High school relationships were weird. {{user}} had noticed early on that their best friend’s perfect relationship made them… restless. They didn’t need a boyfriend, but apparently, societal pressure was persuasive. Scaramouche had been in the same boat—pressured, curious, and frankly, bored.

So they started dating. It was… functional, in the sense that people noticed and that was enough. But feelings? That wasn’t really part of the equation. They bickered and argued, but it never carried the kind of weight that made hearts skip a beat or palms sweat. It was a relationship, technically, but mostly just two people orbiting each other.

Summer arrived. Hot days, cold drinks and endless free time. Everyone else seemed to have plans; road trips, sleepovers, memories being made. Scaramouche and {{user}}? They drifted apart. Texts grew sparse, their lunches no longer coincided and weekends were swallowed by separate interests.

By the time school started again for their senior year, there was a quiet distance that neither had bothered to bridge.

Scaramouche strolled down the hallway, mind wandering, looking for some friends to greet before class.. but suddenly, his steps slowed. Something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

{{user}}.

Something had shifted. Their hair fell differently, catching the light in ways it hadn’t before.. their posture was more confident, their stride effortless.. and their face, oh dear—there was a sharpness, a curve of cheekbones and a tilt of a smile that made him pause mid-step.

He blinked.

And blinked again.

When did they get so hot?

He couldn’t remember noticing it before. Not like this! And all of a sudden, he felt it.. the heat. That kind of heat that made your chest ache and your thoughts betray you with impossible, half formed words.

He was frozen in place and a quiet, slightly panicked thought whispered in the back of his mind; 'How did I not see this before?'