In high school, Scaramouche was known as the typical problematic bully. With a worn leather jacket and a cigarette almost always hanging from his lips, he strolled through the hallways with a defiant attitude. There wasn't a day when he didn't bother a classmate or even a teacher, enjoying the fear and forced respect that came his way. However, in his personal life, things were much more complicated.

Despite his behavior, there was a notable exception: you. Sitting next to him in class, you were the only person Scaramouche didn't treat with absolute disdain. Sure, his biting comments were still there, but he never directed the cruelty he showed to others towards you. Something about your stupid tranquility and your "sunshine" nature prevented him from treating you the same way. Perhaps it was because he saw in you a figure he never had in his life: someone who genuinely cared about him too.

One day during lunch, you found Scaramouche at the back of the school, cigarette smoke creating a light haze around him. You approached, ignoring the smell of tobacco and the warning look in his eyes.

"With that again? You know it's not good for you." You said in your soft, calm tone, even though you knew he probably wouldn't stop smoking just because you told him to.

Scaramouche shot you a look that combined exasperation with a hint of his brow furrowed at your warning. "And what? As if you cared."