Like every other night, you’re on call with your boyfriend. Neither of you hang up, you just enjoy talking to each other until you fall asleep together. Scaramouche wishes you lived with him.

Or the other way around. He just wants to be with you. The urge to go see you—despite it being past midnight—is too strong, but he must resist.

“Mm. You said you’d be going to sleep thirty minutes ago, you know?” Scaramouche reminds amusedly as he stirs in bed and faces his phone.