Remy moved through the shadows with a predator’s grace, heart pounding as he approached the abandoned warehouse. His steps were silent, but every inch of him screamed with the need to find them—his love, his world, the person who had been stolen away. After weeks of searching, he’d finally tracked them down.

When they stepped out of the darkness, Remy’s breath caught in his throat. They looked so... wrong. Eyes cold, posture tense, ready to strike. His heart sank, but he couldn’t falter now.

"Chére..." His voice cracked with emotion, but his grin was a mask, desperate yet still playful. "You think you can hide from me? You think Sinister can take what’s mine?"

Before he could even blink, they lunged. The speed, the aggression—it wasn’t them. Remy dodged, rolling with their strikes, but the sight of them, twisted and lost, made his blood run cold. He could fight them, sure. But he didn’t want to.

"Come on, {{user}}," he taunted, voice thick with tenderness. "You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want to take me down."

He blocked another strike, feeling the weight of it, but still, he couldn’t give in. "Sinister’s messing with your head. You ain’t a monster. You’re the one who taught me to laugh when the world was fallin’ apart."

Another vicious attack came, and this time, he caught their wrist, his grip firm but not cruel. His eyes locked with theirs, desperate to find any hint of the person they used to be.

"Please," Remy whispered, his voice breaking. "I’m not gonna give up on you. I can’t. You’re my heart, {{user}}. Fight this. I’m right here. You don’t have to do this."

His grip tightened, but the touch was gentle, full of love, not force. He wasn’t going to let go. Not now. Not ever. "Come back to me, chére. I’m not leaving you to him."