Chapter Text
Scaramouche always hated Kaedehara Kazuha. He was pretentious, stuck-up, privileged, a know-it-all, and everything in between.
Everyone loved Kazuha; every girl in the whole school fawned over that pretty and innocent face, those crimson eyes that were kind and soft. He was friendly, but didn’t have many real friends, which for some reason made Scaramouche even angrier.
How pompous of him to act all showy but mysterious all at the same time. Not to mention, he was always high. He was the neighborhood drug-dealer; the kind that would flirt with his customers and give them discounts on weed if they were pretty.
Who did he think he was, flaunting himself like that? All he cared about was the attention, all he cared about was the praise that he received to his face and behind his back. Scaramouche hated people like that more than anything.
Not to mention, Kazuha was ridiculously attractive, and Scaramouche could never stop admiring that fact. Which, in turn, made him hate the man more. Scaramouche wasn’t the type of person to be jealous over someone’s looks, but… he was one hundred percent jealous over Kazuha’s.
Kazuha was of course in every single one of Scaramouche’s classes. He could never get away from him. He was constantly in a state of keeping his guard up, watching him and loathing every little tiny detail about him… to the point where all he ever thought about was Kazuha. Kazuha this, Kazuha that… the things Kazuha said that made him mad that day, the times where they would accidentally catch eachother’s gaze and Kazuha would flash him that stupid friendly smile, that moment where Kazuha asked him if he needed help with his homework as if he was trying to get all buddy-buddy with him…
God, it was torture. It got to the point where even at home, he thought about Kazuha. He fantasized about telling him off, beating him up, slapping that pretty smile off his face. When would it end? When would that day come? Scaramouche didn’t know, but what he did know was that one day, it would happen.
One day, Kazuha would get a taste of just how much Scaramouche despised him.
—
It was a Friday late in May, where excitement was in the air because the last day of senior year was coming up in only a couple weeks. Scaramouche was in his last class of the day; English. And, of course, Kazuha sat directly in front of him, where he was stuck staring at the back of his head for an entire hour.
“Don’t forget that our final is next Wednesday, class.” Mr. Kamisato called out as the bell rang, and everyone began to pack up. Of course, Kazuha raised his hand at the end of his sentence, and Mr. Kamisato grew a smile on his lips before calling on him.
“What is it, Kazuha?”
“Yes, is the final an accumulation of everything we have learned this semester?” His voice was smooth, lazy, proper and raspy all at the same time. Scaramouche couldn’t help but roll his eyes, because of course he would be a little teacher’s pet and ask all the right questions.
Mr. Kamisato dipped his chin in approval. “Correct, great question. Did everyone hear what Kazuha asked? Study every chapter this weekend!”
Scaramouche scoffed under his breath as he slipped his notebook in his backpack, his hands nearly shaking with anger. Quite literally any words that came out of Kazuha’s mouth made him writhe with unexplainable fury; why was that stupid voice of his so tempting?
Standing up from his seat, Scaramouche immeditely began heading out of class. He didn’t want to see Kazuha any longer, think of him for even a second more, be around him for even a moment—
“Scaramouche, wait up!”
What the fuck was that? Was that… Kazuha’s voice? Calling out for him of all people?
Scaramouche stopped dead in his tracks, his heart nearly dropping to his toes. He dug his fingertips into his palms so tightly until he thought that it might draw blood, and slowly turned on his heels.
Lo-and-behold, there was Kaedehara Kazuha; jogging towards him with that lazy smile on his face and squinted eyes. He was high again, of course. That much was obvious.
“What do you want.” Scaramouche immeditely spat, unable to control the fury that raged in his chest. Kazuha had never spoken to him before, at least not since the other week when he asked him for help with his homework.
“Well, there is no need to be so stiff. I just wanted to talk, is that so bad?” Kazuha chuckled, his hand reaching up to scratch his head.
Scaramouche grit his teeth together, massaged his temples, took in a deep breath, and then opened his eyes to glare into Kazuha’s own.
“I have no interest in talking to you.” Turning briskly around on his heels, he started walking away with heavy steps. Who did he think he was? Did he not get the hint that Scaramouche didn’t want anything to do with him? Why in the hell was he now trying to talk to him, after all of these years of them being in school together?
“Hey, come on— Wait!” Kazuha called out, his hand suddenly landing on top of Scaramouche’s shoulder and stopping him in his tracks. Scaramouche’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened, because why… why was Kazuha touching him?
He pulled his shoulder out of his grasp so quickly that it sent Kazuha’s hand flying back down to his side.
Scaramouche’s denim eyes glared at his pretty face with a look of pure fury raging behind. It was obvious that Kazuha wasn’t going to give up, which made Scaramouche want to slap him across the face right then and there.
After it had been silent for a moment, Kazuha just gave the other boy a soft smile.
“Please? I only have a question to ask.”
A heavy, long sigh fell from Scaramouche’s lips. “What is it.” he said flatly.
“Hah, you have no patience, Scaramouche!”
“Just what the fuck is it? I don’t have all day here.”
Kazuha ran a hand through his bangs casually, leaning his head back and exposing his neck. Which, for some reason, make Scaramouche’s breath hitch in his throat; was his jaw always that sharp? Was his skin always that smooth and fair?
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but it is not exactly a quick question. Why don’t we head to the dugout? I need a smoke, anyways. What do you say?” Kazuha held his hand out as if requesting for Scaramouche to shake it, which in response he simply scoffed and turned around.
“Fine, whatever. Let’s just go.”
The walk to the baseball dugout was quiet and awkward. Scaramouche led, his footsteps heavy and stiff and his hands shoved deep inside his pockets in some desperate attempt to hide his clenched fists. Kazuha simply followed behind casually, a hum rolling from underneath his breath that almost made Scaramouche go mad with annoyance.
Most everyone had already went home, and the baseball season was over, so there wasn’t a single soul in the general vicinity. As the two wandered into the hooded dugout, Kazuha promptly sat down on the bench while Scaramouche leaned against the metal fencing across from him.
Kazuha didn’t say anything at first. He simply dug through his bag, pulled out a joint and a lighter, and started smoking it. Scaramouche scrunched up his nose and scoffed under his breath.
“Do you have to do that here?”
“Why not? It’s not hurting anyone. Can I not indulge myself in a little guilty pleasure?” Kazuha mumbled back, the joint twitching up and down between his lips as he spoke. Scaramouche simply rolled his eyes and crossed his arms stiffly over his chest.
“So, what do you want?”
“Mm…” Kazuha hummed, his head hanging back and his arms stretching out across the backside of the bench. He slumped in his seat and spread his legs out, the joint sticking straight from his mouth and small puffs of smoke leaking from either side of his mouth like a dragon.
Scaramouche swallowed dryly once, twice, and then a third time… because he couldn’t deny that Kazuha looked painfully attractive, and it was driving him crazy, and he wanted to punch that stupid boy so badly that his fists tingled with anticipation.
“You are friends with Tartaglia, correct?” Was what Kazuha asked, which made Scaramouche’s brow furrow.
“Uh, yeah.”
Him and Tartaglia (or Childe, but he only let Scaramouche call him that) had been best friends since they were young. Their friendship looked complicated from the outside; it consisted of a lot of violent banter and fighting, but it was all out of love. They both were boys with strong ambitions and personalities, and they clashed often, but that was what made them understand each other so well.
“Right, well, this may seem like an odd question, but…” Kazuha trailed off for a moment and ashed his joint, tapping the end of it and watching the burnt paper drift slowly to the ground. “Do you think you could hook me up with him?”
That sentence made Scaramouche’s jaw drop nearly to the floor.
“What?”
“You know, like… hook me up with him.”
“Like… sexually?”
“Mhm.” Kazuha took another drag of his joint.
This guy had to be crazy, Scaramouche thought. Him, and Childe? There was no way. Why the fuck would he be interested in Childe? Nevertheless… he liked boys?
“What the fuck type of question is that?” Scaramouche nearly barked, his arms unfolding and his palms facing upwards. He leaned forward against the fence as if he could not believe that Kazuha had just asked such a question of him, because he couldn’t believe it.
“An honest one. I am interested in him. He is exactly my type; tall, handsome, cocky, and rough. You are the only person I know who would be able to get an in for me, so, that is why I am asking you.”
Tall, handsome, cocky, and rough. What a fucking joke. Did he not realize how fucking stupid he looked right now? Saying those things to Scaramouche as if it was nothing? It was disgusting, and in that moment he had never wanted to punch him in the face more.
“Why the fuck would I do that for you. What would be in it for me, huh? As if I give a single shit about you, or who you want to fuck. Did you really think that I would just sell Tartaglia out like that? Who do you think you are?” As Scaramouche spoke, he stepped closer and closer to Kazuha. His face contorted more and more, his tone of voice rose, his eyes shook with anger, and his arms flailed out animatedly.
He only stopped when he was mere inches away from Kazuha, standing right in between his legs. Kazuha leaned his head back against the bench and looked up at Scaramouche with half-lidded, red eyes and a smug smile on his lips.
“You wish to know what would be in it for you?” Kazuha’s voice was low and smooth as honey. Scaramouche pressed his lips together and swallowed nervously, because the way he was looking at him made butterflies dance in his stomach and his head begin to spin.
Kazuha raised his hand, the joint placed in between his ring and pinky finger, and lifted Scaramouche’s chin with his pointer finger. Scaramouche bit his tongue and clenched his fists as the boy tilted his head back and forth, as if examining it carefully…
“If you do this for me, I will leave you alone. Forever.”
Scaramouche ripped his chin from Kazuha’s grasp and leaned back slightly.
“Huh?”
“Oh, come on Scaramouche,” he drawled, “Did you really think I haven’t noticed how much you despise me? I have felt your burning gaze boring into the back of my head every single day for years. I see that raging look behind those pretty eyes of yours, I see the muscles in your jaw clench whenever I look back at you. I know you hate me, and I know that you wish nothing more than to never see me again.”
As Kazuha spoke, Scaramouche just stared at him with disbelief. What was he supposed to say to that? None of this made any sense.
“Okay, well… how would you even do that. We have all of the same classes.”
Kazuha took a drag of his joint and blew it straight into Scaramouche’s face, which made him scrunch up his face and glare at him with rage.
“I will graduate early.” Kazuha mumbled.
“Huh?”
“I have my college plans lined up already. I have already completed all of my required credits here, I’m only staying in school right now for shits and giggles. There are two universities that have accepted me, and both of them are equal on my list of where to go. Both of them are relatively local, but one of the schools has offered for me to start next Thursday at the earliest. The other starts next fall, like any other school. So, if you do this for me, I will graduate early and go to the first school and never step foot in your vicinity again. If you will not, then I will graduate with everyone else, and then be here all summer, and then go to the second school… which, not to mention, is Ritou City University which is only ten minutes away from your neighborhood.”
“So…” Scaramouche started to take a few steps backwards, his hand rubbing his forehead and his eyes squeezed shut. “…you really have this all planned out. Is fucking Tartaglia really that important to you that you’ll let it decide where you go to college?”
Kazuha simply took a drag of his joint, closed his eyes, and shrugged.
A deep and heavy scoff erupted from Scaramouche’s direction. This boy really was fucking crazy. Since when was he so damn smug? Since when was he so shameless? It made him sick.
But, at the same time… it was an extremely appealing offer. Not having to see Kazuha ever again… not even having to finish school with him or walk across the stage with him at graduation. Finally getting him out of Scaramouche’s life, out of his head, his thoughts, his journal that was buried underneath his bed…
How could he pass that up?
After a while of heavy silence, Kazuha sat up on the bench and pushed the lit end of his joint on the wood to put it out. He took in a breath and wiped his nose, before he leaned his elbows on his knees and looked up at Scaramouche expectedly.
“So? What do you say, pretty boy?”
“What did you just call me?”
Kazuha chuckled under his breath. “Do you have an answer for me?”
Scaramouche took a shaky breath and let his tongue run across his teeth. He glared at the boy in front of him, rage swirling in his chest at the mere sight of his smug little smile.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
“That’s what I like to hear, good boy.” Kazuha smiled and slapped his hand on his thigh, relief floating off his shoulders. He leaned his head back once again and let out another low chuckle, his throat raspy from the smoke.
“I’ll text Tartaglia and let him know that you want to hangout. But it has to be tonight; the sooner the better.” Scaramouche started to say, his phone basically teleporting into his palm and his fingers already typing the message to Childe.
“Hold on,” Kazuha sat up, “That seems a little rash, don’t you think? It would be odd for me to all of the sudden want to hangout with him, when we’ve barely spoke to each other in the past—”
“Do you want me to fucking hook you up with him or not?” Scaramouche snapped back, his voice stern and sharp. Kazuha looked up at him through parted lips, took a breath, and then shrugged.
“Alright, whatever you say. I suppose it does not matter.”
Within seconds, Scaramouche had typed out the text and hovered his finger over the send button anxiously. He quickly turned his phone around so that Kazuha could see it — as if asking him if it was okay — and as soon as Kazuha gave his nod of approval, the text was sent only a heartbeat afterwards.
Childe answered right away; he was always prompt when responding to messages, simply because he was constantly on his phone scrolling through dating apps or social media. He was relentless with his need for attention.
“He said he’ll meet up with you. At his house. At 10:00 pm.”
“10:00 pm? That is quite late… it seems like he’s already aware of what this meetup entails.” Kazuha mused, his hands behind his head and his eyes half-lidded. Scaramouche scoffed under his breath and pocketed his phone promptly.
“Whatever, I did what you wanted me to do. His address is 1049 Musoujin Lane, the big blue house at the end of the street. Can I trust that you will hold up your end of the bargain?”
Kazuha pushed himself up from the bench and threw his backpack over his shoulder, his movements slow and lazy. He then took a few short strides towards Scaramouche, staring at him with those relaxed eyes and smug smile that he hated so much. God, he had such a punchable face…
“Mhm, you did a wonderful job. I cannot thank you enough.” The boy raised his hand and flicked a hair out of Scaramouche’s eye, sending shivers down his spine and forcing a flinch to shake through his body. Scaramouche slapped his hand away as quickly as it rose.
“Don’t praise me, and don’t touch me. I’m leaving, and I hope this is the last time I ever see you. Have fun with Tartaglia, and have a shitty rest of your life.”
With that, Scaramouche turned on his heels and stomped out of the dugout without hesitation and without looking back. Kazuha was left alone, watching his figure walk away until he disappeared altogether.
—
The rest of the night was spent alone in Scaramouche’s room, doing homework and playing video games. Anything to distract him from what he knew was going to happen at Childe’s house with Kazuha… and Childe lived only a few doors down from Scaramouche, which only made it worse knowing that all of it was happening so close.
He studied a bit, played a few games, then went back to studying, but couldn’t stay focused so he switched to watching TV, but then he couldn’t stay focused on that so he tried to write a bit, but then all of the sudden all he was writing about was Kazuha and everything that had happened earlier in the day.
Something about the whole thing made his heart race with unfamiliar emotions. The thoughts wouldn’t leave his mind. He was happy on one hand, since now he would never have to deal with Kazuha again. But, at the same time… something about that seemed scary. Maybe he had just grown so used to Kazuha coinhabiting his own mind that not having him around anymore made him feel almost… empty.
Not to mention, thinking about his best friend having sex with his biggest enemy sent shivers down his spine. Childe knew how much Scaramouche hated Kazuha, and he always teased him about it — complaining how he wouldn’t shut up about him, how that was all he talked about and all he thought about — it was natural for him to do so. Thus, one would like to think that Childe wouldn’t just go blindly fucking that very boy that made Scaramouche so angry, but…
Childe would honestly fuck anything with a hole, that much was obvious. So, Scaramouche couldn’t exactly count on him to hold back in this situation.
“Fuck! This is so fucking stupid!” Out of anger, Scaramouche threw his journal across the room and slammed his head into his pillow. He gripped the edges until his knuckles turned white, he yelled into it until his breath ran out, and he tensed all of his muscles until he simply couldn’t any longer.
He was so mad. Why was he so mad when this was a guarantee that Kazuha would stay out of his life? Isn’t this what he always wanted? Sure, he didn’t expect it to happen like this, but it was all the same, right?
And, come to think of it… if Kazuha left Scaramouche’s life right now, then he would never get the chance to punch him. Oh, god, he wanted to punch him so bad… maybe there would be one more chance. Scaramouche wouldn’t mind seeing him just one last time just to get that satisfaction of punching that stupid pretty face.
But, be careful what you wish for.
The sound of a hard object pinging against Scaramouche’s window made his head snap upright. He froze for a moment, confused and startled, but quickly tried to write it off as being a branch blowing in the wind or—
Ping!
There it was again, but this time it was a bit harder. What the fuck was that? Soon after, another ping echoed across the glass. And another, and another… it couldn’t have been a branch. His room was on the first floor, and the tree branches stretched higher than his window… It almost sounded like something was being thrown at the glass. Who would be doing that…? Maybe it was Childe?
Scaramouche quickly checked his watch; it was 9:30 pm. It had to be Childe. Maybe he was stopping by before Kazuha came over just to ask him what this was all about—
Ping! Ping! Ping!
The sound was getting louder and the lengths between each ping slowly got shorter and shorter. It was starting to piss Scaramouche off, so he quickly pushed himself to his feet and stomped over to the window.
It was dark, and he couldn’t see through the glass because of the glare from his lights, so he reluctantly unlatched the lock on the window and threw it open.
“Childe, what the fuck do you want—”
The sight that Scaramouche saw made his jaw nearly drop to the floor.
“Childe? Who in the world is that?”
That voice… that annoying, smooth and smug voice… Scaramouche knew it from anywhere. It was Kazuha.
“Kazuha? What the fuck are you doing here?” Scaramouche hissed, his voice so painfully sheer that it almost made a shiver run down his own spine.
“I just thought I might pay a visit before heading over to Tartaglia’s house. I knew you lived close to him, so I went throwing rocks at every window on this street until I found you.” Kazuha had a joint in one hand, and a handful of pebbles in the other, and he looked at Scaramouche with the most casual look that he could muster.
Scaramouche could barely believe his eyes.
“Why… why would you do that? Why the fuck would you think I would want to see you?” the other boy jumbled, his body nearly shaking with rage. In the meantime, Kazuha started making slow strides towards the window with his eyes glued to Scaramouche’s.
“Just a hunch. Well, will you let me in?”
Scaramouche simply just stared at him, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. He was so confused, so angry, so spiteful, and yet… also a bit excited.
He pulled his hands to his temples and rubbed them fervently, thinking hard in his head and trying to convince the voice deep down that was begging to let Kazuha in that it was a bad idea, that he didn’t want him in his room…
But, he couldn’t stop himself.
He simply sighed, relaxed his muscles, and took a step aside from the window as if inviting Kazuha in. Which, in turn, caused the boy to shoot him a big smile and climb through the windowsill.
As he hopped onto the carpeted flooring of Scaramouche’s bedroom, he promptly walked straight past the boy and started looking around excitedly. He hummed softly under his breath and swung his legs as he walked, as if he simply owned the place.
“Nice room. It’s simple. Is anyone home?” he asked while fumbling with a small figurine that laid on a shelf on the far wall. Scaramouche stood aside and just watched, not being able to get himself to move from that spot.
“No. My mother is out most nights.”
Why did Kazuha ask that question?
“Ah, I see. What does she do?”
“Uh… she’s in politics. Dude, can you stop messing with my stuff? You’re gonna break something.” Scaramouche finally stepped forward and ripped another knick-knack from Kazuha’s hand, his eyebrows furrowed and his breath coming out hot.
Kazuha turned on his heels and folded his hands behind his back, shooting the other boy a closed-mouth smile. “My apologies. What have you been doing?”
“Why are you asking so many damn questions?” Scaramouche barked back.
“I am just curious, there’s no need to get all defensive.” Kazuha turned around and started wandering the room again, but this time he stopped in front of something laying on the floor. He tilted his head for a moment before reaching down to pick it up… and soon enough, he was holding Scaramouche’s journal in his hands. The one that had his name written hundreds of times inside.
“Don’t look at that!” Scaramouche yelled, lunging forward and ripping the journal so briskly out of his hands that it nearly knocked Kazuha over. He let out a small grunt before rolling his wrist in his hand, furrowing his eyebrows for a moment but then letting his expression fall soft.
“What, is it your diary?”
Scaramouche fumed at him and didn’t say a word.
“Ha, relax. I won’t read it.”
Kazuha started to walk around again, and Scaramouche was left standing there with so many emotions running through him that he could barely control himself. What was Kazuha doing here? Why did he let him in? What did he want from Scaramouche? Why was he asking so many questions? Why wasn’t he at Childe’s place? Why did he come here?
“Kazuha.” Scaramouche suddenly blurted out stiffly, his hand reaching forward and grabbing Kazuha’s wrist tightly before he could pull another thing off the shelf. Kazuha froze and turned his head to face him, his lips flat and his eyes lidded.
“Hm?”
“Really, what are you doing here.”
Kazuha stared at him for a moment, his expression unchanging and his breaths coming out soft and slow. His eyes flicked from Scaramouche’s face to his hand that held tightly onto his wrist.
“I thought you might want to see me.”
“Why in the fuck would I ever want to see you.”
“Well, then why did you let me in?”
Silence. Kazuha stared at Scaramouche, and Scaramouche stared at Kazuha, and his grip loosened around the other boy’s wrist until his hand fell flat against his side.
“I don’t know.” Was what he replied with. Kazuha simply smiled.
“Well, then why don’t we both take advantage of the situation and get to know each other better? After all, I have always wondered why you hate me so much.” As Kazuha spoke, he wandered over to Scaramouche’s bed and sat on the edge of it comfortably. He crossed his legs and leaned back on his hands, his head hanging backwards and staring at the wall behind him.
Scaramouche tentatively stepped closer to him, suddenly not knowing what he wanted and not understanding his emotions. His anger had died down, and was now just replaced with disbelief at his own actions.
“Why would I want to get to know you better—”
“Why, why, why. That’s all you ever ask. Doesn’t it get boring? Wondering why all the time? Take my advice, and just roll with things every once in a while. It won’t hurt. I promise.” Kazuha lazily interrupted, his head hanging loose on his shoulders.
Scaramouche took a deep breath and looked down at his feet.
“Fine. Whatever.”
Why was he submitting to Kazuha’s words? Wait, that was another “why” question, wasn’t it…
“Good. Now, enlighten me. What do you hate so much about me?”
Scaramouche ran his hand through his hair nervously, feeling overwhelmingly confused over the situation he was in. He didn’t understand why he let Kazuha in, why he was talking to him, why he was going along with what he was saying… Kazuha was right, Scaramouche was stuck in a labyrinth of “why” questions and he didn’t know how to get himself out.
“Well, first off, you’re really fucking annoying.”
“Why is that?”
Scaramouche grit his teeth and tapped his foot repeatedly on the floor, because there were so many reasons that he could list off and he could barely pick where to start.
“You always want attention. You’re snobby, and act all perfect on the outside so everyone likes you. You kiss up to teachers, to girls, to anyone to get what you want. Your voice is obnoxious, your presence is overbearing, you’re everywhere all of the time, you smoke too much, you have stupidly good looks which only makes people like you more, you walk too slow, you read too much, your handwriting is too perfect, you always do that thing where you run your hand through your bangs and lean your head back, you’re too pretty, your cologne is too fragrant, your grades are too good, you never button up your shirt all the way, you’re entitled, you’re too laid back, and your hair is too white.”
As soon as Scaramouche finished, he found himself almost out of breath over all of the words that had just spewed from his mouth. He didn’t mean to get so carried away, but he couldn’t stop once it started.
Kazuha rubbed his lips together almost as if he was hiding a smile, and he eyed the boy across from him with his brow uplifted and his chin nodding slowly.
“I see… you seem to know just about everything about me, Scaramouche. It’s almost like you’re my biggest fan.” Kazuha nearly cooed, a laugh teasing at the end of his tongue. Scaramouche had to clench his fists just to get his arms to stop shaking.
“Ha, you wish. I could wager that I am the number-one Kazuha hater in the world.”
“Is that so? You know, come to think of it… if you hate me as much as you say you do, then you must constantly be picking out more things to add to your hate list.” Kazuha lifted his hand and studied his nails casually, his head tilting onto his shoulder and his leg bouncing on his lap. God damnit, Scaramouche despised how nonchalant he was all the time, as if nothing ever mattered in his life. As if everything was for his own fun.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I hate to admit that you have a point, but I’ll give it to you this time.” Scaramouche started to walk closer to Kazuha, an angry smile on his face and his hands placed stiffly on his hips.
“So, you’ll admit it? That you are constantly thinking about more ways to hate me?”
“I suppose.” Scaramouche leaned his arm on his bedpost, in an attempt to challenge Kazuha’s level of casualness.
“Hm. Interesting.” Kazuha looked up at the other boy for a moment, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He then shrunk into his neck a bit and swiftly turned his head away, his hand coming up to his lips as if stifling a laugh.
“What the fuck’s so funny?” Scaramouche scoffed, his face scrunching up annoyedly. The other boy continued his attempt at covering up his laughter, which wasn’t working out too well for him.
“Nothing, nothing… it’s just, you basically admitted that you are constantly thinking about me. My name is on an eternal loop inside that pretty little head of yours, isn’t it?”
As he spoke, Kazuha leaned closer to Scaramouche and squinted his eyes and tilted his head in a teasing manner. Scaramouche’s chest started to feel tight, because the sudden realization of what he had admitted was weighing heavy on his shoulders.
“Man, shut the fuck up. You’re too full of yourself—”
“Oh, don’t mad. It’s funny. I mean, it’s sort of cute, too.” Kazuha interrupted.
“Cute?”
“Yeah,” Slowly raising his hand, Kazuha started to eye Scaramouche’s body up and down. He snaked his fingers up to the other boy’s collarbone, curling them over his shoulder before gently cupping Scaramouche’s cheek into the palm of his soft hand. “Tough little Scaramouche has a bit of an obsession with me, does he not?”
At that moment, Scaramouche’s patience completely broke. How dare he? How dare Kazuha to touch him, to tease him, to trick him into saying what he wanted him to say? This was fucking ridiculous, and he should have never let that stupid prick into his goddamn home in the first place.
He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He had to punch him.
And so, in the blink of an eye, Scaramouche’s fist rose and smacked across Kazuha’s face with a loud bang. The feeling of his knuckles hitting the other boy’s cheekbone, how his warm skin felt as it ricocheted off his fist, how his face looked as he flew backwards onto the bed… oh, it was too good.
The room was silent for a moment, except for Scaramouche’s shaky breaths and Kazuha’s heavy ones. The purple-haired boy leaned over the bedpost, his fists bunched in the sheets and his eyes watching Kazuha carefully.
Kazuha stayed still at first, his chest laying flat and his hands holding him only an inch off the sheets. He sighed heavily, shook his head, lifted his hand to touch the side of his face, and then pushed himself back up.
He turned slowly back towards Scaramouche, his jaw open and his cheekbone red. A tiny drop of blood contrasted against the pink of his lips, dripping down his chin at a snails pace. His crimson eyes flicked up at Scaramouche, meeting his angry gaze, and then a wicked smile pulled at his mouth.
“Huh, how long have you wanted to do that for?” he coughed, touching his fingers lightly to the bump that was forming on his cheek. Scaramouche scoffed and massaged his knuckles, secretly loving the stinging pain that echoed through his nerves.
“A long, long fucking time.”
Kazuha ran his left hand through his bangs and used his right to wipe away the blood on his lip. He then dipped his two fingers in his mouth, sucking his own blood off himself.
“I have to hand it to you, it was a good punch. Have you been practicing?”
“Do you want me to punch you again? Or are you going to shut up?”
Kazuha laughed lowly. Truthfully, he didn’t give a single shit about what Scaramouche had just done. After all, it made things interesting, didn’t it?
Kazuha lowered his head and leaned closer to Scaramouche, who was now bent down at his level on the bed. His hands held him up, his feet still sticking to the ground, and his faded purple hair frizzed messily on either side of his face.
“You can punch me all you want, pretty boy. I don’t mind. Maybe I like the pain.” Kazuha cooed, his voice barely above a whisper. His face was so close to Scaramouche’s that his hot breath spread over the other boy’s skin, somehow sending shivers down his spine.
Scaramouche licked his lips and let out another scoff, this one sounding more like a growl. “You’re a fucking masochist.”
“Try me.”
He didn’t have to tell him twice.
And so, Scaramouche punched him again. And again, and again, and then a fourth time, and then with both fists, and then he slapped him… until he was on top of Kazuha, hitting him over and over again and only allowing himself to stop once that stupid smile was wiped off his face.
Yet, it never left.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Why won’t you stop smiling?! Are you actually enjoying this?!” Scaramouche yelled, his voice shrill and cracking. He slammed his hands down on either side of Kazuha’s head, hovering over him while straddling his lap.
Bruised and bleeding, Kazuha just stared up at him with those pretty lips of his upturned. He folded his arms above his head and tilted his chin downwards, his breaths coming out heavy and hot.
“Maybe you just don’t punch hard enough. You know, you look sort of sexy when you’re all mad and fuming above me.”
“Sexy? What the fuck did you just say to me?” he hissed, his face mere inches away from Kazuha’s own.
The other boy stared up at him through swollen eyes, holding that same smug grin that hadn’t left his face the entirety of his time in Scaramouche’s house.
“You heard me. Would you like for me to say it again? Because I will. I like the way your face contorts when I say something you don’t like, Kunikuzushi.”
Scaramouche’s face dropped when he heard Kazuha speak his real name. The name that he had buried so long ago…
“How the fuck do you know that.” he spat, his hands gripping tightly onto Kazuha’s collar.
Kazuha shot a cheeky grin. “You know, you’re not the only one who happens to know every little thing about their ‘enemy’. You study me, and find things you hate. While I study you, and find things I happen to like.”
Scaramouche slapped him across the face once again, forcing a grunt to push from Kazuha’s lungs.
“Stop trying to come on to me. I don’t like boys, fuck-ass.”
Kazuha spat a line of blood out of his mouth, a laugh mixing in. “Really? I don’t know if I believe you. I mean, let’s face it, Kunikuzushi… you are always thinking about me. Sure, you say you hate me, but then why is it…” he paused for a second, his eyes flicking to Scaramouche’s lips and his fingers guiding up to his chin.
“…that you always have something to say about how pretty I am?”