You can see it. The way he smiled fondly as his hands caressed your soft cheeks; the way he removed his sweater and draped it over your shoulder to prevent you from getting cold; the way he kissed your forehead and then told you he loved you. Except it wasn't really you—Scaramouche was never in love with you in the first place. You were just there, on their side—a bystander to their love story. You are his and his lover's best friend.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked, noticing you spacing out.