The Rise Of CuteGuy

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Cute guy pov

I was thinking about leaving.

Maybe this whole life wasn’t for me.

The thought had been weighing on me for a while now, gnawing at the edges of my mind like a persistent itch I couldn’t scratch. No matter how hard I tried to settle in, to pretend like I belonged, something always felt off.

So, I sat on the railing of Scar’s office, all the way at the top, letting my legs dangle into the open air. The city stretched out below, its neon lights flickering against the night, but I wasn’t really looking at it. My mind was elsewhere.

The wind tugged at my hair, cold and sharp against my skin. I flexed my fingers against the metal bar beneath me, debating. I could just… slip away. Disappear into the night. No one would really stop me, would they?

I exhaled slowly, my wings tucked tightly against my back, hidden beneath the oversized hoodie I always wore. My antennas twitched slightly under the hood.

Maybe it’d be easier if I just—

A voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Oi, Tweety Bird—what the hell are you doing up there?”

Scar.

I didn’t turn around. Didn’t answer right away. Just kicked my feet a little, watching the city move below.

“…Thinking.”

Scar sighed, the sound heavy. “Thinking about what?”

I hesitated. Then, quietly, “Leaving.”

Silence.

Then, the sound of boots on metal as Scar walked closer. “Leaving, huh?” His voice was lighter than I expected, but there was something sharp underneath it. “And where exactly were you planning on going?”

I shrugged, still not looking at him. “Dunno. Just… somewhere else.”

A pause. Then, suddenly—

Scar’s hand was on my shoulder, tight.

“Not happening, Tweety.”

That got me to finally look at him. His eyes—normally green—still had that unsettling red tint to them from the sunrise. A reminder that he wasn’t just Scar right now. That something was different.

His grip didn’t loosen, and I felt the cold weight of his armored fingers pressing into my shoulder.

He was in full superhero mode. His usual bright, almost playful demeanor was gone, replaced with a more serious, forceful presence. His suit was darker now, more streamlined, with sharp lines that almost glimmered in the dim light of the office. The red in his eyes glowed faintly beneath the shadow of his mask, and his stance was firm, unyielding. He wasn't playing around.

“You are not leaving.” His voice was low, and for a moment, I thought it might be a growl. The red eyes and the intensity of his presence felt like a silent promise that there was no room for argument.

Something in his voice made my stomach twist. I wasn’t sure if it was a threat or a plea. Maybe both. Maybe neither. But it rattled me in a way I hadn’t expected.

I swallowed, but the lump in my throat didn't go away. “…Why not?”

Scar let out a slow breath, like he was trying to contain something under the surface. The smirk that followed was a shadow of his usual grin—nothing warm about it.

“Because I said so.” He said it with finality, the words sharp and decisive. No room for debate. It hit me like a weight, and I tilted my head, trying to piece together what was happening.