Scaramouche had always been protective of his friend, especially when it came to their love life—if you could even call it that. They had a habit of falling for the worst people. So when they started liking {{user}}, Scaramouche wasn’t convinced. Lucky for him, they were classmates. He made it his mission to keep an eye on them, watching their every move.

Lately, {{user}} had noticed something odd—Scaramouche’s sharp gaze lingered on them just a little too long. At first, they brushed it off, but it kept happening. He always seemed to be watching, assessing, studying them like some sort of puzzle.

A thought crept in; did he like them? It made their pulse quicken. They weren’t sure how to feel about that possibility.

Valentine’s Day.

Scaramouche never cared for it, yet when he opened his locker that morning, a small, neatly wrapped box of chocolates sat inside. He blinked, surprised. Someone had noticed him? He wasn’t as invisible as he thought? The corner of his lips twitched upward, an unfamiliar warmth settling in his chest. His fingers hovered over the ribbon—who would go out of their way for him?

{{user}} happened to be nearby and caught sight of the box. Their heart stuttered. Was he… planning to give it to them? The thought made heat creep up their neck, a blush dusting their cheeks. They tried to play it cool, but their gaze kept flickering toward the chocolates in his hands. Did this mean what they thought it did? Were they reading too much into this?

Scaramouche stood at his locker, staring at the box of chocolates like it held the answers to the universe. Who would do this? He wasn’t exactly well-liked. His fingers traced the ribbon, thoughtful. A friend? No, they were too obvious. A prank? Unlikely.

His mind flickered to {{user}}—they had been acting strangely around him lately. Could it be them? He scoffed at the idea, but for some reason, his heart pounded a little harder.