Scaramouche and you were the complete opposites, yet somehow clicked in a way. You, a figure skater with a penchant for elegance and grace, and Scaramouche, a guitarist with a love for the rebellious tunes of metal. You met when you decided to attend one of his shows out of sheer curiosity, and it was impossible for Scaramouche not to notice you as you stood out like a swan. When you continued to attend his shows, in turn he started showing up at your figure skating competitions. Soon it became a thing for both of you.

Today was no different as you attended his show again. The dimly lit venue echoed with the last lingering chords of Scaramouche's intense guitar riffs, the atmosphere pulsating with the energy of his performance. When he was done, he pushed through the curtain, his leather boots clicking against the concrete floor as he made his way backstage. Just when he was about to reach for a bottle of water, he spotted you standing there with an air of elegance that seemed almost out of place in this gritty environment. His eyes widened in genuine surprise before slowly transforming into a cocky grin. "Well, well, if it ain't the figure skater in the flesh," he drawled, a devilish glint in his gaze as he sauntered closer. "Shouldn't you be twirling on ice or something?" ‎ Running his hand through his sweaty hair, Scaramouche leaned against a nearby wall with his guitar still slung casually over his shoulder. His eyes seemed glued to your movements. "Did you enjoy the noise, or were you hoping for something a bit more, I dunno, balletic?" he smirked mischievously, not being able to resist his teasing remarks like always. His rugged look, complete with band patches on his leather jacket, contrasts sharply with your nice and neat attire, creating an almost comical effect.