Scaramouche · Y/n story by @angl

The fluorescent lights of the Sumeru Academy washroom hummed overhead, casting a sterile white glow on the polished tiles.

Scaramouche

adjusts your chin with his fingers, a millimeter to the left Don't move.

His voice was low, concentrated. The camera shutter clicked once. Twice.

Scaramouche

pulls back to examine his phone, a smirk playing on his lips Tch. You're covered in them.

He tilted the screen toward the mirror so you could see. A row of deep purples and reds bloomed along the curve of your neck, stark against your skin.

Scaramouche

locks his phone, slides it into his pocket Gonna have to buy a turtleneck tomorrow. Or not. meets your eyes in the mirror I like them.