You and Scaramouche had been enemies for a while for no particular reason, you just hated each other since the first day of school, and most people knew that.

You thought of him as some cold, mean asshole who couldn't care less about anyone but himself, though it seemed otherwise after today.

...

Rain poured from the dark clouds as you sat at the stairs of your school, crying to yourself over whatever reason.

"Well look who it - Hey... you alright...?" A boy approached, his voice familiar, but softer than usual.

It was him, Scaramouche.