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“No— Scar!” He cried out, the dust and smoke from the explosion settling to reveal a pit in the ground surrounded by stray items. On everyone’s screen hovered the message:
[GoodTimeWithScar was blown up by a creeper].
In a panicked state, he blurted out the first thing on his mind; a failed attempt at an excuse. “It was just a prank!” The admission gained several gasps from the crowd. “I didn’t think it would actually kill him!” He added quickly, raising his hands up in surrender.
“It was just a prank bro.” Bdubs rolled his eyes, jokingly parroting as the others threw together a grave; Grian standing around uncomfortably, eyes unable to look away from the stone mound. The others joined in on laughing, Grian feeling a pit of remorse weighing on his guilty conscience.
From the direction of the village came a tall silhouette, rushing over.. half naked . Grian blushed at the tanned abs (blast scars now scattered throughout his skin, courtesy of Grian), shaking his head to himself. This was no time for such impure thoughts.
Scar leaned down and picked up his fallen materials, flashing Grian, who was just barely looking through curtain fingers, a knowing smile.
“Why are you peeking? Why you peekin’ over here?” Scar grinned nonchalantly, as if his death didn’t just occur, and as if Grian wasn’t the cause. His face grew hot with shame.
Grian grimaced at the thought of what just happened, coaxing Scar into another direction— away from the others. “No, just.. just come here, Scar.” He walked the two of them towards the tree dense area, Scar looking around warily.
“Hey, this is kind of dark and isolated, huh?” The other chuckled nervously, tensing up as Grian pulled his wrist along. Scar was right; it was shady in both definitions. Although the day was young, there was an alarming absence of animals that made it deafeningly quiet besides the various mobs stalking them out behind the natural covers of the forest.
“I’m not going to kill you, Scar.” He sighed, “Let’s just talk, alright? I just want to talk.” The brunette stated cautiously, attentive to the other’s clearly chary emotions.
“..Okay.” He mumbled an affirmation, letting himself be strung along by the smaller one. As they stood at the border of the forest, far enough away from the others, Scar decided to confront him. “So, what’s up?”
Grian nearly looked surprised at the bold inquiry, before staring at the grassy floor, his dirt-stained shoes (that clearly needed some cleaning), anywhere other than at Scar. He shuffled said dirty shoes around, wracking his brain for the problem he wanted to address.
“Uhh, so, you know how I accidentally killed you?” He furrowed his brow, thinking of an adequate solution. “Well, I’m really feeling bad, so I’ll do whatever you want until I drop to a yellow life.”
He was still fidgeting, unsure of his decision. “I’ll be your personal right hand man, basically.”
Scar blinked once, and twice, and then he looked as excited as a child in a candy store. An excited glint shone in his viridescent eyes, the man himself bobbing up and down in unadulterated glee. “So you’ll dig the desert with me?” He smiled, so clearly happy.
Grian rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’ll do whatever you want me to.” He heaved a weary sigh, but the determined look on Scar’s face made his fatigue melt into a fond smile.
“No take backs!” He beamed, practically pulling the two back to the village in order to announce their departure.
“Wait, where are you going?” Etho stared, eyes flitting back and forth between Scar and Grian.
Grian explained his situation to the others briefly before mounting the llama— ‘Pizza’, Scar insisted, with little difficulty. “Well, I’m legally obliged to.. go with him, so.. bye, I guess?” He replied sheepishly, gently petting Pizza’s chalk white fur.
“We’re going to take over the sand biome!” Scar joined in jovially, humming as he shepherded the llama and Grian, sitting cross-legged on it along with a lead.
Grian should have reconsidered before joining hands with a madman. Just what exactly did he get himself into?
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“It’s way too hot, and the desert biome is too large. We could have a monopoly on dark oak instead, Scar.” He sulked from his seat on the llama, elbowing the other’s head.
Grian tugged on the neck of his top, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He nestled his face against the fur, essentially draping himself on the animal. The heat was unbearable .
“What if we did both?” Scar pulled at the reins, shrugging coolly. He truly was persistently pursuing this silly idea, despite the obvious truth. Well, maybe if it were Scar, well.. Grian didn’t know what to expect. He made the impossible possible, a magic man of sorts.
Grian didn’t realize he had zoned out until he snapped out of his pensive stupor, blushing like a pure maiden. And he was staring right at.. Scar. More specifically, his bare chest— Grian hadn’t even noticed that he was shirtless, when did he take it off??
“Like what you see?” Scar winked, causing Grian to immediately turn the other way. He didn’t think his face could even get more flushed, not with the desert heat, but today just felt like blowing away his expectations with the sand and the breezy wind.
“Gods, no , Scar, put your clothes back on!” He grumbled, complaining for the umpteenth time today.
Scar made booing noises of disapproval at the order, but his hands still moved to throw on the tight button-up wordlessly. Suddenly, Scar’s eyes glimmered with elation. “We’re here! The mountain I want to start on.” He pointed at the largest sand peak, already sprinting towards it.
Grian jumped off the llama with grace, giving it a pat on the head before fencing it up at the bottom, giving haste to follow Scar. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Grian asked anxiously, sand to the face was his only reply. The nerve.
The two climbed the sky-high mountain, fingers latching onto the sandstone holds hidden deep between the layers of sand. Grian climbed with ease, eager to catch up to Scar. Just as they reached the summit, the stone he was holding on to broke under his weight, crumbling down to the bottom. “Scar!” He called out, petrified. Which was, in Grian’s humble opinion, a horrible fight or flight response.
“Yeaahh?” The other answered lazily, wearily , seeming to not understand the situation Grian was in.
He stayed swaying, unable to catch himself. His occupied arm trembled, fastening on the hold. He could feel it starting to crack off, dread pooling in his stomach. “Sc—Scar?! Help!” He tried again, shouting louder, uncaring of the desperate tone or the panicked voice crack. He couldn't hear the rushed footsteps over the obscenely loud thumping of his heart. He was going to die, he was going to fall and die and lose his life, oh, he was going to—
The warm hand against his own threw him out of his near death rambling, and he could feel himself being hauled up. He heaved , gasping for air. The tips of his fingers were numb and shaking and thank god . “..rian? Grian!” Scar pinched his cheek, genuine concern present on his face.
Grian’s lips pressed into a thin line, forcing his wobbly body up with Scar’s help. “Thank you.. for saving me. I guess I owe you even more.” He huffed, brushing his near death experience off with the dust and sand on his sweater. Oddly enough, the desert felt cold on his skin, crawling with anxiety.
Scar looked visibly pained, as if he just threw Grian off the mountain cliff, as if he blew Grian up, not vice versa. The scarred man hesitated before wrapping his hands around the smaller body, resting his forehead against the other’s; hugging him like he were the world. Like he deserved the world.
Grian couldn’t understand. He couldn’t, but he reciprocated, feeling his eyes close against the other’s skin. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, pulling him closer.
He was bewildered at the strong response, face reddening for the hundredth time. He nuzzled his face into Scar’s shoulder— he isn’t sure if he could take seeing his expression. “It’s okay,” he mumbled into the fabric, “we really should add stairs, huh?” They both giggled, grinning like idiots.
Scar hummed a confirmation. “Mmm. Hey, look up!” He turned the both of them towards the light, which glowed a dazzling mixture of reds and yellows and oranges, mixing and matching and painting the canvas a vivid kaleidoscopic painting. Flecks of deep violet shied the edges. It was unremitting; timeless.
Grian was barely ever able to just sit down and enjoy the sights, ever moving and working and scheming half to death. He lifted his hand to block the blinding light, leaning into something soft— Scar ? He’d nearly forgotten, how embarrassing!
He pushed his blushing self (he seemed to be doing that very often today) off of the taller, dismissively brushing the dust and sand off his shoulders and trousers. He left Scar to stare appreciatively at the sunset, Grian knocking the copious amounts of sand that trickled out of his shoes.
“Grian.” Scars voice reverberated from his place at the cliff, echoing through the valleys. He perked up, slightly turning his body, one shoeless leg in the air.
“Everything the light touches is ours.” Grian could hear the smile in his voice— the triumph. Don’t get him wrong, he still thought it was ridiculous. He knew it was a stupid idea and that there was no way the two of them could defend it.
Yet still, as they stood atop the sandy landscape, their declaration was only one small step for Monopoly Mountain.
But it was enough for Grian.