Work Text:
I hate it here
He thought to himself. Prom night - Scara had dreaded this night for so long, and it finally came. He almost didn’t show up, if we’re being honest here, but his ‘friends’ had tirelessly dragged him along. Once they had gotten to the musty, thick-aired school gym and stepped inside, Scara was suddenly deserted and left to fend for himself in this crowded hellhole that everyone had been so desperate to find a partner to drag inside with them- even if it was only for the night.
He stood there awkwardly in his midnight blue suit, his dark maroon colored tie lazily wrapped around his neck and not even tied properly because, honestly, he didn’t care enough to learn how to fix it, nor would he let anyone touch him on the car ride there. Not in his grumpy, angry-kitten like state. One hand held a can of soda, the other stuffed into his crumb-filled pocket of the suit he hadn’t worn for what felt like years. His eyes scanned the room with a scowl, scoffing at all the couples dancing and laughing together, even at his friends who had either swept someone off their feet already, or had been swept up themselves. He would die before he ever admitted it, but he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy at the sight.
“Tch.”
Rolling his eyes at passing couples, he took a sip from his can of soda, feeling the cool liquid flow down his throat and sending a pleasant chill down his spine. His hand hidden away in his pocket played idly with the ring his friends had gotten him for his birthday earlier that year. It meant more to him than he’d liked to admit, but he couldn’t deny it was special to him. He could just imagine the sapphire gem, surrounded by smaller offcuts of bloodstone and ruby, and the simple carving design in the base of the polished golden ring.
Before he could react, someone collided with him and sent him backwards in an awkward dance as he stumbled back to his feet once more.
“Hey! What the h-” He was cut off at the sight of a tall, ginger haired male. Childe. His sworn enemy. Or at least in his head, he was. The people-pleaser jerk who played every sport in existence, and had never learned when to shut up. He stared down at Scara with his annoyingly charming smirk, making Scara’s scowl worsen and his cheeks flare up suddenly.
“Haha! My bad~” Childe taunted as he leaned down to Scaras’s level, their faces so close he could feel Scara’s irritated huffs of air against his skin. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up tonight. What a surprise~”
“Whatever.” Scara rolled his eyes with a scoff, taking a step back and averting his cold gaze.
“What? Not gonna forgive me?” Childe’s smirk widened at his slight discomfort, taking the opportunity to step closer and grab his wrist, Scara’s drink falling out of his hand and onto the floor from Childe’s firm grasp. Scara snapped his head back to glare up at the tall figure.
“Why should I forgive you? When everyone else already does, what does it matter if I don’t?”
“Well... I’d say it matters a little more than you might think~” Childe’s voice heightens in a teasing tone, still gripping Scara’s wrist firmly as the soda spills onto the floor around their shining shoes. Behind Childe, watching the scene unfold with poorly stifled laughter were his so-called ‘friends’. They called themselves ‘The Harbingers’, because everywhere Childe went, they followed shortly behind. Being as loud as humanly possible, disturbing and alerting everyone, everywhere they went. Scara felt his face flush red under Childe’s teasing gaze as he glanced behind at the large group filled with friends, friends of friends, friends of friends of friends and so on.
Why did he have to do this in front of everyone?!
Scara brooded, his scowl turning more embarrassed than mad as his eyes fell back to meet Childes. His sly smirk, their faces so close he could feel Childes breath mingling with his own, the hold on his wrist keeping him close and the soda spilled all over the floor beneath them- it was all too much. He huffed, glaring up at Childe with a pout he didn’t realise he had.
“And why’s that?” Scara snapped back, sounding rather weak compared to how he sounded in his head as he tried to free his wrist from Childe’s grasp - which only tightened, keeping him close as his other hand trailed its way to Scara’s clenched fist at his side and grabbing it. Scara's eyes flew to follow Childes hand, widening as he felt Childe let go of his previous hand to spread apart his fingertips from one another and clasp them in his own. His breath hitched and his face flushed a darker crimson, one he hoped to blame on the heat of the sweaty gym the school board decided to stow everyone in. Childes' teasing gaze returned to Scaras as he smirked, enjoying the flustered panic in his eyes.
“I quite like this ring of yours, y’know~...” Childe murmured, only loud enough for Scara to hear over the blaring music in the background, ignoring the howls of amusement coming from the Harbingers behind.
“Mind if I borrow it?” Without time for Scara to react, Childe snatched the ring from Scaras middle finger and let go of him before leaning back as he held it above his head to admire it, just out of Scara's reach. This drove Scara insane. Childe swore he could see the steam coming from his head as he glanced down at him, stifling a laugh at the sight.
“Give that back, you-!” Childe put a finger over Scaras mouth, shutting him up much quicker than he would’ve liked.
“I don’t think I will.” He patronized, letting his hand fall from Scara's mouth, leaving it agape with shock at his audacity.
“You little…” Scara mumbled, giving in surprisingly easily to Childe. Something no one, not even Childe, had expected.
“Just give it back.” He couldn’t think, not with everyone's eyes burning holes into him from every angle and the embarrassment of being too short to even try and grab it back with Childe waving it in the air. Not to mention how hot he felt with his face looking like a pretty, pink peach, making him want to either hide away or make everyone permanently blind. He held his breath as he looked up at Childe, watching with pleading eyes as he put Scara's ring on his own finger. It was undoubtedly too small, which made Childe pout mockingly before looking back at Scara.
“Don’t think you’re getting it back that easy~” Childe's smirk appeared, seeming almost twice the size of his last one as Scara could practically see the gears in his head turning and fabricating a ‘master plan’ of some sort. Scara eyed Childe down with a scowl, trying to get him to either give up or hurry up and spill that stupid plan of his.
“Hey now, don’t get too crabby. I haven’t even told you my plan yet!” Childe pouts teasingly, sending Scara's heart into a frenzy at the unnecessarily charming expression.
He’s so damn cute irritating… Can’t he just kiss me give it back?
Scara is in full on denial at this point. He swears he hates him, yet he can’t help but let his thoughts wander as he stands there in a full on speechless panic.
“Get on with it then, jerk.” He muttered under his breath as he scowled at the floor, kicking the spilled soda on the ground and splashing it onto Childe's pants. Childe glances down with a chuckle at his childish behavior, but ignores it.
“If you want it back, you’re gonna have to do me a favor, pretty boy~” Childe whispers, his friends behind him too busy laughing at tomato-faced Scara to pay any attention to their conversation.
Scara can’t believe what he just heard, and his eyes snap from the ground to meet Childes gaze with one of intense irritation and embarrassment, with a hint of fluster that was only obvious to Childe as he watched him stutter.
“I- what- You think-?” Scara's eyes are practically falling out of their sockets as looks down and fumbles over his words, feeling his face get impossibly hotter, his hands so hot and sweaty they felt like slime. He felt like he was drowning under everyones’ gazes, his hands moving around him in frantic gestures not even he could understand. He paused, his wide eyes meeting Childe's smug look that was much too calm for this situation.
That smug ass bas***d.
Scara thought, freezing in place as he glared up at the man before him, his fluffy orange hair bouncing under his small but noticeable moves of anticipation, making Scara's blood boil. He hated how easily he could be mesmerised by it. By his eyes as they sparkle like the reflection of the sun casting over a deep ocean at noon. Like that one stupid earring he wore, its red matching the vibrant rubies on his ring - the exact ring currently being held hostage by the idiot. It had even made it so far into Scara's delusions, that he was convinced Childe had bought the earring just to match, since he got it soon after Scara was given his ring.
He soon got a hold on himself (not really,) and managed to form a sentence - even through the agonizing look of Childes smirk watching over him.
“What do you want…” Scara grumbled, looking down with an unintentional pout. But just as he thought things couldn’t get worse, Childe took a step closer and leaned down right next to his ear– the heat of his breath making the short-tempered shiver
DAMN THIS BAS***D
Scara cursed him to the depths of hell and back for making him so flustered with such simple words and movements, cursing himself just as much for letting it get to him so damn easily.
Childe whispered, his lips a hair's breadth away from Scara's ear with a smooth tone that sent shivers down his spine. Scara almost couldn’t handle this. He was so, so close.
“Dance with me~” Scara froze at his simple request.
Dance with him?.. Dance with him?!
Childe leaned back slightly, smirking down at Scara as he started to fidget and play with the ring on his hand, spinning it around in his finger and admiring the gems.
“I knew I got the right earring…” Childe whispers, not expecting Scara to hear, but noticing his eyes widen in response and knowing immediately. Scara opened and closed his mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, he chose to ignore it as the blush on his face got even darker, if that was even possible at this point, and he stood there in pure embarrassment as he stared at Childe before finally replying.
“...Dance… with you?”
“Mhm. Dance with me. Surely you know how, don’t ya? His voice was sharp, almost mocking as he tried to hide the fact he was moments away from becoming a blushing, flustered mess in front of everyone. Don’t act like your dance studio doesn’t look down into the basketball court from up there~” Scara looks away, embarrassed to admit he knows how to dance, and does exceptionally well at it. Childe grabs his hand before he can answer and starts dragging him away from the wall they had been standing by, leaving the floor sticky with the soda Scara had dropped, not paying any mind to it as their shoes squeak on the floor - or, at least Scara's converse did. Childe had those expensive men's shoes with the pointy elf feet tips. I mean, of course he did.
Scara's eyes widen further as he lets Childe pull him along, feeling his shoes stick to the ground for a moment before hearing their squeaks on the wood flooring. He watches Childes hair sway in front of him, the sparkle of his earring in the dim lighting of the disco. The feeling of his hand in Childs feels like a dream, even though he knows it probably means nothing.
He’s just a people pleaser. He’s doing this to mock me… He’s doing this for entertainment. Not because he… He… No. Don’t go there. You’ll only disappoint yourself.
Scaras thoughts race as he’s dragged into the middle of the gym by Childe, out onto the dance floor. The crowds surround them, feeling like walls are closing in on Scara as he’s suddenly hand in hand with Childe- so close he can feel his breath fanning over his lips, and wishing it were something else. Before he could stutter a word, Childe had pulled back with a playful smirk and put his hand on Scara’s hip. He then pulled him close. Too close. Scara’s heart raced the sound of train tracks being sped over, his eyes falling downcast as he turned his head to the side.
He reluctantly let Childe lead him, trying to ignore the stupid pop song playing that he wished they would hurry up and shut off already. He couldn’t ignore the smug look on Childes face with every glance he took before retreating his gaze back to the floor. It only stirred a petty rage in his heart.
I should be the one in control here… Not this f*cker.
But nonetheless, Scara couldn’t do anything. Not when Childe still had his ring stashed away in the pocket of his suit, and could easily lift it out of reach in the blink of an eye if he tried to reach for it.
So he tried to bargain.
(this is where i got stuck please help lmao leave ideas if you have any)