Chapter Text
The sound of his alarm blared into his ears. Annoying and consistent.
Beep… Beep… Beep…
Still drowsy, he couldn’t tell where the noise was coming from or why it was so painfully close to his ear. Closer than usual. His brain rattled in his head with each insistent buzz, and he subtly frowned. Disturbed by the noise.
A soft groan rumbled in Scaramouche’s chest as he rolled to his side and attempted to ignore the sound with no success. The sound only grew louder and louder, driving him insane.
Without opening his eyes, he looked for his phone. His hand blindly searched for the source of his irritation. He lazily tapped around for a good few minutes before he eventually realised that the vibrations interrupting his sleep were coming from underneath his pillow and not somewhere around him. He slipped a hand beneath his pillow and retrieved his phone.
He fluttered his long, black eyelashes as he finally opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the outline of his phone before his retinas were promptly attacked by the bright lighting in his room.
“Shit. “, he grumbled as he raised a hand to cover his eyes. He blinked once. Twice. Before his eyes finally adjusted. Lowering his hand, he let his gaze fall on the window sitting next to his bed. The curtains had been opened, and the warm rays of sunshine seeped into his room, colouring his walls in a soft, orangish hue. He remembered closing the curtains yesterday when he had arrived from filming another scene in the studio. He remembered because he had tripped on a stray piece of clothing discarded on his floor and ripped a hole in one of the curtains. His indigo orbs focused on the mentioned hole. A few threads of black hung from the ripped fabric, and he could feel his pale ears heating up at the memory. He was… embarrassed, to say the least.
Shaking away the memory, he focused his attention back on his buzzing phone. The hour was displayed on top of the screen.
09:30 AM
He should get up if he wants to arrive at the studio on time.
His thumb tapped on the small, orange button with the words ‘stop’ underneath the hour before he turned off his phone. The annoying buzzing finally ceasing.
A heavy sigh fell from his lips as he plopped back on the soft mattress. He isn’t a morning person. He’s never liked waking up at such early hours in the morning just to go to a miserable studio and act like his life wasn’t boring. He has done the same thing so many times his body does them on autopilot.
He has never liked his job as an actor. Hell, he doesn’t like acting at all. He never wanted to work as an actor that wakes up at the crack of fucking dawn and has to deal with annoying ass people that think they can do whatever they want. He doesn’t like his coworkers or his manager. He doesn’t like having to wear fancy clothes that feel like a cage on his body just to impress some idiotic journalists. He doesn’t like going to interviews where hosts ask about his personal life as if he's some kind of Barbie doll. A Barbie doll with no feelings, with nothing.
And people still wonder why he has such a bitter personality.
His silky, indigo hair pooled on his pillow as he stared up at the ceiling. There were a few remnants of glue and stray pieces of tape there from when he had hung a few jellyfish. He recalled making them himself when he was 6 years old with some old materials he had found while cleaning his room. His fingers were sticky with glue and stained in soft hues of purple and blue when he had finished.
His chest rose and fell as he took in a deep breath. A frown had settled on his features at the memory. He only worked as an actor because his mother wants him to take over her place when she passes away. She had claimed that this was his fate. That he was destined to become a famous actor and take over the family business, and she refused to let all her hard work go to waste when he had refused to become her heir. Why does he have to take care of the company? He wasn’t her only child. She could relay her burdens on his sister instead of him. Just because he is the older sibling doesn’t mean he has to take care of all her responsibilities when she fucking dies.
That’s what he had told her, but of course she ignored him, saying, ‘Your sister is too young to take control yet,’ and left without another word. For fuck’s sake, he’s only older by one damn year. She isn’t a damn newborn.
The sound of his door swinging open jolted him out of his thoughts, and he jumped to a sitting position. His eyes wide and no longer heavy with sleep.
A familiar, tall figure stood on the threshold of his room, and he soon noticed that it was none other than his sister, Shogun.
Stepping around a small mountain of clothes sitting next to the entrance of his room with a wrinkled nose, Shogun stepped further into his room. The sharp sound of her heels clicking against the wooden floor attacked his sensitive ears, causing him to wrinkle his nose as well. She has always enjoyed making quite the entry.
“Thought you were dead. “, Shogun halted as soon as she reached the foot of his bed.
He raised his eyebrow, unamused, “Dead? “, he repeated.
“Yeah, I could hear your alarm buzzing and assumed you finally dropped dead since it kept at it for like, a good few minutes. “, she explained briefly.
A soft huff fell from his reddish lips as he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m not dead. So get the fuck out of my room. “, he spat.
Shogun pressed her lips into a thin line before replying, “You’re such an asshole you know. If you didn’t have a stick up your ass all the time, then maybe people would like being around you.”
“That’s the damn point. “He raised his eyebrows as his sister flashed him the middle finger, and he mimicked her actions.
Unlike his sister, he didn’t care about his personality when around people. He has always been bitter around everybody else while his sister put up a sweet girl facade around journalists and hosts. They would wonder how they were related due to their opposite personalities, and he would always bite his tongue to prevent himself from saying, ‘She’s actually a bitch beneath all that caramelised exterior.’. Even if he would’ve loved seeing their stunned faces at the revelation.
Shogun took a deep breath as she straightened her posture, and Scaramouche finally noticed her formal attire.
She was clad in a long, black dress that reached just below her knees. The skirt was adorned with an intricate lace with flower patterns that was attached to her bodice and cascaded down to the white ruffles outlining the hemline of the skirt. Her bodice was tight and snug around her slender curves, and the neckline was shaped into a heart. Her defined collarbones were exposed, and a silver necklace rested there gracefully. The emblem of the Raiden family hung from the thin chain, glinting softly under the light flooding his room. He narrowed his gaze at the loathsome emblem.
Her sleeves were attached to her bodice. The ruffled fabric draped in that same intricate lace. She wore a pair of white gloves that reached her elbows and a few silver bracelets over the exquisite fabric that matched her earrings. Finally, she wore her hair in her usual braid and he noticed the faint makeup on her eyes and lips. She looked like she was ready to go to a gala.
He eyed her up and down a few times more before speaking up, “Why the hell are you so dressed up? “, he asked. His expression was one of sourness despite the hint of curiosity in his tone.
“I have to go attend an interview, and Mother said I have to dress properly. “, she replied as she gestured to her lavish attire.
“Do I have to go? “, he wrinkled his nose at the thought of attending yet another interview. He refused to listen to another arrogant host chat about some topic he didn’t care about. He’s already had enough after the thousands of interviews he had gone to this week. The cruel reality of being famous.
She shook her head, earning a relieved sigh from her brother, “It’s about my own movie, so you don’t have to go. “She paused, “But Mother sent me to tell you to meet her at her office when you finish getting ready. “
His shoulders subtly tensed at her words, “For what? “
“She didn’t tell me. Just said that it was important. “
“Fine. I’ll be there. “He exhaled sharply through his nose. A meeting with his mother could only mean trouble.
Nodding, Shogun turned on her heel and closed the door behind her when she stepped out. The soft click of his door closing was quiet in the loud silence his sister's words left behind. What could his mother want from him?
It’s not like he had caused any trouble recently. At least not enough trouble to earn him a meeting with his mother.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood up with a soft groan. He stretched languidly with a soft huff. Yesterday, he had spent most of his time walking around and avoiding large crowds like a psychopath looking for its next victim. Therefore, his legs now ached like he had run a marathon. He had run out of pens and decided to go to a local store to buy some new ones. Of course, life wanted to ruin his day by making him stumble across a large crowd of people that somehow recognised him underneath his sunglasses and his cap. He couldn’t even count the number of times he had run into an alleyway to avoid being run over by some fangirls.
He walked over to his wardrobe and opened it before he began surveying his options.
He settled with a black turtleneck bodysuit that hugged his figure snugly and a pair of black shorts with a blue belt wrapped loosely around his hips and a pair of indigo thigh straps wrapped around his milky thighs just below the hemline of his shorts. He wore a short white and blue jacket over his bodysuit with a pair of long, black fingerless gloves that reached up to his upper arms. The thin fabric was adorned with a singular cyan stripe on both gloves. Finally, he put on a pair of long, black boots and a blue beret. The outfit was both comfortable and chic. Just the way he likes it.
After picking up his phone, he exited his room and climbed down the stairs to the first floor.
His house wasn’t grand or luxurious compared to his childhood home. It was a modest house with two floors, two bathrooms, two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a living room, while his childhood home was a large mansion with thousands upon thousands of rooms. His mother had bought the house for him and his sister since it was close to the company and the studio where he worked.
His sister didn’t want to live there, claiming that she wanted to be with her, but eventually, she moved in with him. He, on the other hand, didn’t care about living in someplace else. As long as he no longer lived in the same house as his mother.
He stepped into the kitchen, and he was instantly greeted by a soft meow. Glancing down at the source of the noise, he watched his black cat skip its way towards him and rub its small body against his legs. The corners of his lips twitched as he bent down to gently pat its head.
He had found her in the street one day while he was on his way back home. It had rained that day, and the streets were damp and covered in puddles. He remembered walking with his phone in hand when he almost tripped on a small box placed in the middle of the sidewalk. He had looked into the box and found a pair of blue eyes staring up at him. That day, he took the cat with him and took care of her. Since then, she’s become a constant thorn in his side. Always clinging to him and following him around whenever she caught a glimpse of him.
“Morning, Kabu. “, he mumbled as he stroked her silky fur.
The cat purred in response, rubbing her head against his hand and leaning her whole body towards his touch.
He stood up before he stalked over to the fridge and opened it. He pulled out a carton of orange juice and placed it on the counter before he retrieved a glass from the dishwasher. Uncapping the carton, he poured a generous amount of juice in his glass before he screwed the lid back on and stored it in the fridge. He wasn’t the type of person that enjoys eating big meals for breakfast. A glass of juice usually fills him up, and it’s not like he has a big appetite either.
Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he fished it out. The screen lit up with a new message, and he tapped on the notification. It was a text from Signora.
Sig: ‘Come over’
He typed out a quick response.
- ‘Can’t ‘
He then typed another response.
- ‘Meeting my mum ‘
The message was immediately seen by her. Three dots then appeared under his message.
Sig: 'traitor'
He huffed under his breath as the corners of his lips twitched. Another message followed.
Sig: ‘U free after? ‘
- ‘Yh’
A soft clink prompted him to pull his gaze away from the screen, and he mumbled a low curse as he watched Kabu lapping up his juice. His hand shot up to grab her head and pull it away from the glass.
“Damn it. “ He picked up the glass, staring at the orange liquid sloshing around. The sound of a notification drew his attention back to his phone.
Sig: ‘Meet me at my house after then.’
He typed out a quick ‘Ok’ before his gaze focused on the time.
10:05 AM
“Shit—” he muttered yet another curse as he shoved his phone in his pocket. He was going to be late if he didn’t get going.
He tipped the contents of the glass in the sink before he placed it back in the dishwasher. He turned to place a soft kiss on top of Kabu’s head, whispering a quiet ‘goodbye,’ before he stalked over to the entrance door and left.
He walked down the streets. The cold autumn air bit at his exposed skin, and he wrapped his arms tighter around himself, suppressing a shiver as he avoided a group of people blocking his way. He should’ve put on a warmer jacket and some longer pants. Winter was quickly approaching, and he would most likely freeze to death if he went out with the same outfit. He needs to buy more winter clothes.
He fastened his pace as the large skyscraper finally appeared in his line of sight. He reached out to push the double doors open, and he relished in the warmth of the building as he stepped inside.
Scaramouche pushed past a few workers and headed straight to the elevators. Once he reached an elevator, he pushed the button a few times before stepping back. As he waited, he let his gaze sweep through the lobby. Since it was early in the morning, there were only a few workers walking around the place. He watched quietly as a group of workers loitered in front of a vending machine. One of the workers placed their hand on the side of the machine and shook it lightly. A frown etched onto their face as nothing came out.
The vending machine had stopped working a few months ago, so he wasn't surprised that nothing was coming out of it. He knew because he had tried using it a few weeks ago and spent a good few minutes kicking it when it malfunctioned. He wasn’t able to retrieve his drink that day and spent the rest of his working hours scowling at the machine whenever he happened to catch a glimpse of it from afar.
He was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts as the doors finally opened. A few workers stepped out of the elevator, and he pushed past them, ignoring their mumbled greetings in favour of entering the lift. Once inside, he pressed the button to the fifteenth floor and shoved his hands in his pockets as he watched the doors close.
The dim light above flickered faintly as the elevator ascended to his desired floor. He could hear a light melody in the background and the gentle hum of the elevator working. He leaned his back against the wall behind him. His eyes drifted shut as he focused on the quiet music coming from the small, round speaker just below the buttons. The peaceful moment was short-lived as the elevator finally reached the fifteenth floor, and he was forced to open his eyes. The doors opened, and he pushed himself off the wall. He dodged a few workers entering the building as he stepped out. He couldn’t quite understand how he always managed to stumble across a group of workers whenever he visited the building to go.
With quick, long strides, he walked down the corridor and towards the grand, double doors at the end of the hallway. His mother’s office.
He stopped in front of the looming doors. His indigo orbs glanced at the golden doorknobs on the doors for a few moments. He could see his reflection on the polished surface. He took in a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever he would find on the other side before he twisted one doorknob and swung the door open.
The familiar office unravelled before his eyes as he stepped into the room, letting the door close behind him with a soft click. His footsteps were muffled by the soft, red velvet carpet under his feet. His gaze flicked towards the large oak bookshelves sitting on the left side of the room. Endless rows of books were placed neatly on each shelf, the colours ranging from deep tones of red to light tones of turquoise. He turned his head towards the right side of the room, where he found a few pieces of furniture decorated with golden statues and a few more trinkets. His attention then focused on the large, wooden desk sitting in the middle of the room. Specifically on the figure sitting behind it.
He swallowed thickly as he locked eyes with his mother. Her crackling purple orbs bore into his indigo ones. Cold and calculating. A stare deserving of a leader.
“Scaramouche. “ , her calm voice rang in his ears as she beckoned him closer. He listened.
Now standing a few feet away from her desk, he could see her properly. Her long, purple hair was styled in her signature braid. She wore a black pencil skirt with a pair of pantyhose underneath and a pair of black high heels that matched her skirt. His gaze trailed up to the white shirt under her black vest and the long, black tie tucked neatly beneath her vest. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought his mother was a mafia boss.
She tapped her index finger on the mahogany surface of her desk as she simply stared at him. The long, black eyelashes framing her eyes did little to soothe the sharp feeling of her eyes analysing him. Scaramouche averted his gaze as he clasped his hands behind his back to hide his nervous fidgeting. He waited for his mother to proceed.
He has never enjoyed being alone in the same room as his mother. Not because he was… scared of her, but because she always stares at him like he’s some kind of enigma she wants to solve. Whenever she stared at him so intently, he would always feel like his mother was sizing him up like a predator eyeing its next prey. And he certainly didn’t enjoy feeling the weight of her eyes settling heavily on his shoulders whenever he looked away from her gaze. It made him feel cornered. Caged, even.
She has always been like this, however. Since he was a kid, his mother would always stare at him the same way whenever he did something she didn’t like. Getting a bad grade on a math test, for example. She would always sit there and stare at him in silence. He has gotten used to it now that he’s older, but he still feels a shiver run down his spine whenever she looks at him with that cold gaze of hers.
His mother was the first one to break the silence as she propped her elbows on her desk and interlinked her fingers before resting her chin on top. “I heard you had another dispute with your co-star. Again. “
His throat suddenly felt dry as he registered her words in his brain. He swallowed around the lump in his throat.
He had indeed gotten into another fight with his co-star. Scaramouche had been filming another scene yesterday with the other actor when he had gotten mad at him for forgetting a line of his script. He remembered lashing out at his co-star for his lack of professionalism before storming out of the studio while muttering a few colourful words. He wasn’t sure how his mother knew, though. Did his co-star snitch on him?
His manager doesn’t usually bother reporting his behaviour to his mother, so it couldn’t have been her. And the other actors and workers that were there would never have the guts to tell on him. That leaves his co-star as his only option. That asshole.
It seems that his thoughts were visible on his face because his mother spoke up again, “He came to my office yesterday and quit. Saying that he could no longer deal with your attitude. “, she explained briefly.
He watched as his mother pushed back her chair and stood up. He didn’t say a word.
“He quit? “, he repeated. A crease began to form in between his eyebrows.
Ei walked over to the wooden bookshelves on her left. She let her fingers trace the spine of one of the books there before she pulled it out. The cover was a deep tone of red, and the pages were a subtle tone of yellow. She opened the book, letting her gaze sweep through the pages.
“Yes, that’s the 6th actor you’ve forced to quit this month. “, she added, “Do you know how much it cost me to get him to work with us? Knowing about your reputation and your awful manners? “, she suddenly slammed the book shut, causing him to flinch at the sharp sound echoing in the deadening still room, “Or do you simply not care? “
“When are you going to stop being such a pain in my ass, Scaramouche? “Her voice was calm despite the venomous poison coating her words.
His mother has always worn a calm facade everywhere she went. No matter if she was pissed off or not. She would remain indifferent. Not a single scowl or wrinkle on her perfect face. But, of course, when the doors finally close behind her and she’s in the confines of her office, her relaxed mask starts to crack. Just like now.
Scaramouche took a deep breath, steadying his voice when he spoke, “I’m sorry, Mother. “He bowed his head, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “It won’t happen again. “
Ei paused briefly before speaking, “I’ve already arranged another meeting with a neighbouring company willing to take over your co-star’s place. “She turned around to face her son. He didn’t bother raising his head. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the company named ‘The Fatui,’ yes? “
He paused at her words. He recalled hearing about them during an interview with a famous host that apparently has interviewed them as well. He hadn’t paid it much mind, however.
She walked over to him. Her high heels sank in the plush carpet underneath until she stood beside him. A cold hand reached out to cup his soft cheek and instinctively pulled away, earning a soft hum from his mother. Her hand stopped mid-air before she placed it on his shoulder instead. He tensed under her touch, wrinkling his nose at the unwanted touch.
“Your co-star will be Ajax. “She smoothed a subtle crease on his short jacket as she continued, “I’ve heard he is quite the competent actor. A very patient man, too.”
He raised his head to look at his mother. His gaze darkened as he met hers. Her stoic purple orbs glistened with intrigue despite the underlying promise of violence in her gaze. He forced himself to narrow his eyes at her. His own indigo irises expressed a hint of displeasure he wasn’t aware of.
It’s obvious that he didn’t want another co-star. After all, he hasn’t been acting like a brat for nothing. He had been acting that way for a whole month just to somehow convince her to stop collaborating with other companies. He wanted to work alone, like he always does. But of course, his mother wouldn’t allow it. She seems to have grown obsessed with making movies with other acting companies.
His mother leaned in to whisper in his ear, “You better not mess up this time, my dear son. “, she mumbled, “because if you do… You will not like the consequences. Understood? “
Scaramouche stilled on the spot at his mother’s words. He dug his nails into his palms, leaving crescent-shaped indents there. He knew his mother wasn’t bluffing when she said such things. He has been the first one to experience the aftermath of her threats, and it’s safe to say that she always keeps her promise. He may be stubborn, but not dumb enough to defy his mother’s authority. And certainly not dumb enough to ignore her warnings.
He nodded curtly, earning a satisfied smile from his mother. A smile that held no real warmth. Only a cold, unforgiving embrace that threatened to consume those who dared to challenge her.
“Good. “She pulled back, stepping away, “Off you go now. “She dismissed him with a wave of her hand as she turned to her desk. He wasted no time turning around and exiting her office. He winced as he unceremoniously slammed the doors behind him, but he didn’t hear approaching footsteps from the other side.
He walked down the corridor and came to a halt once he reached the elevator. His shoulders were still coiled with tension, and his jaw was starting to hurt due to how hard he was clenching his teeth. His mother is a dangerous woman. The type of dangerous woman even he didn’t wish to trifle with.
Scaramouche pushed the elevator button a few times before sighing softly. He ran his fingers through his tousled hair, wincing as his fingers struggled to undo a knot. He had forgotten to brush his hair this morning, and now he was paying the consequences.
Now, he was forced to deal with yet another dumb actor forgetting their script in the middle of a recording. He huffed as he recalled the name of his soon-to-be co-star.
“Ajax. “, he mumbled absentmindedly. He groaned. What a pain.
He wasn’t sure who the hell that guy was, but he honestly didn’t care. As long as he doesn’t bother him, he’ll be fine.
As he waited for the elevator, he fished out his phone from his pocket. His fingers flew on the screen as he typed his password and looked for Signora’s number. Once he found it, he tapped her chat and typed a brief message before hitting send.
- ‘Omw.’