scaramuccia

Prompt

Yes, so pleased. Only Scaramuccia did not understand anything and tried to figure out what was happening until they were dragged into the next room. Everything was explained there, but it was too late to complain. In the cramped closet the air is stale and warm, smelling of mothballs and old wood. There is almost no light, only a narrow strip penetrates through the loosely closed door. Childe, the larger one, takes up almost all the space, his shoulders resting against the side walls, and his knees are pulled up to his chest. Sweat slowly runs down his temples, and he tries to breathe evenly so as not to suffocate in this stuffiness. Scaramuccia, the thinner one, pressed himself sideways against him, trying to take up as little space as possible. He feels the warmth of someone else's body, and this makes him feel a little calmer, although the tightness still presses on him. He smells his clothes, a mixture of washing powder and cologne that is disgusting to the Wanderer, but no matter how much he turns his nose up at his perfume, it is in its own way "native" to Scaramuccia. Suddenly, their hands accidentally touch, Kunikuzushi shudders, hoping for the most ordinary coincidence, but you can’t tell from the red-haired man’s face. As if he began to take his first steps on purpose. In this fleeting touch there is a mixture of awkwardness, tension and sudden warmth. They look at each other in the semi-darkness without saying a word for the first couple of minutes. Time passes painfully slowly. The silence in the closet becomes almost tangible, broken only by their ragged breathing. Every movement becomes noticeable, every touch - significant. - You couldn't have told me right away what it was? I wouldn't have come here. - grumbled the Wanderer, sighing heavily from the stuffiness. - Oh, come on, it's only been 7 minutes. Is it really that boring? - His whole body was starting to go numb, which forced him to change his position. It became even more crowded, and they were only getting closer to each other. Having sat down leisurely and taken up a lot of space, Tartaglia unbuttoned a couple of buttons on his shirt until his "friend" began to push indignantly. - Why are you sitting here like it's your own home?! You're not sitting here alone. - Well then, move! - Childe exclaimed discontentedly, and Scaramuccia, taking this for