Chapter Text
No one has irked him as much as Sethos did. Scaramouche was well aware that the feeling was mutual. He wasn’t sure how long ago it was, but the two of them have been at each other’s throats for quite some time now. It was all thanks to an incident that took place in their behavioral neuroscience class earlier this term.
And somehow, he and Sethos were selected as research students for an ongoing project. Sounds like a good thing, right? Well, not when the two of them were required to work together. And Scaramouche would rather bite a nail than work with him. Unfortunately, he needed research credits, so dropping the project was not an option.
Scaramouche stepped through the doorway of the library. Warmth and quietness greeted him as students sat around the tables. With his messenger bag over his shoulder, he glided across the floor. His eyes scanned the room, shifting back and forth for any sign of his research partner.
His feet came to a halt. There, right by the window, sat that puffy-haired idiot. Sethos was sitting at a table surrounded by empty seats—the only open seats in the entire library, to Scaramouche’s dismay.
Scaramouche sighed. Although they had agreed to work on data analysis today, Scaramouche hoped he could at least sit at a different table. That way, they could do their own thing while staying a couple of feet away from each other.
Though, as much as the two of them didn’t get along, there was a part of him that wanted to resolve this lingering conflict between them. It was what his advisor recommended, and as much as he refused to admit it, he agreed with her words. Perhaps, sitting with him at the library was not a bad start. As long as Scaramouche doesn’t talk to him, everything will be fine. He just had to analyze the data and move on with his day. Easy, right?
Scaramouche approached the table where Sethos sat. Immediately, Sethos’ eyes shot up from his laptop. He adjusted his glasses and shifted his gaze to Scaramouche.
With a sigh, Scaramouche shrugged his messenger bag off his shoulder. He set his bag down and pulled out the chair farthest from Sethos.
“Before you ask, there are no other seats left,” Scaramouche said. “I’m just here to do work.”
Sethos shrugged. “Alright. Fine with me.”
Scaramouche took a seat diagonally across from Sethos. To be honest, he was slightly surprised that Sethos didn’t protest against sitting with him. Normally, the two of them didn’t want anything to do with each other. But here they were, sharing a study table.
Scaramouche set his laptop on the table and opened the screen. However, before he could pull up his spreadsheet, he felt a pair of eyes staring at him. Specifically, the idiot sitting on the other side of the table.
Scaramouche gritted his teeth. He didn’t know why, but the mere feeling of those eyes was enough to get on his nerves.
“Would you quit staring at me like that?” Scaramouche snapped.
His voice rang louder than he initially intended. It echoed off the library walls, grabbing attention from nearby students. Though, it wasn’t like he cared at this point. If anything, most students already knew about their little conflict.
Sethos chuckled. He adjusted his glasses and returned to his laptop.
“I was just making sure you weren’t copying my answers,” Sethos said, sarcastically. “Can’t have you cheating off me again, can we?”
Scaramouche twitched an eyebrow. “Can’t have me punching you in the face, either.”
“Oh, really?”
A smug grin curled onto Sethos’ lips. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat.
“I’d like to see you try,” Sethos taunted. “But I would assume you’re smart enough to know it’s a bad idea to fight in the library.”
Scaramouche’s teeth gritted together in frustration. His hands pressed flat against the table as he stood to his feet. He narrowed his eyes into a glare, as if he could glare that smirk right off Sethos’ face.
“Is that a challenge?” Scaramouche retorted.
At those words, Sethos’ smirk spread wider across his face. He took his glasses off and tossed them on the table. Sethos stood up from his chair, perhaps accepting this little challenge.
“Try me,” Sethos taunted with a grin. “I know you wouldn’t—”
Scaramouche lunged across the table and latched his hands onto Sethos’ shoulders. A gasp left Sethos’ lips. With wide eyes, Sethos toppled to the floor, landing on his back with Scaramouche pinning him down.
“What the—get off me!” Sethos snapped.
“You asked for this,” Scaramouche countered as he raised his fist.
Scaramouche swung his fist. Sethos’ hand shot up and blocked the strike. His teeth gritted together, seething a breath through his teeth. He narrowed his eyes in annoyance and glared straight into Scaramouche’s eyes.
“Okay, that’s it,” Sethos retorted. “If it’s a fight you want, then it’s a fight you’ll get.”
Sethos shoved Scaramouche off of him. Scaramouche stumbled back, nearly losing balance from the force of his strength. He regained his stance, just in time for Sethos to lunge at him.
All eyes in the library shifted to the boys. The once-quiet library now fell into a cacophony of grunts, punches, and kicks. Arms flailed, fists flew, and curses spewed as the boys clashed on the floor. Perhaps with no care that they were in the damn library.
However, it wasn’t long until a figure approached them. A stern female voice followed, calling to the boys in disapproval.
“Excuse me, boys. You’re disrupting everyone here with your roughhousing.”
Scaramouche froze. He had one hand clenching Sethos’ shirt collar while his other hand was raised in a fist. His head darted to the side, where one of the librarians stood with her arms crossed.
Scaramouche sighed. He released Sethos and faced the librarian. Sethos gathered himself, rising to his feet as he dusted his clothes.
“Great, now we’re in trouble,” Sethos growled. “Again.”
“That was your fault,” Scaramouche muttered under his breath.
“ My fault?” Sethos exclaimed. His eyes darted to Scaramouche, filled with a combination of anger and annoyance.
“Oh, sure. Blame me when you were the one who attacked me first.”
“Yeah, well you told me to.”
“I was joking!” Sethos snapped. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it! But apparently, your temper is as short as your height.”
“You’re barely taller than me, dumbass!” Scaramouche snapped back with a flail of his arms.
“Oh, so you admit that you’re shorter than me?”
Scaramouche gritted his teeth. “Open your mouth one more time and I’ll—”
“Enough!” the librarian yelled.
Scaramouche and Sethos snapped their attention back to the librarian. With a loud sigh, the librarian rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“I’m gonna ask both of you to leave,” the librarian said sternly. “Right. Now.”
Scaramouche sighed. He returned to the table and gathered his belongings into his messenger bag. Without another word, he swung the bag over his shoulder and made his way to the exit.
So much for trying to get along with that idiot.
***
Scaramouche sat in front of his advisor’s desk. His knees trembled as his thumbs fidgeted with a tiny doll—the doll he always kept with him as a comfort object. The familiar soft cloth, beady eyes, dark hair, and white clothing usually did the trick when it came to alleviating his nerves.
Nahida sighed and leaned back in her seat. However, Scaramouche refused to look her in the eye.
He could already feel her disappointment radiating off of her.
“Scara,” Nahida began. “You can’t keep getting into fights like this. Your reputation will be ruined before you know it.”
“It’s not my fault he has a punchable face,” Scaramouche mumbled as he squeezed his doll.
Another loud sigh left Nahida’s lips. Her head shook back and forth, a sight that brushed the corner of his eye.
“I know you don’t like him,” Nahida said. “But at the end of the day, you have to learn how to work with him.”
“‘Work with him’?” Scaramouche scoffed. His eyes narrowed as he darted his head up.
“Yeah, right. As if it isn’t his fault that we’re both failing neuroscience.”
“You and I both know it isn’t entirely his fault,” Nahida replied calmly. “You both decided to cheat, and now you’re facing the consequences for it.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do about it?” Scaramouche muttered under his breath. “We’re three weeks away from finals, and I’ve been studying my ass off. It’s exhausting when I have two classes with that idiot. Not to mention we’ve barely made progress on our research project.”
Nahida frowned. “Scara, I think you need a break from studying. Have you considered spending time with others?”
Scaramouche rolled his eyes. “Why would I do that?”
“You can’t spend all your time studying,” Nahida said. “Spending time with others can be a good way to relieve stress and clear your mind. It may help you in the long run.”
Scaramouche’s face fell. “You can’t be serious. There is no way I’m doing that.”
With a sigh, Nahida shook her head. She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms, giving her advisee a stern look.
“Scara, you can’t keep isolating yourself from everyone,” Nahida pointed out. “It’s not healthy for you.”
“You always tell me that.”
“Yes, I do,” Nahida agreed. “It’s because I want you to be successful. You’re a talented student, and I don’t want to see you burn yourself out.”
“As if I’m not already burnt out,” Scaramouche mumbled under his breath. “Can I go now? I have class in ten minutes.”
Nahida nodded, giving him the confirmation he needed. Scaramouche tucked the doll into his pocket and stood to his feet. His hand reached for his messenger bag, swinging it over his shoulder as he turned away from the desk.
“Good luck in class,” Nahida called after him.
Scaramouche gave no response. Rather, he walked silently through the doorway to take his leave.
***
Once his class was over, Scaramouche decided to treat himself to a stroll in the city.
The bustling sights greeted him as he stepped off the bus. Citizens walked by, birds flew overhead, street musicians filled the air with catchy melodies, and towering buildings littered the streets. A refreshing sight after being stuck at the university campus for the entire day. Perhaps it was just what he needed after having such a hectic day.
Not only did he get into another fight with Sethos, but he had coffee spilled all over him not too long ago. He decided to visit the campus coffee shop after his final class of the day, hoping to relieve some stress. In the end, thanks to a clumsy idiot, he walked out of the shop with a coffee stain on his shirt.
As Scaramouche walked through the city, a small group of people stood amongst the crowd. The group—perhaps four people, at least—all stood with a masquerade mask covering their eyes. They called out to passersby, handing flyers to those who walked by them. Some accepted the flyers, others handed them back. But a few people allowed the flyers to flutter away, landing wherever the wind took it—such as beside Scaramouche’s feet.
Scaramouche blinked. His curious gaze fell on the colorful flyer that landed in front of him. It took only a mere second for him to read what the fuss was about. In large, bold letters sat an invitation to a party. Or, more precisely, a seasonal masquerade ball.
Scaramouche snickered. He directed his gaze up front and continued his way through the busy streets. A social event like this had no use for him. Besides, what was the point if nobody would know who he was by the end of the night? It was essentially just an event to throw himself into a room filled with strangers, all of whom have hidden their identities behind a party mask. Even if he did make a friend or two, it would only be for that one night.
The rest of Scaramouche’s day trip went by smoothly. No interruptions, no bumping into people from school, and, of course, no dealing with Sethos. It was just him, his thoughts, and the roaming crowds of busy people.
However, he couldn’t deny that his thoughts would often drift to Nahida’s words; those words advising him to socialize more. As much as he tried to shake it off, her voice kept echoing in his head. It was an earworm, an annoyingly catchy tune on repeat.
Scaramouche checked the time on his phone. The bus was scheduled to arrive in ten minutes. Just as he pocketed the device, a voice called out to him.
“Hey, you there!”
Scaramouche came to a halt. Before he knew it, a paper was shoved into his hands. His gaze shifted to the side, where a young man wearing a black party mask stood before him. One of the people handing out flyers for the masquerade ball, no doubt. After all, who else would be wearing those masks in broad daylight?
Scaramouche sighed. “I’m not interested in your party.”
“Come on!” the man laughed, gesturing to the flyer in Scaramouche’s hands. “Don’t you want to let loose and have some fun?”
“No.”
“Not even for—”
“I have a bus to catch.”
Without another word, Scaramouche crumpled the paper. He shoved the wrinkled ball into his pocket and stepped away. The young man’s voice called after him, though he paid no mind to those words.
It was not in his interest, after all.
***
Scaramouche stepped through the front door of his apartment. He walked into the kitchen and stopped at the counter. His hand moved to open the rice cooker, emitting warm steam and a delicate aroma into the air.
A satisfied sigh left his lips. With a smile, he scooped some rice into a bowl. He turned to the fridge, where a light object brushed against his foot.
Scaramouche blinked. His curious gaze fell to the floor. A crumpled ball of paper lay beside his foot—the flyer for the masquerade ball, specifically.
A long sigh left his lips. He walked past the crinkled ball and opened the fridge.
However, as much as he tried to ignore it, there was something pulling him back. Something that forced him to draw his gaze back to the wrinkled flyer behind him.
Scaramouche bit his bottom lip. Admittedly, the masquerade ball was on his mind for the past few hours. Now that he thought about it, it may be the perfect opportunity to follow through with Nahida’s advice. He could show up and nobody would know his identity. He could save himself from potential embarrassment if anything went wrong.
Mechanically, Scaramouche turned around. He leaned down and extended his hand toward the ball of paper. His fingers carefully uncrumpled the ball, tugging delicately at the edges.
Looks like he had plans this weekend. For once, those plans did not include staying up all night to study his ass off. Nor did they include being around a certain idiot.