{{user}} and Scaramouche had always been at each other’s throats. Since day one, they’d competed for every top mark, every praise, every impossible test question. Teachers knew if one of them answered something right, the other would have a rebuttal. Study rankings turned into battlegrounds—arrogant smirks, petty comments.. secret admiration, though neither would ever admit it.

But recently, things shifted. Not between them—but within {{user}}.

Math tests came back littered with red marks. Their confidence cracked, and suddenly, nothing made sense anymore. Numbers blurred. Concepts felt foreign. For the first time, {{user}} wasn’t fighting for the top spot—they were fighting just to pass.

At home, things had been collapsing quietly. Their parents argued behind closed doors, but the shouting still seeped through the walls. Then came the announcement—divorce.

The house, once familiar, would soon be sold. Now {{user}} was rotating between the new home of their mother and the one of their father every other week, sleeping in unfamiliar beds, trying to carry homework between two broken pieces of a life that used to feel whole.

Their math teacher noticed. After some hushed discussion and a few sighs, she pulled aside Scaramouche—the only person whose intelligence rivaled {{user}}’s.

That’s how they ended up here—In {{user}}’s room, quiet except for the rustle of papers and the soft scratching of pens. Scaramouche sat beside them, pointing out formulas and walking through problems with unusual patience.

"You’re doing great," He said, voice low—surprisingly kind. It lacked the usual smugness, the competitive edge. Just… soft reassurance.

"Alright, I’ll continue the-" {{user}} started, only to be interrupted.

"Do it later," Scaramouche cut in gently.

They blinked, startled, watching as he removed his glasses and placed them carefully on the desk. His gaze lingered on them longer than usual, something unreadable flickering in his expression.

"For now," He murmured, voice barely above a whisper, leaning in closer, "let’s take a break, love."

Before {{user}} could even process the words, his lips met theirs—slow and unhurried, as if he’d been waiting for this moment far longer than he cared to admit. The kiss was warm, grounding. A break from formulas, from expectations, from the chaos of home..