Chapter Text
The sound of the door slamming open would’ve startled most people, but it didn’t startle Arlecchino. She remained perfectly composed as she signed papers at her desk, as if she had been expecting the event—or at least knew it was going to happen eventually.
“You told me he wouldn’t find out.”
“No, I didn’t.” She spoke as if she was bored. “I told you that I would ensure nobody told him via finding out.” She checked the back of a paper and rolled her eyes at the second signature box before signing it and tossing it to the side.
Childe stomped angrily towards her desk and slammed the wood, hoping to elicit some sort of reaction. Remorse, fear, anything. She moved as if there were no interruptions to her work, as if she was alone in the office.
“You’re a liar.”
“I never lied.” She finally looked up, seemingly mildly annoyed by the idea. “And if I did, so what. You were doing what you felt was best for you, I was doing the same. I am doing the same.”
“No,” Childe scoffed. “I think you knew, I think you led me to believe everything was going to be fine for your own gain.”
Arlecchino set down the paper she was looking at, giving Childe her full attention. She looked up at him with her chin resting in her left palm. “Sure. I’m not interested in arguing morals, so call me whatever you like if it makes you feel better.”
He leaned closer, twin blue flames piercing into her inexpressive eyes. “He hates me. I was going to marry him and now he wants nothing to do with me.”
“I upheld my end of the bargain. It’s not my fault it didn’t go to plan on your behalf. Quite frankly, it may be for the better that things didn’t turn out the way you wanted.”
The comment pissed Childe off even more. He pushed off the desk and began pacing back and forth in front of it in an attempt to regain control over his temper. “Why?” He spat. “So you can continue with your little scheme to ruin my husband’s reputation? I think you’re a fucking bitch, Arlecchino. A conniving, manipulative bitch.”
“And I think you’re absolutely delusional. You’re lucky stardom wanted you more than the psychiatric hospital. Now get out of my office and go write a new song before the better of the two rejects you.”
“Don’t think you’re gonna get away with this.”
“And what exactly am I getting away with?” She blinked obnoxiously, as if to say: who? Me? I’d never do such a thing.
“I made a couple of phone calls—I was suspicious. You wanted to skyrocket sales and attention, and once Kazuha left and you found me, you knew the perfect way to do it. You’d involve Scaramouche in a scandal so big that it would destroy his reputation and then you’d fire him. You were going to use me as a replacement. You paid off people to bully him online, even that stupid fag that runs that ridiculous magazine or whatever.”
Arlecchino’s eyebrows knitted together for a moment, and she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. “How did you know I paid people to bully him?”
At that, Childe’s anger diffused to a gentle simmer. “I uh…” He fidgeted with a piece of lint on the carpet using the tip of his shoe. “I own one of his fan accounts that you tried to pay to switch up on him.”
Arlecchino didn’t look too worried until her eyes flickered with recognition, then widened. “You’re Scara loves sweets?”
Childe stiffened. “How did you know?”
“That’s the only one that said no. Also the most… memorable one.”
The tips of his ears turned pink. “I changed my username to Scara Loves Candy! How do you remember the old one?”
“You think you can escape your reputation as that one fan account that paid ten thousand dollars for a pair of Scaramouche’s socks just because you changed your username? Everyone remembers you.”
“So what?” He was so humiliated that he actually started pretending like the situation wasn’t abnormal at all to save some face. It would’ve been believable if he wasn’t tomato-red. “Can we get back on track to the fact that you’re literally insane?!”
“Oh look, the pot is calling the kettle black.”
Childe rolled his eyes, continuing with his tirade. “I remember it all. You set this up, and I don’t care if you deny or accept it. I won’t let you win this regardless.”
---One day---
“Theres a convenience store nearby. He likes to hang around the back of it at night and stare into the distance like a freak. Wait for him, then you can finally meet.”
---One day---
“Arle, he’s a fucking asshole. I don’t need your help anymore. I’m leaving.”
“Stay for the career, why don’t you?” She purred in Childe’s ear. “You’re quite good at it. It’d be a shame if you put the talent to waste.”
He turned his nose up, not interested in the slightest. “I have no reason to stay. I’ve never been particularly in love with making music. Guitar is just a hobby I picked up in case I ever got invited on stage to play during one of the concerts.”
Arlecchino cringed but stayed silent, figuring it wouldn’t do any good to point out how insane that idea was. “You could get his attention another way. Even if you don’t want him, you could get your revenge. Make him regret treating you so badly. He could come crawling back.”
“And what if I don’t want that?”
“You do.”
---One day---
“You’ve been getting closer with Scaramouche.” Arlecchino began. Childe tensed up as he ate his breakfast at the table. Everyone else was playing Cards Against Humanity in Scaramouche’s room. He told them he’d be in after he finished.
“You could say that.” He avoided eye contact. Working with her was a shitty idea. He actually had a chance at building a genuine relationship with Scaramouche, he wasn’t keen on risking that chance by manipulating Scaramouche into liking him using his boss.
“I know you said you didn’t need my help anymore, but it’s there in case you need it.”
“Okay.” He moved his food around with his spoon, appetite turning a little sour.
“You know, it is quite hard to get him to warm up—truly warm up. I wouldn’t risk your one and only chance by relying on luck. You have a resource,” she pointed to herself, “use it.”
Childe thought for a moment. Arlecchino eventually pushed off the kitchen table. “I guess that’s a no.”
“Wait.”
---One day---
“I have a plan.”
Childe quirked an eyebrow in suspicion. “And what will be the result of this plan?”
“Marriage?” She said it like it was obvious and Childe was one huge dumbass for not seeing that. “I get my benefits of course, two very capable young stars… but you should be more worried about your reward.”
Childe was curious. Like an addict swearing to quit and then having one ‘last’ taste, he asked for the details. What Arlecchino told him made his stomach clench uncontrollably. She detailed it perfectly.
First, he would find a way to get Scaramouche into the backyard. Arlecchino suggested that if he didn’t go out himself, Childe could ask him to walk with him and get some fresh air one night, maybe after dinner. Preferably on one of the last nights to avoid Scaramouche uncovering what had happened. Arlecchino would have someone stationed in the garden with a camera, waiting for Childe to ask Scaramouche to kiss him. The picture would be low quality—taken on an iPhone to make it look like a passer-by had accidentally witnessed the event and snapped a picture of it just in time.
Next, Arlecchino would have the photo publicised. Childe would act as the hero and comfort Scaramouche, swearing to catch the perpetrator. Scaramouche would become enamoured by his heroic attitude and naturally feel drawn to him; the rest would unfold nicely from there.
Something about the whole idea seemed fishy. Childe had a bad feeling about it, but he had been convinced. He never liked feeling like a fraud—he was plenty heroic on his own—but he thought that he’d never be able to impress Scaramouche enough for it to get somewhere without help, especially after his true personality proved to be insufficient the night they met. And Childe was one million percent prepared to shove his pride down his throat temporarily to better his future permanently.
“Alright, fine. I’ll do it. But you have to make sure that Scaramouche doesn’t find out.” He looked directly into her fierce eyes with his own ferocity.
“I’ll do what I can,” she sighed.
---present---
“You seem upset.”
Childe seethed at her. “You don’t seem upset enough!” He took out the torn-off cover of a magazine out of his pocket and unfolded it, holding it up for her to see. It was creased but you could still make out the title.
“Teen star and national heartthrob Scaramouche from the hit multi-national band Sweetspice facing Sexual assault claims after kissing his new co-star…”
It was a shitty teen gossip magazine, but gossip was just as damaging to a person’s career as actual facts were in the eyes of a wide audience. Childe had every right to be mad that he had been used to ruin the career of the person he wanted to build a life with.
“So what are you going to do then?” Arlecchino sized him up with the confidence of someone who had already won a fight that was, really, barely beginning. That was what she was planning all along, and Childe just realising it was kind of pathetic.
“This.” He smiled cruelly at her as he took another paper out of his pocket and slammed It on her desk. “My letter of resignation. I’ll see you in hell.”