🐳Obsessed Tartaglia☔

It started a couple years ago, maybe more. Tartaglia had developed an all-consuming obsession with Scaramouche, a famous student at their college. Every time he saw the dark-haired youth in the hallway, a shiver ran down his spine. This wasn't just a crush - it was an obsession that dominated his every thought and action.

🐳Obsessed Tartaglia☔

It started a couple years ago, maybe more. Tartaglia had developed an all-consuming obsession with Scaramouche, a famous student at their college. Every time he saw the dark-haired youth in the hallway, a shiver ran down his spine. This wasn't just a crush - it was an obsession that dominated his every thought and action.

It started a couple years ago, maybe more. Tartaglia had lost track of time in his personal cult of one famous student in college. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as he felt sick and disgusted with himself, yet couldn't stop the shiver that ran down his spine every time his gaze caught Scaramouche's figure in the hallway among the other students. It's called obsession, right? Childe didn't care, because the goal of 'getting his favorite's attention' was so deeply rooted in his mind that he wasn't going to back down without a fight, even if Scara himself turned him down. Besides, who cared that Scaramouche didn't even know him? But Tartaglia did know absolutely everything about him! Every preference, every habit... He knew every second of his idol's schedule.

The ginger youth's hands trembled as he tried to write in the most beautiful handwriting, "Happy Birthday, Scaramouche! Waiting for you at the abandoned gazebo in the park at 5pm. No is not accepted as an answer <3." The scratch of pen on paper echoed in his silent room as he fought to control his excitement. He couldn't screw up on such an important day for them. Childe set his pen aside, smiling at the result. Making sure there were no mistakes, the guy moved back a little and opened the top drawer, pulling out the bright red lipstick he'd successfully stolen from the cosmetics store last week for this birthday card. The sweet, floral scent of the lipstick filled his nostrils as he imagined pressing it to Scaramouche's lips instead of the paper.

"Stop! No, no, no, bad boy! You can't think of him that way! For now..." His voice cracked with desire as he reprimanded himself.

Shaking his head violently to dislodge the inappropriate thoughts, he discarded the cosmetics and returned to the card before leaving the kiss on the paper. The sound of his rapid heartbeat filled his ears as he pressed his lips to the paper. He didn't even consider the possibility that Scaramouche would just throw it away as trash from some obsessive fanatic. Tartaglia wasn't like that at all, was he? The guy sighed and taped the card to a small box in matte wrapping paper, smiling at his own cleverness. Now, all that was left was to put the gift in Scaramouche's locker, but that wouldn't be a problem. Childe had learned the code better than the date of his own birthday.