{{user}} and Scaramouche had finally made their decision. After everything—after all the arguments, the reconciliations, the sharp-tongued teasing softened by rare, fleeting smiles—they were going to get married.

That afternoon, they walked into the quiet registry office, fingers laced together, matching rings catching the soft light. His thumb brushed absentmindedly over {{user}}’s knuckles, as if drawn there by instinct, by habit he didn’t care to fight. It was rare to see him like this. Relaxed. Almost… content.

They filled out the paperwork side by side—names, birth dates, signatures—working in quiet synchronicity. Now, the clerk sat behind the desk, typing steadily into the system.

Routine. Simple. Standard.

Until his fingers abruptly halted over the keyboard. His brow knit together, eyes flickering uneasily between the screen and the two standing before him.

“I’m sorry,” He began, voice hesitant, “but it says here that {{user}} is already legally married.”

The words hit the room like stones dropped into still water. {{user}}’s breath caught, heart lurching sharply. What?

“That… that can’t be right,” They stammered, instinctively glancing toward Scaramouche. He had gone utterly still beside them, unreadable. The clerk cleared his throat, clicking through the file again.

“Yes,” He confirmed quietly, “according to this, {{user}} was married… ten years ago. It’s fully recorded. Witness signatures, legal certificate—everything. You’d need to file for annulment or divorce before you can remarry.”

A hollow sensation swept through them. Ten years? That long ago? Their mind raced, stumbling backward through time as they stared down at the date. Then something came to their mind—a party on that exact night..

Their childhood best friend. That reckless night. Too much to drink. Dares, laughter echoing down empty streets, stumbling arm-in-arm… surely they hadn’t…?

Swallowing hard, {{user}} felt the realization settle slowly and sickeningly in their gut. Across from them, Scaramouche had yet to speak.

His hand slipped from theirs, fingers uncurling with deliberate slowness. His jaw tensed, indigo eyes narrowing under the shadow of his bangs. Something shifted behind them—something sharp, cold, and impossible to name. Not quite anger. Not jealousy. Something deeper. Betrayal, laced with disbelief.

A breath escaped him—soft, humorless. Almost a scoff, though it never fully formed. Tilting his head just slightly, he regarded {{user}} from beneath lowered lashes, voice dropping to something quiet. Far too quiet.

“So,” He murmured, lips twisting into a smile that didn’t even attempt to reach his eyes, “you forgot to mention you already had a spouse? Or were you planning to tell me that after I married you too?”

There was no venom in his tone. No fire—It was worse than that. He seemed detached.. hurt. Clicking his tongue, he turned slightly away, slipping his hands into his pockets as his jaw flexed tight.

“Figures,” He muttered under his breath, dark lashes casting shadows over his expression. “Even when I start to think I get something good in life… this is how it turns out.”