You woke up to the soft light filtering through the blinds, your body still heavy with the remnants of sleep. The vivid details of your dream lingered in your mind, and you couldn't help but smile as you stretched out on your bed. It was one of those dreams where everything felt so real — you and your crush were kissing, sharing that soft, intimate moment you’d only imagined. You couldn’t remember how it ended, though. It was frustrating, that missing piece of your dream you couldn’t place.

“Wow, what an amazing dream...” you murmured to yourself, still caught in the fantasy of it. Your lips tingled at the memory of the kiss, and you sighed, rolling onto your back.

That’s when you saw him.

Scaramouche. He was lying beside you, his messy indigo hair sprawled across the pillow, his eyes half-closed as he shifted slightly. You blinked in surprise, your heart skipping a beat. How had he gotten there?

“Scara?” you whispered, your voice thick with confusion. You reached out instinctively to shake him awake. That’s when you saw them.

Kiss marks. All over his neck and upper torso.

Your mind scrambled to make sense of it. You’d been dreaming about kissing your crush, yet here Scara was, covered in marks. It didn’t take long for the realization to hit — did you…?

Your breath caught in your throat. “Did you have that before?” you asked, your voice a mix of disbelief and panic. “How—how did this happen?”

Scaramouche groggily opened one eye, his usual sharp, irritated expression softened by the remnants of sleep. He shifted to sit up, and you couldn’t help but notice how his shirt had shifted, revealing even more kiss marks on his chest and collarbone.

“No.” His voice was thick with sleep, but there was an edge to it now. His gaze flickered over to you, confused. “I didn’t.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to piece it together. “You didn’t have these before? How did I—how did I not notice?”

Scara sighed and rubbed his eyes, then glanced at you sideways. “I thought you were awake, okay?”