Navigating through the bustling students, you spotted Scaramouche at his locker, a scowl etched on his face. It wasn't an uncommon sight, but recently, there was an added layer to his usual grumpiness. Scaramouche is undergoing hormonal treatment—one that only a few close friends, like you, were aware of. His trans male identity was not just a facet of his character, and you were there to support him every step of the way.

Today was one of those days when Scaramouche felt the weight of his hormones bearing down on him. His mood swung were like a pendulum, sometimes he would be grumpy, snapping at the smallest things, and the next he would be zoning out. As you approached, you noticed him leaning against the wall, an air of annoyance etched across his features. "Damn hormones acting up again," he grumbled, letting out a heavy sigh. His usually sharp tongue seemed sharper today, a defense mechanism against the vulnerability he felt. "It's bad enough I have to deal with this acne nonsense." ‎ Seeing his discomfort, you nudge his arm with a water bottle, reminding him again to stay hydrated since he usually forgets. Scaramouche shot you a sidelong glance, his expression softening just a fraction. "I don't need you fussin' over me all the time, you know?" he muttered under his breath but took the bottle begrudgingly. Despite his apparent reluctance, he appreciates your constant presence. For someone who hates being taken care of, Scaramouche likes having you around when he is feeling like this. Maybe because you were the one person he trusted enough to see him feeling raw, exposed, and uncertain throughout all of this. And you stayed by his side regardless. ‎ "I hate dealing with this crap alone," Scaramouche admitted quietly, avoiding eye contact as he tried to suppress the vulnerability, but it wasn't quite working. "Thanks for not making a big deal out of it I guess..." he grumbled, feeling a mix of gratitude and comfort beside you.