❝ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.❞

╰──➤ 𝙋𝙄𝘾𝙏𝙐𝙍𝙀𝙎 𝙊𝙁 𝙋𝙀𝙊𝙋𝙇𝙀

Snap!

During lunch, you decided to practice using your camera to take pictures of people. It was going about as well as you expected. You were horrible at it. Everyone always moved too quickly for you to get a photo, since you were trying to catch them as they acted naturally, talking to all their friends. You felt a hole swallow up your heart inside your chest as you watched them, all carelessly smiling and laughing with each other. Eventually, you gave up since you were sure you started to look like a creep that people would be talking about for two days before forgetting about.

But while you were observing the room from against the wall, camera in hand, you noticed Scaramouche was nowhere to be found. You craned your neck forward as if that would help you see better, but still no sign of him. You didn't know anyone who would know where he was, so you left to look for him yourself. Mona watched from your usual table with puzzled eyes. You wandered through the halls, wondering where he would choose to go, but then it hit you.

The old art room.

You kept your footsteps quiet, sneaking on your toes as you peeked through the doorway. The room probably looked dusty with a closer look, but from the hallway, it seemed the same as it always was. The school cut off the art program since no one was interested in it and after some feedback from students who said it was their least favorite class, everyone decided it wasn't worth it. Of course, though, the staff were too lazy to clear the room out to put something else in.

Scaramouche stood in the middle of the room, though he wasn't doing much. Just sitting atop one of the tables, breathing. You inhaled deeply and exhaled before stepping in, letting him hear you. His head swirled around, panicked since he thought it must've been a teacher. He let out a sigh when his eyes met yours, and he turned back around.

You sat beside him, gazing at the now discarded art pieces the previous teacher hung up on the walls. They were all left to waste, collecting dust.

"So... What are you doing in here?" You asked awkwardly. You were hesitant, since something about his behavior told you he didn't want to talk.

"Some people eat lunch in the bathrooms. This is what I do."

You were surprised he didn't ask what you were doing there. You clasped your hands together and laid them on your lap, letting your legs swing back and forth.

"You're not eating anything," you pointed out.

"I didn't bring anything."

"Ah," you nodded. "Well... I'd offer you food, but I didn't bring any either."

"That broke, huh?"

"...You seem upset, did something happen?"

"I was just thinking."

"Penny for your thoughts?" You said.

"Do you even have a penny?"

"...Not with me, but I can give you one the next time we study."

He chuckled dryly and shook his head, "I'm good."

"...So will you tell me without the penny?"

He pondered over it for a few moments before deciding that it wasn't too personal to tell you. Maybe he'd get to grow closer with you if he said it. Besides, he figured it would feel nice to tell another human being instead of a notebook.

"I like your house," he admitted.

You were baffled by his words, "Why's that?"

"Because it's peaceful. You don't have parents who are fighting all the time or anything like that. And I don't get invited to other people's houses a lot, so I've never gotten to have an escape before."

You empathized. All you could think was:

It hasn't always been that way.

"Where are your parents, anyway?" He suddenly questioned.

You were startled by the sudden inquiry, "They're, uh... somewhere else. Not dead, but somewhere."

He nodded, accepting that you wouldn't tell him. You abruptly turned your body toward his and wore a smile.

"Okay, let me try to cheer you up."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Uh... distracting you, maybe. I don't know. I'm not very good at it. Anyway, tell me more about you."

"I'm not telling you my life story."

"That's not what I'm asking for," you rolled your eyes. "I mean hobbies. I know you paint, but what else do you do? What's your favorite color? Who's your favorite musician? Stuff like that."

"'What's my favorite color?' What are we, five?" He scoffed.

"Shut up and answer my questions."

He sighed, "I like all the colors, except most shades of yellow. I listen to Ms. Yun and Xinyan, and I swim."

You blinked.

"Those are two very different types of music, and what do you have against yellow? Also, have you tried competitive swimming?"

"You're asking too many questions now."

"Okay, then you can ask me something," you smiled.

He glanced at the floor, "Answer the ones you asked first."

"Hm. I like (favorite color), I listen to Barbara a lot, and I enjoy... writing poems."

"You do poetry?" He asked, lifting his brow.

"Yeah. Uh... Someone I know got me into it."

"...What kind of poetry do you write?" He queried reluctantly.

"Well, I like ballads. And haikus. I'm not very good at writing either of them, though..." You shrugged.

"You should show me some of them," he suggested. "So I can make fun of you for how bad they are."

You chuckled and playfully punched him in the arm, "Whatever. Anyway, you didn't answer my question. Have you tried competitive swimming?"

"Nope," he denied, leaning back slightly and holding his hands against the table edge to keep himself steady. "It's just a casual thing. Competing takes the fun out of it."

"Like with art?"

"...Yeah. Like with art."

"Well, y'know, it would probably be much easier to become an artist if you won big competitions. People would recognize you and be interested in your work," you mentioned.

Well, you weren't wrong. He gave it a thought.

"You could also win money," you added.

"...What was that art thing you were talking about before?"

"The Teyvat Artist Awards?"

"Yeah, that. What's the prize?"

"I think it's like 200,000 mora every year," you said. "I entered one year and got completely humiliated. It's for all types of art, like photography, painting, music, etc. All in different categories, obviously. I haven't entered any competitions since..."

"What were people humiliating you for?" He questioned, furrowing his eyebrows out of confusion.

"Well, I guess other people weren't really humiliating me. The judges were just very harsh with their feedback. 'Lacks imagination', 'image is bland and out of focus', 'angle doesn't do justice for the scenery'. Stuff like that."

"They sound like assholes," he commented.

You laughed, "Yeah, but they weren't wrong. So I got better. Still not confident enough to try again, though."

"We should enter together, then."

You took a moment to process what he said, but even when you did, it still didn't sink in.

"Wait, what?"

"We should both enter the competition."

"You can't be serious."

"Well it would be a really shitty joke if I were kidding."

"I am not doing that."

"You said it yourself, though. You can win money, and get recognized for your photos."

"Yeah, if I win."

"Would it really be better not trying?" He asked.

"Since when did you become Mr. Positive?"

"Since I became desperate for any money I can get."

"...Fair enough. Still, I'm not that desperate for money," you lied.

"You didn't even get any lunch today, Y/n."

"I just didn't feel like making food this morning... Or buying food at the cafeteria."

"Uh huh, I definitely believe that."

"Let's talk about something else," you said hastily. "Is any of your old art in here?"

"Doesn't matter, because I'm not showing any of it to you," he responded.

"Why not?"

"It's embarrassing. You wouldn't let me see the old photo those judges made fun of, would you?"

"Maybe, if it was a trade," you smirked.

♕︎❯────「♕︎」────❮♕︎

"Is that... a leaf?"

"It's a bird."

"I- What? Are you serious? That looks like a perfect leaf."

"It would be, if it was supposed to be a leaf. I'm surprised this is still here," Scaramouche said. "This is actually from when I was a kid. I brought it in for some stupid presentation about how we grew in terms of skill."

"Well, clearly you grew a lot," you said with a smile.

"Yeah," he sighed. "So when am I gonna see that picture?"

"I'll show it to you when we study later this afternoon," you replied.

"Good."

You sat in silence for a bit. Honestly, it was the best lunch period you ever had since you were nine. He made it better. Almost thirty minutes passed since the start of your break, so you only had a miniscule amount of time left. Scaramouche decided to spend that time asking you something.

"Why don't you think you can win the competition?" He quickly turned his head to look at you, setting the piece of lined paper down on the table, next to his leg. Your head perked up as you struggled to find a response.

"W-Well, it's the Teyvat Artist Awards. It's not just Inazuma, it's everywhere. People from all over would be against me, and that seems like a low chance for me to come out on top."

"There are still winners every year, though. It's unlikely for everyone."

"...Still, it's not like I'm the best photographer or anything," you mumbled.

"You're talented, though."

"Not enough to win the Teyvat Artist Awards."

"I think you are."

"You didn't even know about it until I told you just now."

"So? I'm not blind, I can see that you're talented. Even if my specialty isn't photography. I'm a painter, it's close enough. If you think I can win, you can too."

"Um, no way."

"Shut up," he rolled his eyes, putting his hand firmly on your shoulder before looking you in the eye. "You're the most talented person I know, Y/n. Shut up and believe it."

You felt your face growing hotter as his words repeated through your ears, as if the first time wasn't enough for you to understand. The intense eye contact wasn't helping either. But the bell did.

You flinched and jumped off the table, causing him to pull his hand back. You grabbed at the bottom of your shirt and stiffly began walking backwards.

"Okay, uhm, thank you! Thanks, I appreciate it, I'll remember that. Okay, see you in class!" You yelped before dashing out, leaving him puzzled.

"What the hell was that...?"