"My apologies for arriving so late," A round woman with her hair tied into a briskly-made ponytail apologized, handing both Scaramouche and Kazuha each a piece of candy as redemption. 

It was a mint-flavored hard candy, what coincidence that Scaramouche hated mint with a burning passion? He rolled his eyes, tucking the candy inside his pocket to throw it out or give it to Childe after. Throwing out the candy in front of the woman's face was, after all, not a pleasant sight to behold. 

Kazuha, popping the mint candy in his mouth, noticed him stuffing the minty sweet into his pocket. 

"Don't like mint?" he asked, the solid candy swishing in his mouth, hitting his teeth frequently making a ticking sound. Scaramouche tensed up at the noise, wondering how people could remain so unaffected despite eating the next closest thing to poison. 

Scaramouche sighed, "Never did, they taste like they're going to burn my mouth." he responded, crossing his arms, "Why do you care?" 

"So that I know what to give and what not to give you as a gift in the future?" Kazuha grinned. Scaramouche gave Kazuha a punch in the face without mercy, leaving a slight pink mark across his right cheek.

"Ouch," Kazuha chucked, "so aggressive for such an elegant figure skater on the ice, don't you think?" he touched his right cheek, covering it with his palm. Peering down at Scaramouche, he smiled. 

Scaramouche scoffed, "Stop looking and smiling at me like that," he put a hand up between him and Kazuha, "it's weird. Plus, I just punched you in the face, aren't you angered?" 

Kazuha let out a laugh, "I should be, but I'm not." removing his eyes off Scaramouche, "I don't see the value in arguing and developing hatred towards something that is not worth my time." 

Scaramouche furrowed his eyebrows at the ostensibly passive comment, shooting a glare at Kazuha. Tracing his glance around Kazuha's silhouette, he scowled. He had never hated anyone so much until right now, so much so he could rip his legs off, ending his figure skating career ever since. He clutched his fists, resisting the urge to slap Kazuha in the face until his perfect skin turns into a pulp of indescribable matter. 

Kazuha noticed Scaramouche staring at him, and gave another hearty smile. 

Scaramouche wanted to rip that mouth right off of his face, he'd be much more beautiful if he was mute. 

A voice interrupted the tension between Scaramouche and Kazuha, signaling them the interview was set up. 

"Mr. Scaramouche, Mr. Kaedehara, please come in! The seats are all wiped and disinfected for you!" The chubby woman grinned, whispering to the cameraman about something before backing away to a reasonable distance. Outside of the camera's view; her voice still clearly heard like a crisp. 

Scaramouche gave Kazuha a push, almost enough to make him topple over. Walking past Kazuha, he tilted his head to signal him to follow along; his expression appalled seeing Kazuha hogging the interviewers' time.

"Seeing as this Olympic event was the first time you two had ever met on camera," the woman began, "what are your impressions on each other so far?" 

Scaramouche gaped his mouth, wanting to spill every little detail he hated about Kazuha before realizing the camera pointing in front of them, ready to capture every slip-up that occurs. 

He swallowed, eyebrows furrowed as he searched far and wide in his memories to find at least one or two things he admired about Kazuha. 

"I think he's a very good figure skater," Kazuha said with a polite smile, "I've always seen him on TV, his skills are absolutely outstanding, and I also think his taste of music is similar to that of mine. I'm very honored to meet him outside of my TV screen, it truly is something once in a lifetime." he laughed lightly, turning his head to look at Scaramouche. 

His tone like a cotton candy dream, Scaramouche glared back at Kazuha. He was indeed a petty little liar, with skill, too. It looked almost real when he talked about Scaramouche with such praise, like he was mesmerized by his fantasies of meeting Scaramouche becoming reality. He tsked lightly, obscure enough to keep the audience from hypothesizing they were in reality on bad terms.

He gaped his mouth, ready to recite the only list of good things he has to say about Kazuha. 

"I think that he is a figure skater with great potential," he remarked, trying his hardest to keep a straight face; ignoring the bile traveling up his esophagus, "being able to participate in the Olympics at such a young age, I admire his persistence. I really look forward to his next free skate program, I believe in his capabilities." 

Scaramouche smiled at the camera. Turning his head over to Kazuha, he smiled once again. To keep their negative relationship a secret to the media.

Kazuha froze, seemingly lost in thought. His mouth slightly hung open, Scaramouche tapped him on the legs, where the camera cannot capture. 

"Thank you for that thoughtful response," The woman smiled, "Next question. Do you think each other would have the opportunity to take back home with them the gold medal?" she kept her eyes glued on the page of her notebook, reading out the question word for word.

Kazuha was first to respond once again, "Yes, definitely. He was a two-time Olympic champion and has broken the figure skating world record countless times, I don't see the reason why he couldn't take back home another gold." Kazuha beamed, "As I had said, I am so very honored to be skating on the same ice he does, I believe he can earn the gold medal easily; despite the unfair voting the judges had cast on him."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Kaedehara. The last part of your response was actually going to be our next question," The woman jested, letting out a string of laughing. 

Kazuha joined in, nodding as he turned his vision towards Scaramouche; who only smiled a little at the reminder. 

"Yes, Mr. Scaramouche, what are your thoughts of Mr. Kaedehara?" The woman asked, sending Scaramouche into another panic.

He didn't what else to talk about Kazuha. He had never seen him other than a few times on TV while he's scrolling through TikToks, nor is he on good terms with the man he was supposed to be speaking good about. 

"Oh, yes... um," Scaramouche stuttered, "I think that he has the latent to become this year's Olympic gold-winner, especially since my points this short program has been so low. He definitely can overtake me and turn out to be the Olympic champion, who knows?" Scaramouche laughed, his insides piercing with jealousy even thinking about the fact that Kazuha could be the one taking home the gold medal that belonged to him, Scaramouche.

Kazuha smiled with his teeth at the positive comment, giving a slight bow to Scaramouche. Scaramouche laughed it off, and the entire interview crew followed up. 

"Thank you once again for your excellent responses," she nodded, "Next question. As may have guessed since I had hinted this question before; What do you think about Scaramouche's scoring this short program?"

Kazuha immediately responded, like he had been bottling his feelings up for days and someone finally twisted open the bottle cap. 

"I think it is unfair," Kazuha furrowed his eyebrows, "His quad axel triple toe loop was the most cleanly executed jump in figure skating history. Unless the judges gave close to no Grades of Execution, it is near impossible that his final mark would be so low. Take mine, for example, my choreography and tricks were nowhere near as perfect as Mr. Scaramouche's, yet they still had given me a higher mark than his. It is simply discriminatory!" 

His volume raising, he covered his mouth and giggled at his loss of modesty; apologizing. 

The woman told him it was all fine, and instead concentrated her attention on Scaramouche, since he was the main focus of this question. 

Scaramouche tsked at Kazuha's response, he was so close to shutting his mouth close with a clothing pin. Whatever Kazuha said was definitely ending up on the trending charts tomorrow.

Scaramouche sighed, "It doesn't really matter to me," he began, "they are just numbers. If numbers are the statistic to describe the status I uphold, it is simply unrealistic. Artistry should not be valued with numbers, rather, it should be felt. I felt my own choreography when I performed to it, I was totally immersed within the sensation. Numbers don't matter anymore, it's the sense of splendor it conveys to the audience that matters."

Kazuha nodded at his response, totally baffled at his careful approach to this question. 

There were a few more questions before they were free to go for the day. The woman told them where they could watch their interview tonight before bidding farewell to them, thanking them for their patience. 

"I'm done with interviewing here," Scaramouche said into his phone, standing outside of the stadium. 

"You are? That's great. You drove there yourself, though." Childe reminded him, confused on why Scaramouche had to call.

"Just telling you, because I'm fucking starving here and I'm not about to sell my stomach to those Olympian foods." He rolled his eyes despite knowing the other wouldn't see his reaction, it was something he did habitually, anyway. 

"Alright," Childe breathed, "you'll have to wait though, my friend and I are at the mall and he wants to try some new drinks that Starbucks just introduced," he mumbled something to his friend, remembering to put his phone away at a fair distance so Scaramouche doesn't eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Fine, I'll wait. Oh, yeah, fetch me some boba tea when you come back, okay?" he compromised, missing the taste of milk tea. 

"Okay, I gotta go now, he's bugging me," Childe whispered something to his friend; barely audible.

"'kay, be back quick or you know the consequences," Scaramouche warned, craving milk tea more than ever. Clicking the hang-up button, he sighed. 

"So you do like milk tea?" A voice crept up from behind, making Scaramouche jolt up from the suddenness. 

Scaramouche whipped his head around, eyes half-lidded. As if he's tired of this, he scratched the back of his head, "So what if I do, Kaedehara?" he grimaced, rolling his eyes. Kazuha was still wearing the same old smile, it made him wonder what his angered expression ever looked like. It would bring a smile to his face to see an irritated Kazuha.

Kazuha beamed, "Alright, I'll remember to buy some next time you come for skating practice!" he giggled, Scaramouche irked at his positive reaction.

Scaramouche exasperated, "I'll remember to never go to the rink. Thanks for reminding me, Kaedehara." 

Whipping his head back, hitting Kazuha's face with hair in the process, he marched towards his car; unlocking the car doors to hop inside the driver's seat.

Watching as the car drove off onto the expansive road once again, he sighed. Swinging his head back lazily, he saw the cloudy weather hanging above him.

Do we have a chance? He thought.

----

Hey guys how yall enjoying this book so far I like it it might be my new favorite aahahhahaa. Of course, Host Bar will remain my undisputed best book for views LMFAO

1880 words