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EIGHT. STANDARDS AND SURMISES.
Soulmates are supposed to be the people you connect to . . . right?
Soulmates are supposed to be the kindest angels on earth molded just right to only fit in your hands.
Soulmates are supposed to be the warmth, the light in a tar-black, bedarkened and weeping sky - in which the thunders rumbled and roared.
They are supposed to be the best thing you've ever encountered . . .
So you rubbed your groggy eyes, to see if what you're seeing is right. You blinked in repetition, to see if everything around you is the reality. You looked at his arm and then at yours.
It is no doubt, it is him.
As if the world came to a standstill in time, his rover blue eyes locked a glance with your wary ones, and there you could feel the first spark igniting in your hearts in the exact, short moment.
There are alot of questions lingering in your mind, alot of doubts brimming upon your heart, but for the first time ever, you were at a loss with words.
And as soon as everything, everyone continues to move, you storm out of the gymnasium with heavy, loud steps - so did the Vice President as well.
Scaramouche peered sightlessly ahead of his way as he walked out of the scene, a lethal dark aura surrounding him. From his eyes, it was visible he's clearly mad from the scornful glare he cast upon everyone who walked past him in the gym.
Meanwhile the girl, who was pestering the Vice President earlier, walked away in embarrassment, for being the sole reason why he stormed out in the first place.
And you - well you felt lost . . . Not knowing what to do. You sat on one of the unoccupied benches in the cafeteria and run a hand through your locks, the pressure and stress gnawing at you slowly.
Why would someone like him be your soulmate? Someone who's difficult, pesky and last but not the least, a great pretender. He usually puts on a facade of him being helpful, caring and compassionate to new people - but those who truly know him have long acknowledged he's strict and sees himself superior above all else.
It's not like you're the complete, polar opposites nor the two of you clicked together in first meeting. You two were in the grey, in between of the two sides. It's highly unlikely to be with someone like him for the rest of your life.
From zoning out, you were caught off guard as Scaramouche grabs ahold of your wrist in an instant, in which you jolt from his touch.
You knit your eyebrows at him, feeling infuriated from remembering he's the one who's responsible for failing you at the Good Manners and Right Conduct class.
"Why are you here?" You spat and he didn't bother looking at you straight in the eyes. He still held onto your wrist with a tight grip. "Come with me." He answers sternly.
Maybe this is the chance to shed light and truth to your questions, so you agreed. You arise from your seat and follow behind his quick steps, wondering where in the hell he'd take you to.
— ˗ˋ ୨ᝰ୧ ˊ˗ —
Finding yourselves surrounded by the ragged, cream colored walls and in between the heaps of broken chairs - Scaramouche brought you to an isolated, abandoned classroom that's usually used for club activities involving crafting and the like.
You gritted your teeth and balled your fists despite confusion and fury brewing deep inside you. Whatever he's planning to do, why here?
He finally decides to break the thick, atmosphere of silence and parts his lips open,
