[Scaramouche isn't expecting a laugh from Kazuha, a sound of snide amusement he's all to familiar with from his own experiences. Something he finds he doesn't like nearly as much when it's directed towards him, and he lets his face scrunch up into one of his signature scowls.
Sparks crackle along his arms though none make the jump to the samurai, and he can't bring himself to do anything more. Trapped and helpless in the grip of the person he's spent the most time with in Nippon. Someone whose company he found pleasant, who he found himself missing when he'd cut himself off from the other man to try and make sense of the impending time loop.
The electricity dies the moment the man spins him, pulls him back against his chest, and Scaramouche can do nothing but shut his eyes trying to focus.]
Why are you so intent of hearing me call you a friend? In a few hours it won't matter what I think. Why must I put to words how I feel. It won't stop what's to come. You're--
[He swallows down the rest of his words, mind reeling as he can feel the way Kazuha's breath jerks. A pain runs through him, his stomach tumbling into knots as he feels all too lost at what to do - to say. Hurting Kazuha is something Scaramouche realizes he doesn't want to do, but it only makes his mind struggle further in its attempts to latch on to the correct words.
Since when has he allowed himself to get close enough to someone like he had with Katsuragi. This wasn't quite the same, but it's a pain that's familiar enough, something the Sixth can recognize in some sense. He hadn't dealt with it well back then, and he's learned nothing to help him in doing so now.
It feels as though his throat is much too tight, that he's suffocating when he doesn't even need to breathe, and for some time he merely follows the steps in silence. Allows his feet to move along with the music.
When the moment of silence grows too deafening he takes a breath in and tries again.]
You're not just some way to entertain myself, if that's what's bothering you. The way you treat me is how I would expect a... friend to. And what I feel is--
[To admit that much is a feat in itself, though the Sixth still finds himself struggling. It's one thing to claim he feels that the vagrant treats him as though they are friends, but to call him one admits to himself something all too painful. It would be to claim that he cares, that there is some attachment there where there never should have been.
The Gnosis hadn't provided him with the heart he so desperately desired, could he even care in the way Kazuha wanted? If it wasn't enough, when the samurai realized, would he be discarded as he always was? Not human enough to fit in when it became apparent just how much he stood out. There's something about that idea that makes his mouth feel dry and his stomach lurch.
A bond exists between them, and Scaramouche finds his mind wandering in the direction of it. It was something he hated initially, though he'd grown to find some comfort in it, even if he wishes it didn't mean he'd find maples in his hair. If they had a bond would that mean him capable of what was wanted from him? Even if the Gnosis didn't work, would the magic of Nippon make up for what he lacked?
Was it even something he wanted?
Scaramouche's hands tighten against Kazuha's grip, unsure and unsteady. He finds they won't stop shaking.]
I desire your company. But friendships are terribly foolish when you last for an Eternity. More so when we only have a few hours left.
[He sighs, voice growing quiet that it's little above a whisper.]
no subject
[Scaramouche isn't expecting a laugh from Kazuha, a sound of snide amusement he's all to familiar with from his own experiences. Something he finds he doesn't like nearly as much when it's directed towards him, and he lets his face scrunch up into one of his signature scowls.
Sparks crackle along his arms though none make the jump to the samurai, and he can't bring himself to do anything more. Trapped and helpless in the grip of the person he's spent the most time with in Nippon. Someone whose company he found pleasant, who he found himself missing when he'd cut himself off from the other man to try and make sense of the impending time loop.
The electricity dies the moment the man spins him, pulls him back against his chest, and Scaramouche can do nothing but shut his eyes trying to focus.]
Why are you so intent of hearing me call you a friend? In a few hours it won't matter what I think. Why must I put to words how I feel. It won't stop what's to come. You're--
[He swallows down the rest of his words, mind reeling as he can feel the way Kazuha's breath jerks. A pain runs through him, his stomach tumbling into knots as he feels all too lost at what to do - to say. Hurting Kazuha is something Scaramouche realizes he doesn't want to do, but it only makes his mind struggle further in its attempts to latch on to the correct words.
Since when has he allowed himself to get close enough to someone like he had with Katsuragi. This wasn't quite the same, but it's a pain that's familiar enough, something the Sixth can recognize in some sense. He hadn't dealt with it well back then, and he's learned nothing to help him in doing so now.
It feels as though his throat is much too tight, that he's suffocating when he doesn't even need to breathe, and for some time he merely follows the steps in silence. Allows his feet to move along with the music.
When the moment of silence grows too deafening he takes a breath in and tries again.]
You're not just some way to entertain myself, if that's what's bothering you. The way you treat me is how I would expect a... friend to. And what I feel is--
[To admit that much is a feat in itself, though the Sixth still finds himself struggling. It's one thing to claim he feels that the vagrant treats him as though they are friends, but to call him one admits to himself something all too painful. It would be to claim that he cares, that there is some attachment there where there never should have been.
The Gnosis hadn't provided him with the heart he so desperately desired, could he even care in the way Kazuha wanted? If it wasn't enough, when the samurai realized, would he be discarded as he always was? Not human enough to fit in when it became apparent just how much he stood out. There's something about that idea that makes his mouth feel dry and his stomach lurch.
A bond exists between them, and Scaramouche finds his mind wandering in the direction of it. It was something he hated initially, though he'd grown to find some comfort in it, even if he wishes it didn't mean he'd find maples in his hair. If they had a bond would that mean him capable of what was wanted from him? Even if the Gnosis didn't work, would the magic of Nippon make up for what he lacked?
Was it even something he wanted?
Scaramouche's hands tighten against Kazuha's grip, unsure and unsteady. He finds they won't stop shaking.]
I desire your company. But friendships are terribly foolish when you last for an Eternity. More so when we only have a few hours left.
[He sighs, voice growing quiet that it's little above a whisper.]
Is it meant to hurt like this?