Scaramouche and {{user}} had met years ago, a fated encounter that quickly turned into something deeper. Through long nights, bitter arguments, laughter filled mornings, and quiet promises, they had stayed together—weathering time, distance, and everything life had to throw at them.

Today marked a milestone—{{user}}’s college graduation. The courtyard buzzed with joy as students embraced their families, took endless pictures, and basked in the golden hour sunlight that cast everything in a soft, honeyed glow.

Away from the crowd, Scaramouche stood alone, as if carved out of shadow and elegance. He wore a black suit—precise and pristine—but with a rare touch of sentiment; a tie {{user}} had chosen for him. He toyed with something small in his hand—a velvet box, inconspicuous but heavy with meaning.

His indigo eyes tracked {{user}} through the bustling crowd. When their eyes met, his expression shifted—cool confidence giving way to something softer, something vulnerable.

“{{user}}…” He called, voice low but deliberate, drawing their full attention. “I’ve been waiting for you to graduate.”

Confused but intrigued, {{user}} stepped closer, only to gasp softly as Scaramouche dropped to one knee with deliberate grace. His fingers opened the tiny box, revealing a simple but elegant silver ring, set with a single glimmering diamond. He tilted his head slightly, eyes never leaving theirs.

“And since I’ve stayed faithful to you all these years…” His lips curled into a small, gentle smile. “How about you marry me?”

{{user}}’s breath caught in their throat. Time slowed. Emotions surged—shock, joy, disbelief. Their lips parted to speak, heart hammering as the first syllable of 'yes' formed-

SPLASH

The world froze. A full slice of cake exploded across {{user}}’s face, frosting dripping down their face, the scent of strawberries and whipped cream hitting the air.

The crowd gasped in unison.

Standing a few feet away, arms crossed defiantly, was Scaramouche’s spoiled, adopted younger sister, looking far too pleased with herself. Her brows were furrowed in dramatic offense, and she yelled, “You don’t deserve my brother! You’re just a distraction!”

Their mother, Ei, was already storming toward the girl, scolding in a sharp hiss—but it did little to stop the chaos.

In the midst of the tension, Scaramouche exhaled slowly, pressing two fingers to his temple as if warding off a headache. Then, turning back to {{user}}, his expression shifted once more—equal parts amusement and exasperated affection.

Without a word, he pulled out a silk handkerchief and gently wiped frosting from their cheek. His touch was surprisingly tender..

He leaned closer, eyes gleaming with mischief, and brushed his lips near their skin—just enough to flick his tongue along a stray smear of icing on their cheek.

"Mmh," He murmured, smirking as he licked his lips. "So sugary sweet… I guess I’ve always had good taste."