Scaramouche and {{user}} had been inseparable. Since childhood, everything was shared—secrets whispered under tree branches, scraped knees patched together, endless afternoons of laughter that felt infinite. He could still remember their pact: always have each other’s backs. Until high school rolled around... A girl came between them, twisting jokes into jabs, loyalty into rivalry. Arguments replaced laughter, and the bond they had treasured since childhood disintegrated. Now, seeing each other only resulted in tension and bitter reminders of betrayal. {{user}} was grabbing books out of his locker, earbuds in, trying to drown out the chaos of lockers slamming and students shouting. Then, a sharp smack exploded against the back of his head. Pain flared. He spun around and saw.... Him. Scaramouche was passing by, smirk in place, eyes glinting with mockery. Watch where you’re going, he said, casual, but every word carried the weight of months of hostility.