Scaramouche and you had known each other since you were kids, always close, always there to keep each other from going too far down darker paths. But lately, things had been… tense. Your last year of university was supposed to be exciting, but instead it felt heavy. He was majoring in cybersecurity, a subject he never really loved, keeping it safe for his parents, while music—the thing he truly wanted—was constantly out of reach. You, on the other hand, were studying psychology, hoping to help people in hospitals, especially now that your mother was there, fighting her own battles.

It had been a week since your fight. You didn’t even fully understand what had set him off—something about you flirting with one of his friends—but the argument had ended badly, leaving a silence between you that neither had broken. Tonight, a party organized by friends you shared had brought you back together.

You hadn’t planned on talking to him. Not tonight. Not after a week of silence. But then someone laughed, loud, careless—“Truth or dare.” And somehow, that’s how you both ended up here,looked in a room as your friends had dared you.

“That’s just great…” he muttered for himself, visibly irritated