Y/n
"..Scaramouche?..." I called out.
I didn't know for sure if it was him... But this familiar feeling of being protected told me that it was.
He stopped walking for a second. He didn't looked back. It was definitely Scara. Why was he hesitating?
Whatever the reason, he kept walking. I had a weird feeling. I didn't know what the feeling was, but it wasn't pleasant. He felt extremely distant. I hated it.
Finally, I started walking home. It was pretty late, at this point. I thought it'd be a nice, refreshing walk... It was at first, but not anymore. My mind was just more crowded with questions. I felt even worse than before. Why was this affecting me so much? Scaramouche was a jerk to me, but, at the same time, would treat me like I was fragile. He didn't hang out with anybody, either. He was alone.
Only then did I realize that I was so intrigued about Scara. I wanted to know more about him. He was a mystery, that I wanted to solve. I wanted these annoying questions to be answered. I couldn't stand them.
I walked home, trapped in my thoughts. I had decided on something. What better way to get questions about a person answered, than answered by that person? I just needed to ask him, but I was nervous. What if he didn't answer me? What if he was a jerk to me? What if this, what if that... I had to ask him. I knew that. Each step I took was another question. So many.
When I finally got to my dorm, I flopped onto my bed, like usual. I just groaned. I needed ease. I sat up straight and without thinking too much I left my dorm. Next thing I know, I was at his door ready to knock on his dorm door. It'd probably be better if he wasn't home yet, because in this state of mind, I might do something embarrassing. I knocked on the door, half tempted to just walk away, but I needed these answers. Scaramouche opened the door, and his eyes widened. Was he just expecting me to avoid him after all of that?
"I'm done with the mixed emotions... I need answers." I managed to say, while maintaining, scary, eye contact.
"You should leave..." Scaramouche replied, weakly.
Scaramouche avoided eye contact. I ignored his words. I was too far into my emotions to stop now.
"Why do you hate me? You started messing with me out of nowhere... Even after I tried to be nice to you." I started again.
This time, he didn't reply.
"Then, right after that, you see that I am uncomfortable, and you help me. And, the worst part is that it works!" Fuck. I was gonna cry, again. "It works, every time... I hate it." I managed to say, as my eyes got teary.
Scara was definitely surprised, but I had to stray my eyes away from his face. I looked at the ground, hoping he wouldn't realize the tears running down my face. He did realize.
"If you really do hate me... Please, don't help me... It gives me false hope that you don't hate me." I said, in a shaky voice.
At this point, he could definitely tell I was crying.
"Don't cr-" Scaramouche said softly, before I cut him off.
"You act so distant. Yet, you act as if though there's a part of you that doesn't hate me. What are you scared of? What would you do if I told you that I want to know more about you? That I want to be closer to you? Would that make you despise me?"
Scara fell silent once more.
At this point, tears were streaming down my face. It wouldn't stop. I looked back up at his face, and Scaramouche had a weird expression. He wanted to say something, but he didn't. His eyes were widened, and felt distant. His position told me that he wasn't planning on slamming the door in my face. He was almost speechless. He just sighed.
Scaramouche grabbed the back of my head and pushed it into his shoulder.
"You should stop saying stuff that you'll be embarrassed over later." Scaramouche said, not caring that all of my tears were being soaked into his hoodie, like a sponge.
I didn't reply. I felt embarrassed by Scaramouche's reaction... and the fact that he was right. I would probably be embarrassed about this later. It almost felt like he was sharing my embarrassment. As much as I appreciate this, it made me cry more. I didn't know why, or if, he hated me. It bugged me. He probably wouldn't answer. He seemed too hesitant. This just gave me more false hope. Surely, if he hated me, he would've just said that. He just showed hesitation, and didn't answer at all.
The next worst part was that I enjoyed crying into his shoulder. His comfort helped me, like nobody else's comfort helped me. It felt so weird. I don't think I hate him. I can't hate him, at this point.
Both of our heads shot up when we saw a flash of light, followed by a gasp. A girl was standing down the hall. It seemed as if though, she took a picture of us so close together. It wasn't just any girl, it was the girl who spread the most gossip at our university. We were the next gossip, surely.
Me and Scara both knew that we would get into some trouble. I shouldn't have come to his dorm.
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