Fragments of Silence: Scaramouche x Aether

Chapter XXVII: Unconscious Confessions

The campfire crackled softly in the cool night air, casting flickering shadows across the clearing. The sounds of the forest provided a quiet backdrop as the three travelers settled into their nightly routine. Aether lay wrapped in his blanket, his eyes half-lidded as he stared up at the canopy of stars above, sleep drifting just out of reach.

Scaramouche, on the other hand, was restless. He sat with his back to the fire, his eyes fixed on the shadows beyond the clearing. His mind churned, a storm of thoughts he couldn't quite silence. He could hear Paimon's soft snores from across the camp and, after a while, the even breathing of Aether as he finally drifted into sleep.

Why do I keep doing this? Scaramouche questioned himself for what felt like the hundredth time. Every night he waited until Aether and Paimon were asleep, watching over the camp as though it were his duty. Yet, his gaze always found its way back to Aether. He didn't understand why, but there was something calming about the Traveler's presence, something that eased the tightness in his chest.

His eyes lingered on Aether, his breath slowing as he watched the steady rise and fall of the Traveler's chest. You're an idiot, he thought, biting back the warmth that spread through him. But despite the irritation that surfaced, his gaze remained fixed on Aether. The more he watched, the more he felt his own breathing calm, the noise in his mind quieting little by little.

Scaramouche shifted slightly, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders. He closed his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep. But his thoughts drifted, circling back to the warmth emanating from the other side of the fire. Just sleep, he told himself harshly. It means nothing.

Minutes passed, and gradually, his body began to relax. The sounds of the forest faded into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of Aether's breathing. Unconsciously, Scaramouche shifted closer to the source of that warmth, his instincts guiding him forward even as his mind teetered on the edge of sleep.

Before he realized it, his hand had reached out, fingers curling into the fabric of Aether's shirt. The softness of the material, warmed by Aether's body heat, felt comforting against his skin. Scaramouche sighed, his eyes fluttering shut. He was too exhausted to fight it, too drained to push away the comfort that Aether's presence provided.

Just this once, he thought hazily as sleep overtook him. Just this once, I'll let it be...

Aether stirred slightly, a frown creasing his forehead as he was pulled from the depths of sleep. His eyes blinked open, groggy and unfocused, before he registered the sensation of something tugging gently at his shirt. He turned his head and froze, his breath catching in his throat.

Scaramouche lay beside him, still wrapped in his blanket, one hand clutched tightly to Aether's shirt. His face was peaceful, the usual tension smoothed away in the vulnerability of sleep. Aether's heart skipped a beat, warmth flooding his chest at the sight.

Is he... holding onto me? Aether wondered, a mix of surprise and confusion washing over him. He remained perfectly still, unsure of what to do. The urge to move, to shift away so as not to disturb Scaramouche, fought against an equally strong desire to stay right where he was.

Aether took a slow, measured breath, his eyes studying Scaramouche's sleeping face. In this moment, he looked so different from the sharp, guarded individual he presented while awake. His brows were relaxed, lips slightly parted as he breathed evenly. Aether felt a pang in his chest, a softening of his own defenses as he realized just how exhausted Scaramouche must be to let himself be this vulnerable.

You're really letting your guard down, Aether thought, his gaze drifting to Scaramouche's hand that clung to his shirt with such determination. Why, though? It was a question that lingered in his mind, its answer buried deep within the layers of Scaramouche's heart.

He didn't dare move. Instead, Aether closed his eyes again, listening to the quiet sounds of the forest and the soft rhythm of Scaramouche's breathing. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, warmth spreading through him at the thought that Scaramouche found comfort in his presence. I'll stay right here, he decided. If this is what you need...

The minutes ticked by, the night deepening around them. Aether's breathing slowed, his body relaxing as he settled back into sleep. But a part of him remained attuned to the weight of Scaramouche's hand on his chest, a silent promise to stay close, no matter what.

Scaramouche stirred slightly, shifting closer in his sleep. His grip tightened on Aether's shirt, and a faint, almost inaudible sigh escaped his lips. He seemed to burrow deeper into the warmth beside him, seeking it out even in his unconscious state.

When the first light of dawn began to filter through the trees, Aether awoke to find Scaramouche still holding onto him, his face nestled close to Aether's shoulder. Aether's heart swelled at the sight, a mix of protectiveness and something more rising within him. You really do want to be close, don't you? he thought, a surge of tenderness washing over him.

He stayed still, not wanting to wake Scaramouche. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what this meant. Does he know he's doing this? Aether wondered. Or is it just... instinct?

As if on cue, Scaramouche's eyes fluttered open. For a split second, confusion flickered across his face as he registered the closeness, his hand still clutching Aether's shirt. Then his eyes widened, a flash of panic replacing the drowsy calm.

Aether held his breath, bracing for Scaramouche to snap at him, to pull away in a rush of embarrassment and anger. But instead, Scaramouche hesitated. His eyes darted to Aether's face, searching for a reaction. When he found only calm acceptance and warmth in Aether's gaze, his own expression softened slightly.

Slowly, reluctantly, Scaramouche let go of Aether's shirt, his fingers unfurling as if releasing a lifeline. He swallowed, his eyes dropping to the ground as he shifted away, his movements careful and controlled. The tension in his shoulders was palpable, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—a trace of vulnerability he couldn't quite mask.

"You're... ridiculous," Scaramouche muttered, his voice rough with sleep and something that sounded almost like embarrassment. "Getting all tangled up with me like this." He turned his back to Aether, but the usual sharpness in his tone was missing.

Aether watched him, a soft smile curving his lips. He didn't push, didn't pry. He simply nodded and settled back onto his blanket, his heart light with hope. "Maybe," he replied gently, closing his eyes as if to drift back to sleep. "But it's not such a bad thing, is it?"

Scaramouche didn't respond, but Aether didn't need him to. The fact that Scaramouche hadn't lashed out, hadn't pulled away violently, spoke volumes. He could feel the walls between them crumbling, little by little, like ice thawing in the warmth of the sun.

As the morning continued to break, Aether felt a sense of calm settle over him. He knew there were still many barriers to cross, many defenses to navigate. But in that quiet moment, with Scaramouche close by and no words needed between them, he felt the unspoken promise of something deeper beginning to take root.

We'll get there, Aether thought as he lay still, listening to the sounds of the forest waking up around them. One step at a time.

And for now, that was enough.