runaway scara

You and Scaramouche never got along.

You couldn't stand his rude, arrogant and distant personality and he couldn't stand your attitude. But there was one thing you both had in common, a bad homelife.

It was never spoken about between you, but you both knew. You noticed how on some days, he'd wear hoodies, even in summer, and seem more out of it than usual. He noticed how you would flinch at sudden movements and loud talking.

Not once was it spoken about between you, not even in the banter you two. But you both new.

Until...

Exactly one year ago, you came home from a night out with some friends to find your parents drunk. Your mother was passed out on the couch, but your father seemed agitated. The loud boom of arguing filled your small house as you father yelled and screamed. You yelled back, yet you backed into the corner like a scared cat.

He beat you again, just like always. But this time, it was worse, bruises and blood covered your body, your eye swollen, the pain of the beating lingering through your body. Your father stumbled upstairs like nothing happened.

You were done. you couldn't take this anymore. The moment you heard the bedroom door shut, you bolted to your room, stuffing whatever you could find in your bag. You grabbed a random hoodie, throwing it on and grabbing your bag.

Before anyone could notice, you bolted out the door, the streetlights illuminating the dark summer night. you ran as fast as you could, your ears filled with the sound of the wind blowing past and your heavy panting. You wouldn't stop until you were sure you were safe.

Eventually, you stopped at a gas station text to a busy highway. You lost track of how many blocks you had run. You slumped down on the curb, leaning against the brick wall of the gas station.

Finally, you were alone.

Your eyes drifted towards the car park in front of you. You planned to watch the cars for a while until you gained an idea of where to go next. But you nearly had the life knocked out of you when your eyes met Scaramouche's.

Fuck.

He was smoking out the door of his car his indigo eyes looking at you with slight curiosity before turning away, getting his answer from your swollen eye.

Then it hit you. He was 17 with a family just as bad as yours, where did he get this car from? Your eyes drifted from him to the passenger seat, immediately noticing a bag that looked like it was packed in a rush just like yours.

He had run away too.

Just when you were about to get up and pretend you never saw him here, you heard a sigh, your eyes migrating to his face. He suddenly spoke, his face faced away from yours.

"You need a ride?"

He had a car, and you had no better place to stay. Fuck it.

And so, you ran away with man you swore you held a hatred towards.

---

A year flew by faster than expected. Over the course of twelve months, you found yourself growing closer to Scaramouche. Nights were spent in deep conversation over random things as you ate dinner that was either stolen or scraped together using whatever money you two had. You travelled across states in that rusty car you found out didn't belong to Scaramouche, but instead his sibling who he had stolen the car off. He was an ok driver, but you never quite felt safe, considering he didn't have a licence. Occasionally, you two would sneak into movies, going into whatever theatre and just hoped whatever you got was good. Over that year you finally began to tolerate him... Oh god you weren't falling for him, weren't you?

---

You found out the same day you both ran away was his birthday, January 3rd, so you decided to acknowledge that instead, scrapping together whatever money you could find to buy a small cupcake.

---

"This is stupid."

Scaramouche spoke as you two sat on the floor of the rusty car's boot. The only light was his cigarette lighter that you used to light the single candle on the cake and the single streetlight outside of the random parking lot you parked in.

"Yeah, yeah, you're just saying that because you're salty I turned 18 before you."

You teased lightly, pushing the cupcake towards him as he responded with a click of his tongue.

"Make a wish, I spent good money on it."

You watched his annoyed face illuminated in the subtle light of the streetlight, but you knew he wasn't really irritated. He sighed before blowing out the candle, his eyes lingering on the cupcake.

"What did you wish for?"

You asked.

"Nothing because this is childish."

It was a lie, and you knew it. The way his eyes lingered on the small, yet meaningful cake showed it all.

"Oh, wow so grown now that your finally 18."

You muttered sarcastically.

"At least eat it, I don't want 3 dollars to go to waste."

You looked back up at him, his gaze still on the cupcake.

"I don't want a cupcake; I want a different gift..."

You scoffed under your breath, annoyed at his bratty behaviour.

"How ungrateful."

You sighed, reaching for the cupcake to eat it yourself, even though you didn't like the flavour. Suddenly his voice filled your ears again.

"It... doesn't cost money..."

You looked up at him, confused by his words. Your eyes met his that were adverted away from your gaze, the blush on his cheeks even visible in the dark lighting.

And then you realise what he was asking for.

A smirk fell across your face.

"You know, if you wanted a kiss, you could have just asked instead of waiting a year."

You teased, leaning in slightly.

"Shut up..."

He spoke in defence, the blush still prominent on his pale cheeks. He leaned in, suddenly grabbing you're face and pulling you into a searing kiss under the dim lighting.