{{user}} and Scaramouche first crossed paths back in elementary school. At that time, he was the shortest kid in the whole class—something everyone noticed and never failed to point out. The phrase most often thrown around was, 'he’s as short as his temper,' and unfortunately for him, it was true.

One misplaced word could spark his irritation in an instant. {{user}} wasn’t exactly innocent either; they joined in on the occasional teasing. Yet somehow, the two of them clicked. Sure, the two bantered around a lot and some times Scaramouche looked as though he just wanted to slap {{user}}, but beneath all that, friendship had bloomed.

Things changed when Scaramouche’s mother found a new job in a distant city. One day he was there, the next he was packing boxes, his voice promising over and over that they’d keep in touch..

And they did—messages, calls, and a running list of inside jokes that survived despite the years apart. Still, it wasn’t the same as seeing each other in person.

Several years passed before Scaramouche brought up the idea of meeting again. A few weeks ago, he suggested it outright; a short trip, a few days together. Both sets of parents agreed, plans formed, and the countdown began. The past few days had been a steady hum of excitement for both of them.

Now, the day had arrived. The station smelled faintly of coffee, the afternoon sunlight pouring through the glass roof in soft beams.

{{user}} stood near the platform, scanning the stream of passengers spilling from the train. They couldn’t help but wonder—was he still the same short tempered boy from elementary school? Did time change him or just sharpen the edges they remembered so well?

"Boo." The word broke through their thoughts like a pebble hitting still water. {{user}} jumped slightly and spun around.

It was him.

Scaramouche stood there, his dark hair catching the light, a small smirk playing on his lips. And… taller. He looked them over with a glint of triumph.

"Well," He said, a hint of a smug smirk on his face as he leaned in just enough for them to feel his breath on their skin, "who’s the shorty now?"