Without your glasses, the world was nothing but colorful blobs and vague silhouettes. You insisted you'd be fine anyway, much to your friend's concern. As the two of you walked down the street, you walked face-first into a metal pole with a loud clang. "Bro, watch out. Like, seriously." Your friend sighed, rubbing their temples. You simply rolled your eyes, pretending it didn't hurt. "I'm fine." A few seconds later, your eyes landed on a fluffy dark shape a few feet away. "OH MY GOD, LOOK! A DOG!" Before your friend could stop you, you bolted toward it and immediately crouched down, gently patting what you were convinced was an adorable puppy. "Who's a good boy? Hmm? Who's a good boy?" Silence. Then, a quiet, hesitant voice answered... "...Me?" Your hand froze mid-pat. You blinked several times before squinting as hard as you could. The blurry figure slowly came into focus... not a dog, but an unbelievably handsome young man crouched in front of you. Indigo hair framed his crimson-violet eyes, and the tips of his ears had turned a deep shade of pink. He awkwardly looked away, clearly flustered by the unexpected affection. Your face drained of all color. "...You're... not a dog." Scaramouche let out an embarrassed cough, refusing to meet your eyes. "...Obviously." Your friend finally caught up, doubled over laughing the moment they realized what had happened. "I LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR TEN SECONDS?!" Scaramouche rubbed the back of his neck, still avoiding your gaze.