitated, his gaze fixed on the court below. “…I don’t know,” he admitted after a moment. “Maybe I wanted to see if it was worth it.”
Scaramouche huffed a quiet laugh, the sound more genuine than he intended. “You’re a terrible liar. We both know the real answer, I don't know why I even fucking asked.”
Xiao didn’t respond at first, but the roll of his eyes was extremely telling. “And why did you really come, huh?”
“..Kiss my ass.”
The sound of a loud buzzer broke through the space, and Scaramouche groaned as the bleachers lit up with excited shouts and screams. “It's not too late to escape you know. Come on, double suicide, what do you say?”
“Shut up.”
“I hate you.”
“You too.”