Fragments of Silence: Scaramouche x Aether

Chapter XV: Fractured Longing

Scaramouche pressed his back against the cold stone wall of a nearby building, his breath caught in his throat. He had been lingering in the shadows, attempting to quell the turmoil within him, when the sound of approaching footsteps made him freeze. Slowly, he peered around the corner, eyes narrowing as he spotted Aether. The Traveler was standing at the entrance to the very alley Scaramouche had just left moments before.

Why did you come here? Scaramouche thought, heart pounding furiously against his ribcage. How did you know? He clenched his fists, teeth grinding in frustration as he watched Aether move with careful, deliberate steps. The way the golden light of the setting sun framed Aether's silhouette made him appear almost ethereal, his presence filling the narrow space of the alley with a calm that both soothed and unsettled Scaramouche.

He watched as Aether crouched down, his gaze fixed on something on the ground. Scaramouche felt his breath catch when he realized what Aether was looking at: the shard of glass he had dropped earlier. The glass, with its sharp edges and fractured light, had reflected the tangled mess inside him. It had mirrored his own feelings of being broken, jagged, and incomplete.

Aether remained crouched, his fingers lightly tracing the piece of glass before he reached into his pocket. Scaramouche strained his eyes, trying to make out what the Traveler was holding. The object glinted in the dim light—a small, elegant pendant, silver with a polished stone at its center. Scaramouche's chest tightened, and he found himself holding his breath, unable to look away as Aether placed the pendant carefully beside the glass.

The Traveler lingered for a moment, his eyes sweeping through the shadows, as if searching for something—or someone. Scaramouche ducked back further behind the wall, his heart racing. He knows, a voice whispered in his mind, sending a chill through him. He knows you're here.

"I'm not leaving," Aether murmured, his voice carrying softly through the alley. "No matter how many times you try to push me away, I'll be here."

The words struck Scaramouche like a physical blow, his entire body tensing. Why are you doing this? he wanted to scream. Why won't you just leave me alone? Yet, despite the turmoil raging within him, he remained silent, frozen in place as he watched Aether rise to his feet.

Aether stood there for a moment, his gaze sweeping the shadows one last time before he turned and walked away. The soft shuffle of his footsteps faded into the distance, leaving an oppressive silence in their wake. Only then did Scaramouche allow himself to exhale, his body sagging slightly against the wall. The alley felt even colder now, the warmth Aether brought seeming to dissipate with each passing second.

Why does he care? The question reverberated through his mind, relentless and unanswerable. His eyes flicked back to the pendant lying on the ground, catching the last rays of sunlight. It glinted beside the glass, stark in its simplicity yet somehow filled with meaning. Scaramouche found himself rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze away.

It's a trick, he thought, his jaw tightening. It's a way to get under your skin. Don't fall for it. But even as he tried to convince himself, his feet moved forward, carrying him closer to the pendant despite the storm of emotions battering against his defenses.

He stood over it, his eyes locked on the small token. It looked so out of place here, amidst the dirt and broken debris of the alleyway. And yet, it felt... right. As if it had been left there just for him. His hands twitched at his sides, his breath shallow and erratic as he crouched down, fingers hovering inches above the pendant. His heart pounded, a rhythmic drumbeat that filled his ears, drowning out everything else.

Don't do it, a voice hissed in his mind, cold and sharp. Don't let him get to you.

But there was another voice, quieter, buried beneath the layers of anger and fear. You want this, it whispered. You want to be seen, to be cared for.

Scaramouche squeezed his eyes shut, his head bowing as a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. Anger, fear, longing—they tangled together in a suffocating knot within his chest. He had spent so long building up walls, keeping everyone at a distance to protect himself from the pain of being abandoned again. And now, this stupid pendant, this simple token, was threatening to break through those walls.

With a shaky exhale, he opened his eyes, staring at the pendant through his tangled bangs. Slowly, almost cautiously, he reached out and grasped it, feeling the smooth coolness of the metal against his skin. It was heavier than he had expected, and a warmth began to seep into his hand, spreading up his arm and into his chest.

Why... does this feel... nice? The warmth terrified him. It was too close, too comforting, making the emptiness inside him more unbearable by contrast. He wanted to fling it away, to throw the pendant back into the dirt and walk away. But even as his muscles tensed, preparing to hurl the token from his grasp, he found himself hesitating.

You're weak, he thought bitterly, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the pendant. Pathetic. Yet, for all his internal berating, he couldn't make himself let go. The warmth was spreading, softening the hard edges of his fear and anger. It was as if the pendant held a piece of Aether's presence, a quiet assurance that someone out there cared enough to leave this behind.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he straightened up, the pendant clutched tightly in his fist. The alley around him seemed to close in, the shadows growing deeper, pressing against him. He wanted to run, to disappear into the darkness where no one could reach him. But the pendant... it felt like an anchor, grounding him to the here and now, to the reality that someone had reached out to him.

With a sharp, almost defiant motion, he threw the pendant around his neck. It settled against his chest, cool at first before gradually warming to his body's heat. Scaramouche's breath hitched, his heart hammering in his ears as he clenched his fists, fighting the surge of emotions rising within him. The pendant's weight was a constant reminder—a reminder of Aether, of his stubborn persistence, and of the care that he had offered.

I hate this, he thought, teeth gritted as he pressed his hand against the pendant. I hate that you make me feel... like this. The warmth from the pendant seeped through his skin, filling the hollowness inside him. It was a warmth he hadn't known he craved, and it terrified him to his core.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, his eyes fixed on the ground as his mind raced. Part of him screamed to tear the pendant off, to reject this intrusion into his carefully guarded solitude. But he didn't. He couldn't. The pendant was a comfort, a link to something he had denied himself for so long—a connection.

With a frustrated growl, he turned on his heel, his coat swirling around him as he stalked back into the shadows of the alley. He couldn't face this now. He couldn't deal with the flood of emotions threatening to drown him. The darkness of the alley embraced him as he walked away, his head bowed and his shoulders hunched against the weight of his own vulnerability.

But even as he tried to escape, the pendant remained where it was, nestled against his chest. Its presence was a constant, irritating warmth that refused to be ignored. And despite everything—despite his fear, his anger, his overwhelming desire to shut himself off from the world—he didn't take it off.

Not yet. Because, as much as he hated to admit it, it felt... nice. And that, more than anything, was what terrified him.

He disappeared into the labyrinth of shadows, the pendant's weight a silent promise that something in his life had changed. And for now, even if just for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to hold onto that warmth.