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It was almost dusk and Grian's hands were trembling. He knew what he had to do. He knew it was for the best, but that didn't make it any easier. He let out a shakey breath before steeling his nerves. Before he could back out, he raised his fist and knocked on the door. It was flung open with a hurried flourish, as though the person on the other side had been expecting something.
"Oh! Grian! Come on in!" Scar's face looked brightly at the other man, who gave a tense smile in response.
"How can I help you today?"
Grian looked off to the side, refusing to make eye contact. Even now, after all this time, the guilt still weighed on him, an eternal shackle keeping him bound.
"I wanted to talk to you, actually."
Scar grinned. "Well talk away! Do you need something in particular? A crystal maybe?"
"No, it's not that…" Grian trailed off, turning his back to the other man so he could pretend to inspect the walls.
"Woah, wait a minute my friend, what happened to your back?"
Grian froze. On his way to Scar's, a creeper had snuck up on him, and he wasn't fast enough to get a shield up in time to block the full blast.
"That looks pretty serious, and what are those bumps on your shoulder blades?"
"It's nothing, Scar. Don't worry about it." Even now, the consequences of his past mistakes still haunted him. Still stuck to his skin no matter how hard he tried to remove them. He could almost feel the feathers that should be there bristling in anxiety.
"It doesn't look like nothing," Scar said, concerned.
"Well it is! Just leave it be, would you!" Grian snapped, glaring at the man.
"No! It looks serious! What happened? It's like you were right beside a ton of TNT, Grian."
"Why do I even bother. Just drop it!"
"No! I won't stand by and watch you suffer Grian!" the dark haired man protested.
"Fine then, I'll just leave. Don't bother coming after me."
Grian turned away, irritation burning through his veins. Why didn't Scar ever learn to just let things go. He gave Scar a final, burning glare, before beginning to treck down the perilous path back to the Southlands.
"Wait! Grian! I've got some golden apples you could use! They could be very useful!"
"I don't need anything, Scar. I'm leaving."
"Come on, just take one apple! Just for me!"
Grian looked at the other man coldly. He took in the bright, forest green eyes, a stark contrast to his own yellow ones, before opening his mouth again. "I have to go, Scar. My friends need me. I have to go to the Southlands."
Scar turned his head to the side, mimicking the look of a confused puppy. "Aren't I also your friend?"
Grian didn't respond. He gave the other man a final glance up and down, silently reassuring himself that the eyes were green, green like grass, like the leaves, like bamboo. Not red like the rolling, bubbling lava. Not red like the sticks of TNT that blew everything to smithereens. Not red like the colour of Scar's sticky blood left on his hands, the image of which wouldn't fade even though it was long gone.
He turned away again, and walked down the path. This is for the better , he reassured himself. Without me, he's less likely to get hurt, to die. All I ever did was bring danger to him. It's safer this way.
The further he walked, the more memories resurged. Burning pain spread across limbs that were no longer there. Flashes of red on hands that were clean. It's for the better . He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince, himself or his guilty conscious. For a split second, he considered taking the fast way down, tempting fate with a water bucket jump, but decided against it. Step by step, he made it down the rocky cliffs. Once he reached the bottom, he didn't look back, knowing that if he did, he wouldn't walk away. That if he did, he would climb back up and apologise. That if he did, he would be selfish and stay with Scar, damning the consequences. He closed his eyes for a brief second, then started walking.
And with that, a former oath of 'always' became a promise lost to time and circumstance, only remaining in the faint memory of one.