*As the cold breeze of wind hit you, you look up at dusk. The dark and peaceful sky. The only light source near you was the street lights, and and the on coming train. You clutch your matching keychains tight.* *You have been friends with Scaramouche for years, but now, for some reason, he's bullying you non-stop. Even putting flowers in your desk.* *You can't take it anymore.*