What the fuck.. || Chiscara

Chapter 2

(Third Person POV)

"What the fuck??"

Scaramouche blinked, his surroundings shifting abruptly. Less than ten seconds ago, he wandered the streets of Sumeru, bored out of his mind. Now, he found himself lying in his ex-coworker Childe's arms in the middle of a forest. The air stung, laced with unfamiliar chemicals, a stark contrast to Teyvat's pristine atmosphere.

Pushing himself away from Childe causing a groan out him, Scaramouche assessed the bizarre scene. The air was dark, a distant fire casting an eerie glow. Above them, a clear dome covered the sky. He tightened his grip on his vision, anticipating danger.

Locking eyes with the now-awake Childe, Scaramouche felt a jolt. Childe tackled him into the grass, pinning him down.

In Childe's perspective, warmth vanished from his arms. Groaning, he reached for the missing comfort, only to find grass. As realization dawned, he shot up, locking eyes with Scaramouche. Panic surged as he lunged at him, pinning him down.

"Scara," Childe uttered, torn between relief and urgency, emotions swirling in his eyes.

Scaramouche struggled beneath Childe's hold, a mix of confusion and irritation etched across his face. "What the hell just happened?" he muttered, eyeing the unfamiliar surroundings. The dome above them added to the surreal atmosphere, and the air's acrid taste intensified his discomfort. "And why are we in a fucking forest?"

Childe, still overcome with a mix of relief and urgency, gazed intently at Scaramouche. "Scara," he whispered again, emotions flickering in his eyes, caught between the past and the present.

As the tension hung in the air, Scaramouche spoke, his voice sharp. "Childe, explain this nonsense. Last I checked, I was enjoying the dazzling streets of Sumeru, not stuck in some twisted forest with you."

Childe hesitated, his gaze flickering as if torn between disclosure and evasion. "I... I don't know. One moment I was in bed, and the next, here with you," he admitted, genuine confusion clouding his expression.

Scaramouche scoffed, pushing Childe off him and rising to his feet. "Well, figure it out. I have better things to do than play your twisted games."

Childe scrambled up, a mix of frustration and concern on his face. "Scara, just listen—"

But Scaramouche cut him off, a glint of annoyance in his eyes. "Save the explanations for someone who cares, Tartaglia. I have my own problems to deal with."

As Scaramouche stalked away, before freezing in his steps. His eyes widened in shock, a mixture of disbelief and astonishment coloring his expression. "Wait... how do you even remember me? I made sure everyone forgot about my existence," he muttered, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

Childe, sensing the confusion, tried to find words to explain. "I don't know, Scara. Something's off, and I can't quite put my finger on it."

As the realization settled in, Scaramouche's composure wavered. "This... this is impossible. I erased myself from everyone's memory. Why do you remember?"

Childe, equally puzzled, shook his head. "I wish I had an answer. But here we are, in whatever mess this is."

The two former comrades stood in the strange forest, surrounded by unanswered questions and the unsettling feeling that something fundamental had shifted in their shared history. Suddenly, a distant sound echoed through the forest, breaking the uneasy silence. Scaramouche and Childe turned towards the noise, their senses on high alert. A figure emerged from the shadows, clad in an unfamiliar attire.

The mysterious figure stepped forward, a sly grin playing on their lips. Before speaking Inazuman. "Well, well, well, look who we have here, more 1-A brats?"