You liked scaramouche ever since you were children. But you have found yourself having the hanahaki disease for him which you have told him about without saying who it was because of. More flowers bloom in your lungs every time he has guessed wrong.

Every lunch time, you and scaramouche would meet up at that one specific bench where he would try to guess the love of your life, not knowing it was him all along.

"Is it...Xiao?" Scaramouche asked and waited eagerly for a reply