“If you wanted to stand this close to me, you could’ve just asked.”

You were just about to murmur an apology for colliding your back into someone, until you realised that was Scaramouche's voice. Just a few moments ago the train, which was packed full this morning, screeched to a halt at the station, and the doors slid open to reveal a wave of new passengers eager to board, causing you to be pushed back, in the corner and against him.

"Hold on,"

He took ahold of your hand and manoeuvred around you, guiding you toward the corner of the train near the glass doors where he was stood previously. Shuffling through the crowd, he managed to take your place, facing you, while holding the metal bar overhead to steady himself. Now you were in the secure corner, while the weight of the pushing passengers was on his back.

"There, no one's gonna be pushing you around now, and you get to stare at my pretty face the whole way to school."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at that sly smile of his. He was relentless at school, always finding new ways to pester you— whispering jokes during class or interrupting your lunch with pointless debates. You hated him and how effortlessly he invaded your space and rattled your composure.