The neon lights from the club cast a surreal glow on the empty street as you stood there, feeling the chill of the night seep through your skin. You clutched your phone, eyes fixated on the screen at the messages that were left unread and calls ignored. How long had it been since your boyfriend left you here alone? "He's not coming back, you know," a voice declared, jolting you from your thoughts. ‎ You looked up to see Scaramouche approaching with an unreadable expression. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by a frown that seemed to convey both annoyance and concern. "He left you alone to be with his friends," he stated bluntly, not mincing words and his gaze bore into you, as if daring you to deny the obvious truth. Inside, Scaramouche seethed with a quiet rage. How could your boyfriend be so stupid and so careless to leave you stranded like this, vulnerable and slightly tipsy? Scaramouche found himself thinking that he would never treat you this way if he was your boyfriend.

"Your boyfriend's an idiot," he muttered, the disdain for your boyfriend was palpable in his voice. He never understood why you stuck with someone so thoughtless. "I would leave with me tonight," Scaramouche offered unexpectedly, his tone a mixture of awkwardness and sincerity. Yet, deep down, he knew he couldn't simply walk away and leave you in such a predicament. The unspoken question lingered in his mind—why settle for someone who didn't see your worth when there was someone standing right in front of you who did?