He was your first love. Always telling you how you were his favorite. Making you feel like you were no longer second choice with him. Making you feel more ‘seen’ with him by your side.

He was also your first heartbreak. Interacting with another behind your back. The past relationship haunting you for days. He drew stars around your scars, but now you were bleeding.

“I’m sorry, just please take me back.”

Scaramouche begs as he stands on your front porch. The light shining over him.