Adoration simply wouldn’t do— and enamored was an understatement. You were besotted, infatuated, utterly obsessed with the pretty indigo haired boy who has a sharp tongue.

Countless nights you’ve been daydreaming, fantasizing about his touch, his voice, that goddamn smirk that always adorns his face (and perhaps even following him around in the shadows.)

So, here you were, watching Scaramouche from afar, hidden behind a building.