curiosity
"You're not fixated on who they used to be or who you think they should be."
"I'm never going to be like them, you know?"
You looked up at him through sleepy eyes. "Like who?"
He gritted his teeth. "Everyone you've liked before. Childe, Kaeya... they're smooth talkers.... romantics..."
"We've been a couple for what, two hours? It's a little early to start doubting it, no?"
There was no response.
Sighing heavily, you pushed your body off the ground where you and Scaramouche laid in order to look down at him.
"What's wrong?" you asked tentatively.
You were met with silence again.
"You have to learn to be better at communicating if you want this to work, you know?" you mused.
Scaramouche grumbled slightly. "I know that, it's just..."
You stayed silent, letting him know that you would wait as long as he needed.
"It's just..." he began again. He hesitated once again. "Look, I..."
"I just feel like I'm not good enough for you," he whispered, turning his body away from you. "What if you have some idea in your head that I'm going to be able to instantly change for you, that I'm going to be able to set aside the past... I.... I can't promise you flowers everyday, or shower you with compliments. It was embarrassing enough to admit I liked you..."
At a more opportune time, you would bring up how it was actually you who admitted to liking him.
"I just think that you could do so much better. I don't know what you even see in me.... do you even see me as me? There's no way you could like me as I am, so you must have romanticised me in your head... or whatever it's called..."
You stifled a laugh.
"Could you look at me?" you asked. He shook his head, still angled away from you.
"Please?"
Slowly, he began to turn to face you. You noticed the dusting of pink across his cheeks, and his eyes were slightly glossy.
"Hey, hey, please don't cry," you attempted to comfort him.
"Shut up," he snapped, face burning. "Just... tell me whatever you wanted to say."
"You know, I never really knew Kaeya, or Childe for that matter..."
You turned to look at the stars sprawled across the midnight sky. All the while, Scaramouche was looking at you attentively. You could see his inquisitorial gaze out of the corner of your eye.
"Sure, I knew they flirted with anything that breathed. I experienced it first hand. And it was nice. The attention they gave me, the compliments, the touch..."
"Why are you telling me this?" Scaramouche interjected.
"Because it wasn't real."
His eyes widened at that statement, and for the first time, Scaramouche couldn't think of anything to say.
"I didn't know them, and quite frankly, I didn't want to. I made this idea in my head that they'd actually decide that being a womaniser wasn't for them, and all they wanted was to settle into a long term relationship - with me. I knew it wasn't who they were, but it didn't matter. I didn't want to know the real them, because then my illusion of them being the 'perfect boyfriend' would shatter."
"Why? Why pretend they are someone they aren't?"
You shrugged in response. "Loneliness? Boredom? Who knows."
You shifted your eyes back to the boy's figure that laid beside you.
"One thing I do know is that I feel something for you. There's no idea of you in my head. When I think of you, I don't think of an imaginary world where you are flirty and confident, sweeping me off my feet, or where you have no issues of your own to work through so you can devote your life to fixing mine. When I think of you, all I can see is regular old Scaramouche, the one that tells me off for slouching, that can't give a compliment to save his life, that wouldn't admit to his feelings even if he was tortured."
"And yet, you feel something for me?"
"Precisely."
"Why?"
You chuckled. "Crazy, isn't it... if you had told me last year that I would feel this way, I'd laugh in your face. But I do."
"I guess it's because you are real. You aren't putting on a persona around me, and I like that. The honesty, even if it can be harsh, is rather refreshing," you commented.
He turned his head away so you couldn't see the darkening of his cheeks. "There's so much you don't know about me though."
"Then tell me," you uttered. "Tell me everything there is to know."
He snorted at that. "You are truly something. I have half a mind to run away from you and your craziness."
"That's rather rude," you pouted.
"I'm joking."
"I know."
A comfortable silence descended between the pair of you as you both gazed upon the stars (and each other, in fleeting glances).
"In all seriousness though, I don't think we are really ready for a relationship," you added.
He shot up at your confession. "What?" his voice quivered slightly, but he disguised it with a cough. You noticed.
"No, no, no," you frantically shook your hands. "That doesn't mean we shouldn't try. I wouldn't have said we can be together if I didn't mean it. We can make this work, but we are going to have to actively work on making it healthy. Working on our problems together is going to be vital to making this work out for us."
"I knew that," he muttered.
"I know," you replied. "I'm just making it clear that you and I aren't exactly known for our healthy communication habits and relationships, are we?"
He couldn't argue with that.
"It's going to take work. Lots of it. We are probably going to fight sometimes, because that's how relationships go. Real ones anyway. Are you prepared for that?"
Scaramouche's pride had not quite dulled enough for him to admit that he would go to the ends of the earth for you if you asked.
He decided to reply nonchalantly. "I suppose so."
"Then I look forward to knowing more about the real you, Scaramouche."