Work Text:
“You’re kind of oblivious, you know?” Grian doesn’t turn, continuing to work on his wall. He feels Scar’s silence rather than hears it. His heart– their heart, really– beats, the magic of the bond humming through his veins. Now it flares to a near-fever pitch.
Grian wishes he understood what it means. He’s seen some of the other pairs, the way they seem to speak without words, short glances and the brush of a hand over a shoulder, leaving Grian a mute, blind outsider– and he craves it, that casual intimacy, that complete and utter understanding.
Now he stands with his back to Scar– his soulmate– and he feels nothing.
That’s not strictly true. Of course he feels something, if the shade of red he turns every time Scar sets eyes on him is anything to go off of.
But nothing comes back. He’s not sure if Scar has looked at him once since the moment in the jungle, when Grian forced him to. All he has is the magic that whispers and sings in a language Grian cannot understand, and that he so desperately wants to.
“I mean,” he continues, a bitter-tinged laugh creeping up from the dark parts of his heart, “it took you days to realize. It’s just funny.”
It’s not his fault. Why is Grian taking out his own insecurities on Scar? It’s his own damned fault if Scar doesn’t love him. Scar doesn’t deserve a soulmate that is bitter and grasping and stuck in the past. What they had is long gone, and why can’t Grian just get over it?
“I’m sorry,” Scar says, and it’s small and soft and hopeless, and it makes Grian’s heart drop like a stone in his chest.
“No, I– That wasn’t– I shouldn’t have said that.” Grian sets down his tools and buries his face in his hands for a second, before turning to face him.
Scar sits cross-legged on the ground, fiddling with torn-up bits of grass. He doesn’t meet Grian’s eyes.
“It’s alright, Grian.” The hum of magic has stilled to near-silence, and Grian only catches bits and pieces. “You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings.”
What? If anything, the situation is the opposite. Scar shouldn’t have to be uncomfortable, shouldn’t have to indulge Grian’s pining for a life that was left in the desert. He opens his mouth to speak, but Scar is already continuing.
“I know you’re probably annoyed, after all,” Scar laughs self-deprecatingly, “you have to drag around the deadweight of the server for the rest of this season. It’s not something I would wish on my greatest enemy.”
“Scar– that’s not–”
“Please don’t lie.”
“I’m not lying!” Grian blurts, wings fanning out from his sides. The bright feathers in the light cause Scar to glance up, but he fixes his gaze on the ground again just as quickly, and it makes Grian’s chest clench with anger and panic and sadness.
“Then what–”
“Why won’t you just look at me!” It’s dragged out of him in a burst of rage, and his wings flare again, green and black shining with hints of blue in the sunlight.
It fades as quickly as it came, and he’s overcome with guilt. It’s not Scar’s fault. Grian keeps hanging on and lashing out at anyone who tries to come near.
He lets his wings drop. “I’m sorry.” I just miss the way you used to look at me.
He doesn’t realize he’s said it out loud until Scar says, “Like what?” so softly.
“In the desert. Like– like you knew me,” he struggles out, and Scar’s fidgeting stops.
“I can’t go back to the desert, Grian.” Grian flinches back, remembering blood on his knuckles and sand in his mouth, the sickening crack that bone makes when it snaps.
“I know. I– I can’t either.”
“Then I don’t know what you want, Grian.” Grian sits down carefully. He buries his face in his hands. What does he want?
I just want you to love me again.
“I want to know if this is all some sort of cosmic joke.” he says instead, muffled through his fingers.
“I– I don’t understand.”
“This.” Grian raises his head and gestures around. “It feels like it was made as a reminder for me, and it’s like I can’t forget.” The soulmates. The bonds. His own and Scar’s, broken, stuttering, both afraid to look each other in the eye, like a reversal of Third Life.
“Forget what?” Scar’s voice is hesitant, and Grian hesitates too, bond humming through his veins. Will this sever it? Can it be severed?
“Void, Scar. It’s you. It’s always you.” His shoulders shake, and Grian’s not sure if he’s laughing or crying. Probably the latter, as he feels a warm drop roll down his face. Now he’s the one who averts his eyes, preparing for it to all come crashing down on him.
There is only silence, stretching thinner and thinner with tension, and Grian can’t bear to look.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, and he knows it isn’t enough. “I know it’s too late, that– that you don’t feel that way anymore, and that’s okay. I just– I feel bad,” he ends lamely, trailing off, back into that tense silence.
“Oh, Grian.” Scar murmurs, and it only makes Grian shake more, a sob wrenching its way out of his throat. He sounds so sad, and so pitying, and Grian’s sure he means the best but he doesn’t want pity, can’t handle pity. Please. Please just tell me you don’t love me. Break my heart, end this, and maybe I can finally let go.
Gentle fingers curl around his wrists, startling Grian. Reflexively, he looks up.
Scar is looking at him. Just looking, with eyes that are emerald-green and that sparkle with tears of their own. Grian wants to raise his hand, wipe them away, but that feels far too intimate.
“Don’t–” he chokes out instead, voice breaking. This is too hopeful, Scar’s eyes and his hands on Grian’s wrists, and the gentle hum of magic that flowed from them and through them, tying them ever tighter together.
Scar releases one of his wrists, and Grian prepares to pull back, to break this fragile connection before it becomes too much, only to freeze when that hand grazes his cheek. What?
Scar’s gaze stays, unwavering, on Grian. “Can I?” It’s a whisper, and Grian is too weak to say no. He nods. It’s a joke, he’ll push you away and laugh, because you are only soulmates in name–
Scar kisses him, and it is slow and soft and sweet and feels like the beginning of the world. He tastes like melon. Their hearts beat as one.
Scar slowly pulls back, still cupping Grian’s face.
“Oh, G. I’ve never stopped looking at you.”
And Grian breaks. He crumples, clutching at Scar’s shoulders, harsh sobs tearing out of him, tears streaming down his face. Scar does nothing but hold him and whisper quiet reassurance, rubbing circles into his back.
When the sobs finally subside and Grian can sit back up, he does so. Scar is looking again, in the way that makes his heart jitter and the bond spike into a high-pitched tune, one unwavering note that Grian decides to equate to happiness.
He flushes, glancing away. “I probably look a mess, sorry.” Wordlessly, Scar pulls out a handkerchief and hands it to him. Grian wipes his face clean of tears.
“Sorry about your shirt,” he offers, and Scar waves it off with a dismissive hand, eyes still locked on him.
“Oh, come here.” Obligingly, Grian shuffles closer, until he’s nearly in Scar’s lap. Scar takes his face, oh so gently, tracing every line and edge of his face as if to memorize him. Grian presses even closer, noses bumping for a moment before they realign in a quick kiss.
Grian can kiss him now, he realizes in a burst of whirling excitement. He doesn’t have to guilt himself and worry about what it might mean. He shifts again, peppering Scar’s face with kisses as a delighted grin breaks out over his soulmate’s face. It makes kisses a little harder, but Grian doesn’t really mind.
“I really don’t know how I managed this,” Scar says in a breath. “I don’t deserve you.”
Grian pulls back, tilting his head. “You know you don’t have to earn me, right? I’m yours. Through good and bad, I’m yours.” He smiles. “And you’re mine too.”
Scar laughs lightly. “I’m yours. I really like that.”
“I love you,” Grian says, because they’ve both been brave and they both deserve something.
“I love you too.”