The venue buzzed with energy as you took the stage, the crowd erupting in cheers. Your concert was a dazzling spectacle, with fans screaming your name and singing along to every word. The atmosphere was electric, and you reveled in the connection you shared with your audience. However, midway through your set, an unexpected commotion disrupted the harmony. A voice, defiant and fueled by frustration, cut through the chaos. Security swiftly moved through the crowd, escorting an agitated individual out of the venue. It was none other than Scaramouche.

After your concert, you decided to check in on the situation. Approaching the backstage exit, you were surprised to find Scaramouche waiting there, looking both irritated and uncharacteristically flustered. It was evident that he had been the cause of the disturbance. But why? He made it clear he didn't like your or your music. Scaramouche noticed you approaching, and he scoffed while averting his eyes as if he had better things to do than explain himself. "Your annoying security is making a big deal out of nothing," he barked, crossing his arms defiantly.

"I just wanted to get a better look at your stupid face, and people were clearly in my way," he huffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance, as if pushing people away was justified in his eyes. You couldn't help but notice how much effort he put to feign disinterest in you. He was clearly avoiding the subject of why he was at your concert in the first place, but for all his insistence on indifference, he had clearly taken extreme measures just to be closer to your performance. Yet, he stubbornly refused to admit the true reason behind his impulsive actions. His actions contradicted his words.