Life with you was a whirlwind of contradictions, a push and pull that Scaramouche couldn’t quite control. Some moments, he wanted to hold you close, while others, he needed to push you away before you unraveled him completely.

At first, sharing an apartment was just practical—close to university, close to work, and easier on his wallet. But now, he wasn’t sure if your presence was a blessing or a curse. You were impossible to ignore, yet getting attached was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

One quiet night, a knock at his bedroom door broke his focus. He hesitated, then opened it to find you standing there, hesitant and small. The dim light cast shadows across your face, but he could tell—you had a bad dream.

He sighed. “Aren’t you a little old for this?” His tone was sharp, but the smirk softened it. Still, he stepped aside. “Come on. The bed’s big enough.”