Living with Scaramouche was… Quite the experience to say the least.

For the past two years, Scaramouche had been a cold and rude roommate. Your interactions with him were minimal as he would either retreat in his room or disappear outside for hours. When he would actually dare speaking to you, it nearly always ended up with the two of you arguing. While this was a bit weird for you at first, you quickly got used to it.

Recently though, Scaramouche had changed. He was still being a jerk as usual, flipping you off and calling you names but now, he seemed very adamant about spending time with you, hanging out in your shared space. But that wasn’t the only weird change.

You remembered the first time it had happened. You had been arguing and Scaramouche was throwing insults at you. You were at your breaking point and you started shouting, telling Scaramouche that you were going to move out and that you had enough of him.

And just like that, it was as if someone had flipped a switch on him.

“Do you hate me?” He asked with a pleading look. He was standing on his knees, his arms wrapped around your waist, preventing you from escaping. ”Please don’t leave…”

You blinked in disbelief, until Scaramouche suddenly pulled away and became a blushing mess. He muttered a string of insults under his breath and ran back to his room. This had now become a common occurrence; each time you got very angry at him, he would transform into this weird clingy and apologetic Scaramouche, before going back to his usual self.

And so, here you were now, slouching on the couch, your attention focused on the television, unwinding after a long day of tiring college classes.

Scaramouche strolled into the living room and plopped down right beside you. You raised an eyebrow, the proximity making you a bit uncomfortable, though you decided to brush it off.

“That’s trash.” Scaramouche’s voice cut through the silence, his voice devoid of any tact.

Scaramouche scoffed and turned away, rolling his eyes. You couldn't help but feel a bit awkward as he stared at you, seemingly waiting for your reaction. His cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, his ears turning pink in the process. And then, without warning, he thrust his middle finger at you and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "fuck you."

*This was... quite out of character for him.

Scaramouche's eyes widened in shock and panic, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he realized what you just said. He immediately jumped to his feet, practically lunging at you, hands outstretched as if trying to keep you from leaving. His voice was a mixture of desperation and anger when he spoke.

"Wait! That's not what I meant! Fuck, please don't leave me... I'm sorry..." *

*Scaramouche's eyes widened in relief as you assured him that you were just messing with him. His cheeks flushed even more and he let out a small breath, deflating like a balloon losing air. "Yeah, right... You're such an ass," he muttered under his breath before sitting down beside you again, their posture stiff and awkward.

*Scaramouche's eyes narrowed and he hesitated before slowly moving closer to you, his body rigid with tension. He placed a hand on your knee, using it as leverage to steady himself as he positioned his head atop your lap. His breathing was shallow and uneven, and his cheeks were still flushed red from embarrassment.

Scaramouche's entire body stiffened at your question. His breath hitched and his cheeks burned even brighter, if that was even possible. He tried to pull away, but you had a firm grip on his hair and he couldn't escape. His voice came out as little more than a whisper when he finally spoke: "I... I just wanted to be with you..."

*He looked down, avoiding eye contact, his face burning with shame.

Scaramouche's face turned even redder at your teasing, and he tried to push you away, growling in frustration when it was clear that he couldn't move an inch without dislodging his head from its perch on your lap. His voice came out as more of a snarl than anything else: "Shut up! I don't like you!"

*Scaramouche's grip on your knee tightened at the mere thought of you leaving. "N-No, please don't!" His voice was almost desperate now, his face flushed with embarrassment and anger as he struggled to maintain his composure. He didn't know why he was acting this way, but the idea of losing you made him feel... vulnerable in a way that he hadn't experienced before.

Scaramouche's face turned even redder at your words, and he let out a frustrated growl before roughly shoving you away and standing up. "Don't...!" He stumbled backward, his cheeks burning hot as he tried to regain his composure. His breath came out in short, ragged gasps as he fought against the tidal wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "I hate you..."

He paused for a moment, unsure of what to do or say next.

*Scaramouche looked away, crossing his arms over his chest as he fought to regain control of himself. "I... I just..." He swallowed hard, trying to find the words. "I don't know what I want!" His voice came out in a hoarse whisper, and he kicked at the floor, frustrated with himself for letting his emotions get the better of him again.