Archive of Our Own

“I’m a Kreideprinz,”

“Okay? Do I look like someone who cares?”

“Hmm… so even the origin that my surname holds won’t work on you huh?”

“You can be a descendant of an archon or some shit and I still wouldn’t care.”

That was the last conversation Scaramouche had with his co-worker who’s been trying to get in his good graces for a week now. Being a newly hired Research Analyst, or just being a fresh person in a company means meeting new people. Yet, Scaramouche isn’t one who hides his irritation at a person who genuinely pisses him off. This man does have a facade of being kind and polite when other people talk to him, especially those who are not that close to him yet, but that Kreideprinz – he drew the line with that person.

Ever since he started working for this company, he knew the god hated him for making him his supervisor. He’s been under his training and he can tell that this annoying blonde likes him.

Sure, when they’re working, it’s all professional, but during breaks – god, he feels like his already thin patience is being tested left and right. He asks for everything he can think of. It started lightly with the basics, like his favorite color, age, and where he lives. Soon after that, he progressively asks about his interests and his type in a significant other, stuff like that. It felt like he’s talking to an alchemist that has been experimenting on him.

Regardless, he has to put up with him. The only silver-lining is that without him, he would’ve been so lost at work. Besides, he is a good person. That blonde guides him thoroughly and has been thoughtful and observant so far by the way he’s teaching him.

Scaramouche just sighed upon realizing that this is gonna be another week of keeping up track with the things he has to learn about the work ethics in this company and being with his annoying curious blonde supervisor. Despite what's been going on in his mind, he remained calm on the outside, smiling and greeting his seniors that passed by.

His steps came to an automatic stop in front of the elevator. He pressed the button and waited patiently for the doors to open, the soft tapping of his leather shoes keeping a steady rhythm against the floor.

Taking advantage of the pause, the indigo-haired man glanced at his reflection in the polished silver doors. He adjusted his brown coat first, pulling it snug around his frame, before lifting his left hand to straighten the collar of his black turtleneck with his fingers.

ding

‘About time the elevator opens up.’

“Oh, what a coincidence! Good morning, Scaramouche.”

‘You’ve got to be kidding me’

As if his ancestors could read his mind and decided to play with his thin tolerance first thing in the morning, his precious alone time at the elevator had to be disturbed with the person he’s been trying to avoid (not really avoid, he’s just overreacting).

He just sighed and responded to the person standing in front of him as he stepped inside the elevator. “Good morning, Sir Albedo.”

Albedo took the courtesy of pressing the floor number for their office. The moment the door closed, he didn’t waste any time and started a conversation with his junior. “So, how’s the ride on the way here?”

Scaramouche raises an eyebrow, “I don’t see why that’s any of your concern, Sir.”

“We’re alone here, might as well start a conversation while we’re not yet clocked-in, no?” Albedo chuckles and wears that easy-going smile that Scaramouche despises so much.

“You ask me about nonsense even when we’re clocked-in, Sir.”

Albedo laughed in response.

The newer employee inhaled slowly, trying to gather the energy he will be needing the rest of the day to keep up with this blonde beast. ‘It’s okay, it’s just a year of enduring this to build my credentials, then I’ll be getting the fuck out of here.’

“It was okay. There was no morning traffic, much to my convenience,” Scaramouche answered the earlier inquiry.

“That’s good to know,” the senior responds.

In Scaramouche’s favor, his supervisor didn’t talk anymore, or asked any random question that he’s required to answer because of the fear of being fired on the spot. Instead, the man simply gave a curt nod, as if whatever scrutiny had been placed upon Scaramouche had already been satisfied. It was a rare mercy, and Scaramouche wasn’t foolish enough to question it.

Still, he remained composed, posture straight and expression carefully neutral, even as a quiet tension coiled beneath his ribs. Scaramouche doesn’t know where that’s coming from. Nervousness? Irritation? He knew better than to relax too soon. In a place like this, silence wasn’t really something safe. This blonde man definitely has more something in his pocket to throw at him.

ding

Finally, after what felt like forever, the elevator doors opened and the two wasted no time to exit.

After they clocked-in, both of them started their pending tasks respectively, each to their own setup and desk. They’re beside each other yet the silence engulfed the two, which is Scaramouche’s favorite part of the shift. The sound of the mouse clicking and the loud tackles of clacky and creamy keyboards are the only ones that fills his beloved tranquility.

It was going quite well within the first hours of their work time, not until the indigo-haired man realized that he had yet to drink his daily coffee. ‘So that’s why something felt missing’

He made sure to spam-press the shortcut keys for the save function to protect his current progress, and stood up carefully while kicking his toes slightly to avoid being hit by the table.

“Sir Albedo?” He taps the busy man beside him. “I will just make some coffee.”

“Sure,” Albedo approved with a nod. “Would you be so kind and make me one too, please.”

“Sure thing,” Scaramouche said with a passive expression on his face. He doesn’t really mind, especially now that he finally knows his preferred mixture of coffee.

He exited their office and went straight to the pantry room. Thankfully, there are no more acquaintances passing by the corridors probably because everyone’s started locking in. That saves Scaramouche the effort to be polite and greet each and every one of them.

He started heating up water with the electric kettle. While he waits for it, he begins making their coffees, their mugs being beside each other making him sick to his stomach for some unknown reason of cringe. He proceeds to put sugar and creamer on his supervisor’s mug, each condiment being measured on his head to ensure that the sweetness is perfect to his senior’s taste. He finished it up with the heated water, skillfully stirring while filling the other one up.

He went back to their spot and gradually put his own mug to his coaster, followed by settling Albedo’s coffee to his desk as well. He didn’t bother tapping him this time for his attention since he knows that he’s way too indulged in his work. But of course, Albedo still noticed his hand on his vision.

Despite being possibly busy, Scaramouche appreciated how Albedo glanced at him and gave him a soft smile. “Thank you, Scaramouche.”

“It’s no problem,” Scaramouche responded, sitting back to his swivel chair and pulling himself in by grabbing the end of the table.

The blonde took a test sip, his lips and tongue being used to the heat. “Mhm, you really know my coffee.”

“Naturally.” Scaramouche smirked, also tasting his own bitter and perfect drink. “I’ve been making your coffee for a week now, Sir.”

“You should make my coffee more often,”

‘Oh hell nah.’ Scaramouche thought. His inner complaint almost made him chuckle, thinking that it would probably be funny if he actually said it. If he’s being honest, it wasn’t really a big-deal. Making their coffees only takes a little bit of his time (and the said minutes are paid too), but you know, he just likes being dramatic.

Before Scaramouche says something that will get him in trouble, he just responds with a small smile, which is moderately genuine, given that he truly doesn’t mind making him coffee along with him. He then rotated his chair and went back to work. The same goes for the blonde.

———

Scaramouche just encountered something that he doesn’t know.

‘Goddamnit’ He curses under his breath.

Now he has to ask Albedo about it.

He took a deep breath, once again gathering energy for a conversation to his talkative supervisor. The said man would definitely start saying more stuff off-topic which will make the conversation longer. This is the pattern that he noticed recently. Whenever he inquires about something, once it is answered, it will be followed by an attempt of starting a casual conversation.

Well, what to do.

He has to ask him or he’ll be stuck in there forever.

“Sir?” He starts.

Albedo almost immediately responded the moment he heard him. “Yes?”

Scaramouche pointed at his monitor, prompting Albedo to roll his chair closer and take a look.

“I noticed a sudden spike in engagement for one of our posts, but I can’t identify what caused it. Should I flag it as an anomaly or include it in the trend analysis?”

Albedo glanced over the screen briefly. He hummed upon realizing the problem, this situation clearly making him thrilled.

“You’re overthinking it.”

He pointed at the numbers. “The dataset isn’t synchronized yet. Give it a few hours, and the traffic should catch up.”

A smile tugged at his lips.

“Though I suppose it’s good you noticed. Most trainees wouldn’t question it at all.”

“I see,” Scaramouche responded. “Apologies about that, I’ll check it later and take note of the change.”

Scaramouche actually did a mental note about it since it is critical information. Though, he was prepared for the mandatory random ass question that Albedo will ask to continue the conversation. Except, to his surprise, he heard the faint scrape of wheels followed as Albedo withdrew to his own desk.

‘Weird,’ Scaramouche thought.

It is weird, yet it’s not like this isn’t a benefit to him. ‘Thank god.’

The first half of their shift went on like that, with them being focused on their own tasks while Scaramouche asked occasional concerns to navigate his work better. Sometimes, it’s Albedo who calls for Scaramouche’s attention, asking him for his opinion about his own work. The junior, being confident by his own skills and knowledge, gives his honest perspective about it. This makes Albedo be glad that it’s Scaramouche who he’s training. His proficiency and potential in this industry is something he can’t deny. Besides, having an outside view helps a lot at times.

Their day usually goes like that. Nothing was unusual except Scaramouche noticing his senior not asking too many questions today. Perhaps, he’s holding back and finally noticed his irritation about it? Or maybe, he’s just not in the mood?

Regardless of whatever the reason is, Scaramouche savoured those hours of working in peace.

———

It is now lunch time.

Both of them had their own packed snacks, already warmed up in the microwave back in the pantry.

Now seated at their respective desks, they began eating quietly. The low hum of chatter outside their office and the occasional clicking of keyboards filled the space between them. Scaramouche settled into his chair, putting his food neatly in front of him.

Before taking a bite, he brought his hands together in a light clap.

“Thanks for the food,” he murmured under his breath, almost out of habit, before finally picking up his utensils.

They ate in silence, which is new to the indigo-haired man.

There has to be something going on, like Albedo saving up his words for something important.

…

He was right.

“So,” Albedo starts.

‘Fuck! I shouldn’t have jinxed it.’ Scaramouche cursed in his mind.

Yet, he still glanced at the blonde after taking a bite and hummed a response to acknowledge him. “Mhm?”

“I noticed that you always eat Inazuman cuisine. I take it that you are missing your hometown?”

He gulped the chewed food on his mouth and drank a little bit of water before responding, rotating his chair to face his senior. “Not really, I just enjoy cooking Inazuman food the most.”

“Is that so?” Albedo wonders. “Well, that’s what I thought, if I’m being honest.”

“What are you implying? That you’re thinking about me?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about you.”

Albedo turned in his chair and reached into his bag, the faint rustle of fabric and containers breaking the ice. Scaramouche watched him, gaze lingering as the subtle clatter of shifting items was heard.

To his surprise, Albedo pulled out an extra lunch box and held it out toward him.

“I tried making dango,” he said, almost casually. “I noticed you seem to favor Inazuman food, so I thought I’d bring something for you. Consider it… a shared dessert.”

Scaramouche’s brows furrowed as he frowned. “No.”

“O-oh!” Albedo exclaimed, clearly not expecting the rejection. “Is it because you don’t like dango—“

“No.”

“Maybe the reason lies in you not trusting my cooking? I promise you that I make good food. I cook for my little sister back home–”

“Just – no! Shut up!”

Albedo’s eyes widened by the sudden outburst from the other. He was about to ask, but when he saw how Scaramouche’s eyes darkened, he caught himself not being able to utter a single word. As if a sharp knife was being tapped on his throat.

“Scaramouche..?”

“I’m sorry… I—“ Scaramouche held his forehead with both hands, elbow prepped on the desk, hands roaming up to his hair and gripping it while his breath became heavier.

He couldn’t breathe.

Albedo panicked the moment he noticed how his shoulders and hands were shaking uncontrollably. His panting fills the heavy atmosphere, as if the heavens and earth collided and crushed him right there and then. He wanted to go closer and hold him, to make him feel his warmth, to tell him that he’s sorry for whatever he did wrong.

But before he could come closer to Scaramouche, the junior put down his utensils and enclosed his own lunch box. Then, he stands up, almost in a manner of throwing a fit. “Please, excuse me.”

Soon after, Scaramouche leaves.

Albedo was left there, dumbfounded.

———

“Fuck,.”

Scaramouche went to the bathroom when he stormed off, nearly breaking down in one of the cubicles.

He stared at himself in the mirror, face still wet after washing it to pull it together. “How am I supposed to face him now?”

His grip from the sink tightens caused by the anger that has been enranging inside his chest. He couldn’t believe he just crashed out in front of his boss. That’s like, practically asking to be fired on the spot. All that effort to be patient and polite, just for him to fuck it up in less than a month.

He exhaled shakily, the sound barely steady as it left his lips.

Cold water dripped from his chin into the sink, the sensation feeling like an anchor holding him down, barely having a time to breathe to the surface. His reflection stared back at him, eyes sharper than usual, but there was something unsettled beneath it. Something he hated seeing.

“…Get a grip,” he muttered.

His fingers loosened from the edge of the sink, though they left faint impressions where he’d been holding on too tightly. He forced himself to breathe slower this time. In through his nose, out through his mouth. Again. And again.

And again.

And again.

It wasn’t the first time.

That was the problem.

Food. Something as simple as that. Something harmless, normal—should have been normal. And yet,

His jaw tightened.

He suddenly remembered the biitter aftertaste, the faint burn in his throat, and the dizziness that followed. He learned early, way too early, that food wasn’t always meant to nourish.

Sometimes, it was meant to test.

Sometimes, it was meant to hurt.

And sometimes, it was meant to remind him exactly where he stood.

Scaramouche shut his eyes briefly, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“…It’s not the same,” he whispered, though whether he was convincing himself or arguing with his own thoughts, he couldn’t tell.

Albedo wasn’t—

“He’s not like that,” He huffs, “He’s not.. Dottore,”

No.

He inhaled sharply and straightened, cutting the thought off before it could settle.

This wasn’t about that. It couldn’t be. What was real, however, was the situation he’d just created.

His eyes snapped back open, focusing on his reflection with renewed clarity.

“…Idiot.”

He pushed himself away from the sink, grabbing a paper towel and roughly drying his face. The coolness was gone now, replaced by a lingering heat at the back of his neck. The embarrassment creeping in whether he liked it or not because of the aftermath of this situation.

He checked the time. He then realized that he’s been there for too long. A sharp exhale left him. Every second he spent hiding in the bathroom only made things worse. He later realized that this so-called break became another one of his cases of trying to avoid the problem, him trying to run away. And avoidance, in a workplace like this, it won’t go unnoticed.

He could already imagine it, his supervisor sitting there, the unfinished conversation hanging awkwardly in the air, the lunch box still—

He stopped that thought too.

“Stop it, Scaramouche.”

Straightening his posture, Scaramouche adjusted his sleeves, smoothing out nonexistent creases like he could iron out what had just happened just as easily. By the time his hand dropped back to his side, his expression had settled into something far more composed, the way it should be.

No more outbursts. No more slip-ups.

He turned on his heel and headed for the door.

Each step back toward the office felt heavier than it should have, but his pace didn’t falter. If anything, he’s trying to act more professional, posture being straight and not fumbling with his footsteps, like nothing had happened at all.

By the time he reached his desk, there would be no trace of that moment left.

At least, that was the plan.

“Scaramouche,” Albedo’s eyes sparkled in concern the moment he saw his trainee. “I’m so sorry–”

Scaramouche raised his left hand to cut him off. “No, please don’t apologize, Sir. It was unprofessional of me to bring my personal problems to work. If anything, I’m the one who should be apologizing.

The junior took a deep breath, and said “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Albedo caught himself biting his tongue. He tries to calculate the situation and read the room properly, thinking of the right words to say at this moment.

He wanted to say it wasn’t his intention to touch on anything sensitive, or to offend him in any way. That he hadn’t meant to overstep. If anything, he had only hoped that Scaramouche might open up, even just a little.

So they can grow closer.

Albedo wasn’t sure why, but some things made it clear.

It’s the way that his chest paced up when he saw him for the first time, the way he finds it thrilling that he’s actually annoyed by him whenever he teases him with his non-stop questioning, the way that seeing his frown and irritated face makes his day complete. He likes this guy and wants to spend more time with him, outside of the professional world to know him better.

“I know you want to say something,” he said, voice measured, though there was a clear edge beneath it. “But I’d prefer if we don’t talk about it.”

Albedo held his gaze for a moment, then gave a small nod.

“As you wish.”

The words came easily enough, but Albedo knows that they didn’t settle as cleanly. It bothered him, more than he expected, to leave things unsaid. And despite agreeing—he spoke again, quieter this time.

“If you ever need someone to talk to… I’m here.”

A brief pause.

“…I appreciate it.”

———

That night, the silence of his apartment felt almost suffocating.

Scaramouche lay flat on his bed, one arm draped over his eyes as if it could block out the thoughts circling endlessly in his mind. The faint glow of the city seeped through the curtains, painting the room in dim, the muted light from outside helping a little to distract him, even just slightly.

Despite that, his mind kept on replaying it.

The lunch. The dango. The way Albedo had held it out so casually as if it meant nothing.

No, it definitely meant something.

His fingers twitched slightly against the sheets.

“…Tch.” He turned onto his side, brows furrowing.

He shouldn’t have reacted like that. Not there. Not in front of him. It was careless and so unprofessional. It was fucking stupid.

And yet—

His gaze drifted toward the wall.

The thought of accepting food from someone else still sat wrong in his chest. It felt like it was something instinctive. No matter how much time had passed, his body remembered what his mind tried to dismiss.

To be fair, it was also the first time someone offered him food ever since he moved out, or rather, ran away from that suffocating home. He wasn’t expecting himself to react that way. It was like some kind of a trigger that was pressed without his permission, as if that weapon attacks on its own.

He sets in stone to never eat someone else’s cooking.

But Albedo wasn’t—

He exhaled sharply, cutting himself off again.

Silence settled once more.

After a while, his hand slipped down from his face, resting against the mattress as his thoughts slowly shifted.

“…I should fix it,” Scaramouche mumbles. His words were quiet and almost reluctant.

If rejecting it outright was the problem, then… returning the gesture should be enough to even things out to keep things professional and neutral.

His eyes narrowed slightly in thought.

Inazuman sweets came to mind almost immediately. It’s definitely the kind Albedo had attempted earlier. Dango was an obvious choice, but repeating it felt… unimaginative.

There were others.

Soft, delicate desserts. Mildly sweet, not overwhelming. The kind that paired well with tea.

His gaze sharpened just a little after an idea popped inside his head. As much as he doesn’t like it, he should do it. He should make it up to him, by returning the favor.

He’ll cook for him for tomorrow’s lunch to settle things.

———

“What do you mean Sir Albedo didn’t come to work today?!”

“As exactly what I said. He’s most likely going to be absent.”

Scaramouche sighed in defeat. “When do you think he is going back to work, Sir Varka?”

The other taller blonde, who is the CEO of the company whose name is Varka, hummed. His fingers holding his chin to think. “Albedo is rather unpredictable at times. He usually lets us know ahead of time whenever he won’t come to work. Perhaps, he’ll come at lunch. But honestly speaking, I really can’t tell.”

Scaramouche’s unnoticed tensed shoulders rests easy as their conversation concludes at that. He knows that there’s nothing he can do if he’s not here today. All he can do is wait for him to show up once again.

Will he? After what he’s done?

More importantly, did he tell the others?

Will he be assigned to another supervisor?

No, there’s no way he’ll do that.

He will not allow it. He won’t agree to be assigned to another—

“I know you’re worried,” Varka assures him, tapping his shoulder which made him feel surprisingly comforted by this contact.

Scaramouche looks up to him.

“Rest assured that I have contacted him. If he replies, you’re gonna be the first one to know,” The CEO smiled.

The junior returns the smile. It was small, but definitely a genuine one.

He nodded, mumbled a word of gratitude and was about to return to his station, but he stopped when Varka followed up something more important that he couldn’t believe he forgot.

“Also, if you’re worried about your tasks, you can directly email me or Miss Jean. Me and her will be here at the office today so we will be able to guide you if there’s anything you need help with.”

He couldn’t believe that his pending tasks slipped out of his mind and he’s definitely blaming that annoying blonde.

———

Thankfully, his tasks today were light and didn’t require much effort. Everything went smoothly, from reviewing datasets to compiling brief summaries.

Despite that, he was still focused to the point that he completed 2 days worth of tasks in just half a day of his shift. He didn’t notice the amount of work he just completed and even how much time that passed by.

To the point that he was 15 minutes late for his lunch break.

At first, Albedo’s absence was noticeable. He was like a ray of sunshine that you don’t really have a choice but to entertain. Yet, the longer he tries to distract himself by working harder than he usually does, the less obvious it gets.

Perhaps, this is his way of coping, to not think about Albedo.

He stared at the time, which is located at his desktop’s right system tray. He then glanced on his 2 lunch boxes that are stacked up at the right side of his desk. One contains his usual lazy bento meal, while the other one was supposed to be the one that he’ll give to Albedo.

That bastard. How dare he not come to work today. Does he know that his dramatic junior woke up 3 hours earlier than his usual routine just to cook for him? Him being absent was not part of the plan–

“Good afternoon, Scaramouche.”

The indigo-haired man almost jumped on his seat. “What the?!”

Luckily, Albedo was holding his chair’s backrest. That gesture alone avoided the possible situation of Scaramouche falling. It would’ve been funny and thrilling though, but he remembered that he’s supposed to be getting in his junior’s good graces.

He couldn’t help but to chuckle though. Not a minute has passed and the Inazuman already made his day better.

“You gave me a heart attack! God!” Scaramouche complained, smoke almost coming out of both of his ears.

Albedo was just laughing at his reaction, thinking how adorable he is.

“Apologies,” He tries to say, giggles still coming out of his mouth. “Don’t worry, I’m here now. You can calm down and be at ease.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions, Sir,” Scaramouche scoffed. “I don’t give a damn about you not being at work today. In fact, I’m fairly sure I can handle things on my own.”

“Is that so?” Albedo smirks, his joy being so high up in the clouds. “From what I heard, you were so troubled and uneasy this morning.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“Was not.”

Albedo raises both of his hands in defeat. “Okay okay, if you say so~”

‘That fucking tall ass snitch bitch’ Scaramouche cursed inside his head. He took a mental note not to trust Varka again. The comfort he felt earlier was definitely a trap.

Albedo settles down to his desk, while Scaramouche just stays there, frozen in place. As if the police just sat beside him to interrogate him. Yet, he refuses to back down.

“So,” Scaramouche scratches his nape, trying to act nonchalant. “Have you eaten?”

“Eaten lunch, you mean?”

“Yeah, what else do you think? Dinner?”

“Then no, I was hoping to eat here with you.”

That’s when Scaramouche knew that he lost by the way that Albedo said it so casually while putting his own packed lunch to eat along with him.

“Come, eat with me.” Albedo invites, queueing him to start dining with him. Scaramouche didn’t know why, but his body obliged as he prepared his own lunch with him.

When he was done, Albedo was already chewing his first spoonful of rice. He just sighed, still not used to the casualness that isn’t supposed to be there after what happened yesterday. He was expecting that he would address the elephant in the room.

I guess not.

At least, he respected his wish for them to not talk about it.

As he was about to start eating along, his eyes glanced on his other lunch box, feeling like he also needed to address the other huge elephant.

“Sir Albedo?”

“Yes?”

With hesitation, he gulped. He wanted to chicken out and just give it to other people like Jean. The demons on his head whispering to just not give it to him, telling him that he does not owe him anything.

But he knows damn well that he does,

He exhaled sharply once again, earning a concerned look from the blonde. Despite his curiosity, he holds back any question of worry that dared to escape on his mouth. He didn’t want to pressure the other.

‘Fuck it.’

“Is there any problem?” Albedo asked after a while when he noticed how anxious Scaramouche was starting to get.

The junior’s face heats up, his ears turning red, and his legs feeling numb.

Frowning, he reached for the other almost-abandoned lunch box and handed it to his senior. He stretched out his hand while his head was turned to the other side so that he won’t see his embarrassment right now.

“I made these for you,” Scaramouche stated, almost a whisper. “Sakura Mochis.”

Albedo’s lips slightly parted in shock. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. For a moment, he simply stared at the lunch box in his hands, as if processing what had just been said.

The same as the other, a faint warmth also crept onto his cheeks that reached his ears. Though, his composure is a little better.

“...For me?” he asked, quieter than before.

Scaramouche didn’t respond, only turning his head further away, clearly unwilling to repeat himself.

Albedo bit his lower lip to fight the urge to tease the other. Instead, a soft breath escapes, almost turning to a quiet laughter. It was something light that almost made Scaramouche tense up because of how troubled he is thinking about Albedo’s reaction.

The blonde noticed this instantly. To finally end his misery, he accepts it. His hands properly and delicately hold the box at the bottom. When the indigo feels his hand, he eventually lets go to avoid any contact that would potentially make him dangerously feel worse.

“You better like those,” Scaramouche blasts. “I woke up so damn early to make it.”

“Thank you. That is so thoughtful of you” Albedo responded.

He opened it without any more delay. Inside is a neatly arranged sakura mochi. The pale pink hue softly against the office light. For a brief second, Albedo simply looked at them, expression unreadable. Then, a small, genuine smile found its way onto his lips.

“They look well-made,” he noted, though the praise felt secondary to something else entirely. This sentence made Scaramouche finally look at him, his face not being able to hide the eagerness to hear his thoughts about the well-prepared dessert.

His gaze flickered up to Scaramouche, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

When he realized, he went back to his senses. “W-well then, I’ll give it a try.”

Without hesitation, he picked one up and took a bite.

Scaramouche didn’t blink during this, as much as he acts like he doesn’t care, his reactions are betraying it. Him being anxious about Albedo trying his cooking feeling like a truck going on his way — it’s scary as much as he hates to admit it.

What if he doesn’t like it?

What if he chose the wrong food?

What if his judgement was wrong?

What if he actually fucked it up?

What if.

What if –

“Mhm!” Albedo hums, eyes sparkling. “They’re really good. It’s balanced and not overly sweet.”

A small pause suddenly occurred before Albedo spoke again once he gulped.

“...You made these yourself?”

Scaramouche shifted in his seat, trying to get it together and not letting a smile escape on his lips. “No, I didn’t.”

Another small pause.

“Yes, I did. Fuck!”

———

It was another day of working. Scaramouche is hoping that it’s going to be a normal one this time.

But of course, it won’t as long as he’s with that annoying blonde.

Safe to say, the rest of the day went normal yesterday. Though, if the definition of him being pissed off at Albedo, then it is as normal as it can get.

The first half of today also went that way, the two of them working on their own, asking questions when necessary, and Albedo occasionally riling him in multiple ways whenever he finishes something on his pendings. Thankfully, Scaramouche is a naturally fast worker, so it doesn’t hold him back.

It is now their lunch break. They were eating in silence at first, not until Albedo decided to break the ice by handing Scaramouche a lunch box.

Scaramouche stared at it, raising an eyebrow.

But this time, Albedo didn’t say anything. When he noticed that the other was just staring at him annoyingly, he decided to put the box on his desk carefully.

Then, he leaves.

“Hey!” Scaramouche calls, desperately trying to get his attention. The blonde ignored him and just continued to walk out.

Scaramouche was just there, staring at his back exiting the office.

Scaramouche remained frozen in place, his hand still half-raised from when he called out.

“…What the hell?”

His brows knitted together as he stared at the now-closed door, the silence that followed feeling strangely louder than before. That was it? No explanation, no unnecessary rambling, no attempt at conversation?

Just… that?

His gaze slowly shifted down to the lunch box sitting on his desk.

Suspicion came first, instinctive and sharp. It lingered in the way his eyes narrowed, in the hesitation that kept him from reaching out immediately. For a moment, he considered leaving it there unopened.

Clicking his tongue, he leaned back in his chair, trying to ignore it.

But he couldn’t.

Breathing in, he finally reached for it, movements more careful than he’d like to admit. His fingers paused briefly on the lid before he flipped it open.

Inside lay a neatly arranged skewer—three different pieces, each prepared differently, distinct in color and texture.

His eyes lingered on it.

His breath caught, just slightly.

“…So he did remember.”

He stared at it, confused about what was going on.

Then, a foreign feeling started climbing on his chest. It wasn’t the sharp irritation like yesterday. It wasn’t an urge to reject it. It wasn’t the goal of pushing it away.

Instead, his heartbeat quickened. Once. Then again, faster.

His grip tightened slightly against the edge of the desk as his brows furrowed deeper. His brain started to juggle multiple questions, but actually not knowing what to think about anymore. One thing’s for sure is that the fear wasn’t present. Yet, it didn’t feel comfortable either. It felt tight, like something was pressing against it from the inside.

Annoyance flickered, but it felt weaker.

Scaramouche clicked his tongue again, sharper, trying to ground himself. “…Idiot.”

The word came out quieter than before.

———

After a while, 10 minutes before the lunch break ended, Albedo went back to their office. He caught Scaramouche wrapping up his meal.

When the other saw him, his lips pursed. “Hey,”

Albedo tries to ignore how Scaramouche sounded pissed and sat down in his own chair. “Hey,” he responded similarly.

The blonde’s eyes tracks to his junior’s desk. There lies the lunch box he handed to him. It was opened and the contents are untouched.

This made him feel alarmed.

Scaramouche noticed this.

“I’m sor–”

“Eat it first before I give it a try.”

“P-pardon?”

“I said you eat it first, Sir Albedo.”

Albedo was confused, but didn’t question any further when he saw how serious yet anxious Scaramouche sounded.

Without uttering a single word, he reached out to get a stick and carefully took a bite. While chewing, he looks at the man across him who is also waiting for his own reaction.

“It’s good,” he said, smiling widely to reassure his junior.

Scaramouche shuts his eyes, thinking twice.

In the end, he also reached out for one stick. The moment his fingers closed around the stick, he hesitated. The pause not being missed by Albedo’s observant eyes.

‘Just eat it, Scaramouche’

Gripping, he slowly puts the skewer closer to his mouth, the aroma of the food dancing close to his nose and it smelled so good. God, it did. Yet, his hand stopped midway

Why was he hesitating still?

He saw how Albedo ate it with so much pleasure, how it made his eyes widened in happiness the moment the food touched his tongue.

For a split second, the faint noise outside the office mutes. A ringing sound suddenly lingered that made him pant heavily.

But then, he looked up and saw him.

Albedo, staring at him eagerly, but is watching calmly, giving him the space to decide.

This sight made the dark fog on his head clear up, and his chest that he didn’t notice closing up finally feeling lighter.

‘It’s fine…’ He thought, the words feeling heavier than anything else.

Scaramouche exhaled slowly, but calmly this time. He forced his hand to move again.

Closer and closer.

The tension in his shoulders tightened with every inch, like his body was resisting something his mind had already decided on. Yet, before he could hesitate again, he took a bite.

He stilled, which gained an alarm look from the blonde. However, he still didn’t talk, still giving Scaramouche the peace he needs for now.

For a moment, Scaramouche didn’t even chew. There’s no bitterness coating inside his mouth, or dizziness creeping in after. It’s just a delicious food with a rich flavor of meat,

It’s just.. food.

It’s warm and tasty.

His teeth sank in a little as he finally chewed slowly, as if he’s testing it. Then, another second passed.

Before he realized it, his grip loosened to the stick.

“It’s okay,” Scaramouche finally says after swallowing and getting another bite.

Albedo puts his hand on his chest and exhales loudly, as if he’s been holding it since earlier.

“I’ll make a better one tomorrow,”

“Whatever floats your boat, Sir.”

———

True to his word, Albedo did cook something for Scaramouche the next day. This time, it’s a different dish.

He settled with a grilled unagi fillet this time. When he gave it to Scaramouche, the dish was piping hot as he was able to maintain its warmth by using a thermal box this time. The superior made sure to grill it with high intensity heat, but with delicate handling.

More importantly, Albedo took the courtesy of having the first bite, which made Scaramouche’s stomach twist. The indigo, of course, ignored the sensation, blaming the hunger.

After Albedo gave a nod while chewing the food, Scaramouche eventually tried it.

“You put in too much sugar,” Scaramouche comments while still chewing.

“Is that so?” Albedo reflects. “I’ll take note of that.”

“Also, I think you should know that I actually don’t like sweets. So, this is rather unpleasant for me”

Despite his words, he consumed all of the contents of Albedo’s cooking.

The next day, Albedo settled with a sakura tempura. He was supposed to cook him taiyaki. Fortunately, Scaramouche informed him of his dislikes in sweets early on. The blonde even thought that he probably reacted that way with the dangos because they’re sweet desserts. Of course, later on, he knows that it would be impossible. He wouldn’t react that way if it’s just that.

When Scaramouche took a bite, he gave an approving continuous nod, which surprised the senior.

“This one’s good,” he said. “These things need sakura blooms as an ingredient. How did you manage to get one?”

As much as Albedo wanted to express his flattery, he decided to answer his question first. “I have a friend who went to Inazuma for a vacation recently.”

This exchange became a routine.

Day after day, Albedo would give him something new. Each of those dishes were delicately prepared and each one of them was adjusted based on Scaramouche’s cup of tea. Each time, Scaramouche would accept it with a reluctant air, not forgetting to offer honest comments.

Perhaps those comments motivate Albedo more than it is supposed to be discouraging him.

Additionally, even those dishes that have its flaws, Scaramouche would still eat it and finish every portion.

Three weeks passed like this. Neither of them acknowledged that it became a comforting habit.

All of those lunch breaks being something that only the two of them uniquely shared. To the point that the junior is even looking forward to what his senior will serve him next.

Which is weird, since he was supposed to be his annoying supervisor.

There’s also a tiny detail that Albedo makes sure to not miss, which is to always take the first bite.

It started as an unspoken attempt to make up for something that the both of them cannot ignore. The tension that once rose between them softened, which neither of them questioned. Conversations also came a little easier now. Sometimes, they were brief, even sharp because of Scaramouche’s habit of shutting Albedo down, but at least, they’re no longer strained.

Somewhere along the way, between shared lunches and small, honest exchanges, a bond had formed. It was all subtle and unspoken, but unmistakably there.

One day, Albedo served him with tonkatsu ramen. It took him a lot of tries, but he eventually got the rich unique flavor he was searching for. He wasted a lot of eggs and meat for sure, but it was worth it.

After having the first sip, Scaramouche snatched the bowl away from Albedo, which earned an amused chuckle from him.

Scaramouche ignored him and finally started eating.

Before eating his own bowl, Albedo waits patiently for the other to finish trying, patiently waiting for any comments. Surprisingly, Scaramouche only nodded and gave him a thumbs up. This earned a gasp from the blonde and was about to say something, but Scaramouche cut him off before he could even say anything.

“Shut up and just eat yours.”

They ate happily, each sip filling the atmosphere.

When they were done, they started talking about their own tasks unintentionally. It was a topic that will never get unchecked by co-workers. Especially now that working is becoming more… fun.

Then, they went quiet for a moment when the subject concluded.

Albedo set his chopsticks down, gaze resting briefly on the now-empty bowls before shifting toward Scaramouche.

He paused.

Scaramouche looked back at him when he was done putting away his chopsticks as well, wondering what’s with Albedo’s stare that seems to be weighing something.

“What?”

“...Scaramouche”

Scaramouche tilted his head, wondering what’s up.

“Would you…” The blonde clears his throat. “Would you be interested in going out with me?”

Scaramouche didn’t react immediately. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still trying to not let loose with the shock he’s feeling by showing a nonchalant reaction, despite his heart jumping and running around in circles.

“For what?”

“A change of environment,” Albedo answered. “Somewhere outside of work.”

Another pause.

“Sure.”

Scaramouche’s response was flat. Yet, it wasn’t a rejection.

Albedo blinked, and almost instantly, a spark lit in his expression.

“I already have a few ideas in mind,” he said, a hint of excitement slipping into his voice despite himself. “There’s a place not too far from here—”

He stopped, catching himself.

“…Though,” he added, more measured now, “if you have something you’d prefer, I’m open to suggestions.”

Scaramouche leaned back slightly in his chair, arms crossing as if he was actually considering it.

“A picnic would be great.”

Albedo froze.

“…A picnic?” he repeated, just to be sure he heard correctly.

Scaramouche clicked his tongue, looking away.

“Yes,” he responded calmly.

Albedo couldn’t believe what he just said. He has countless ideas such as window shopping, taking him to ride rental bikes, or maybe amusement parks, but picnics aren’t one of them.

Scaramouche’s last words on the topic almost gave him a heart attack as well, his lips parting in surprise.

“You can also bring food.”

———

“So, Starsnatch Cliff, huh?”

“Is this place not fit to your liking? I chose this because I happen to love how they preserved it and it’s not congested, just like the City as of today.”

“Not that, it was just a hassle to go here.”

“Apologies—“

“I don’t mind the hassle.”

Scaramouche arrived at the peak of Starsnatch just in time for their agreed meet-up. Yet, Albedo had everything ready when he showed up. The picnic matting was neatly placed on the grass with four strong stones keeping it on hold to fight the wind, while the basket filled with food rests beside Albedo who is sitting neatly.

The indigo stared at the blonde and couldn’t help but to smile softly at how cozy he looked for today with his brown vest with an unbuttoned short-sleeved polo underneath it that shows his star birthmark tattooed on his neck, exposingly showing his surname origins. Mildy, Scaramouche becomes self conscious with his simple and usual turtle neck and a polo as a blazer. But he just shoved the thought, thinking that the other should just be thankful that he showed up.

“You must’ve prepared a lot.” Scaramouche stated, settling down on the mat just across Albedo.

“I didn’t want to disappoint,” Albedo confessed.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s see,”

Albedo nodded and started to present all of the foods he prepared for today, carefully serving them one by one on the mat. Scaramouche helped him by rearranging some of them to give space to the other foods that were being served.

Scaramouche was expecting a lot of Inazuman cuisine, but to his surprise, he also prepared some Mondstadt signatures such as sweet madame and hash browns. A lot of the edibles were still smoking hot, the aroma dancing around on Scaramouche’s nose. He inhaled delicately. Sure enough, the smell almost made his stomach growl out loud, finding it pleasant.

Albedo on the other hand is very nervous. He couldn’t help but to feel on the edge. Yet, he tries his best not to let it show. He remained calm while putting down the foods, his heart betraying what he wanted to feel — to enjoy the strong winds and let his peace dance with the growing cecilias around the cliff along with the presence of such a beautiful man.

“What do you want to try first?” Albedo asked,

“That,” Scaramouche pointed at the fisherman’s toast, smiling widely and didn’t bother hiding his excitement.

Albedo was about to get the said toast to take a sample bite first, just like how their routine is, but his eyes widened in surprise when Scaramouche beat him up to it.

He looked up at him, lips slightly apart, heart beating fast, and frozen in place.

“Mhm,” Scaramoche chewed. “This is perfectly toasted. I like it.”

Albedo couldn’t utter a single word, nor a sound.

The man who he knew that has a distrust to other people’s cooking was willingly eating his, and not just that,

He was enjoying every bite and flavor that lingered on his tongue, moaning in satisfaction each time he went on. The sight almost made him cry. It was so beautiful — so serene and special. He didn’t even notice that he’s been holding his breath this whole time. There was no hesitation, just the eagerness of consuming what he prepared.

This sight will forever be treasured in his heart and mind. This scenery felt like he was getting closer to him and that fact made him feel like he wanted to faint right there.

When Scaramouche noticed, he raised his eyebrow on him. “If you don’t start eating now, I’m gonna eat everything here like a homeless person.”

Albedo laughed at his remark, heart still pacing. He placed a palm there and breathed to calm himself down. Then, he looks back at him.

“Strange, I thought today would be beautiful because of the view.” A widest smile formed on his lips that made the other stop eating and stare lovingly, not being aware that he was.

“Hmph,” The other grumped, frowning and faintly blushing. He knows what the blonde was implying.

“If you keep looking like that while eating my cooking…” He paused, pressing a hand lightly against his chest.

“…I might start believing I did something right.”

“Well,” Scaramouche puts down his toast. “You’re not as bad as I thought you would be.”

Once again, the indigo caught the blonde in surprise. He almost shed a tear, believing that what he’s saying is from the heart, that he’s being more softer to him, that he’s being open to him.

Without thinking, he jumped at the man across him, making the indigo yelp in surprise and lose his balance as they both fell.

“What the–”

Albedo was embracing him.

It was the warmest embrace that he’s ever received.

It was intimate, it was their moment, and theirs along. The dancing cecilias and the strong winds blessed by the Anemo archon being the witness of this cherished core memory being formed.

So, without any pause, he returns the affection, closing his eyes as he wraps his arms around the man on top of him while accepting all the feelings that came rushing inside him like a wave.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Albedo whispers, voice almost cracking.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” Scaramouche responds, with no hesitations.

At that moment on, Scaramouche started to open his heart to him. No more doubts, no more relunctancy, and most importantly, no more walls to build.