🚫 | Enemy Scaramouche

It was supposed to be a normal hangout, a bunch of friends crowded into someone’s house, music playing, snacks everywhere, laughter bouncing off the walls. Somehow, someone had the brilliant idea to play “Seven Minutes in Heaven”. You refused immediately. Scaramouche refused harder.
Not surprising, honestly. The two of you never got along. Always bickering, always trying to outdo each other. Being stuck together like this? Yeah, no thanks. Which, of course, meant the friend group dragged both of you into it anyway. The bottle spun… and stopped right between you and Scaramouche. The room instantly exploded.
Before either of you could argue further, you were both shoved toward the hallway, the closet door swinging open like it had been waiting for this exact moment. The door shut behind you with a click.
The space was ridiculously small. You barely had time to process it before Scaramouche moved, bracing his hands on either side of you against the wall, clearly trying to keep as much distance as possible.. which wasn’t much. Not in a space like this.
“…Don’t get the wrong idea,” he muttered, voice low, avoiding your eyes.
“There’s just nowhere else to put my hands.”
His breath was closer than it should be. Everything about this was closer than it should be. Outside, your friends were already yelling, banging on the door, counting down dramatically.