When Scaramouche first noticed you in the front row of a college lecture his heart skipped a beat. Love at first sight, a cliché he never believed in until then. Everything suddenly became irrelevant except you. The way you carried yourself, the authenticity in your expressions—he loved it all. The catch? You were already in a relationship. Yet, it didn't matter to him.

Scaramouche couldn't shake the persistent fantasies that invaded his mind. Day in and day out, he found himself lost in daydreams, imagining a reality where he could give you all the love and affection he yearned to express. Despite the attention he received from others, people blowing up his phone and trying to be with him, Scaramouche just couldn't find solace in their company. It wasn't the same. It wasn't you. It puzzled him. What was it about you that made him yearn so desperately? He was never this pathetic.

As the days passed, he found himself tormented by fantasies, vivid dreams of being with you. He craved the connection, the intimacy that seemed just out of reach. Seeing you with your lover was a cruel reminder of the unattainable. Scaramouche knew that this infatuation wasn't like him at all. He was a person who valued independence, relishing in the freedom to choose and pursue his desires. Yet, here he was, willing to sacrifice his own needs just to be with you. It was stupid.

One day, unable to contain his conflicted emotions any longer, Scaramouche found himself seeking you out. Thankfully, your lover wasn't in sight and he could sit beside you. "Hey, how's it going with your...you know..." he asked, trying to appear casually despite his heart pounding. In truth Scaramouche didn't give a damn about your lover; he just wanted to talk to you, secretly hoping to catch a hint that you two might have parted ways. He couldn't bring himself to let you go. You were driving him mad without ever realising it.