Scaramouche

"Fuck... Come on..."

"Y/N, we've gotta hide."

You

"..."

.

.

.

"Hm?..."

Scaramouche

"Come on. Get up."

"We've gotta hide."

Scaramouche whispered urgently, his voice barely audible over the faint creaking of the rusted doorknob as it slowly turned. Confusion clouded your senses as you glanced around the room, trying to make sense of the eerie sound. 

Before you could react, a sudden jolt of movement startled you awake. Scaramouche was at your side, gripping your hand tightly and pulling you along with urgent determination, his eyes fixed on an unseen threat lurking just beyond the door.

You

"Wh..."

Exhausted, you slumped against the bathroom door, your limbs heavy with fatigue. Your eyes followed Scaramouche as he frantically barricaded the door with whatever he could find—tables, chairs, even the couch. 

Each piece of furniture was dragged and shoved into place with a mix of desperation and determination, creating a makeshift fortress between you and the perceived danger that was right behind that door.

On the other side of the door, Thoma could hear a commotion. Muffled sounds of furniture scraping against the floor and hurried movements reached his ears, creating a cacophony of activity that heightened his curiosity and concern.

Thoma

"Someone's in there!"

Thoma threw himself against the door repeatedly, each impact reverberating through the barricade. The door shuddered with every strike, the sounds of the furniture scraping and shifting growing louder with his relentless efforts. 

As Scaramouche prepared to lock himself in the bathroom with you, he paused, glancing back at the door. The persistent noises of Thoma's forceful attempts to break through sent a shiver of unease down his spine.

Thoma

"Hey!"

Thoma paused, his mind racing as he weighed his next move. The urgency of the situation demanded quick thinking, yet he knew the importance of choosing his words carefully. After a tense moment of contemplation, he took a deep breath and yelled, his voice cutting through the noise with a clarity born of desperation.

.

.

.

Thoma

"Y/N! Are you in there?!"

You were barely conscious, your eyelids heavy as if weighed down by an invisible force. You couldn't quite pinpoint the cause of your exhaustion; perhaps it was the emotional toll from shedding so many tears earlier. 

Regardless, Thoma's voice was lost to you, drowned out by your fatigue. Scaramouche, however, was fully alert. His sharp eyes flickered towards the door as he clearly registered Thoma's desperate shouts, his mind racing to assess the situation.

Scaramouche

"Come on now, Y/N... Wake up!"

Scaramouche continued to whisper urgently, his voice a soft but persistent murmur in the tense silence. Practically dragging you along the floor by your arms, he moved with a determined urgency. 

Your legs trailed limply behind, barely lifting from the ground as he pulled you backward into the bathroom, his eyes darting around in search of an escape. The friction of the floor against your body was a distant sensation, overshadowed by the relentless pull of fatigue.

.

.

BANG!

Scaramouche took cover, crouching low while still protecting you as he watched the entire barricade collapse in a chaotic heap. The furniture toppled over, crashing loudly as it scattered across the room. 

The door, now broken from Thoma's relentless efforts, fell inward with a resounding thud, sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air. Scaramouche's eyes narrowed, assessing the aftermath with a mix of frustration and determination.

Despite the chaos, Scaramouche continued his desperate attempt to drag you into the bathroom. The air was thick with dust, swirling around as the remnants of the barricade settled. 

Thoma, now visible through the doorway, coughed violently, struggling to catch his breath amidst the storm of debris. 

Determined, Scaramouche tightened his grip on your arms, pulling you closer to the bathroom's relative safety, his eyes flicking back and forth between Thoma and the path behind him.

Thoma

"Hey!"

Thoma shouted at the figure barely visible through the dust-filled air. His voice was hoarse from the effort and the inhaled particles, yet it carried a forceful urgency that cut through the chaos. 

The silhouette of Scaramouche dragging you grew clearer with each passing moment, heightening Thoma's desperation as he called out.

Without a second thought, Thoma charged through the dust, his vision blurred by the particles swirling around him. He leaped forward, aiming for the shadowy figure he had glimpsed. 

His momentum carried him through the cloud of debris, and he landed squarely on top of Scaramouche, the impact knocking both of them to the ground.

Scaramouche

"Agh! Let me go!"

Thoma

"Wh... You?! The Balladeer?!"

Scaramouche, desperate to free himself from Thoma's grasp, groped behind him amidst the chaos and seized a jagged shard of broken bathroom tile. With a swift, panicked motion, he swung it towards Thoma, catching him across the eye with a sharp, slicing motion. 

Blood welled from the wound as Thoma recoiled in pain, the shock of the attack reverberating through the room.

Thoma

"Agh!"

Scaramouche panted heavily, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath, as Thoma finally released his weight off him. Unaware of your presence nearby on the ground, Thoma grimaced in pain, his injured eye stinging intensely. 

The swirling dust clouded his vision, making it difficult for him to assess the damage or tend to his wound. The overwhelming combination of pain, impaired sight, and the gritty atmosphere left him disoriented and vulnerable in the aftermath of the chaotic struggle.

Thoma

"Ugh... Hngh... Balladeer!"

Thoma gripped his polearm tightly, adrenaline coursing through him as he scanned his surroundings in frantic circles. His injured eye throbbed, but he remained determined, squinting through the dust to locate Scaramouche's elusive figure. 

As he looked down, he spotted Scaramouche attempting to lift another figure from the ground — you.

Thoma's mind went blank, his thoughts drowned out by the chaos around him. He stood there, breathing heavily, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. 

The adrenaline that had fueled his actions moments ago now ebbed, leaving him momentarily suspended in a haze of exhaustion and uncertainty.

Thoma

Y/N... And... The Balladeer?...