Remembrance Over Solitude

Chapter 36

Scaramouche's lips contort into his infamous shit eating grin which instantly makes me feel uneasy. "Y-yes..." I say hesitantly while inching away from him. I should learn to keep my mouth shut before I say something like this again. He looks as if he may rip off my arm this time.

"Even after I did something like this to you, you're still coming up with ways to suck up to me. What a good little servant you are." He sneered once again as he came closer to trace his fingers along the scarred tissue that had left it's discolored mark on my shoulder. "Looks like it'll stay there for a very looong time. But you don't mind do you, secretary? After all you're going through all this trouble just to keep me satisfied. What's a little scar like this to you?"

A cold sweat forms around the back of my neck while he continues to poke around at the scar. "Of course I don't mind. The fault was mine alone." A nervous smile creeps up onto my face and I try to keep it there for as long as I can.

He hums with a smug expression and his hand goes to take the collar of my shirt that was loosely hung from my shoulder, about to fall off. "Yes. Everything that has occured up till now... Is all your fault. You angered me which is what caused you to end up with this." His other hand pushed me down against the frame of the couch and held me against it. "And because of that unsolicited anger of yours, here you are now. Underneath me, vulnerable and weak." His smirk widened as he took more pleasure from seeing my injured self listening to his depreciating words. "I'm sorry." I merely stated furrowing my brows and sadly staring back at him.

I brought my hand up to his cheek and brushed my fingertips against it, removing a strand of his hair that was out of place and tucked it behind his ear. "Please forgive me once more, Master Scaramouche." I smile sweetly as I gaze straight into his own eyes.

He frowns sullenly at my gesture which I returned with a wider smile. "You... You don't mean what you're saying at all, do you?" He asks with an arched brow. "Hm? Is that what you think? Shall I get on my knees for you and beg for your forgiveness once more?" I chuckle lightly and allow my arm to fall back to my side limply.

"Don't bother. I'm not in the mood for your masochistic grovelling that you take pleasure in." He sighs troubled. "Masochistic?" I say in disbelief, taking great offense in the word he calls me.

A masochist he says? Oh please, that might be something you'd call Childe. With his excitement on getting new scars from battle he'd suit the name more than me.

"Do I seem like the type of person who takes joy in pain Lord Sixth?" I ask him with an exaggerated pained expression on my features. "Perhaps. After all, you're the one who keeps coming back for more even after everything. How else should I perceive that?" He poked his index finger onto the new wounds that had been freshly bandaged.

That's not the case at all. I avoid you, it's just that you always happen to appear in front of me during these situations.

"You're deeply mistaken, I-" I tried to get my own words in, but he constantly interrupts me by shushing me and wagged his finger in front of my face."Ah, ah, ah. Don't say anything else. I understand very well that you enjoy such a thing. And to think a vile creature such as yourself is the secretary of someone so proper and composed?" He takes great pleasure in saying these things to me, I can tell from the look he has in his eyes.

"You're so fucking deplorable, have I ever told you that?" He looks at me coyly as if I'm something lowly that's beneath him that he can make fun of to no end, then flicks at my wounds. "Multiple times, in many ways." I grunt, shifting uncomfortably beneath him. It's here I notice the type of position we are in.

Scaramouche is straddling me, sitting on top of my lap, while I am trapped by his hand that is gripping onto the couch's silver frame. If someone were to come in the room now, there would be a huge misunderstanding. But since there is a Harbinger present in the room nobody would dare enter without asking for permission first. Good for the both of us, I suppose.