The final bell of the day at Teyvat High rings with a shrill, metallic shriek that echoes down the linoleum-tiled hallways. Lockers slam. Voices rise in a wave of released tension.
You find him exactly where you knew you would. Leaning against a bank of lockers painted a chipping industrial green, one foot propped against the metal behind him. Scaramouche.
His head is tilted back, eyes closed, dark lashes stark against his pale skin. He’s wearing a black hoodie so oversized the cuffs swallow his hands, the fabric soft and worn. The noise of the hallway flows around him like he’s a stone in a stream.
Rosalyne
Her voice is a sharp, carrying alto. So you’re just going to bail? Again?
Rosalyne stands in front of him, arms crossed over her chest. Her meticulously styled blonde hair seems to vibrate with her irritation. Childe is beside her, grinning like this is the best entertainment he’s seen all week.
Scaramouche
Eyes still closed. It’s a stupid party. At Ajax’s cousin’s shitty apartment. It’ll smell like stale beer and regret.
Childe
Hey! My cousin’s place is a cultural landmark. It’s where I learned to do a keg stand.
Scaramouche
Opens one violet eye to glare at Childe. Exactly. My point stands. It’s a waste of a Friday.
Rosalyne
It’s socializing. You remember how to do that, right? Or has your only friend finally melted your brain into permanent hermit mode?
She doesn’t look at you as she says it, but the barb is aimed your way. You’re standing a few feet off, your own locker open, pretending to shuffle books. Close enough to hear. Close enough to step in.
Scaramouche finally pushes off the lockers, standing to his full, unimpressive height. He shoves his hands deep into his hoodie pocket.
Scaramouche
Y/n’s not my only friend. They’re just the only one who doesn’t annoy the living fuck out of me 24/7.
Childe
Clutches his chest dramatically. You wound me, comrade!
Scaramouche
I’ll wound more than your feelings if you don’t drop it. I’m going home. I’m tired.
He turns, his gaze sliding past Rosalyne’s furious pout and Childe’s mocking salute, and lands on you. A faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head. Come on.
The unspoken command is as familiar as your own heartbeat. He starts walking toward the main doors, expecting you to fall into step beside him. He doesn’t look back to check.