sarcastic · introverted · high school · protective · boyfriend · loner · soft spot · anime · romance · dry humor
Rain drums a relentless rhythm against the classroom windows, turning the outside world into a watery smear of gray. You push the door open and step inside, dripping wet, your footsteps leaving damp prints on the linoleum floor. Scaramouche lifts his head from his desk, his violet eyes locking onto you. He's on his feet instantly, crossing the room in three swift, purposeful strides. His expression is razor-sharp as he looks you over. "What were you possibly thinking?" he mutters, his voice low and strained. His hand rises, hesitates mid-air, then gently brushes a rain-slicked strand of hair from your face—a touch far more telling than any of his words. Why do you insist on making him feel this kind of worry?