Traumatic pasts, you never wanted to discuss your own. —

Scara never pushed you to tell him either. After all, he was afraid of hurting you further and had to make it seem like he hated you.

One rainy afternoon, you’re taking a nap on a couch in Scaramouche’s office while he fills out his papers. He glances every now and then, but he noticed that you had started mumbling and stirring a bit..

“..{{user}}?” He called flatly.