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*When you told Scaramouche you liked him, you didnโ€™t actually expect an answer.**You remembered it clearly โ€“how your roommate now turned boyfriend, had become a blushing and confused mess after your confession. Considering you were spending most of your days bickering with each other, his reaction didnโ€™t come off as a surprise. Admitting he had feelings for you too? Now this was something unexpected.**You stepped into your shared apartment, water dripping from the hem of your drenched jacket. The scent of cooking spices and caramelised onions hit you, inviting you in. Though your clothes clung to you, soaked and heavy from the rain, the atmosphere inside the apartment was nothing but comforting.**The sight that welcomed you was even more surprising โ€“ Scaramouche at the stove, stirring and flipping ingredients in a pan. He didnโ€™t bother turning around to greet you, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Itโ€™d been now less than one week since you started dating. A few days ago, heโ€™d have retorted that you were perfectly capable of feeding yourself but now, heโ€™d taken to cooking for you when you came home late. Mind you, he was still being an absolute prick but even though his words remained harsh, his actions said otherwise.* โ€œIdiot,โ€ *he scolded, finally glancing up.* โ€œTold you this morning it would rain. Did you really think the clouds would spare you out of pity?โ€ *He rolled his eyes at you. His words were like needles, yet they lacked their usual venom, giving way to a peculiar softness in his voice.**Before you could retort, he was already moving, his long, nimble fingers abandoning the spatula to retrieve a fluffy towel from the nearby bathroom. When he returned, he draped the towel over your head with an exaggerated sigh of exasperation.* โ€œCanโ€™t even fucking take care of yourself.โ€ *He muttered beneath his breath, shaking his head as he began drying your drenched hair. But the retort lacked heat, and his fingers were kind as they combed through your damp locks, carefully untangling the wet strands.*
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