Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There’s a nail tapping sound resonating in the room. The only other noises that can be heard are the ventilator of a computer, as well as some heavy breathing. And perhaps the creaking of a desk chair from its user moving way too much.

Scaramouche thinks he is out of his mind. He stares at the pixels on his screen, and he’s been staring for so long that he can start to see the three colors they are composed with. He stops his painted nail from digging a bump into his wooden desk from how fast it was going. He sighs, looking at the ceiling.

His purple eyes are underlined with eyebags, and he can feel steam coming out his ears. He’s frying his brain over the most unimportant thing. He groans, headbanging on his desk. He wraps his arms around his cranium, sighing loudly.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do…”

The raven haired teen gets up, and angrily walks out of his room, uselessly slamming his door shut as he plans on showering to clear his mind.

GOOGLE

“How to talk to your crush normally?”

____________________

This nightmare began around a week ago. He had just gotten back to work after a long vacation, so long he missed a few weeks of highschool. He knows he should be more careful and studious as he has a diploma to win over at the end of the year, but he can’t bring himself to care. It’s too easy for him to worry, anyway.

Scaramouche was walking with his two “friends”, or more like the useless vermin he would support throughout the day. That idiotic ginger and the fashion obsessed blonde. He hated them both. Or well, he acted like it.
The three of them were walking, as Childe was talking his ears off about the amazing stuff the smaller man had missed, which he was carelessly ignoring. In any case, this man-child found any small thing worth to be told. He had Signora to listen to his little adventures, he didn’t need a second spectator.

But then, his friend had beamed, jumping on his toes with a huge smile and glitter sparkling in his eyes. He pushed Scaramouche aside as he ran towards someone the latter couldn’t recognize. He was thinking of all the ways he could make the ginger pay for it, before he heard the person laughing from Childe’s childish behaviour.

And Scaramouche doesn’t think he has ever seen anyone this gorgeous .
He’s pretty sure he stopped breathing, and that the grip on his backpack’s strap got tighter. The purple eyed male couldn’t tear his pupils off the stranger and his golden orbs, matching with the braid going down his back, that seemed like liquid gold braided together, like the threads of destiny the Moires weave.

He felt nauseous. What if he throws up in front of the guy? He has to leave. He has to run away immediately, because his brain power went off at the sight of him, and he doesn’t want to find out what his voice might do to him.

His giant friend grabs the beautiful stranger’s hand, before walking back to the ash blond woman and the frozen purple haired one.
Panic sets in his chest. His palms are going sweaty all of a sudden, and everything is starting to feel terribly uncomfortable. Did the weather go up 10 degrees?

He wonders if his ponytail looks good. No, it does look good. But compared to the other’s neat braid, it probably looks messy. Unkept. He regrets not putting his uniform on correctly this morning. Questions keep flashing in his head as he dissociates, his vision going blurry.

“Guys!! Well, Rosalyne you already know him- Meet Aether, my new sparring partner!! Chat I swear he’s so strong, like for real he’s so, so cool-”

Scaramouche is sure he is doomed now. The bell of his downfall has rung, and he can’t avoid the conversation that is going to follow. His tongue feels so damn heavy in his mouth, like someone threw a bunch of weights in there. He gulps.

The beauty- Aether , slaps the ginger on the arm playfully, looking a bit embarrassed, his hand hiding his smiling mouth as he looks away. His hands are slender, and they seem well-taken care of. Scaramouche wonders if they are as soft as they look. He’s tempted to bring them to his lips, just so he can know-

“Don’t say that…Your friends are going to think I’m some sort of brute, and you know I’d hate that.”

The embodiment of sunshine reprimands softly, and the indigo haired man almost closes his eyes in pure bliss from the sound of his voice.

He clenches his fists and unclenches them repeatedly, hoping the sweat will go away magically. The yellow-blonde haired student waves at the tall fashionista with a smile, which must mean he knows her already. Is he seriously the only one not to know him??

He knows he’s next. And no matter how many times he’s rubbed his hands discreetly onto his pants, they’re still clammy. Scaramouche swears life is against him today.
The slender hand with peachy coloured skin on the phalanxes reaches out to him. The purple eyed man glances up to the other’s face, and he’s smiling too, just less pronounced. He goes back to staring at Aether’s hand, standing in the air, waiting for Scaramouche to grab it. 

But you will never see it happen, not in a universe where his hands are moist. So he keeps staring at it, letting out a sigh he thought discreet before turning his head away and crossing his arms. He was about to invent an excuse to avoid the formal handshaking, but the surprised pout on the blond’s face as he slowly withdrew his hand awkwardly cut the grass under his feet.
Under his neatly kept facade, Scaramouche is mortified . And that’s an euphemism. Did he accidentally make it seem like he was looking down on the other??
He guesses it’s too late to back out now. He has to play into it, like he always does. And anyway, it’s not like he’s going to become prince charming just for a pair of honey eyes.

“Ah, you mustn't be a fan of physical contact. So you’re one of Childe’s friends, right? Scaramouche?”

The stranger -well, acquaintance now- asks, clearly trying to ease the accidental tension between them. If the other student’s ego wasn’t so high it went through the roof, he probably would have kept it going beamingly. But he will not allow any of the two snakes around them to see him with anything other than an “i-despise-you-you-dirty-lowlife” expression on his face.

“I’m not this idiot’s friend. And you’re surprisingly right.”

He hears his own sneer and his terribly arrogant tone, and he wants to slap his own face. Why did he feel the need to be so condescendant each time? At the confused-upset expression on Childe’s new sparring partner, the latter decides to chime in, and for the first time in ages Scaramouche is grateful for it.

“Don’t mind him, really. He’s always like that.”

He scoffs at the remark, to play into his persona a bit more. He knows the ginger isn’t wrong, but since he saved his ass, he won’t hold a grudge against him for blatantly saying he’s a rude jackass.

His friends and the beautiful being alongside them start making chit-chat again, that he obviously won’t join. The indigo-haired man pulls his phone out, and it has zero relevant notifications on it. Irrelevant ones are Childe sending a hundred reels saying “us” in their group chat “Fatui” or in his DM’s. He clicks his tongue discreetly, and Aether shoots him a glance. He reciprocates, but from the other’s quick head turn, it must’ve come out as a glare.

Scaramouche peeks at the hour on his screen, which he finds way too advanced. He misses the sloth that he could enjoy just yesterday. He drops it back in his pocket, walking away from the trio without saying goodbye. He’d like to avoid humiliating himself any further, and be able to sulk on the “opportunity” he just ruined by having no social skills.

“Hey dude, where are you going so soon?!”
The tall ginger whines, calling out to him. The purple eyed man turns around, facing Ajax’s puppy face. He frowns. Why can’t he let him flee in peace and discretion?

“To class, obviously. Because, unlike some of you-”
His eyes dart to Aether against his will. And he meets a pair of eyes already set on him. He quickly brings his focus back on the man-child, a drop of sweat going down on the back of his neck.

“I have stuff to do.”

He turns around on his feet, feigning nonchalance as he walks away, hearing Signora’s mutter. He doesn’t know what she just whispered, but he’s sure it’s a pester against him. Whatever.
Scaramouche just hopes he can keep walking straight until he’s out of the beautiful blond’s visual frame.

_____________

The arrogant teen hasn’t been able to listen, or register a single word of the lesson he’s been in for the past two hours. And he has more to go. He’s usually so laid-back during classes, especially when it comes to anything related to economics or numbers, yet he’s been stuck on this worksheet, scribbling half-answers on the paper.

Instead of his usually carefully put together responses, with his numerous links between present situations around the world and the percentages, the indigo haired student keeps rewriting the same five letters over and over again with a light pressure, just so he can erase them completely right after.

The teacher allows them to take a break, which Scaramouche jumps on. He has to do something to distract himself, so he can deal with this ridiculously simple worksheet he can’t bring himself to even start because his focus is set on a certain blond guy who probably thinks he’s the worst asshole ever.
He grabs his phone and a few dozen yen before walking to one of the vending machines set around the buildings, in some random corridors.

He clicks the number of the snack he wants, which is a “meito puku puku tai”, a little fish biscuit, which he chooses strawberry flavoured. It’s the only thing that doesn’t make his nose scrunch up in disgust from how much sugar assaults his taste buds. Well, not too much. He also gets himself a cup of coffee to wake his brain cells up. He’d much rather drink a cup of his favorite tea, but he has to settle for this today.

As he is feeding himself with the intention of quickly getting back to work after, his vision goes pitch black as two hands cover his eyes. He’s about to grab the person by the collar before he hears a voice he wishes he wouldn’t have.

“Hiii…Guess who??”

Scaramouche holds back a curse as he stays still. He doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of saying her name, but he’s out of options for now. The grip on his cup of coffee hardens a little.

What a bitch.
“ Mona , if your hands are still on my eyes in 1 second, I'm going to vandalize your astrology lab.”

The indigo-haired man regains his vision almost immediately, a chuckle accompanying it. He turns around, facing the malicious twin-tailed girl, who keeps giggling to herself about her stupid joke. The scientific student grits his teeth, annoyed. This little pest can’t stop pestering him for stupid services, just because he owes her a few.
And from the bitchy smirk on her face, she’s come to bother him again.

“C’moon, chill out!! I was just trying to make that frown go away from your beautiful traits, mhm?”
She’s sugarcoating her words,taking his hand in hers, and she checks his nails with a pensive look. She’s probably judging his flaked nail polish. He slaps her hand away, not convinced by her little praise.

“What do you want again you goddamn witch -”

“Woah, woah!! So mean, aren’t you Mouchie ?”

If looks could kill, the astrology obsessed girl would be lying lifeless on the floor. She knows well he despises this ugly nickname, even though he cannot complain since she has the upper hand on him, which he hates even more.

“Just get on with it.”
Scaramouche spits out.

“Well, you see…I have this friend, they’re so nice and all and we were supposed to get lunch together at our break, but I, unfortunately, just got called over for a suuuuper important project, y’know? I really, really can’t miss it.”

Mona explains with her puppy eyes, and the purple eyed man already guessed what she wants from him this time.

“I don’t have lunch break before 1pm-”

“Neither do we!! So it’s settled, right? They’ll be waiting for you at my locker.”

The girl places her glasses correctly on the bridge of her trumpet nose, ready to leave as her back is already turned. Though something keeps nagging at the economic sciences major student ever since the conversation started.

“Hey hey, hold on. Why do you keep saying they ? Can’t you just say if it’s a girl?”

Mona turns around with a nasty smile plastered on her face, she’s already snickering. What exactly is wrong with her today? The boy wonders.
She’s even worse than usual. 

“Why would it matter? As if you could talk to women.”

Scaramouche’s eyebrows furrow, as he glares at his interlocutor.

“Fuck you, I can talk-”

“Oh, right, forgive me. Let me fix it.”

The twin tailed woman sneers. She puts a strand of her navy blue hair behind her pierced ear, where a little star earring is hanging.

“You can’t talk to anyone at all.”

“Oh fuck you, Megistus scum -”

He half-heartedly throws his now empty coffee cup at her, cheeks heating up. Her giggles are going to haunt him forever.

________________

Scaramouche stands nervously in front of Mona’s decorated locker, awkwardly tapping his fingers on his thigh, checking his phone every second in hope for more hints or just an answer on who the hell he is waiting for. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself by not knowing who he’s supposed to meet up with.

Finally, the sound of a notification goes off, and he unlocks his phone right away, reading the text the malevolent astrologist sent.

Megistass : oh u know him very well

You : Tf is that supposed to mean?

 Megistass : he’s got long, luscious blond hair

The indigo haired man’s heart rate goes up in a spike. He looks into the crowd, and he notices the beginning of a blond head, a tint he can’t forget.

he’s around your height, and he’s really nice

Scaramouche is pretty sure he’s going to throw up from embarrassment. He wants to run away, even if he has to hide in the restrooms for the end of the day.

and he’s also got GORGEOUS, and i mean it, golden eyes

His purple irises meet the honey ones. He can’t breathe once again.

does it ring a bell?