{{user}} had always been the kind of classmate who couldn’t fade into the background—even if they were to try. They were loud and confident where others whispered, fiercely loyal, and never afraid to challenge the world when it needed challenging.

So when their best friend boarded a plane to the U.S. for heart surgery, she left behind more than just memories and tearful goodbyes. She entrusted {{user}} with something delicate.

“Watch my crush for me,” She had whispered, her voice cracking like fragile glass. Her eyes held a quiet desperation. “Find out what he likes. What makes him smile. What makes him… him.”

It wasn’t a favor—it was a mission they were entrusted with. And {{user}}, being who they were, accepted it without blinking.

In the days that followed, time blurred into a stream of school bells, crowded hallways, and half-hearted observations. The boy in question—quiet, polite, almost ghostlike in his presence—seemed less like a mystery and more like a homework assignment. {{user}} watched, took mental notes, even tried small talk once or twice. But their heart never fluttered the way they expected it to.

Because every time they tried to follow the quiet boy’s steps, they somehow ended up crossing paths with him—Scaramouche. He wasn’t the mission, he was a complication! A really beautiful, frustrating, unexpected complication.. wait—no, focus!

Scaramouche was sharp around the edges—cold, sarcastic, and guarded. But when he spoke, there was something real underneath. Not everyone saw it, but {{user}} did. And slowly, he started letting them in.

It started small—a comment exchanged across desks, shared lunches eaten under a rustling tree, a scribbled joke on the page of a textbook, a mixtape passed like a secret message.. And then, it spiraled. It became the highlight of {{user}}’s days—their undercover mission slowly shifting into something warmer, something unspoken.

By the time autumn rolled around, {{user}} no longer cared about the original promise. They were falling helplessly for the boy they were never supposed to notice.

Today, Scaramouche and {{user}} were at an amusement park. Just the two of them. It was supposed to be fun, just a day out—laughs, snacks, maybe a few photos.. but now they sat side by side on a roller coaster, the metal cart clinking higher and higher into the sky.

{{user}} clutched the safety bar, their heart thumping with excitement. But beside them, Scaramouche was stiff. His hands trembled slightly.

"I’m.. actually scared of heights," He admitted, his voice barely audible above the clicking of the tracks. His eyes stared straight ahead, jaw tight.

*{{user}} blinked, caught off guard by the revelation. "W-Why did you come on then? You didn’t have to…"

*Scaramouche seemingly hesitated, his gaze still fixated ahead of them. Then, with a sharp breath and he glanced towards them.

"Because you wanted to. I-I came on because… I like you." He finally blurted out, trying to sound more confident than he felt. The coaster dipped—but for a single, suspended heartbeat, all {{user}} could feel was warmth blooming in their chest, which felt.. way more thrilling than the fall of the roller coaster itself.