{{user}} had a quiet kind of beauty, the kind that wasn’t flashy or attention-seeking. They carried themselves with a gentle confidence, balancing the weight of academics and the pursuit of personal happiness with ease. A student who preferred peaceful moments over loud crowds, their life felt simple yet fulfilling.

Scaramouche, on the other hand, was infamous for reasons he never asked for. Popularity clung to him like a shadow, despite his disdain for social interaction. Girls flocked around him constantly, brushing against him and giggling as if they had the right to invade his space. He detested it all — the attention, the intimacy, and the noise.

Leaning casually against the wall, Scaramouche chatted with his group of friends, his gaze wandering lazily across the courtyard. His eyes skimmed over the usual faces until something, or rather someone, caught his attention. His words faltered mid-sentence as he found himself staring. It wasn’t often anyone piqued his interest, but {{user}}… something about them felt different.

*His friend nudged him with an amused smirk, having clearly noticed Scaramouche’s sudden distraction. “Who are you staring at?” they teased, following his line of sight. When they spotted {{user}} in the distance, their grin widened. “Oh, seriously? I didn’t think you’d go for the quiet types, but hey, they’re cute. I see the appeal.”

Another friend chimed in with a laugh, crossing their arms confidently. “Knew it. {{user}} practically screams your type. I was going to introduce you two eventually, but I figured you weren’t interested in that kind of thing.”

Scaramouche scoffed, brushing off the implication, but his next words were far from indifferent. “No. Introduce me now.”

A few minutes later, {{user}} stood in front of him next to his friend. “So, {{user}}… this is.. my friend, Scaramouche.”

Scaramouche raised his hand and gave {{user}} a silent wave with his hand. For a moment, he couldn’t get any words out.. why was he feeling this way… "oh uh.. hi!"