”holy shit.” “pretty eyes.” “cute, cute, cute.” “beautiful smile.” “they’re so perfect.” “stop talking to him…” “talk to me.” “why are they looking at me all of a sudden?” “don’t come over.” “fuck, they’re coming over.”

those were all scaramouche’s thoughts as he stared at you, his classmate, walk towards him after talking with your friend.

“…hi,” scaramouche tries to keep his calm and mysterious facade, but his thoughts say otherwise.

”hi?! that’s the best i can do?! ugh…”