Modern chiscara

Chapter 19: The Coldness of a homie

SORRY FOR NOT POSTING FOR A WHILE HAHAHA 

writers block moment, also cus i need to do some assignments hahaha 

hope you'll understand (ill try to make the next chapter long to compensate <3)

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"..."

He put his phone down and buried his face on the pillow, too lazy to even get up and eat breakfast. His friends would be worried, but Scaramouche needed some time alone to process the shit that has happened.

Childe's friends, Dottore, Signora, and that Sandrone.

They all acted strange, he noticed that they would attempt to make Childe and him closer.

Ah.

That seems to be the case. Though it was strange his professor was also trying to matchmake them, especially when Dottore was icked by the sight of acting lovey dovey.

He'd rather not admit it but...

Ajax's hands felt good.

It was nice to have someone hold you with so much comfort and warmth, even if Scaramouche was trying to break out of the taller's hold, he also wished to remain and let the hands embrace him.

That is also why he regrets ever sleeping with him.

—------------

Childe: hey

Childe: so uh

Childe: can I still watch your practice next week?

Childe: cus I'm busy tmrw

Childe: hey

Childe: comrade

Childe: you asleep?

Childe: aight

Childe: just reply if u can

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Scaramouche looked at the notifications that appeared over time. He just opened his phone to know who the hell is spamming him.

Was the ginger this desperate?

He wasn't bothered enough to backread the other messages, in total, it was 57 messages all from one person. Childe.

He didn't bother to reply, only leaving the poor guy on read.

Scaramouche was mad at him; he'll never forget that incident for years to come. He'll remember it as he grows old and dies!

Mona looked at her friend with concern, sure, almost kissing someone and getting interrupted sucks--but that has happened before with Aether and Scara, yet neither of them acted like this. She was interested with this 'Childe', a barista of the Fatui cafe they visited. She recalls Scaramouche constantly stealing glances at the ginger, pretending to not care about him whenever the guy talked. 

Ah, young love.

Speaking of love...

"Didn't you tell me about some ginger from your elementary? Was Childe him?" She asked. Scaramouche was taken aback; he underestimated her memory.

"Well, yes." He sighed, "But he was different back then. He used to be shorter, naiver, and more innocent."

"There's a thing called puberty." She joked. The boy rolled his eyes at her, giving her some space for her to lay in the bed too.

She did, flopping on the bed without a care in the world.

"Augh, you're so heavy!" He said, pushing a pillow onto the girl's face.