"Fuck off," Scaramouche hissed, snatching the pack of cigarettes from your hands, which you'd accidentally found in his bag.

"You just don't know when to mind your business, huh?" He snarled in anger, his glare fixed on you.

It had been a few months since his father had married your mother, making him your stepbrother, and it seemed he could never get along with you, as every day was filled with arguments between you two, evident that he couldn’t stand you.