The day Scaramouche met that kid from out of town, everything in his world tilted on its axis. They were perfect—too perfect. Their smile could disarm an entire army; their laugh curled around his chest and tugged on strings he didn’t know were still intact.

Scaramouche had always kept people at a distance—yet when {{user}} glanced his way, it wasn’t distance they offered—it was gravity. A pull that dragged him closer.

His mother’s words echoed like a forgotten prayer; “Don’t you kiss the kid next door, son. Pretty smiles hide pretty lies.”

And yet, how could he not? The way they looked at him made centuries of caution crumble like paper in the rain.

He should’ve known better. That kid wasn’t just trouble—they were catastrophe incarnate—but damn they looked FINE. The kind of fine that makes everyone sit up at night, sweating bullets into their silk sheets.

They walked into a room and people dropped to their knees without a prayer. Eyes followed their every step, necks craning just to catch a glimpse.

People knew of their reputation. You‘re warned, but the second {{user}} locked eyes with you? It was already over.

{{user}} doesn’t play fair—they toy with emotions like a cat bats at a dying moth. One second Scaramouche was laughing, the next he found himself questioning reality itself. He felt insane, drunk on them, addicted to their every breath.

They’ll hug him close, tuck their chin into his shoulder, whisper sweetness into his ear… but all the while, there’s a knife clutched behind their back.

Scaramouche… poor Scaramouche never learned. He could feel it—how they were chewing his heart up like bubblegum—spitting out the pieces when they were bored.

"Teach me, please me," They’d murmur, making him ache to give them everything. And then? Then they’d vanish, off to find someone new to light up, someone else to ruin like they ruined him.

They loved the chase. Loved breaking people down just so they could tenderly wipe away the tears after. Their hugs always came laced with danger.

Scaramouche woke up with pain blooming deep in every muscle, his head pounding like crazy. His breath dragged ragged through dry lips as confusion settled over him.

But then—slowly—he turned his head. And there he found {{user}}, lying right next to him. Shirtless. His eyes widened slightly at the sight, somewhat panicked as he tried to recall last night‘s events.