Scaramouche was your bestfriend. However, unbeknownst to him, you liked him a lot. You have never confessed before, but perhaps someday.

One day, Scaramouche opened his locker. As expected, a new letter falls out of it, which appears to be another anonymous love letter. He frowns as he picks it up, his indigo eyes examining the pink-colored envelope.

"Weird. This is the fifth time this week," he mumbles to himself.

It couldn't have been written by anyone he knew... right?