JUST MY TYPE

rewind, replay, repeat.

now your life was a bit different, though all the same. childe did pretty much the same things as scaramouche had- meet you after class every day and try to get your number with random pickup lines. yet, it was quite different how childe did it. scaramouche had been more confident, whereas childe simply tried to work things out with his charm. either way, both boys were quite the centre of attention in school, especially for the girls. 

"[nickname]!" a certain ginger-haired boy called out, waving to you as you walked out of class. he could not look more different than his indigo-haired friend, be it in height, physique, or hair colour, yet you saw the boy in him. it was an annoying habit of yours now, envisioning scaramouche in childe's place. you groaned inwardly. perhaps you were going cuckoo, and you needed to see a therapist. 

"ah. childe, what is it? you seem more excited today," you asked, looking up at him. "well, do you want to go see a movie? my treat!" he suggested, a teasing smile on his face. you simply laughed in response, nodding. childe was like that one rich kid in school that was... shockingly generous. it puzzled you how childe and scaramouche could be friends in the slightest, seeing the difference between the two. 

"say, what genre is the movie?" you questioned, to which childe gives a nervous grin in response. "uh, horror! are you okay with that, [nickname]?" he avoided eye contact, which you found suspicious, but shrugged off as nothing. "yeah, sure," you nodded. "is it okay if i let a friend tag along? you know,  the more the merrier!" childe smiled almost too widely, making extreme hand gestures. "why not?"

childe cheered extremely loudly, and you covered your ears, sighing exasperatedly. "can we meet at the cinema just opposite our school, 5 pm? here, the movie ticket! don't be late!" he said, and as if in a hurry, he takes off to god knows where. 

your watch read 5pm. you waited outside the cinema, rolling your eyes as the ginger was nowhere to be seen. he always had a habit of being late, so you supposed you would forgive him, just this one. 

then you saw him, and the person next to him. they were bickering like children, one of them significantly shorter than the other.

and in an instant, your heart dropped. "scaramouche?" the name barely left your mouth before disappearing into the blowing wind, your throat dry. no, no, not again, not him- not when you had just managed to somewhat forget him-

the bickering came to an abrupt stop, the indigo-haired boy's eyes suddenly widening before he averted eye contact. "[nickname]! im here! this is my friend, scaramouche, i'm sure you know him? he did involve himself in a bet with you, after all. come on, let's go in and watch the movie!" childe encouraged, seemingly unaware of the heavy atmosphere between you and scaramouche. "[name]? i-i didn't know, i swear-" he mumbled, his confidence from last time completely gone with the wind. 

"ah. uh, its fine. let's just go," you say coldly, ignoring him and walking into the cinema. childe gulped, following, and you didn't know what happened to scaramouche, nor did you care. screw him. it's just water under the bridge now, not that it mattered or will ever matter. 

you retrieved the popcorn and drinks, passing them to each respective person. entering the theatre room, you could practically feel how awkward the situation was, with childe being the only extroverted and talkative one yet remaining quiet now. 

you sat down at your assigned seat, sighing as you stared at the screen. scaramouche was seated in the middle of you and childe, holding the massive tub of popcorn. the fifteen minutes of advertisements were being flashed on the screen now as always, so you simply looked away, only for your gaze to be met by a certain boy's piercing violet eyes. "[name], uh, i-im still sorry about last time. i don't expect you to forgive me, but... you know, just letting you know," scaramouche mutters just loud enough for you to hear over the sound of the advertisements blasting in the theatre.

you gave a wry laugh in return. "hm? that's water under the bridge now. i don't mind anymore. just enjoy the movie, after all, childe paid for it." 

"mm, is he your sugar daddy in that case?" scaramouche teased, a sly smirk on his face, illuminated by the bright screen. 

you whacked him on the head, and he protested, saying that he was merely stating the obvious, while childe held back his laughter, snorting in amusement, while ushering us to be quiet so we wouldn't get kicked out. 

perhaps this would not be so bad after all.