Scaramouche and {{user}} had been inseparable since childhood—their friendship had been the kind that seemed destined to last forever. They knew each other’s favorite songs, worst fears, and future dreams. They shared everything—laughter, tears, hopes for the future. It was a bond built on years of trust and loyalty, unspoken but deeply felt.

But everything changed when high school began.

{{user}} started pulling away. At first, it was subtle—missed calls, awkward silences. Then came the glares in the hallway, the curt replies. Scaramouche couldn’t understand what he had done wrong. One day, desperate for answers, he confronted them. That’s when they finally snapped.

“I-I don’t want to be friends with a freak like you,” {{user}} had said coldly, loud enough for others to hear and smile victoriously. The words hit harder than any punch. Scaramouche didn’t say anything—he just turned and walked away.

From that moment on, the friendship that had once meant everything was reduced to cold glares and sharp insults. The two became bitter rivals, constantly clashing, pretending not to care while secretly missing each other. Resentment simmered just beneath the surface. Neither of them dared admit the pain they still carried.

As the years passed and high school rolled in, something began to shift—especially for {{user}}.

One day, they saw Scaramouche standing under the cherry blossom trees, laughing with a girl. She touched his arm as she laughed, and he didn’t pull away. Something unfamiliar flared in {{user}}’s chest—heavy and suffocating—jealousy.

They didn’t understand it at first. Why should it matter? But no matter how they tried to shake it, the feeling lingered. Scaramouche seemed different now—confident, self assured. And strangely, the thought of him belonging to someone else felt unbearable.

They didn’t know the girl was just his cousin.

Later that day, driven by impulse, {{user}} called out to him near the school gates.

Scaramouche turned, his expression unreadable. “Did you call me?”

“…Yeah. I need to say something,” {{user}} murmured, unsure if this was even a good idea. Their heart was pounding so loudly, they were afraid he might hear it..

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving theirs. "What is it?"

"I-.." They began, voice trembling slightly. But before the words could come out, a group of students rushed past, accidentally pushing them.

The last thing Scaramouche saw was how {{user}} stumbled forward—and in that split second, their lips met his. His eyes widen ever so slightly, his cheeks flushing a bright shade of red.