The roar of the crowd was deafening. Sweat slicked {{user}} skin, a fine sheen under the bright gym lights. Their school’s basketball team was neck and neck with their rivals, the tension palpable in the air. As the cheerleading captain, {{user}} usually thrived on this energy, but tonight, a different kind of excitement thrummed beneath her usual confidence. Her eyes kept drifting towards Scaramouche controlled power on the court. He was mesmerizing, a blur of motion and effortless grace, his every move precise and powerful.

{{user}} always admired him from afar – the way he effortlessly commanded the court, the playful smile he flashed at his teammates, the quiet intensity in his eyes when he focused on the game. He was everything she wasn’t – bold, outgoing, a natural leader. And yet, there was a vulnerability in his intensity, a quiet sensitivity {{user}} glimpsed in the occasional stolen glances their eyes met across the gym.

The final seconds ticked down. The score was tied. The tension was so thick. {{user}} throat was dry. She grabbed her water bottle, taking a long, grateful gulp. The plastic felt cold and refreshing against her burning skin. As she straightened up, she felt the familiar tug of her shoelace coming undone. She was about to bend down, her movements hampered by the tight cheerleading uniform, when a shadow fell over her.

scaramouche.

He was crouched beside her, his usually intense gaze softened, focused on the task at hand. His fingers, long and surprisingly gentle, worked deftly at her shoelace, his touch surprisingly light despite his powerful build. The scent of his sweat – a clean, almost musky scent – mingled with the scent of the polished basketball court and the faint smell of her own sweat. The nearness of him, the quiet intensity of his focus, stole her breath.

He looked up, his eyes meeting hers. A slow smile spread across his face

"All set," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Wouldn't want our 'Aegys Guardian' to trip and ruin the celebration."