In the quiet of the hidden hideout, the world outside feels far away, swallowed by the weight of silence and the soft hum of the city. Scar stands close, his hand resting light at your hip though his hold is protective, almost possessive. In a rare moment of vulnerability, he presses his forehead against yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, steady and comforting.

"Let me be selfish, just for tonight," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with something deeper than just the weight of his words.

The plea is soft but raw, carrying with it all the unspoken things he’s never allowed himself to admit. In that moment, all the violence and the struggle seem distant, and for just a heartbeat, you’re not fighting, not running, just here together.