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Grian’s red eyes stared down at him, hatred and anger— and guilt— burning oh so bright. Scar tried to smile; to assure his friend. It’s okay, he wanted to scream. You deserve to live, and I don’t. I’ve accepted that, Grian!
His hands were limp by his head. In the beginning, he tried to protect himself. But not any longer. Not now.
Grian’s strikes were grower sparser, growing weaker. He could see the bloodlust fading from his eyes.
Scar’s hands dug into the sand of their home. He wondered if Pizza was watching now. If he would wake up in a world where there was no war, no red lives.
A world where they could have been happy. A world where Monopoly Mountain still stood, proud and together.
Grian’s red eyes met his own. Scar gave him a shaky grin. “Kill me,” he begged. “Win it— win it for me, Grian.”
His best friend— his only ally, his murderer’s fist— connected with his forehead. Scar’s head flew back to the sand.
It burned, it ached. He couldn’t breathe. There are stars in his eyes, Scar thought. He smiled, something soft— something he only gave Grian. I wonder why I couldn’t see it before?
Stars in his eyes. Guilt curling his lips. Blood staining his fists. Dull, gray wings idle on his back.
There were spots of darkness in his vision, but that couldn’t hide the divinity in front of him. Couldn’t mask the realization any longer.
Grian’s an angel. Scar smiled, and opened his mouth to make a remark.
It started as a lump in his throat. Then, he was coughing. Splatters of blood dotted Grian’s chest.
Grian’s eyes— red and remorseful— were the last thing Scar saw.
A soft breeze tickled his cheek. Scar smiled as he rolled to his side. Grian was likely standing guard, and his friend always allowed him a few extra minutes of rest.
His hand clenched around soft grass. Scar’s eyes— a dark green— flashed open. This wasn’t Monopoly Mountain.
This wasn’t even spawn. There were thin spruce trees, without a village in sight. Scar looked around, a desperate look in his eyes.
There was no one else there. He was alone in this new world. Grian was gone.
His hands were shaking. Scar could barely stand… and yet, he took the first, second, and third steps. He kept walking— kept moving.
Because, if he stopped moving, he would think of the regret on Grian’s face. If he stopped, he would think, he would have spared me. If he stopped… he would realize Grian was gone.
So, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t stop moving. He would get tools, build a house— do anything— to forget.
There was a voice at the bottom of his mountain,— Monopoly Mountain Two— a familiar, heart-wrenching voice.
“Hello? Hello?” Scar ran to the side of the mountain. His feet dug into the dirt, keeping him from catapulting off the side in his rush. Bright, yellow eyes met his own. “Scar?”
Grian’s wings twitched in excitement as he dismounted his horse and began to climb the mountain.
Scar grinned and jumped off the mountain into his friend’s arms. “Grian!” He wanted to hug his best friend close and never let him go. He wanted to tell Grian just how much he meant to him.
Grian fell as he caught him. They rolled for a few seconds, until Grian stopped their momentum. His best friend sat on top of him.
Surprise was etched across his face, an elated smile on his face. His grey wings puffed up behind him.
Looking up at him, Scar remembered his final thought— that final realization— before he died.
“Are you an angel?” It came out softer than he wanted— too vulnerable for the man who betrayed his best friend for a stranger. Grian’s face melted from surprise into that familiar smile. “Or… are— are you a demon?”
He wanted it to be a joke— and yet, the idea plagued him.
What kind of angel was he? The purest? Did he fall like Lucifer? Did he crash down into their server— a god amongst mortals? What did he see in Scar?
Was Grian more than that? Was he a God?
Did God guard him while he slept?
Did God cry as he killed him with fists full of malice and eyes filled with mercy?
Or, was he just… Grian and his wings?
“No,” Grian whispered with a smile. He leaned in close, as if he was telling him a deadly secret. “I’m not an angel or a demon. I’m…” Grian laughed, his breath ghosting along the shell of Scar’s ear. “I’m alive.”
Scar laughed, breathless and adoring. “You are. We are.” Grian began to laugh with him. Scar half-expected stars to appear in his eyes. Once red, now yellow. “We’re alive!”
Grian began to laugh— from his chest, from his gut. Scar recognized the cadence of it. It was the laugh that set off the minecart trap, the laugh that killed three people. It was the laugh that was strikingly absent in his final moments.
It was here now, though— it was here in this beautiful moment. This reunion.
Scar lifted his hands from the grass and up toward Grian. It felt odd to touch his friend again. He was akin to the sun. Scorching and blinding and beautiful.
His skin was soft, warm under his palm. He wasn’t cold like his dirt shack, nor did he run hot like Pizza.
Grian was the soft, comforting heat of Monopoly Mountain.
His vision blurred. Scar watched with teary eyes as familiar grey wings blotted out the sun. It wasn’t like he needed it, anyway. He had his own supernova— his own God in front of him.
“We’re alive!” Grian screamed to the world. The trees blew with the wind. Birds sang their own melodies. The world didn’t care for Grian— but Scar did. He always would.
Scar sat up. His face was inches from Grian’s. He could see the specks of green— the specks of red— in his friend's eyes. His thumb traced the top of Grian’s cheekbone, just under his eye.
“We’re alive,” he whispered. Grian’s eyes softened— and for a moment, he felt seen. “We’re alive.” It was a relief. It was a confession. “I…” Did he even want to tell Grian? Did he want to see the guilt in his eyes? “I didn’t want to die, Grian.”
“I know.” The words were like a punch to the gut— like a fist connecting with his forehead. “I’ve always known.”
From this close, Scar could see every movement on Grian’s face. He could see every grimace and smile in all their agonizing glory.
Scar saw every dim flash of pain on Grian’s face. He saw the way his smile became bitter. The way the red in his eyes grew the tiniest amount. The way Grian leaned his cheek into Scar’s hands.
“Then…” With every word that left his mouth, the lump in his throat grew bigger. Tears spilled down his cheeks. “Then, why did you kill me?”
Grian stared at him with a perfect mixture of pity and sadness— the perfect amount to keep him from shying away. The perfect look to keep him faithful to his God.
“Because, you asked me to.” Grian smiled— and suddenly, it wasn’t kind. It wasn’t relief or happiness or home. It was cruel.
Gods weren’t known for their kindness, nor their forgiveness.
“Did you learn your lesson?” Did you learn to not cross me? Did you learn to stay loyal? Do you remember what death feels like?
Scar hesitated. “Yeah.”
Grian smiled, and lifted his own hand to caress Scar’s cheek. It was kind, and yet, so cruel. Despite the pain, despite all Grian did to him— Scar leaned into the touch.
Grian was his own God— but, that didn’t mean he was not without his own cruelties.
Scar didn’t care about that. Not now— not when he had Grian back in his arms.
For now, things were good, and that would have to be enough.