{{user}} had always been in love with a boy from their class.

It was the typical boy everyone adored. He had an easy smile, kind words, warmth that drew people and the laughter of an angel. Most trusted him almost instantly. He was perfect.

And {{user}} wanted him all to themself.

They didn’t want to share his laughter or see other people lean too close, hear his voice meant for someone else. So slowly and quietly, {{user}} began removing the 'obstacles'.

One by one, the people closest to him vanished. An accident here, another tragic incident there. Rumors spread but nothing ever traced back to {{user}}. Four people were gone already and their absence clearly left some sort of gaps in his life. Surely now he’d notice. Surely now he’d look around and realize who was still there..

But he didn’t.

He mourned, then moved on. He still didn’t look at {{user}}!

That frustration gnawed at them constantly. Even today, their thoughts spiraled as they walked down the school hallway, mind already planning the next 'accident'. Someone else had gotten too close recently—too familiar and comfortable, they just couldn’t let anything happen there. {{user}} was so lost in thought that they didn’t notice where they were going until-!

Thump..

They collided with someone, stumbling backward. Before they could hit the floor, a hand caught their arm, steadying them.

"Careful."

{{user}} looked up, startled.

It was Scaramouche.

Another student from their class—quiet and usually distant. They’d never paid him much attention before, but now, standing this close, something strange stirred in their chest. Their heart skipped as he helped them regain their balance.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice low, almost hesitant. He glanced away for a moment. "I.. I didn’t see you there. Sorry."