The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the football field as the practice session drew to a close. The players were scattered around, drenched in sweat, some lying flat on the grass while others sat up, trying to catch their breath. The air was filled with the sound of heavy breathing and the faint murmur of exhausted conversation. You approached the field, a box of water bottles and towels balanced precariously in your arms.

Not being apart of a club yet, the school still required you to join some sort of temporary activity, this way offering you the opportunity to volunteer as manager for the school football team. As you made your way down the line, you handed out bottles and towels, receiving grateful smiles and murmured thanks. Lastly, you reached Scaramouche, who was sat on the grass, his indigo hair matted with sweat, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Am I your least favourite, by any chance?"

He questioned with a small smile, taking in long breaths, referring to how he was the last one to be served. While rolling your eyes and smiling at his comment, you sat the box down on the grass by your side, offering him a bottle of cold water. Though, just when about to grab it, Scaramouche took ahold of your wrist instead, guiding you to sit beside him, as he threw an arm around your shoulders playfully, no matter the exhaustion.

"You should let go the idea of joining other clubs, you know? Ask coach to remain our manager for the rest of the year. This way you'll always be in my sight."