Chapter Text
You felt youself crashing before even getting through the front door. Mental exhaustion waned at your body making you sluggish. Even pulling out your key felt like a burden, you had seen the person of your interest today, and that was enough to throw you out of limbo for the next 24 hours.
Your home was stock photo decorated with neutral colors and the occasional plant, fake or otherwise, providing a pop of green. You used to be home infrequently, but recently, new things had been popping up and your condo was beginning to look lived in. After taking off your shoes and putting your bag away, you walked down the hall into the common room which held your living room, dining room, and a semi-open kitchen all spaced in properly sectioned areas.
An indigo haired man dressed in fancy clothes sat at the dining table in the seat facing the entrance, as if he had been expecting your arrival. His brilliantly shining beautiful eyes were blank, yet they knew everything. You disliked staring at them for too long, but he had bled into you obedience of not looking away.
“Eyes on me,” he had said. “It’s rude to look away.”
You had learned to bend your neck and comply, or perhaps that was something Scara had taught you as well.
He wasn't as demanding and stern as the beggining of your strange relaitonship, because now he had your full attention whenever your eyes landed on him, ''You met him,'' he commented, like musing over the weather.
''You knew,'' You replied, though that much was obvious as Scara felt like an all-knowing creature to you sometimes, ''It was spontaneous.''
The indigo man put up a hand before you could continue, effectively stopping you. He smiled at your obedience and folded his hands on the dark wood. “Let’s talk over dinner. I’m hungry.”
“Do you even know how to cook?” you asked, popping the fridge open to see what he had to work with. Rice? Takeout? No, that would take far too long and you were itching to get out of your own skin.
“Why would I need to?” Scaramouche asked back, like your question was foolish and the answer was obvious. He had no need to cook, because there would always be someone there to do so for him. You were his to mend in that way. “I’m craving noodles tonight. The ones you made last week.” Scara leaned back in his chair. “You can do it, right?”
You carefully picked out the ingredients you would need from the fridge. Vegetables, beef, the ready made soup base your friend had recommended you. Then, you searched through your cabinets, and sure enough, the noodles were there. You had everything you needed to a tee. You were about to ask “Did you go to the store?” but ever since the demonic beautifull creature arrived, things had appeared and disappeared from your home at a whim, and Scara never gave you a clear answer as to why. If he was craving something, all the ingredients would be in the fridge. If he wanted to watch a show, whether streaming or on disk, the media would already be bought and waiting. Worst of all, if Scaramouche didn’t like something, it would disappear.
You carefully started preparing the dish, starting with the vegetables and aromatics. Ginger, garlic, onions. A low heat ebbed in your stomach, up and down, as you had been feeling all day. You could sense Scaramouche watching you. Maybe he also noticed the way your body shifted back and forth. In that moment, you couldn’t help but think wishfully that your crush hopefully never noticed the strange shiftings and how re-occuring they were throughout the day.
You wanted to sit down, roll your shoulders, and lean your body against the back of a chair. Scaramouche’s gaze forced you to continue. Thankfully, you were currently charged with a task, so you didn’t have to look into those indigo, bottomless eyes of his.
Two perfectly portioned plates made their way to the table followed by silverware and tea.
“Your cooking is mesmerizing,” Scara commented. “So simple, yet the outcome is always effective.” He took a bite, chewing slowly. “Tell me about your day.”
You gave him a stern look, because a portion of your exhaustion was undoubtedly his fault. You did not want to continue anymore, but you knew very well Scara would not let you off so easily. “After I got out early, my.. crush, texted me to meet up for coffee. Like I said, it was unexpected. I was supposed to pick up my dry cleaning only.”
“You still went though, right?” The balladeer teased, a cold smile on his lips as he blew on the hot noodles between his chopsticks. “How many times has this been? Your devotion is cute. Admirable, really.'' You blew on your noodles as you took a bitter bite from them. You chew as you said, ''I went, and he talked about other people only.''
Scara laughed.
The sound of his devious laughter felt like a dead weight on your shoulders, you swallowed, feeling like you had just eaten a tacky cardboard. ''How predictable, i should start keeping a tally.'' Mused Scaramouche.
You were sure he was alredy keeping one, breathing in you continued with your day, ''At some point he started complaining about his shitty roomates in the dorms he's staying at and that he's planning to move out, but not wanting to, because then he wouldn't be able to make it for morning classes, when he had only morning classes with his girlfriend, and they would definatlly distance from each other.'' Scara took another bite from his noodles, almost being done with the dish, meanwhile you had taken only a few nibbles.
''Long distance cannot work forever, and i don't want him to be miserable but staying with annoying roommates can be hell too, so i could just lend him my ear and nod to his complaining.'' You mustered another bite, telling youself it would make you feel better but you almost spit it out immediatly.
The prodigal demon set his chopsticks down, plate clean. He pushed it aside so his full attention was now devoted to you. His hands were carefully folded in his lap. “Did you at least comfort him? I told you how to.”
''I- tried to but, it wasn't anything worth to cheer him up..''
He chuckled, reaching out. “Such a kind girl,” he purred, tips of his fingers lifting your chin so they could look one another in the eye. “Willing to spend as much of your time on him, reassure him and everything while he doesn't even think about you outside of when he needs someone to listen to his troubles. It’s commendable.” The praise didn't feel good, though you found youself shuddering from it.
You snapped your head away from Scara's hand, pushing back and resting a hand on your stomach where that low heat continued to ebb and flow. Like something constantly demanding your absolute attention, you could feel that damn toy monopolizing your insides. As you moved, it pressed into you, demanding you to not leave, demanding you pay attention.
“Why did you never turn it on?” You asked, finally bringing it up. The anticipation and fear had been nagging at you all day, causing your anxiety and excitement to build. At any second, the vibrator inside you could have spurred to life and make a complete mess of you in front of anyone. Could they see the imprint along the outside of your tight black pants? Could they tell you were acting off? That your strides were shorter? If it turned on right now, would they be able to hear it?