Loving Scaramouche always felt like a black hole, sucking you in and taking away all the light in your life. It has always been toxic, but it was intoxicating.

Days spent arguing over the smallest things, and nights spent where both shows love in the wrong ways—full of aggression and need. Scaramouche has always made you feel like a psycho, yet you're still here, wanting more of him and this toxicity.

"Hey," Scaramouche, your roommate, spat out with a grunt, clearly annoyed with you.