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pov :
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chapter contains little violence so feel free to skip if you aren't comfortable. 💕
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"i'm so tired."
"im sorry."
"i hate being sick."
"i know."
"this sucks."
"this is how it is."
"i hate it."
"i know darling."
signora looked at childe with a worried expression. childe didnt seem to reciprocate the same look of worry however, as he didnt say a thing. he just kept his gaze on the screen while signora waited impatiently for the test to be over.
every month, the harbingers had to be tested by machines to evaluate if their emotional states are in a proper state to be able to continue the work they do. scaramouche had been failing every one of these tests as he always had issues with his emotional state, and it had been made worse by you being sick or being sad.
the test would project their biggest insecurity or fear in front of them, and if they couldnt face it or defeat it, or at the very least come to terms with it - then it would be a failed test and they were to be sent to more minor tasks.
scaramouche hated it. he couldnt do his work, and instead had to do childish work just because he couldnt be able to look your stupid hologram in the eye and say he was sorry.
"why are you always coming home late?"
scaramouche was on his knees, bruised and in tears. he didnt know how to answer that. your voice was so kind, so tender - so curious. if only you knew what he actually did for a living, you would run away from him. you would leave him. you would abandon him.
