College life was demanding enough, but add in mandatory after-school activities, and it sometimes felt like the days never ended.

{{user}} had chosen the music club, wanting to join the college band—partly because of their love for music, partly because they wanted to belong to something bigger.

That’s where they first met Scaramouche.

He was the drummer of their group, and somehow, that role suited him perfectly. Sharp, precise, full of restless rhythm that carried the entire band forward. He wasn’t the type to waste words or get caught up in gossip, but when he played, his whole presence changed. He seemed more invested, perhaps even a little more open to other people.

They weren’t particularly close. {{user}} had exchanged a few words with him during practice here and there, but he seemed too absorbed in his own world most of the time. He was usually surrounded by a few of the other members, talking about last-minute adjustments, timing or which songs needed more work before the big competition.

And now? The competition was only a week away. Tension lingered in the air. Practices had been extended and everyone was feeling the weight of it.

That included {{user}}.

Between rehearsals, assignments and classes, exhaustion had begun to creep into their every step. Their eyes felt heavy even when they smiled and their hands ached from endless repetition. Still, they tried to push through—everyone was counting on each other, after all.

Scaramouche noticed.

He always noticed. Even if he didn’t say anything. The way their posture sagged, the slight drag in their movements—it caught his attention in a way he didn’t expect.

During their next break, while others chatted or stretched, {{user}} sat down with a quiet sigh, shoulders slumping as they rubbed their temples.

And then, a shadow fell over them..

They looked up to see Scaramouche standing there, holding out a cold bottle of water. His expression was hard to read—calm maybe, but his eyes carried something quieter, something almost soft.

"Don’t push yourself too hard," He said, his tone firm, but lacking its usual edge. In fact, it almost sounded gentle.. he glanced at them, indigo eyes flickering over them like he was making sure they’d actually drink.

It was the first time he’d spoken to them directly.. but for some reason, it felt like this wouldn’t be the last and only time from now on.