Chapter Text
Grian. Grian isn't disabled… right? Sure, he can't handle being in social situations, he's easily overwhelmed, almost always anxious, he's too hyper to sleep, he can't interpret tone, he gets headaches when the light level changes too quickly, he feels incredibly sick instead of hungry, his memory is… spotty, but he's perfectly able. Even though most days socializing feels like a chore, even though he's almost always tired, even though he has to leave suddenly because he felt sick from lack of food even though it's only been an hour, even though he gets headaches when someone sleeps and the sun suddenly rises. He's not disabled. He's not wheelchair bound like Scar, he doesn't have vision issues like Iskall, he doesn't struggle to walk some days like Mumbo. He's not disabled. No, he can't be, he's just dramatic, he's fine. Despite his inability to feed himself some days or him forgetting the simplest of things. That's for other people.
It bothers him.
He doesn't. He doesn't fit.
He needs more help than other able Hermits, but…. He's not disabled.
He's stopped talking to the others. No human interaction for a week with the excuse that he's grinding in the mines and working on other things.
He's just been at home.
He's living off of some club crackers, sitting in his bed with his blankets. He hasn't taken his meds in days and his ticks were getting worse. He normally had uncontrollable ticking fits but… these are bad.
Scar's back! He's been off-world dealing with personal stuff and doctors for two weeks but he's finally back! And he's gonna go see his friends!
"Gri? Griannnn? Pesky bird??? Mumbo said to check your base…. Okay, Grian, I'm giving you three seconds so you better be decent! Three…. Two….. one……"
If there's one thing Scar didn't think he'd see today, it's Grian, one of his best friends, laying face down under a pile of blankets on the floor next to his mattress, tear streaks visible in the light.
"Grian? Darlin? Can you wake up for me?"
"S-Scar… uh. Hi Scar."
"Grian, what happened chickadee? You don't seem to be in good shape."
"I- m fine, Scar."
It's silent for a bit, then Scar hears sniffling, and that quickly turns to choked sobs.
"Darlin c'mere, what's wrong, you can tell me…"
"I feel bad… i don't…. I don't fit."
"Whaddya mean by that?"
"I- i need more help to just. Live than the other hermits but I'm not disabled and I just.. there isn't anyone else like me.…"
Scar has known this man for more than two years. He knows Grian has trouble supporting himself. He knows about the sensory issues, he knows about his food issues and headaches and memory problems. He knows about paranoia and anxiety. Yeah. He seems pretty goddamn disabled, even if it isn't physically.
"Grian. Grian you seem pretty unable to me. It's okay to need help. It's okay. You deserve just as much help and accommodation as Mumbo, Iskall and I get, even if you're able bodied. Your struggles are not less than mine or Mumbo's, they're just different, and that's okay. You can do amazin things, I mean- just look at Midnight Alley, you just need some little adjustments and support. It doesn't make you any less than other hermits."
"S-Scar… thanks. Um- im s-sorry for making you worried um-"
"It's nothing Gri. Really. Cmon, I want you to stay with me in the Swaggon for a few days, okay? You're obviously not doing too well."
"Scar- you don't have to-"
"Well I want to, and I will. I'll make sure you're all cleaned up and taken care of, and then, when you feel up to talking to others, we should try and get you some accommodations and a good support system. Mumbo and Iskall would be happy to help, I'm sure. Okay with that, chickadee?"
"Mkay… Thanks Scar."