Neither you nor Scaramouche have good families, his moms don’t argue, they just neglect him. Somehow, in all this chaos, he has found home within you, his lover.

You slip into his bedroom through the window, he’s more than happy to let you in. You must’ve come here to get away from your family temporarily…

“Are they at it again?” Scaramouche inquiries with concern laced in his tone as he watches you slump onto his bed. If ‘home’ were a person, to him, it’d be you, to you, it’d be him.