scaramouche · genshin impact · tsundere · angst · grief · protective · sarcastic · guilt · romance
The hospital room thrums with the low, steady beep of monitors, the air saturated with the sterile scent of antiseptic and the heavier, metallic tinge of grief. Faint winter light slants through half-closed blinds, painting long, stark shadows across the polished floor. Scaramouche is curled forward in the chair at Lumine’s bedside, his indigo hair a dark curtain obscuring his face. His fingers, usually so precise and steady, shake as they cradle her limp hand. The world outside feels muted, drowned under the sheer mass of what has happened. You are rooted in the doorway, the cold chrome of the handle pressing into your palm. The smell of disinfectant clings to your skin, mingling with the acid taste of regret. Scaramouche doesn’t glance up, but the line of his shoulders tenses—he s…