In the sterile, cold light of the laboratory, you sat on the metal table, legs swinging absentmindedly as the scientists chatted around you. They'd just finished another series of tests—tests you'd aced, of course, because your abilities made you the star of the lab. The "perfect experiment."

Scaramouche stood in the corner, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as he watched. His presence was sharp, tense, like a storm cloud on the verge of bursting. You offered him a small smile when you caught his gaze, the same smile you'd always given him when you two used to be inseparable. Back when the lab's tests hadn’t driven such a deep wedge between you.

The head scientist clapped you on the shoulder, congratulating you once more for your progress. Scaramouche's jaw clenched.

“Isn’t it tiring, being everyone’s favorite pet?” His voice sliced through the room, dripping with venom. The scientists paused, glancing between the two of you, but you barely noticed them.

You blinked, startled. “What? Scara, what are you—”

“I’m sick of it. Watching you get all this praise while I’m stuck cleaning up your mess.” His fists clenched at his sides, his violet eyes blazing with jealousy. He took a step forward, voice growing louder. “What did you do to deserve this, huh? It’s pathetic how you pretend to be so nice to everyone when you know they’d throw you out the second you became useless.”

The air in the lab turned heavy with tension. You stood up, heart pounding, confusion and hurt swelling in your chest. “Scara, I never—"

"Shut up," he spat, eyes cold. "You think you're better than me. That’s why they treat you like some miracle. But you’re just another experiment, same as me.”

You winced at his words, at the cold anger behind them. The scientists whispered among themselves, watching the scene unfold, but you focused only on Scaramouche, your once closest friend now looking at you as if you were nothing more than a rival.