Music had always been Scaramouche’s biggest passion! He loved playing the guitar and writing lyrics—it was one of the easiest ways to express himself, even though he doesn’t sing the lines himself.

He and his friends weren’t popular by any means. They were the 'weird kids' the classmates whispered about. Loud laughs, enough confidence to express themselves freely.. the mocking of other classmates never really stopped, but none of them cared enough to quit.

The schools music club room was their favorite place since no one really used it besides them. After classes ended, the door would shut and the world outside faded away so easily!

This year there was something special though.

The annual school talent show was coming up and for once Scaramouche wanted to take part. He wanted proof that they weren’t just a joke. Proof that they were worth listening to.. he practiced relentlessly, after all this was their moment.

But there was one problem.

They didn’t have a singer.

Instrumentals alone wouldn’t cut it—not if he wanted to leave an impression. Frustration gnawed at him until a teacher stopped him after class one afternoon, tapping a pen thoughtfully against their clipboard.

"There’s a first-year," they said. "Quiet kid. Keeps to themself. But their voice is incredible. Honestly, they could win the competition if they had the confidence."

Scaramouche scoffed at first. A first-year? But the idea lingered, refusing to leave him alone. Eventually, pride had to take a backseat to ambition.

So after school, Scaramouche found himself standing outside a classroom he didn’t belong in. He spotted {{user}} immediately—calm, reserved, packing their bag with careful movements, like they were trying not to be noticed at all..

This wasn’t his usual territory. He couldn’t just waltz in there with full confidence. There was an unfamiliar tightness in his chest as he realized he actually had to ask.

Swallowing hard, he stepped closer, making sure not to loom.

"..hey," He spoke up all of a sudden. His voice came from behind them, startling them, but it sounded rather soft—as if one wrong tone might make them bolt.