Chapter Text
Grian whispers to you: come to the base
Grian whispers to you: i want to see you
Scar’s blood cools, hands curling tighter around the edges of the communicator. He feels the plastic on his skin, the breath of wind on his face, the wood below his feet, all cast into sharp relief by his slow, unsteady breaths. There is a shift of red in the corner of his eye, and then Pearl is beside him, reading the messages stamped on the screen in glowing letters. She tenses, and, inversely, Scar relaxes. He doesn’t know why.
“You’re not going to go, are you?” Pearl’s eyes are sharp and searching. The red contacts she wears are not quite wide enough to cover her irises, and a ring of still-bright green frames them, startling in the sunlight. She’s offered him an extra pair, but he refused with a lopsided smile.
Pearl seems to take his silence as confirmation. She nods decisively, making a move to pull his communicator from him. “Thought so. I’ll tell him.”
“Wait,” Scar says through numb lips. She pauses, eyebrows rising.
“I– I want to see him.”
Pearl sighs. “You go back to him that easily, huh?” Scar blinks, registering the words.
“No. No. Not like this. Not here.” Maybe not ever, he doesn’t say. Pearl already knows, and besides, it hurts a little too much to say out loud.
“Then why?” Pearl says gently.
“I don’t know,” Scar shrugs helplessly, “but– but you understand, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I do.” Pearl is silent for a moment. “But I’m coming with you.”
Scar doesn’t bother to fight her on this. When Pearl decides something, she is dead-set on it. “Just please don’t kill him. Or let me kill him,” he adds as an afterthought.
She grins wickedly. “Why would I? I’m a perfect mediator!”
—
The Red Velvet Keep shines brightly, a friendly shape that makes Scar want to scream. Pearl has ghosted away into the night, promising to intervene should either Grian or Scar appear to be in danger. He’s sure she’s watching him from a careful perch on a birch tree, and it comforts him. The rest of the server doesn’t know they’re working together yet. They are not ‘soulmates of choice,’ as so many pairs are now. They’re friends, and Scar can’t help but think that bond is stronger than most others.
He inhales sharply as he sees a silhouette at the base of the layered tower, heart stuttering in his chest. His legs keep moving on autopilot, carrying him to the foot of the base.
Grian stands there in the wavering torchlight. His wings drape down his back, primaries brushing the ground. His hair is mussed and streaked with pale gold, souvenirs from his days in the sun. His eyes are green, and wide, and filled with something like hope. He looks like a dream of a life long gone. Scar wants to strangle him, to place his hands around Grian’s throat and press and press until he can feel the aching pressure in his own throat and they both gasp their own, synced, final breaths.
He also really wants to kiss him. Hm. This may be harder than he had originally thought.
“Scar,” Grian breathes, as if it is a prayer, a promise, atonement.
“Grian.” In contrast, Scar’s voice is surprisingly steady, cool and revealing nothing. It crushes the other, just a little, his wings curling tighter to his back.
They stand awkwardly in silence for a moment. Then Grian reaches out.
He takes Scar’s hands in his own, stiff fingers curling around Scar’s matching ones. He doesn’t pull away for a moment, breath catching in his throat, before he remembers himself. He yanks his hands gently out of Grian’s grasp, ignoring the tingle in his fingers.
“What do you want?”
Grian stares down at his hands, holding nothing, before he looks back up at Scar. HIs eyes are brimming with tears.
“I’m sorry,” he says in a whisper, and suddenly he is saying it over and over again, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”
It is the apology Scar has been waiting for, but somehow it is not enough. Somehow, it is not enough. He cannot help the way his hands begin to tremble.
“I’m sorry too,” he chokes out through the rage in his throat. Sorry is not enough. Carefully, he places a hand behind his back, making a signal. Pearl will see it. Eyes like a hawk, that one.
Grian looks up at him, an adoring fervor in his eyes that makes Scar take a step back.
“I want you to come back,” Grian says, measuring his words carefully. “Back home.”
“Why?” Scar’s voice is barely a whisper. It is so tempting, a promise of a home with Grian again. It is so tempting, a promise to see Grian’s back turned, so that Scar can put a sword through his heart.
“I love you,” Grian says with that same fervor, like he’d be willing to do anything for Scar. It’s intoxicating, and Scar’s eyes trace the webbed pattern of veins across Grian’s hands.
Scar wants to kiss him, and Scar wants to kill him, and he can’t decide if they’re so different after all.
“Let’s not be too hasty now.” Pearl’s voice comes from off to the right, and Scar relaxes minutely. She melts out of the dark, crossing to stand between them.
“This isn’t your business, Pearl.” Grian snaps, crossing his arms.
“Oh, but it is!” she replies cheerfully. Unobtrusively, her hand snakes around Scar’s still-trembling wrist, holding him in place. He exchanges a thank-you glance with her.
Grian bristles. “Leave. Us. Alone.”
“She’s staying.” Scar speaks as firmly as he can, and Grian’s eyes flick back up to him in a paroxysm of surprise and betrayal. His eyes catch on their hands in the darkness, but he clearly can’t see that she is holding him back.
“Scar?” It’s soft and weak and makes his heart pound. “Did you– are you–?”
Pearl intuits his meaning quickly. “We’re not soulmates,” she says. “We’re friends.”
“I– wh–” Grian splutters, lost for words.
“And he’s not coming back with you.” Pearl continues firmly.
“Scar?” Grian asks again. His hand comes out again, reaching for Scar in an act of desperate futility.
“You have BigB,” he forces out. “You’ll be fine.” His hands curl and uncurl, and Pearl flashes him a warning look.
Grian stands, lost, mouth open, like the moon has crashed into the earth and brought everything tumbling down around him. All Scar can do is imagine blood on his lips.
“I want you so badly,” Scar whispers, half without meaning to. “But I want to hurt you so badly, too, and I don’t know which one I want more.”
And then he turns, and walks back into the night, Pearl following him, leaving the conversation broken, halting and unfinished.
It would have ended up with them both dead by the time the sun rises.