The world didn't come back all at once. It returned in fragments: the rhythmic thud of a heartbeat against your ear, the scent of ozone and expensive spice, and the swaying motion of being carried through the cool night air.

You blinked, your eyelashes brushing against the dark fabric of Scar’s shirt. Your head felt heavy, filled with a pleasant, dizzying static that made the act of thinking feel like wading through honey. You weren't in the alleyway anymore. The sounds of the border town had faded, replaced by the low, haunting hum of the wilderness.

"You're awake," Scar murmured.

His voice didn't have its usual mocking edge. It was low, vibrating through his chest and directly into your cheek. He didn't look down at you, keeping his eyes focused on the path ahead, but his grip on you tightened instinctively.

"Scar..." you slurred, the name tasting like velvet.

You didn't try to pull away. Instead, you did something that made his entire frame go rigid: you shifted closer, burying your face into the crook of his neck and wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders. You were still very drunk, and in this state, the eight years of anger had been completely replaced by an overwhelming, primal need for his warmth.

"Don't put me down," you whispered, your breath hot against his skin. "Stay. Just stay."

Scar let out a sharp, hitching breath. He stumbled slightly, his boots crunching over the dry earth, but he recovered instantly. "I'm not going anywhere, little lamb. I've got you."

"Good," you hummed, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. You began to nuzzle against him, your lips brushing the sensitive skin just below his ear. "I missed this. I missed you being... mine."

A low, guttural sound—halfway between a growl and a groan—escaped Scar's throat. He stopped walking for a moment, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he held you. The resonance sync was no longer just a pulse; it was a roar, a flood of heat and shared emotion that made the air around you shimmer with crimson sparks.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me," he rasped, his eyes glowing with a feral, desperate intensity. "You're drunk, Y/N. You won't even remember saying this tomorrow."

"I will," you insisted, pouting against his neck. You pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes unfocused but filled with a raw, liquid affection. You reached up, cupping his face with your hands, your thumbs tracing the sharp line of his jaw. "I'll remember that you're warm. And that I'm not... lonely... when you're holding me."

Scar’s mask finally crumbled. The Overseer of the Fractucidus, the man who laughed at destruction, looked at you with a vulnerability that was almost painful to witness. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a brief second as if he were memorizing the feel of your palms against his skin.

"Then stay quiet and hold on," he whispered, his voice trembling. "We're almost there. And once we're behind those doors... I'm never letting the world take you back."

The hideout was a forgotten sanctuary carved into the cliffside, shielded by Fractucidus concealment tech. As the heavy stone door ground shut behind them, sealing the world away, Scar finally moved to set you down on a plush, velvet-covered sofa.

But you wouldn't let go.

As your feet touched the floor, your knees buckled from the lingering alcohol, and you used the momentum to pull him down with you. You sprawled back onto the cushions, dragging Scar on top of you, your legs locking around his waist to keep him from pulling away.

"Y/N, stop," Scar choked out, his hands hovering over your shoulders, trying to maintain some shred of distance. "You’re... you're not in your right mind."

You didn't listen. You were chasing the resonance heat, your hands sliding down his back to press him closer. You tilted your head back, exposing your neck, and began to mindlessly rub your cheek against his chest, right where his heart was hammering a frantic rhythm.

"Cold," you whimpered, though you were burning up. You reached up, your fingers fumbling with the high collar of his shirt, tugging at the fabric until your skin could touch his. You let out a soft, satisfied sigh as your palms slid over his bare shoulders, your nails accidentally grazing the sensitive patterns of his resonance mark.

Scar’s breath hitched, a ragged, broken sound. His pupils were so blown they nearly swallowed the red and black of his irises. "Little lamb... I am trying to be a gentleman for once in my miserable life," he growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous, gravelly depth. "If you don't stop touching me like that, I’m going to forget every promise I made to let you sleep this off."

You just hummed happily, your fingers tracing the line of his spine before wandering lower, your body arching up into his as you chased the intoxicating friction of the sync. You let out a small, needy sound and nipped at his jawline, your teeth grazing his skin.

Scar’s resolve snapped. He let out a low, predatory hum and buried his face in your hair, his hands finally coming down to grip your hips with a bruising force.

"Fine," he whispered against your ear, his voice thick with a hunger he could no longer hide. "You want me? You have me."