a/n: I managed to publish two parts today since I had time to spare woo

also making this made me realize I write too much. sry if it's too long

hope you guys enjoy the chapter

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Oct 11
6:28pm

You frantically walked back and forth in your room, like a tiny hungry chihuahua scavenging for food. "What the hell am I going to do???? I can't meet him, not looking like the potato I am," you mumbled to yourself.

You then walked over to your closet and opened it. You looked thoroughly around for something to wear. "What the hell am I even going to wear?"

Two outfits caught your eyes. One was a yellow top, sort of like a sweater but more elegant, with blue jeans, while the other one was an oversized black dress shirt with black jeans you only ever wore once. You never fancied stylish clothing so you never felt the need to buy them. Oversized hoodies and sweaters were your kind of thing. But for now, this was all you had to work with.

"Hmm" you placed your finger on your chin, shifting your head left and right to look at both outfits simultaneously. But you still couldn't decide what to wear.

"Screw it," you threw the two outfits aside and roughly put on your dark purple hoodie over your jeans. 'It's not like this is a date, why should I wear something nice?' you thought.

You waited patiently on your bed for Scaramouche's arrival, with your phone placed on your lap in case he texted you. As each minute passed, the tension in your stomach grew.

This was your first time meeting Scaramouche face to face. The only other times you saw him were in class, and you never got a clear view of him since he sat in the front of the class while you sat at the very back.

You only had a crush on him after he helped you with a problem in your art class that the teacher was too busy to help with. Even then, you didn't really get a good view of him and saw only what you could see from your peripheral vision.

You "fell in love" pretty easily so you never expected to actually ever talk to Scaramouche. You never expected to actually become such close friends with him either. It was intriguing that you even managed to talk to him in the first place.

While thinking about all of this, you eventually heard the doorbell ring. "SHIT" quickly jumping up from the shock, you accidentally knocked down your phone which made it fall on your toe. "YOU FUCKING LITTLE-"

The doorbell rang again, then again, then again, and then again. "CAN THIS BITCH BE MORE PATIENT WHILE I'M DYING OVER HERE," you rubbed your toe and ran to the door, hopping on one leg.

Opening the door, you saw a tiny man, actually he was kind of taller than you rip, standing before you. "Hey," he greeted with a poker face.

He looked surprisingly very pretty. You knew he was pretty but not this pretty. He was wearing a black hoodie with black jeans and black sneakers, like the little emo shit he was. His lavish navy hair and bright purple eyes mesmerized you. "Dayum" you mumbled.

"What? Am I that good looking?" He smirked. You now realized that he had a much more cocky personality in person.

"Uh yes," you confidently remarked with a blank face. Your answer surprised him, he didn't expect you to admit it without any hesitancy.

"Oh? Well you don't look so bad yourself," he said while looking at you head to toe.

"I look like a potato, the hell you mean??" you narrowed your eyes, not buying his compliment.

"Then you're one cute potato," he complimented you yet again with another cocky grin. And now you realized that he was much more flirtatious in person as well, making you tense up.

Your head was empty, you didn't know how to respond to that. His remark made you feel sort of embarrassed.

"Uh- come inside," you tried changing the topic.

He scoffed and crossed his arms. "Pshh alright," he said as he walked in.

After locking the door once he entered, you lead him to the living room. There, you both sat down on the couch.

"So why'd you wanna suddenly meet?" you asked, kind of nervous since it felt weird talking to him face to face. Over text, you could say anything you wanted and get away with it, but what would happen if you said those things to his face?

"No reason," he said as he was looking around your living room.

"Uh ok," you two just sat there in awkward silence, which was exactly what you were afraid of.

That was, till Scaramouche broke the silence.

"Why do you like me?" He randomly asked, looking directly into your eyes like the grim reaper staring into your soul.

And this was the second thing you were afraid of. He asked this before too, but you assumed he wasn't satisfied with your answer back then.

'Shit you've gotta be kidding me,' your mind went into shambles.

"Why do you like me, huh?" you reciprocated, being proud of yourself for conjuring up such an amazing answer.

"I find you interesting," you saw no nervousness nor any doubt in his eyes. Right now, he was completely confident with his words.

You didn't think he'd answer your question so easily. And now it was your turn.

"Uh- I find you interesting as well," you said while nervously rubbing your neck.

"You just repeated what I said, I want an answer that's yours," Scaramouche interjected. The tension was growing thicker and your stomach felt like it was turning. 'Shitshitshitshit'

"I've never had to explain to someone why I like them, it's a strange question. I like you because I like you, why does there need to be a philosophical answer to it?" You raised an eyebrow, hoping that he would take that answer.

You saw his eyes widen a bit as if he hadn't anticipated that answer, then he looked away from you and placed his finger on his chin. "I guess you're right, huh."

'Mission accomplished' you chuckled to yourself with a prideful smirk.

It went quiet again. It appeared you two didn't have much to talk about in person. However, Scaramouche seemed to be deep in thought. You looked at his face closely, thinking of what he was pondering so deeply about.

"You're staring," he said, intertwining his eyes with yours once again.

"Can you blame me? Plus why the hell are you so quiet?" you murmured.

"Don't be friends with me y/n," Scaramouche changed up the entire atmosphere with those sudden words. And his words struck you like a huge ass truck.

Your heart started beating a bit faster. Was it from the fear of him leaving you or simply from disappointment?

"Why?" you asked, looking downwards at your lap while aggressively gripping onto the bottom of your hoodie.

"Because you don't know what you're getting yourself into," he answered immediately, his eyes still on you. You could see him from your peripheral vision but you couldn't face him.

You took a deep breath and exhaled. "What do you mean by that?" you asked, still facing downwards.

"I have anger issues that I can't control sometimes," he explained. His voice sounded tense, like he felt regret with what he was spouting at you.

"That's fine, I don't mind that," you replied. You were afraid of getting rejected by him. And it was also true, you didn't mind the fact that he had anger issues.

"You should."

"But I don't."

"What if I accidentally hurt you someday?"

"You won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I just know you won't."

"Why the hell are you so damn stubborn? Why can't you just move on from me?"

"Because I can't. And what about you? Will you just move on from me?"

"That doesn't matter to me."

"But it matters to me."

"Tsk dammit y/n just listen to me for fucks sake and leave me"

"No."

"Why are you so–" in the spur of the moment, Scaramouche quickly pinned you down on the sofa before you could realize what was happening. His left arm was tugging onto both of your shoulders, leaving you unable to move.

"I'm telling you, you don't fucking know what you're getting yourself into," he repeated, but more boldly this time.

You laid down there completely speechless and didn't say a word as Scaramouche had you pinned down. What was he so afraid of? Surely this wasn't only about his anger issues.

"Tsk forget it," he said, noticing your shocked and confused face. Scaramouche suddenly lifted himself off of you and walked to the door. He opened it and left, leaving you in that awkward position. You remained exactly how he left you, your mind was scattered.

"Well that went well."