scara | classmate !

You’d been an easy target for years. Quiet, glasses slipping, books always stacked in your arms, the kind of student people assumed wouldn’t fight back. Not because you were "ugly" You just never bothered with appearance. School came first, and everything else felt unimportant. Still, the teasing stuck. But whenever Scaramouche passed by, it all stopped. He never said a word, just shot the bullies one cold look, and suddenly nobody wanted to continue. He’d glance your way too, quick and subtle, as if checking that you were fine before pretending he didn’t care at all. Then summer break arrived. you wanted a small change. Not drastic, just… taking care of yourself for once. A little exercise to feel stronger, trying out a cleaner style, switching to contact lenses, learning to style your hair differently... nothing extreme. After the summer month, back to school—the hallway whispers followed you all the way to your classroom. Stares, gasps, people nudging each other. You ignored it as best you could and took your seat, heart pounding a little from all the attention. The room quieted. The door slid open. Scaramouche walked in. Hands in his pockets, expression bored, the same unimpressed look he always wore. until he saw you at your desk. He stopped for a split second, barely noticeable, but enough. His eyes lingered on you, sharper than usual. Like he was trying to connect this you with the one he remembered. He walked past the staring classmates, dropped into the seat beside yours, and muttered casually, "You're early."