#i'm abotu to go to sleep now though rip

[starg1rlie]

𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 !! (𝗣𝗧 𝟮)

pairing: scaramouche x gn! reader

genre: mild angst

xtra !! notes: so like, i didn't expect to write a part two, but someone brought it up and my mind went on autopilot, so here you go- kinda short?, so apologies before-hand, reader is gender-neutral, (they/them pronouns; reader is called 'miss ultra gaga and eccentric" though)

dear scaramouche,

you see, all these attacks that i've done to you is just to show how much i care about you. you think that nobody cares or really understand you, not even your own friends, but i care abotu you. so, so much.

i wrote this letter because i wanted to tell you just how much that i like you. you and me, we're practically the same! i'm sure that we were meant to be.

over the past few months that i've spent at school, i've come to realize something: i love you! i really, truly do. and i know that you've always tried to make you get the hint that you don't like me, but i just thought that i'd tell you this.

we're a lot more alike than you think. i know we might seem so different and stark in contrast with each other, but i think otherwise. you understand, don't you? there's a lot of bad things in the world, but if i think about leaving it all, well, i suppose i wouldn't want that to happen either.

i heard you talking to your mother that night. i know how forceful she sounded to you. and i understand it as well. my mom, well, you probably already know the story, don't you? my step-mom came into the picture and i was just forced to keep smiling and pretending that everything was okay and that our family wasn't literally falling to pieces.

your mom should understand why you want to make your own decisions; she can't decide everything for you, just because she gave birth to you.

i will most likely get rejected, won't i? it's pretty stupid, now that i'm thinking about it. me, writing a letter to you? how embarrassing would that be for the both of us! i don't mean to embarrass you, but it's not like you're going to read this out-loud for everyone to hear, are you?

i hope that, at the very least, you'll let me be your friend.

love,

y/n

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

scaramouche laid on his futon, purple locks fanned out on his pillow and eyes trained on that stain on the ceiling of his room. your letter, which had been ripped in half, lay on the surface of his polished wood desk, taped together rather haphazardly with some scotch tape he'd scrounged up from his drawers.

there's a lot of bad things in the world, but if i think about leaving it all, well, i suppose i wouldn't want that to happen either.

your words from your letter swam rapidly around in his mind as he sat up. how could you have known about his family issues? he'd never told you about them, and yet, you somehow still found out about them yourself.

the soft whir whir whir of his ceiling fan lulled him to sleep, his thoughts coming to a stop as well. as he slept, he dreamed of that night; that stupid night that made him so upset to think about.

it was raining that night; fat raindrops sliding down his cheeks as he walked down the stone path, the annual summer festival taking place just down the mountainside he was on. he had his phone's speaker pressed to his ear as he balanced his feet on top of each stone.

scaramouche grew tired of arguing with his mother over this topic. it was hard enough now that dad was out of the picture, but the fact that the old hag wouldn't accept that he wanted to become a writer, it pissed him off. he wished that he had a remote he could use that would be able to mute all the words that were coming out of her mouth, but there was no such thing, and here he was, stuck walking in the rain and listening to his mother nag to him about his life choices. again.

"mom, i already told you, i want to become a-"

"i know what you said, and i don't approve of it! becoming an author is very difficult work, and even if you succeeded, you don't get paid well! do you want to be living out on the streets? this is why i said you should try and apply for law school when you're older."

"i told you, i don't want to do law school! i want to write!"

"if you were to graduate from law school, you'd be able to make a lot of money from your cases and clients. think about it: which one seems more sensible to do?"

"i don't care about what's sensible, i care about what i want to do. why can't you just respect the fact that i want to be a writer, and there's nothing you can do to change that?"

there was silence on the other end, the only sound being fuzzy static.

"we'll talk about this later, when you're home. i should hope that tomorrow you won't be skipping out on cram school again." with that, she hung up on him.

dropping the hand that he used to hold his phone, scaramouche clenched his hand tight around the device, wishing he could hurl it down the mountainside (bonus points if it hit someone in the head in the process). why couldn't she understand what he wanted to do?

as scaramouche stumbled down the path, rain drops blurring his vision like tears, he thought he heard a twig snap in a clump of bushes to his left. he was too upset to even bother checking if someone was there, and even if someone was there, he could care less. he was sick of pretending to be the perfect little boy that everyone made him out to be.

by the time he'd made it up to the top of the hill, where his house stood serenly, his clothes were soaked and hair dripping wet. scaramouche kicked off his wet school shoes and ran up to his room, flipping his "do not disturb" sign over. then he promptly slammed the door shut, locking it.

back against the door, he slid down, his knees tucking themselves in as he buried his face into his arms. scaramouche could already hear his mother's footsteps coming up the stairs and towards his room.

knock knock.

"go away. i don't want to talk to you."

scaramouche could sense her hesitation. even from behind the door, he could just imagine what her face would look like: nostrils flaring like one of those fire-breathing dragons he'd heard about in history, eyebrows scrunched up, and lips turned into a hard frown. that was her usual "i'm so disappointed in you" look she wore whenever she sat him down with this topic.

"honey, i'm saying this for your own good. i know you want to be an author, and i understand that you don't want to be a lawyer, but it's imperative that we have you to support our family." now that dad is gone. she didn't say; she didn't need to. it was quite clear in the tone that she was using that that was what she meant.

"i said to go away! are you deaf or something? just leave me alone. that's the least you can grant me with all your nagging."

he peered down at the crack under his door and waited, holding his breath until her shadow finally moved away from his door. sighing under his breath, he ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers getting tangled up in the locks.

they're all so blind, so ignorant. they don't care about me. they only lean on me because i'm the man of the family now.

he felt something sharp sting his eyes. as scaramouche reached up to wipe at his eyes, he realized that he was crying. how ridiculous is this, he thought. i'm actually crying like some pathetic wimp.

scaramouche woke, hearing the steady drip drip drip of rain water dripping from the roof and the whirring of his ceiling fan. going over to his desk, he looked over your letter one more time before sighing under his breath. he couldn't get the image of your face out of his head; you looked so hurt, so unlike your normal happy and energetic persona you always had going on at school.

what were you going through? now that he thought about it, he didn't know anything about you. not your favorite shows, what color you liked, which foods you hated...he didn't know any of that. in your letter, you spoke as though you actually understood his perspective, like you actually had been going through and went through similar events.

he smoothed out a dog-eared corner of the letter before slumping down in his chair. great. now i need to apologize to them. how pathetic am i?

← first part | taglist form! ↺ | finale →

a / n !! - heres that part two, might do another part and end it there...

taglist (if you did not want to be tagged from this, so sorry, lmk and i'll remove you!) : @seungyaolee, @sunoosbestie, @chickynn, @shizunxie, @jameineliebe, @cesarsbeloved, @extrabish, @scaralvr, @malina130550