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Being Scars soulmate was like being tethered to a toddler.
No matter where he went or how far he ran, Grian was always afraid for his life. It wasn’t like Scar was incompetent, he knew the man well enough now to know he was very good at what he does. Surviving however wasn’t one of them. During the first few hours of wondering the bordered world they found themselves in was like walking on eggshells.
They didn’t know how they got here, or what the world wanted of them. There was just a simple book in the middle of where they all woke up explaining the ‘rules’ of the server world. Everyone had a partner, a soulmate. He didn’t know who his was at first, so he went off on his own. They could survive, surely.
But then he got a raging headache and his feet started to ache, like he jumped from a high place and didn’t stick the landing. It was… nerve racking. He could only pray for the other. But then he started to meet people, figure out who’s soulmates and who’s not. All leading up to him meeting with Scar, finding out he was his soulmate and breaking down right there and then.
Maybe yelling no at the top of his lungs wasn’t the best reaction, but hey, Scar couldn’t hear him.
Everyone else seemed to though.
“It’s not all that bad.” Etho said, wodding around in the lake they found themselves in. Grian rolled his eyes, raising his pickaxe into the air before slamming it into a shard of coal. “No really, how much damage could he really do? It’s a small place here, so he can't get into too much trouble.” He continues on, the water hitting the side of his boat.
“You don't know him like I do.” He replied, picking up and pocketing the coal that has been broken off. He wipes his coal covered hands on his jeans, grimacing when his fingers come back covered in black dust.
Etho stares are a few seconds, eyes unreadable. “I don’t know anyone here.” He states, looking over at Smallishbeans and Scar as they chase the blue flying mob around the other side of the lake.
Grian looks over at the man, a haze clouding his mind. “I don’t either.” He says back. The words were hard to get out, like they were a lie. But it had to be the truth, right? They woke up here together, with no memory of each other. They all however knew they weren’t supposed to be here, not now, not ever.
He still felt scared being soulmates with Scar, even if he doesn’t know the man. It’s weird, feeling like he’s known the other for a long time yet drawing a blank when he thinks about their past. He doesn’t know why he knows Scar is prone to dying or to getting hurt, he just does. It’s confusing. “But you're scared of Scar.” The other points out, drawing his attention back to the conversation at hand.
“I’m not scared of him.” He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s just…” His sentence drifts off, nothing coming to mind. His back aches with a pulse that seems way too familiar. Grian sighs, clipping his tools to his belt. “I should get going.” He says suddenly, turning his head to stare off after his partner. Scar was yelling about pandas or something.
Etho just nodded, climbing out of the boat and onto the steep dry land surrounding them. “Have fun I guess. I should probably go caving soon anyways, Smallishbeans seems way too distracted over there to get any work done.” He chuckles, waving him off. “Good luck with Scar!” He then yells, voice much more chipper than it should be.
Grian nodded, plopping down his boat as he rowed over to Scar, who seemed to already be halfway up the hill. He doesn’t know why, but he thinks he’s going to need luck.
The rest of the day was eventful. Grian had to protect Scar from pretty much everything. From Smajor’s dog all the way down to a patrol group who seemed to have it out for Etho. It was tiring. So when night finally fell and Grian had some peace and quiet in the small shack he had built, well, he took advantage of it.
“I can’t believe we’re soulmates!” Scar yelled, pacing back and forth against the not so well done floors. They creaked and groaned like they were a hundred years old. “I knew there was something special about you Grain!” The other man exclaimed as he pointed at him, the cat on his head purring. What was her name again, Jello? Jellie?
“And how is that?” He says sleepily, patting down the sheets on the bed. It was tough and made from leather, but it would have to do. He was definitely going to shear the sheep outside tomorrow.
He hears Scar hum in thought from across the shack then a quiet meow and then a chuckle. He looks over to see Scar playing with his cat, the young animal swatting at his nose. “I don’t know, you're just familiar.” He shrugs, smile twitching for a second. “Grain?” Comes the others voice suddenly, soft and vacant.
“Ya?” He replies quickly, getting over the covers of his bed.
“Have you ever, like…” Scar turns his back to him, putting Jellie down to roam the floors. “Have you ever killed somebody here?” As soon as the question leaves the other's mouth his lungs lose air. He chokes on nothing, eyes widening in shock. His mind reels back, flashes of something running through him like a knife, or a sword. His legs ache and the feeling of sand in his hand returns.
No that’s not right, he’s never felt sand on his hands before. That shouldn’t be possible. Grian looks down at his palms, excepting sand or…something red. He sees nothing, just his palms and the shiver they have in them. “…Grian?” Scar’s voice wavers a bit, but he turns around all the same.
He pauses however, his own eyes widening in shock. Maybe? Everything’s dark and blurring, it’s too hard to see anyone. Something wet touches his hands and he jerks, Arms wiping whatever it was on the bed. He felt dirty all of a sudden, sick. It hurts to breathe, why did it hurt to breathe!?
He feels the lick of TNT on his skin, of people yelling for him to stop. His hands were red, weren’t they? Both physically and metaphorically. They were red, red, red red red red redredredredredred —
“J-just breathe buddy! Everything’s fine, you're fine!” Scars voice stabs into him, echoing in his head. He feels something grasp his shoulders, rubbing up and down them. “I need you to take a breath in, it’s very important.” And he does just that, opening his might to breathe. What comes out is a wail, a choked up sob. Then an inhale and a repeat.
He distantly knows Scars in front of him, telling him to breathe and everything’s alright. He distantly knows that he’s crying, that it was his tears all over his hands and not something else. But he doesn’t care as he cries, arms reaching up to cover his face. The other lets him, keeping up his words that sound like sledgehammers in his mind.
Grian doesn’t know when his sobs turn to hiccups or when he’s laid down on his bed, the covers being carefully thrown over him. All he knows now was that he’s in bed, memories of something long forgotten having gone for the night. He doesn’t know what it means, what any of it means. But he thinks he’s hurt people.
“Here.” Scsr says suddenly, cutting him out of his thoughts. Grian looks up to see Scar holding a glass of milk, a hesitant smile on his face. He sits up, taking the glass in his hands.
“…Thanks.” He whispers, looking down at the liquid. “I don’t know what came over me.” He confesses, choosing to ignore Scar’s worried gaze. He was the one supposed to be in trouble, not him. But here he was, crying like a baby.
“I think it was a panic attack.” The other states, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “It’s okay to have them, you just have to remember to breathe.” He rolls his eyes at that, starting to sip at his drink. “No really! Breathing always helps, trust me.”
Grian looks up from his glass, eyes locking with the other. Scar shuffles in front of him for a few seconds. He takes another sip before straightening up in his seat. “I don’t think it was breathing that helped me.” He confesses, staring down into the pure white milk like it held all the answers in the world. It didn’t of course, but he could still look.
Scar shuffled a little closer to him, hand moving to rest on his knee. He let the other do it, not seeing the harm. The slight pressure was nice, calming. It was easy to forget someone was here and not… gone. “What do you mean? There’s nothing else you did?” The other speaks up after a silent second.
He shakes his head at that. “Not me.” He swirls the milk, watching as it glazes against the glass. “You.” He states, looking back up. Scar’s face says it all. He didn’t expect him to say that.
He scuffs, turning his head downwards at the now fifty Jellie. Who was now biting at his shoes, hoping to get his attention. He gives it to her, picking her up and setting her down in his lap. He was so gentle with her, hands petting her softly. He wondered if Scar had always been so careful. He didn’t seem to be while out and about, accident prone as he was. “I hardly did anything-“
“You got me milk.” Grian cuts him off, holding up the almost still full glass. “And you rubbed my arms, you told me everything was going to be okay.” He adds, mentioning what had happened minutes earlier.
Scar shakes his head, a saddening laugh bubbling out of his chest. “It was nothing, I just wanted to help.” He looks up through his fringe, eyes shiny in the dim torch lit room. “It’s the least I could do after freaking you out.” He says quietly, Jellie filling up the room with her purring.
Grian goes back to drinking the milk, a thought forming quickly in his mind. “I think I’ll be fine being linked to you.” Grian mutters into his cup. Scar hears it though, his widening smile evidence of it. “Stop looking at me like that.” He instantly orders, the other not caring for his harsh words.
“I can’t help it! That’s like the nicest thing I’ve heard all day.” He jumps from the bed, Jellie hissing as she falls onto the floor. She swipes at his foot before darting under the bed. The kitten bites at them, but for the most part she’s ignored. Scar wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at him. “I’m grateful you're my soulmate here too.” He says softly, hands picking at the hems of his clothes. “It was like a match made in-“
“Sand.” He cuts the other off, watching as Scar’s hands pause in their fidgeting.
Then he huffs, running them throughout his hair. “Ya, in sand.” He agrees, nodding along. “We’re the sand boys.”
“Yep, sand boys.” They both ignored that they didn’t live in the desert and the nearest sand was near the river. Ignored Grian’s panic attack and the fact they seemed so familiar to each other. There was no reason to ruin this moment, none at all. And maybe if they tried hard enough, they could ignore the memories that don’t match their current situations.
Scar wasn’t dead and Grian wasn’t bleeding out at the bottom of a cliff after all, so it had to be wrong.
Right?