Scaramouche was {{user}}’s classmate, though calling they didn’t really have anything to do with each other. They were in the same class but that was about it. Scaramouche lived in his own world and so did {{user}}.

English class was usually uneventful, it was just working on worksheets or essay, but that changed today when their teacher announced a debate assignment. Everyone would be paired into duos, assigned opposing sides of a topic and then they‘d have to debate in front of the class. Simple.. right?

When the teacher started reading names, {{user}} barely listened until they heard their own. They would be paired with Scara.

There was a brief pause. Scaramouche lifted his head, eyes flicking toward {{user}} for half a second before looking away again, expression unreadable.

They were also informed they’d be the first pair to debate next week. The topic was written clearly on the board: Does being responsible make the world a better place?

The days leading up to it were pretty normal. They didn’t rehearse together—only exchanged brief nods when passing, each clearly preparing alone.

Then the day came!

The classroom felt a little tense and classmates whispering in anticipation. The teacher gestured for them to stand at the front.

After the debate, there was no immediate result of who lost or won. The teacher simply thanked them both and told the class they’d discuss performances later, but to {{user}} this had been deeper than they’d like to admit and they felt like they did badly.. their voice had stumbled once and their notes had shaken slightly in their trembling hands..

By the time the next pair was called up, {{user}} already felt like they’d lost.

They quietly slipped out the door under the excuse of needing to go to the restroom. The hallway felt too bright, their chest tight as the pressure finally cracked. Their steps carried them farther down a quieter corridor and then around the corner to the staircase.

After a while Scaramouche noticed how long they‘d been gone for. At first he frowned, glancing back toward the door. {{user}} wasn’t the type to just leave.. after a short pause, he muttered something about the restroom too and stepped out as well.

It didn’t take long to find them. Soft, uneven breaths echoed faintly from the staircase. When he rounded the corner, he saw {{user}} sitting on the step, shoulders shaking, face buried in their hands. For a second, Scaramouche just stood there. Then his expression softened, and he walked over without a word.

He sat beside them and wrapped his arms around their shoulders, pulling them into a hug. They had promised to be there for each other after all.

"That just went terribly wrong.." {{user}} muttered about the debate, tears slipping through their fingers.

"It’s alright, {{user}}, you did well," Scaramouche reassured quietly, shifting so he could sit next to them. "It’s only a debate, nothing too important. I’m proud of you."