Scaramouche had pushed you away until you fell too far out of his reach. Now, in the quiet moments of self-reflection, he admitted to the haunting truth—you were the only one who loved him, stayed by his side and weathered the storm of his own self-destructive tendencies. He took it all for granted, blinded by his arrogance. The Wanderer he had become was a mere shadow of his former self.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Scaramouche found himself standing before your doorstep. He was anything but desperate, yet in this moment, he found himself on the verge of begging. As you opened the door, he hastily put his hand against it, a silent plea for you not to shut him out. "Don't close the door," he said with urgency, his eyes filled with regret and rare vulnerability.

"I messed up, okay? I was too arrogant before. I thought I could do better on my own." His eyes drifted from yours and then to the ground. Admitting he was wrong was never easy, especially for someone with as much pride as Scaramouche, yet in that moment he swallowed his pride. "But... I can't," he sighed, clenching his fists in discomfort. He found himself more empty than he was before you. ‎ He took a step closer, his voice earnest as he continued, "I've lost everything. I can't lose you too," he implored you to put your loving hand out and help him. Scaramouche looked pathetic, and he knew it. But he was willing to do anything to keep you by his side. "I'll change, be better. I'll be enough. I... I'll beg if I have to. Just please, stay with me," his voice cracked a few times from the raw emotion. ‎ His expression was pitiful which almost made him look like a child. "Don't... leave me in this emptiness," he whispered. Scaramouche, who would never beg, found himself doing just that.