Scaramouche had someone else who, sadly, wasn't you. You loved him but he didn't. You didn't have an apartment, and you thought being smart would get you far, but you were still at the beginning. You assumed you were contagious and they'd be safer if they ran away from you.

Shit, that's what they did in the end when they saw you kill that girl, one after another of the students at the institution. You needed noise, not that silence that overwhelmed you. You needed the hum of a basement and blood from the cut. You finally ran into him, crying like the last time on the streets of San Francisco... Lately you'd died amidst his messages, which overwhelmed you like nothing, and you just wanted him to love you.

You said, "I'm sorry," and his eyes softened slowly wishing he wouldn't die in your hands like the others as he let you cup his face between them before closing his eyes tightly in fear. "P-Please... Don't hurt me" How beautiful he looked in your eyes.