Archive of Our Own

 “No!” Grian screeched. “Absolutely not!”

“It’ll be worth it!” Mumbo said. “We could get priceless information from ConCorp!”

“I am not becoming Scar Goodtimes’ personal assistant!” Grian yelled. “Are you mad? Mumbo, are you hearing yourself right now?”

Mumbo started, Grian glared in his direction, who shrank under it. “Listen, it’d be so efficient, we could know everything about them and perform a little sabotage, you love sabotage!”

“I do love a little bit of sabotage,” Grian admitted quietly. “But that changes nothing! Why can’t you or one of the other employees do it?”

“I have blatant direct public ties to Sahara,” Mumbo explained. “They’ll sniff me out immediately. I don’t trust our employees enough to not spill everything about this operation, so you’re literally the only one of us that can do it.” Mumbo laughed dryly. “Besides, with how this company is doing right now, you might need the money.”

Grian closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in. “Fine,” he conceded. “But you owe me. Big time .”

“Anything, you just say the word,” Mumbo smiled, waving his hands lightly.

“I guess I’ll go apply then,” Grian pouted. “Sign my life away.”

“No need,” Mumbo said. He and Grian locked eyes for a moment, Mumbo had to stop himself from letting out a nervous chuckle.

Grian laughed, but both he and Mumbo heard no humour within it. “No need? Now, what could you possibly mean by that ?”

“Yeah, I kind of already applied for you,” Mumbo said sheepishly. “And you kind of already got the job.” 

“So you applied for me, waited for me to get the job, then told me about your plan?” Grian asked. “I’m hearing that correctly?”

“Hey,” Mumbo argued. “I am a forward thinker, okay?” 

“Yeah, you’ll be thinking that when I forward my fist into your face,” Grian shouted. “What were you thinking?”

“You already agreed, no takesies-backsies!” Mumbo said quickly, before Grian could continue.

“That was before I knew you did it behind my back!” Grian looked at him for a few seconds, silence rang heavy around the room. He stood up straight and brushed off non-existent dust from his clothes. “I’ll do it, but just know I hate you for it.”

“As was expected,” Mumbo muttered. “This will be good for Sahara, remember that.”

“I cannot believe you,” Grian shook his head. He sat down in his chair, legs over one of the arms. “When do I start?”

“About that,” Mumbo laughed. 

“Mumbo,” Grian warned. “When do I start?”

“In about two hours?” Mumbo pulled his tie from his neck a little bit. 

“Cutting it a bit tight with convincing me then?” Grian rolled his eyes. “No wonder you were so adamant about it.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Mumbo said. “At least you’ll get a break from me while working there.”

“At least,” Grian agreed. “Anything else I need to know before I start my new job in two hours?”

“I don’t think so,” Mumbo said. “Good luck!”

“I’ll need it,” Grian stood up. “Bye, only bye, you don’t deserve the good.”

“Ouch!” Mumbo put a hand over his heart, “you wound me, Grian. I’m terribly hurt.”

“Not giving you the satisfaction of an answer!” Grian called out from the hallway.

Grian stepped into the lift, letting the quiet calm him down. He looked at his outfit, it was formal, he could wear it for his first day. At least one thing looked to be in his favour. He pulled his keys out of his pocket when he got to the ground floor. 

He opened his car door, turned something on the radio to tune out needless, unwanted thoughts about his job, about his friend. Mumbo was still his friend, even if he signed Grian up for something he didn’t want to do. The roads were clear, traffic bearing him with magnanimity.

He stopped at a coffee shop, grabbing a small breakfast, careful to keep crumbs and splashes of tea off of his suit jacket. He looked down at his watch, he had an hour to get there. An hour until he had to work under the CEO of his competition. He didn’t even know what the man looked like, only that he had a silver tongue, could sell sand in a desert and snow on a mountain. 

Grian had always been curious how he did it, he admired the skill, whether learned or inherent. Maybe he would learn it during his time at ConCorp. He cleaned off his table, throwing away his trash, giving a kind goodbye to the employees. 

He made it there with time to spare, according to the large clock displayed on the front of the building. He walked up to the receptionist at the front desk, waited until they were finished with their task. 

“Hello, welcome to ConCorp! How may I help you today?” They asked, their voice somehow sounded both cheerful and monotone at the same time. Grian had to admit that he was impressed.

“I’m Mr. Goodtimes’ new personal assistant,” Grian said. “It’s my first day.”

“First and last name please.”

“Grian Xelqua.”

They typed away on their keyboard, Grian presumed they were checking his identity, making sure he was who he said he was. They handed him a lanyard with a card on it. “You’ll get an official picture later today, but this will do for now. Scan it in the elevator and it will bring you to Mr. Goodtimes’ floor.”

“Perfect, thank you!” Grian gingerly took it from them, making his way to the lift they pointed at. Nobody else was in it, which was a bit of a relief, it gave him a little time to prepare for what would probably be the worst time of his life. He scanned his card on the lift and the screen above the sliding doors displayed the word ‘top’. Grian scoffed, of course his office would be on the top floor, egotistical conmen. 

At least the music was nice, a quaint little melody Grian could reevaluate all of his life choices to. He ran a hand through his hair, making use of the lift’s reflective walls. When he was done adjusting his appearance, there was a beep and the doors slid open. 

Grian stepped out into an open concept floor, the tiles were white and the walls were windows. He could see the entire city no matter what direction he faced. He was completely struck with awe. Grian had always loved heights, but he rarely got a chance to experience it. It felt like the only thing stopping him from touching the clouds was a layer of glass. 

He stood completely still, marvelling at the sights, he didn’t notice a man walk up to him. “You must be Grian, right? I’m Scar.”

Grian turned around, and immediately he knew nothing he could’ve ever seen before could compare. Nobody had said anything about Scar Goodtimes being the most attractive man to have ever existed. Grian knew he was probably redder than a northern cardinal with how warm his cheeks felt. “Yep,” Grian squeaked, internally cringing. “That’s me, I’m him. Grian Xelqua, at your service, Mr. Goodtimes.”

“Oh, please. Call me Scar,” he said. He held out a hand for Grian to shake, he prayed to any higher being that could’ve existed that his palms weren’t sweaty. “My office is just past here, I’ll show you.”

Scar let go of his hand, Grian immediately missed the warmth. He followed eagerly, his knees felt weak. He was brought into Scar’s office which arguably had the best view. Grian argued that any room with Scar Goodtimes in it immediately had the best view. He blushed at the thought, shaking his hair out of his face to try and clear his thoughts. 

“Today will be a very laid-back day,” Scar explained. “I just want you to get adjusted to the atmosphere of ConCorp, alright?”

“Alright,” Grian said, hanging off of his every word. He understood how he was so good at sales, Grian would buy almost anything if it was sold to him with that voice. Grian interlocked his fingers, squeezing them tightly, attempting to regain any semblance of normalcy. 

“Later, you’ll be called to get your ID photo taken, but right now I’ve cleared my schedule to chat with you,” Scar said, resting his elbows on his desk. “I like to know my employees, it creates a more stable working environment. So, please, tell me about yourself.”

Grian stammered, words lodging in his throat for a second. “Well, what would you like to know?” 

“As my personal assistant, we’ll be working very closely together,” Scar started. “You might work longer hours, some days, If I’m still in the office, so is there anything you do for fun that I could accommodate?”

“Well, when I’m bored at home, I usually play with my parrot,” Grian began, he wanted to look away from Scar, but his eyes seemed to have their own gravitational pull that forced Grian into orbit. “But I doubt you’d want Professor Beak chirping away while you worked.”

“Maybe not always,” Scar laughed, “but you should bring them in one day, I’m sure they’re great.”

“The best,” Grian smiled. He loved his little parrot, and any excuse he got to talk about him. “I don’t think he’d like to visit though, he gets antsy during car rides.”

“That’s a shame, if he was anywhere near as lovely as you are, I would’ve loved to meet him.” Grian blushed at Scar’s compliment. He bit his cheeks to try and keep his composure. 

“And I’m confident he would’ve liked you just as much,” Grian replied with a small smile. 

“So, what’s your favourite colour? Food?” Scar asked.

Grian hummed in thought for a moment. “My favourite colours are probably red and brown, and I like anything sugary really, massive sweet tooth. What about you, though? Getting to know each other is a two-way street.”

“Very true,” Scar laughed. “I have a cat named Jellie, she’s the absolute best. My favourite colour would have to be orange, maybe green. I don’t really have a favourite food, I’m not that picky.”

Scar’s laugh was beautiful, captivating and absolutely remarkable. Grian wanted it replayed on a loop in his head as long as he lived, he had an unspeakable answer to what his favourite song was. Grian unconsciously licked his lips. 

“Well, now that we know each other a bit more, I’ll walk you through what you’ll be doing around here,” Scar said, and Grian tried his best to listen to him beyond his charisma. He explained the layout of the building, where Grian had the jurisdiction to go, where he would be spending most of his time. Grian was surprised at the amount of leeway he had, at how many things he had access to. 

Scar’s voice, his mannerisms, were so easy to listen to, to notice. Grian felt entranced just by being in the same room as him. If this was ConCorp’s key to being successful, then Sahara had a long time ahead of them before they caught up. While Grian was sure that Sahara was more technologically advanced, ConCorp could market, and that was a much more valuable asset. 

Scar’s explanation slowly became more lax, until they were just talking once again, asking questions and offering answers. If Grian squinted, it could’ve looked like a date. He cleared his throat and shook his head to get those thoughts out of his head. 

“Oh, do you need some water?” Scar asked, ever attentive even if they had just met. He pushed his chair away from his desk, his hand rested on something below what Grian could see. Scar looked back up at him, waiting for a confirmation of sorts. 

Grian nodded his head. “Yeah, water would be great, thanks.”

“Of course,” Scar said. He pulled open a fridge door, pulling out a jug of lemon water and two chilled glasses. He carefully poured them out, handing one of them to Grian and keeping one for himself. He placed the jug back in the fridge. “Is it good?”

Grian brought the cup up to his lips, taking a small sip before flashing a thumbs up in Scar’s direction. “It’s refreshing,” Grian smiled.

“Perfect!” Scar exclaimed. He opened his mouth to say something else, but an intercom system rang through the room. It called Grian down to get his ID photo taken. “Ah, well I believe that concludes our time together today, although I was having so much fun chatting with you.”

“And I, you,” Grian replied kindly, standing up and straightening out his blazer. Scar stood up too, walking him to the door.

He gestured to the desk outside his office. “This is where most of your work will be done, my schedule for tomorrow will be forwarded to you before morning,” Scar informed. “I’ll see you at eight.”

“You sure will,” Grian smiled. He didn’t want to leave Scar’s company. There was something about him that Grian just wanted to always experience, an excitement, a calm, something he couldn’t get anywhere else.

Scar gave one last nod in his direction before they parted and Grian could immediately feel an emptiness in his chest that wasn’t there before. He rolled his shoulders back, sure that it was just disappointment of not having anyone to talk to. 

He found the room easily, the layout of the building was stunning. The architecture forced Grian’s jaw to the floor with its magnificence. Grian understood buying from ConCorp just for the interior of their headquarters. The photographers were kind, amicable. Grian had a nice chat with them while everything was being set up. It was nothing like his conversation with Scar.

It was odd with Scar, in the best way possible. It felt like a song, a call and response, harmonic melodies intertwining into streams of sound that simply could not be discerned from each other; like twin flames, joining in a bright show of fire and light; like the conversation was meant to happen, they were meant to meet, in every lifetime. 

Grian couldn’t help going to bed excited, not that he would ever tell Mumbo about it. He didn’t want Mumbo to be right in any capacity, he didn’t want him to know he didn’t regret agreeing. He didn’t want to tell him he wanted to see Scar again, not caring if he got information on ConCorp. 

He purposefully avoided talking about it with him when he woke up. He said he didn’t get any information, that he was only told the layout, the tasks. He didn’t know why he had so quickly gotten a soft spot for the CEO of his competition, but he had and Grian wasn’t too naive as to not admit it to himself.

He felt Scar could become his friend, perhaps—if Grian played his cards right, if fate was in his favour— he could become more than a friend. Grian walked through the lobby, immediately getting into the lift. He was too focused on pulling his ID card out, he ran into someone. Apologies flooded out of his mouth before he even looked up to see who it was. His eyes widened, face paling. “Mr. Goodtimes!”

Scar chuckled softly, raising his coffee cup in a mock toast. “Mr. Xelqua.” He brushed his hand against the sensor, a ding sounded out, the doors closed.

“Don’t you need a card for that?” Grian asked, pointing to the sensor. 

Scar lifted his hand up, gesturing at his ring. “Since I’m the CEO, I thought it’d be easier if I got the chip put into something I can wear.”

“Oh,” Grian said lamely. “That’s really cool. Did you make it?”

“Absolutely not,” Scar laughed. “Technology is Cub’s department, I have no idea how any of it works, I just smile and nod.”

Grian laughed, “I’m the exact same way if it makes you feel better.” Scar hummed in response, urging Grian to continue. “My best friend’s a genius when it comes to technology and redstone, but when he tries to explain it, it’s in one ear out the other.”

“All I hear is redstone redstone blah blah blah’,” Scar said as the door slid open. “And, like, I feel bad, but it just doesn’t make sense to me!”

“Same!” Grian followed him out the door, and they found their way to Scar’s office.

Scar paused before fully stepping inside, he shot a glance at Grian. Grian looked back, tilting his head, silently asking what Scar needed. “What does the agenda look like for this morning?”

Grian pulled his tablet out of his bag, unlocking it. “At 9:30, you have a meeting in the conference room on the third floor,” Grian paused, scrolling down. “And at 11:30 you have a meeting with Cub in his office. After that, it looks like you are free to take your lunch break.”

“Perfect, thank you, Grian,” Scar smiled softly. 

“Just doing my job,” Grian replied, sitting down on his chair. He logged into the computer in front of him, setting his tablet up on the side. He opened the three different calendars that held Scar’s meetings for the next month. It was, in all honesty, a mess. 

Grian took a deep breath, he had his work cut out for him. He stretched his arms out in front of him and cracked his knuckles. He shifted in his seat and got to work. He compiled all of the dates from the three and put them into one. He tagged each meeting with their location, time, and content if it was known. 

It was monotonous, tedious, but Grian was at least getting paid; and if he looked to his right he could see Scar through his office’s glass walls. He was truly a sight to see, the scars that etched themselves along his jawline and cheeks only added to his beauty. They had faded, Grian could tell, but they still held a faint pink colour. They seemed to stretch down his arms, end on his palms. Grian wanted to hold them again, to feel if the scars were still raised from the rest of his skin. He wanted to brush his fingertips against Scar’s cheeks.

Grian paused, he should not be having those thoughts about the CEO of his company’s competition. He definitely should not be having those thoughts about his boss . Grian took a sip from his water bottle, hoping the cold drink would clear his thoughts. 

He checked the time in the corner of his monitor. He stood up, walking over and knocking on Scar’s open office door. “Just here to remind you that you have a meeting regarding the quarterly revenue in ten minutes,” Grian said.

Scar looked up from his scattered papers, Grian’s words seemed to process in his head. He checked his watch. “Oh, thank you.” He scrambled up, trying to straighten out his papers. 

“I could organise those for you if you’d like,” Grian offered, gesturing to the desk. 

“Oh, would you?” Scar sighed, Grian nodded. Scar stood up and walked over to Grian, giving him a small side hug before rushing off to his meeting. Grian didn’t have time to lean into it, or even process it happened until almost a full minute after Scar had left. 

Grian slowly walked towards the papers, they looked like blueprints. Half sketched with white pens scattered around. Grian let a fond smile settle across his face. He grabbed the pens, and set them in the knocked over cup in the corner. He peeled each paper up carefully, trying to avoid smudging the ink while it was still wet. He pinned them up on the corkboard next to the bookshelf, he let himself stare at them for a moment. 

There were little notes in the margins, and doodles in the corners. Grian could see where Scar redrew lines. It was beautiful, the plans for trees outside of the walls. There were brick patterns drawn in a handmade legend. Some were crossed out, some were circled, some had question marks surrounding them. It was endearing, how easily Scar’s personality could be seen through things as trivial as blueprints.

Grian let them hang, tacks in the corners, as he got back to cleaning up Scar’s desk. He collected the stationary, placing it on a nearby surface, out of his way. It only occurred to him that he could use the opportunity to gather some intel halfway through. Something in his heart hurt when he had the thought, he didn’t want to, but it was for Sahara. It was for the company he put blood, sweat and tears into. 

He didn’t look at any of the papers, couldn’t bring himself to read the words. He looked at the dates in the right hand corner to put them in chronological order, but didn’t let his eyes stray from that. He put them in a neat pile, staples aligned, making a corner stick up higher than the rest. 

After Grian could see the wood of the desk, he returned the stationary. Scar had them strewn randomly, Grian could count three staplers. He chuckled, opening the top left drawer and putting the unneeded items there to minimize the clutter. 

Grian dusted his hands off when he finished, letting out a content sigh. The room looked orderly, neat, like the office of a stereotypical CEO. It had Scar’s character though, it had a stuffed cat in between books on the shelf. It had lines of messily written post-it notes, lined up on one side of the desk. There were remnants of dry erase markers on the windows and walls, almost washed off, but not quite. 

Scar walked in while Grian was admiring his work. “Wow!” Scar said. Grian jumped slightly, turning around in shock. “This is amazing, you really outdid yourself.”

“Scar!” Grian breathed. A hand came to rest on his chest, over his heart. “You startled me.”

Scar chuckled sheepishly. “Sorry, but I think this might be the cleanest I’ve ever seen it, thank you.”

“Oh, it was no problem,” Grian waved him off. Scar walked around his office, looking around like a kid in a candy store. 

“You even hung up my blueprints!” Scar exclaimed. “Are you an angel?”

“I assure you I am completely human,” Grian laughed. “Although, I feel like having a million eyes and six sets of wings could be fun.”

“I think my back would break under the weight of six extra limbs,” Scar said, he sat down in his chair. He stared intently at the corkboard. Grian followed his gaze to the top right blueprint. It had the most redrawn lines, like he’d never been happy with it. “Grian?”

“Yes?” Grian replied, stepping closer.

“What do you think of this floor plan?” Scar asked. “I just can’t get it right, there’s something wrong with it, but I can’t figure it out.”

“Well, what do you want it to look like?” Grian prompted. “An era it’s inspired by or style you want to use?”

“I originally planned it wanting a modern take on ancient Greece, but nothing I’ve done has seemed to work,” Scar explained. “Maybe a fresh pair of eyes will help.”

“If it were me,” Grian started, walking closer to the board, pointing out what he was talking about. “I’d bring in more columns and arches. They’re a staple of architecture within ancient Greek styles, and you could go for a white marble colour scheme as that’s resurfaced in popularity lately.”

“Oh?” Scar asked, not really to ask but to assure Grian that he was listening.

“Yeah,” Grian answered still. “Modern styles like to have a sleek aesthetic, so you could incorporate that into it. I’d also say floor-to-ceiling windows so it has an open feel, like Athena’s Parthenon. You could also bring in statues, it’s an incredibly easy way to include Greek culture into any building.”

He looked back at Scar who met his gaze immediately. Grian felt the tips of his ears go red when he realised that Scar had been staring at him; and if it had been half as fond as the look Grian saw, it could’ve been considered swooning. “You know your stuff.”

“Went to school for it,” Grian said as an explanation.

“Really?” Scar asked, leaning back in his chair. Grian nodded. “Might have to pick your brain about it more often then.”

“Please,” Grian said. “I love talking about it.”

“I could tell,” Scar shrugged lightly. “You seemed passionate.”

Grian exhaled, it was short, soft, teetering on nervous. “Yeah, so I’ve been told.” 

“It’s not a bad thing! I like listening to people talk about what they’re passionate about, it’s very insightful to me,” Scar amended quickly. “In fact, let me take you for lunch so we can talk about it more.”

“Excuse me?” Grian asked. It felt like Scar was saying things with the sole purpose of making Grian blush more, and if he was, it was working.

“I want your opinion on some projects I’ve put on the back burner for the past little while,” Scar said, pulling out his keys from his pocket. “Besides, it’s a ‘thank you’ for cleaning up my office which you did not have to do.”

“What about your meeting with Cub?” Grian didn’t know why he was making excuses to not go out to lunch with the most attractive man he’d ever met. 

“Cub’s really official with that kind of stuff,” Scar said. “I just popped over after the first meeting and it was resolved within ten minutes.”

“Ah, I see.” Grian nodded. He racked his brain for an excuse that seemed believable. He couldn’t find one. “Do you want to go now?”

“Yes,” Scar said, standing up and walking out of the door. He waited until Grian had followed after him to close and lock it. Grian walked over to his desk, putting his tablet into his bag and slipping it over his shoulder. “You ready to go?”

“Yep,” Grian gave him a thumbs up, mentally cursing himself out for how embarrassing it was. They got into the lift, Scar brought them down to the private garage. A silence enveloped them, not as awkward as Grian was dreading. 

The silence remained as the doors opened, but it was less from awkwardness and more from shock. Cars lined the walls, Grian would bet there was one of every model in every colour. “Which would you like to take?” Scar asked, a proud grin on his face.

Grian thought of Mumbo, and his best friend’s love of cars, he tried to channel his energy when he picked. He pointed to a red one near him. “That one.”

“You have good taste,” Scar said, shuffling through his keys until he found the one he wanted. “1961 Ferrari 250 GT California Spyder.”

“I just chose it because it was red,” Grian admitted. “I don’t know a lick about cars.”

“That’s okay,” Scar shrugged. “Maybe I could teach you sometime.” He opened the passenger side door, gesturing for Grian to sit down. Scar closed the door for him too, before he got in on the driver’s side. 

“Yeah, maybe you could,” Grian said. “So, spider ferrari?” 

“California Spyder,” Scar corrected with a chuckle. The engine started up with a rumble. “It was the car in a pretty old movie.”

“Really?” Grian said, not having seen the movie. “That’s so cool.”

“They had multiple cars for the movie, but they used this one for the close ups,” Scar continued. He fiddled with the radio, turning it on. He pulled the car out of park. Scar continued to list off fun facts about the car, Grian continued to study how Scar’s lips moved as he did so. “Only about fifty of this model were made, and at their conception, they sold for three-hundred grand.”

“Expensive,” Grian noted. He was taken aback as the wall in front of them slid open to reveal the road up to the city. 

“Not even,” Scar scoffed, pressing a little bit harder on the gas pedal. “It costs about nine times as much now, adjusted for inflation.” 

“Oh my goodness,” Grian said, genuinely shocked. “That’s insane!”

“I know!” Scar laughed. “But I just had to have one. Where are we getting lunch?” 

“I was just going to let you pick, if I’m being honest,” Grian said. “I don’t really mind.”

“I get to choose?” Scar gasped happily. “That’s fun!” Scar turned his signal light on, waited for the light to turn green. 

“I assume you’ve chosen?” Grian said, looking over at Scar, free to do so as he kept his eyes trained on the road.

“I have,” Scar confirmed. “But it’s a surprise! Wait, do you have any allergies?” 

“I don’t think so?” Grian said, tone rising at the end of the sentence, making it sound like a question. “Let’s hope not!”

“Perfect!” Scar said. He weaved through traffic like it was second nature, always seeming to catch lights as soon as they turned green. Grian hated how awestruck he seemed to be around Scar, it was frustrating, like Grian was seeing it for the first time whenever Scar did so much as anything. 

Grian hummed along with the song playing through the car’s speakers absentmindedly. The car was a convertible, it was nice feeling the open air brush through his hair like a gentle hand. Grian looked around, at the sky above him, at Scar beside him. He had one hand on the wheel, and one on the gear shift. Grian wondered what it would feel like if he reached out, rested his hand on Scar’s. 

He wanted to know whether Scar would let him, would go as far as interlock their fingers, keep Grian’s hand on his. He forced his eyes away, not wanting to be caught staring at Scar’s hand. He watched as the trees and cars and pedestrians came in and out of view, he let himself look at the city with fresh eyes, perhaps covered in rose coloured glasses.

“Can I at least have a hint as to where we’re going?” Grian broke the calm silence, turning his head to Scar. He leaned back, letting his weight be supported by the head rest. Scar spared a quick glance in his direction.

“But then it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise, would it?” Scar said, and it almost sounded teasing. “We’re almost there anyway, so you can relax.”

Grian let out an exasperated sigh, entirely too fond, “fine.”

“Thank you,” Scar smiled, emphasising the words. Grian felt himself smile along with him, the joyous energy positively infectious. Scar turned the steering wheel, bringing them into a parking lot. Grian unbuckled as soon as Scar put the car in park. 

Scar put out a hand to stop him when he reached for the car door handle. He hastily got out, sliding his keys into an inner suit pocket. Grian rolled his eyes when he realised what Scar was doing, he placed his hand in his lap and waited patiently for Scar to open his door.

“What a gentleman,” Grian said, blushing a bit when Scar went as far as to put out a hand to help Grian out of the seat.

“Well, of course,” Scar said, bowing over-exaggeratedly. Grian couldn’t help but laugh, the type of laugh where his shoulders hunched up and his eyes closed and the world felt so much brighter around him.

“You sure are a character, Scar Goodtimes,” Grian smiled.

“In a good way, I hope,” Scar joked, in such an easy way that Grian couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Only the best, I assure,” Grian replied. He let Scar lead them into the restaurant, get them a table. It was mostly empty, only a few tables were being used; they had beaten the lunch rush. Scar had asked for a booth in the corner, a bit secluded from the rest, but it still felt open with the light shining through the poorly curtained windows.

“I hope you like my choice,” Scar commented, gesturing to the restaurant. 

“I hope so too,” Grian said. “I’ve never been here, so I wouldn’t know quite yet.”

“Ooh!” Scar sing-songed. “Well, if it’s your first time here, I’d recommend the quail egg omelette.”

“That does sound good,” Grian hummed, he reached for the menu. Scar did the same, their fingers brushed against each other. Scar’s were just as soft as Grian remembered from the short time he was graced by their touch the day prior. Grian let him have that menu, taking the one underneath it instead. “Oh, but their salads look splendid as well.”

“Get both,” Scar said simply, like it was the easiest solution in the world. Grian looked up from the menu, eyes meeting Scar’s. Grian opened his mouth to argue, but Scar stopped him. “I insist, my treat.”

“Are you sure?” Grian asked, letting the menu drop closer to the table. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense,” Scar quelled Grian’s disputes on the subject. “I offered.”

“I don’t even know if I’d finish both, Scar,” Grian tried again. “Really, I’ll just pick.”

“I have a fridge in my office if you want to take it to-go,” Scar reasoned. 

“You’re surprisingly adamant about this,” Grian noted. He let the moment settle between them for a second, before letting his head droop a fraction of a centimetre. “Fine, you win, I’ll get both.”

“Yay!” Scar whooped quietly. “Do you know what you’re getting to drink?”

Grian looked over the options, “probably just a tea.”

“Simple, I like it,” Scar said. He popped his head out of the booth, looking to see if a waiter was nearby. He smiled and Grian had to assume someone had noticed that he was looking. He was proven correct when someone walked up to them, a notepad and pen in hand.

“What can I get started for you today?” They asked, tapping their pen against the paper. They ordered their food, brief and polite. Their drinks arrived first, set in front of each of them. Grian could see the lines of steam coming off of them, twisting and disappearing into the air like they were never there to begin with. 

Their food was brought out shortly after, and Grian couldn’t help the small amount of guilt that settled at the bottom of his stomach. Scar noticed, had to have, because he rested a hand on Grian’s for a moment to grab his attention. “I already told you it was alright.”

“I know,” Grian shook his head, “but I still feel a bit bad.”

“Why?” Scar asked. His eyebrows were furrowed, there was a confused smile on his face. “You have no reason to be.”

Grian bit the inside of his cheek lightly, turning over Scar’s words in his head. He took a deep breath and watched as Scar crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing?” Grian laughed.

“I’m not eating until you don’t feel bad about it,” Scar huffed, closing his eyes tightly and tilting his chin up.

Grian rolled his eyes. “You’re going on a hunger strike?” 

“Precisely,” Scar confirmed. He peeked at Grian with one eye, whose chin rested on the back of his hands that were held up by his elbows on the table. 

“You are incredibly stubborn, aren’t you?” Grian tilted his head, almost as if he was studying Scar.

Scar relaxed back into his seat, giving Grian a half hearted shrug, “it’s part of my charm.” He picked up his fork, almost setting it down onto his plate. His eyes flitted up to Grian, like he was waiting for Grian to say something.

“I don’t feel bad about it,” Grian sighed, dejectedly picking up his fork and stabbing it into his omelette. “You can eat now.” Scar stuck his fork into his food and popped it into his mouth with a happy hum. 

They made casual conversation, eating in lieu of talking. “So,” Grian started, breaking the calm atmosphere. “You said you wanted to pick my brain about architecture?”

“Yes!” Scar snapped his fingers together. “More specifically because you’ve got me thinking about it again: I want your opinion on the Greek floor plans.”

Grian’s eyes grew wide in excitement, he unzipped his bag and pulled out his tablet. “Okay, I think I can explain it better visually.”

“Alright,” Scar encouraged. He took a sip of his coffee, avidly listening to the words falling out of Grian’s mouth. He watched with rapt attention as Grian drew lines and diagrams to further his demonstration.

They talked for what felt like hours, but every time Grian checked the time in the corner of the screen, only mere minutes had passed. It was nice, how time seemed to recognize that Grian wanted more time with Scar, didn’t want the moment to end. There were other things around him that proved that it wasn’t his clock being slow; his tea hadn’t cooled, the sun hadn’t shifted that much through the blinds, people hadn’t come in for lunch. 

Grian wanted to capture the moment, keep it with him forever. He had met Scar the day before, but they got along like they’d known each other for years, like they were old friends catching up. Scar mumbled jokes into his coffee cup, just loud enough for Grian to hear and indignantly squawk at. Grian passed the salt without hesitation, despite how Scar only made a small gesture for it. It felt familiar, it felt right.

They continued, until their food and drinks were nearly gone, until a messy floor plan had been sketched up. Grian felt a pang in his heart when the waiter had come back, when Scar had paid, when they had asked for a to-go container for Grian’s salad. It meant that the moment was over, that the little bubble they had created for themselves in the corner of the restaurant had been popped. 

Grian took a deep breath, trying to force the sadness out of his head, the yearning out of his chest. He let Scar lead him back to the red convertible, nostalgic for something he was still experiencing. It was an odd feeling; it hurt just a little bit, not overwhelmingly so, but a dull pain in between his ribs where his heart was.

They arrived back at the garage, and Grian reassured Scar that he could open his own door. Scar gave him a sheepish smile, Grian met it with his own. The lift ride to the top floor was quiet, like they had exhausted all of their topics to talk about, or maybe they didn’t want to say anything that would end the moment. Just as he had said he would, Scar put Grian’s salad in his office’s mini-fridge, and far more quickly than it had started, the day ended. They both went home, Grian wished they had had more time.

It continued on for days, where Scar would invite Grian out to lunch under the guise of gratitude. Grian always caved in eventually. They took a different car each time, Grian always picked and Scar would tell him facts about it. About the third week in, though, something changed.

“Do you know how to drive, Grian?” Scar asked, an excited look in his eyes.

“Yes?” Grian said. He squinted at Scar in suspicion. “Why?”

“Do you want to drive us to lunch?” Scar let the keys dangle off of his fingers. Grian considered it for a second, looking between the keys and Scar a few times just to check that it was alright. A smile broke out onto his face as he swiped them out of Scar’s hand. 

Scar let out a laugh as he walked over to the passenger side. Grian started the car, turning the keys in the ignition. He looked down to the gear shift, his hand hovering over it for a moment. His face scrunched up as he slowly turned to Scar, already safely buckled in. “I think there has been a foresight.”

“Oh?” Scar asked, a little bit concerned.

“I learnt how to drive in an automatic,” Grian started regretfully. “And I don’t exactly know how to drive a stick shift,” he finished with a wince.

Scar put a fist in front of his mouth, trying to quiet his laughter. “That’s okay, I can do it for you, if you’d still like to drive.” 

“Are you sure?” Grian asked. “Because I’m okay with switching spots with you. It’s your car after all.”

“No, G,” Scar set his hand on the gear stick. “I promise it’s okay, I trust you.”

Grian blushed at how easily the nickname spilled from Scar’s lips. “I take it that if I try to get out of this seat, it’ll go as smoothly as the salad that day at the restaurant?”

“Almost exactly.” Scar’s hand shifted, like he was trying to get comfortable. “It feels weird using my left hand for it though.”

“Again, I can switch,” Grian said. 

“No you can’t,” Scar argued. “I’m banning you actually. You’ll be in that driver’s seat until you learn how to drive a stick shift.”

“Careful, Scar,” Grian sing-songed. “Your stubbornness is showing.”

Scar hummed in nonchalance. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”

Grian rolled his eyes, no heat behind it. He listened closely as Scar explained how the car worked, and what would happen. His voice sounded so beautiful as he talked about the car stalling, Grian almost forgot to pay attention. 

Eventually, they made it out of the garage. Scar asked where they were going and Grian said it was a surprise. He was pretty sure Scar caught on when the scenery started to become more and more familiar. Grian didn’t know a different way to the restaurant that Scar had taken them to that first day. 

Scar seemed like he was about to call Grian out on it before they heard the sound of a train. “A train, really?” Scar complained. A frown made its way onto his face and Grian never wanted to see it again. “I’ll tell Cub we might be late getting back.”

Grian hummed in confirmation, Scar took his hand off the gear shift, and Grian turned off the engine. They sat there for a moment, only the soft sounds of Scar tapping on his screen to fill the silence. “Can we switch please?” Grian asked, almost out of the blue.

“If you’re worried about it, G, I promise it’s alright,” Scar started, but Grian cut him off with a shake of his head.

“No, no,” Grian said. “I know it’s okay, I just genuinely don’t think it’s a good time for me to be learning to drive a stick in lunch hour traffic,” he laughed nervously. “I’ve almost stalled like seven times.”

“Okay,” Scar said, “but only if you promise that one day I can teach you.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Grian opened his car door, synchronised with Scar opening his. They switched spots, and suddenly the anxiousness that had flooded Grian’s nervous system dissipated. “Oh, this is so much better.”

Scar smiled. “Maybe the train was a blessing in disguise?”

“I wouldn’t be saying that so soon,” Grian countered, leaning forward to look out the windshield. “Doesn’t look like there’s an end to it anytime in our near future.” 

“Maybe we can use this time to teach you the gear shift controls,” Scar offered with an eyebrow raised in Grian’s direction. 

“Sure,” Grian said. His hand inched forward, timidly like he was sure Scar would tell him that he was joking. He wouldn’t, and that was proven when Scar let him rest his hand completely on it. Scar listed off all of them, and told Grian what to do. 

“This one’s a little tricky,” Scar said when Grian couldn’t get it right. Scar gently put his hand on top of Grian’s, guiding it to where it needed it to be. He immediately let go when he heard Grian’s breath hitch. They made eye contact, and it was like the calm before the storm. There was electric anticipation in the air, Grian struggled to breathe. “Is this okay?” 

Grian swallowed, eyes not drifting from Scar’s. “Yeah,” he nodded slightly. It was almost breathless, the air around them felt too warm to reach the bottom of his lungs. “It’s okay.” Grian licked his lips, they felt too dry. Scar kept looking at him as he placed his hand back on Grian’s.

“So,” Scar started, but there was an edge to his voice, lacklustre compared to what it usually was, what it should’ve been. “You just move it to the next gear, like this.”

The tension in the car could’ve been cut with a knife, but Grian didn’t know if he wanted it to be. It was almost suffocating, but if suffocating was as pretty as Scar, maybe it was worth it, Grian reasoned. Neither of them moved when the train left, when Scar started the car, when they started driving again. Grian revelled in the way Scar’s hand would squeeze his when he shifted gears, in the way neither of them mentioned it, not wanting to risk the other pulling away.

Grian had forgotten how to speak, the only words that his mind provided were about Scar, were about how his hand seemed to fit against his perfectly, like it was made to be there. He only gained enough clarity to think properly when the car came to a stop in a parking lot. “It’s the right place, right?” Scar asked, taking his hand off Grian’s. He had to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing it again.

“It is, yes,” Grian said quietly, almost a whisper. “They have good quail egg omelettes.”

Scar laughed as he pulled the keys out of the ignition, as he opened his door, as Grian followed suit. “They do indeed.” 

Grian wanted the ground to swallow him whole, he wanted to leave and never see Scar again, he wanted to be able to breathe. He also wanted to hold Scar’s hand until he couldn’t anymore, he wanted to listen to Scar talk until he couldn’t hear. He wanted and wanted, he hoped Scar did too.

They ordered and ate, and pretended they hadn’t held hands. If their hands brushed against each other’s when they both reached for the menus, that was for their little bubble in the corner of the restaurant to know.

They made light conversation, it was careful, it felt like a chilled summer breeze, a breath of fresh air. It was like a weight in Grian’s chest was lifted, but he wanted it back. He yearned for a car drive that was just as electric, just as warm.

They never brought it back up, letting it be forgotten like books and scrolls in the Library of Alexandria. It was just for them, just for their memories. More lunches happened, more days passed by, more moments that Grian wanted to freeze in time occurred. 

“Are you ready?” Scar asked, closing the door to his office. Grian could hear the jingle of the keys in his pocket. 

Grian blushed. “Actually, Scar,” he bit his lip, hesitant to bring it up. “I made lunch plans with a friend already.”

“Oh,” Scar said. He sounded a bit sad, disappointed, and guilt made Grian’s heart a home.

“I could always reschedule,” Grian said immediately, hastily trying to rectify the situation, make Scar happy. “I’m sure they’d understand.”

“No!” Scar exclaimed. “Don’t halt your plans for me, have fun. You deserve it.”

“Are you sure?” Grian asked softly. 

Scar smiled, it felt genuine, warm, like it was reserved for Grian, and Grian alone. “Confident.”

“Okay,” Grian said, returning the smile. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’m sure you will,” Scar grinned, and Grian wanted to throw caution to the wind and kiss it off of him. He wanted to let himself be deluded into thinking Scar could like him back in the same way. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“Eager to get rid of me?” Grian teased, pulling his bag over his shoulder.

“Never,” Scar shook his head, they wore matching smiles, carved together out of the same marble slab, destined to never be separate from each other. “But I don’t want you to keep your friend waiting.”

“Alright then,” Grian breathed out, giving Scar one last chance to ask him to stay. “I’ll be on my way.”

Grian turned around and walked away, as much as it pained him to do so. He doubted Mumbo would want Grian to bring Scar along to their lunch, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t considered it. That didn’t mean he hadn’t considered inviting Scar, and telling Mumbo that he just had to deal with it. 

He couldn’t, though, because that’s what the whole lunch was about. Scar, ConCorp, all the information Grian had gotten throughout the weeks he had been there. He swallowed down the guilt it gave him, he didn’t want to hurt Scar and by extension, his company. 

Grian and Mumbo met up at a coffee shop, decided to sit in the outdoor patio section. They started the conversation out with just catching up, they’d shift to business when they felt like it. “No, I’m telling you, Mumbo!” Grian laughed. “You would not last a day as a personal assistant, it is incredibly taxing.” 

“And I’m telling you,” Mumbo countered. “That I could.”

“Sure,” Grian rolled his eyes, picking up his phone when he got a notification. It was a text from Scar, a video of his cat with the message that Scar thought Grian would appreciate it. He couldn’t stop the dopey smile that it put on his face. 

“Who was that?” Mumbo asked, taking a sip of his tea, careful to keep it out of his moustache.

“It was just Scar,” Grian brushed it off, setting his phone back down. “Updating me on meetings and such.” It was an easy lie, it came out before he could stop it.

“Oh my gosh,” Mumbo breathed. He paused for a moment, jaw slack before the corners quirked up into a smile. “Oh my gosh!”

“What?” Grian asked.

“Oh my goodness, this is absolutely grand!” Mumbo laughed ecstatically. “Grian! I can’t believe this!”

“What? Mumbo, are you alright?” Grian asked again, a deeper level of concern flooding his words.

“It all makes sense now!” Mumbo gasped. “How long?”

“How long, what?” Grian shook his head. “Mumbo, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re in love with Scar,” Mumbo said, like it was simple, plain, abhorrently noticeable. 

Grian felt his heart drop into his stomach, he felt his fight or flight response kick in and it chose to freeze. Grian laughed weakly, all he could muster, “no, I’m not.”

“You are, too!” Mumbo laughed, his hands pressing against his head. “How long?”

“How long have I been in love with him?” Grian clarified. “Or how long have I thought it’s been possible that I could fall?”

“Both?” Mumbo shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Well, it started the day I met him,” Grian explained. “Because someone forgot to tell me he was absolutely, spellbindingly attractive.” He lowered a glare in Mumbo’s direction. “Then I fell in love, or maybe realised that I had when we went out for lunch one day.”

“You go out for lunch with him often?” Mumbo asked, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Every day,” Grian said innocently. 

Mumbo nearly choked on his drink, coughing and laughing in the same breath. “Please, continue, you were out to lunch with him?” 

“Yeah, so we were in the car we took the first time we got lunch together and he asked me if I wanted to drive, so I got into the driver’s seat,” Grian started. “But it was a manual, so he was in control of the gear shift, but then we got stuck behind a train, and I didn’t want to drive anymore so we switched.”

“Okay,” Mumbo said. “And you fell in love with him when?”

“I am getting there,” Grian said. “If you would stop interrupting me.”

“Apologies,” Mumbo laughed. “Continue.”

“We switched, but the train was still there so he tried to teach me. Long story short we kind of held hands for like twenty minutes?” Grian said, quickly getting the words out.

“Sorry, I feel like I’ve missed something,” Mumbo crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “You just held hands?”

“Well, I couldn’t get it to shift, so he helped me by showing me, but my hand was still there and we just never let go,” Grian explained sheepishly.

“So, let me get this straight,” Mumbo said.

“That’ll be quite difficult,” Grian muttered under his breath, Mumbo let out a laugh that he tried to keep down.

“Let me get this right,” Mumbo corrected himself. “You go out to lunch with him every day, taking one of his cars, and he teaches you how to drive, and holds your hand for twenty minutes, and you’re in love with him?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Grian covered his face with his hands, but he could tell Mumbo could see his ears turn red.

“You two are so gone for each other,” Mumbo sighed. 

“No,” Grian argued. “It’s not like that, Scar doesn’t have feelings for me.” Mumbo gave him a look. “He’s just nice, that’s just how he is.”

“Okay,” Mumbo said, pretending to drop the subject. “Alright, no you’re right. He’s just a good guy who takes his personal assistant out for lunch every day and lets him drive his fancy cars and holds his hand for twenty minutes.”

“Well, when you say it like that,” Grian grumbled. “But I promise, Scar doesn’t like me that way.”

“But you like him that way,” Mumbo noted. “And it’s why you don’t want to snoop around.”

Grian winced, “I was hoping we would gloss over that.”

“Grian,” Mumbo said, “it’s why we’re having this meeting.”

“You mean we aren’t just friends having lunch?” Grian asked, hoped, prayed.

“G,” Mumbo said, and Grian’s heart flipped, remembering that Scar used the nickname too.

“I know,” Grian sighed. “It’s just that I don’t want to hurt him or lie to him, Mumbo. It’s like whenever I do or try to, a part of me hurts with it.” Grian refused to meet Mumbo’s gaze. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Why not?” Mumbo asked. “I’m sure they’d at least understand. Love is unexpected.”

“It was Sahara’s idea in the first place,” Grian said. “I don’t want people to be disappointed in me for not being able to follow through.” 

“I don’t think they’d care,” Mumbo assured, “but I won’t tell them, promise.”

“Thank you,” Grian smiled. “Also, ConCorp is good, but without a doubt in my mind we have the better technology. The only thing we’re missing is advertising, and I don’t think we’re going to get any secrets from them on that.”

“Propose to Scar, endorse us in the prenups,” Mumbo joked.

“Marry Scar and steal half of ConCorp in the divorce,” Grian played along.

“Would you get half if Cub is also a CEO?” Mumbo asked.

“Are you trying to add logic to a hypothetical scenario in which me and, technically, my current boss get married?” Grian asked.

“I’m a logical man, Grian.” Mumbo lifted his cup up in toast. “What can I say?”

Grian laughed, resting half his face in his hand. “I am not letting you do the best man speech at this hypothetical wedding.”

“Does that mean I wouldn’t be your hypothetical best man?” Mumbo said, acting dejected and sad.

“No, you would,” Grian told him. “You just wouldn’t get to do the hypothetical best man’s speech.”

“Who would then?” Mumbo chuckled. “Hypothetically, of course.”

“Hypothetically,” Grian stalled, trying to think of a person. “Not you.”

“Professor Beak?” Mumbo offered.

Grian visibly brightened at the prospect. “Yes! Absolutely!” 

“We’ve got the hypothetical wedding party complete,” Mumbo joked as Grian’s phone started to ring, Scar’s contact showed up on the screen. “Oh, looks like your hypothetical husband is calling.”

“And if I made that his contact name?” Grian laughed, putting the phone up to his ear and answering the call. “Hey Scar, what’s up?”

“Hey, Gri!” Scar said, his voice sounded tinny through the phone. “I was just wondering if you knew where my staplers were, I can only find the one.”

“They’re in your top left drawer,” Grian said. “Why do you need more staplers?”

“A man can never have enough staplers, Grian,” Scar hummed. “Also because I don’t have extra staples, so whenever I run out I just switch.”

“Why don’t you have extra staples?” Grian asked incredulously. “Would you like me to pick some up?”

“Oh, would you be so lovely?” Scar said, sweetness that Grian assumed would taste like honey dripped off his every word. 

Grian pulled out his wallet and set some money on the table, before waving a hurried goodbye to Mumbo, prioritizing the conversation with Scar. He let his phone connect to the bluetooth in his car, so Scar’s voice echoed through his speakers as he drove to a stationary store. 

“Do you want coloured staples?” Grian asked, looking at the selection on the shelf.

Scar gasped in delight. “Is that even a question?”

“One of every colour, got it,” Grian smiled. “Do you need anything else while I’m here?” 

“Honestly, I’d think you’d know more than me,” Scar laughed. “Do I need anything else, Mr. Personal Assistant?”

“I’ll pick you up some cardstock, you were running low last time I checked,” Grian commented offhandedly, words trailing off as he placed the items in his basket. Grian heard shuffling from the other side of the call.

“Oh, thanks,” Scar said, he sounded a little awed, confused, grateful. “I swear my life got ten times better when I met you.”

Grian paused, his hand on a package of cardstock. He let a wide grin break out on his face, felt his face flush, felt himself fall further in love. “I could say the same.” 

“Wow, you’re so kind!” Scar laughed, Grian laughed with him. There was an ease that came with Scar, a natural pattern he couldn’t help but fall into, where steps matched heartbeats, and Grian adored it. They seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces, drawn together like binary stars orbiting around each other. 

“Okay, I’m checking out now, so speak now or forever hold your peace,” Grian told him, Scar stayed silent. “Alright then.” Grian put everything on the conveyor belt of the till, pulling out the credit card Scar had given him for work purchases. He thanked the cashier before he left, never ending the call with Scar.

Grian could tell Scar was being distracted from his work while talking to him, but he couldn’t have brought himself to care if he tried. Grian let himself be selfish, just for a minute, just for Scar. They’d be productive after Grian got back to ConCorp, after Scar got his staples.

Grian didn’t mind that he didn’t have music, when Scar’s voice and laugh filled his ears as if they’d carved out their own tune. It had somehow synced with Grian’s heartbeat, following every stutter and skip like it was written within the sheet music.

“I’m hanging up on you now,” Grian said as he opened his car door. 

“Why?” Scar pouted.

Grian scoffed, “I’m literally outside, that’s why.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to hang up,” Scar pointed out. “You can stay until at least the elevator.”

“Do you want me to?” Grian asked. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“We didn’t have lunch together today,” Scar said as if it explained anything. “I miss you.”

Grian’s grip on his phone tensed, his heart tightened in his chest in the most overwhelming way. Grian felt his throat close up a bit as Scar’s words hit him. “Okay, yeah, I can stay.”

“Yay!” Scar cheered, and Grian could imagine the smile on his face in vivid detail. The way it quirked up more on one side than the other, the way Scar’s eyes crinkled up when he did it, his cheeks puffing out just the slightest bit. It was beautiful. “How was the lunch with your friend?”

“It was,” Grian paused, searching the corners of his mind for the right words. “Fun, interesting. I haven’t been able to truly catch up with them in a while.”

“I’m glad you could today, then,” Scar said. 

“Yeah me too,” Grian agreed. He waited for the lift doors to slide open. “I am hanging up on you now, though.”

“Why?” Scar asked again, and Grian could see the dejected look on his face through the glass walls of his office.

“Because I can literally see you,” Grian said, immediately ending the call. He watched Scar light up as he looked in Grian’s direction, standing up out of his seat as they walked towards each other. 

“Grian!” Scar called out excitedly, he held open the door, inviting Grian in. He held out an expectant hand for the bag Grian was holding. 

“Here are your staples,” Grian relished in how their hands brushed against each other for a split second when Grian passed it over. “A box of every colour, just as you ordered.”

“I’m going to colour code so much with these, you have no idea,” Scar said, bringing the boxes over to his desk.

Grian beamed, as fond as he could handle, in Scar’s direction. “Was this your plan all along?” He asked, falling into one of the chairs opposite Scar’s. “Hire a personal assistant so that they get you coloured staples?”

“No,” Scar shook his head, “but maybe it should’ve been.”

“Well, it all worked out in the end, did it not?” Grain threw his legs over the arm of the chair, leaning to the side a little so that he could still look at Scar. “You got them.”

Scar paused for a moment, seemingly considering something, appraising it. He looked away from Grian, a small smile on his face. “Hopefully,” he whispered under his breath.

“What?” Grian asked, confused by the answer, unsure if he heard it correctly.

“Yeah,” Scar breathed in, nodding his head lightly as if he was trying to make himself believe it. “I got the staples and the cardstock, my non-existent plans have succeeded!”

“What other non-existent plans might you have?” Grain picked up something off of Scar’s desk and tossed it lightly, carefully, between his hands.

“I guess we’ll have to find out when they succeed,” Scar said the words like there was something hidden behind them, there was something he wanted Grian to find. 

“I guess we will,” Grian responded, he didn’t think it was what Scar wanted to hear. Grian stopped fidgeting, setting it delicately back onto Scar’s desk. He breathed in, hesitant and yearning, and cleared his throat. “I should get back to work.”

“So should I,” Scar agreed, keeping his eyes focused on his paper as Grian looked back at him one final time before leaving the room. 

Grian set his head on his arms, folded over one another on his desk. It felt like something shifted, had gotten tense, grown complicated. Grian didn’t like it, he craved the simplicity that came with being around Scar, the easy calm that flowed within the atmosphere that surrounded them when they were together. He dispelled the thoughts, pulling out his work, distracting himself with it.

Grian and Scar only spoke in necessary words the rest of the day. Grian was sad about it, about not getting to hear his voice, study his mannerisms, catch himself staring instead of listening and having to pretend to know what Scar was talking about. 

Scar stayed at the office later than usual, Grian took the opportunity to watch the sunset. Pink, purple, and orange danced along the skyline, intermingling, cohabitating, melding together. It was beautiful, it reminded him of Scar. Grian stood up from his desk, walked over to Scar’s office, and lightly knocked on the doorframe. 

“Hey, you alright?” Grian asked. “It’s pretty late, you’re normally home by now.”

Scar looked up, he seemed surprised Grian was still there. He rolled the ache out of his shoulders from sitting in the same position for too long. “What? I’m fine, just got caught up, you know how it is.”

“What are you working on?” Grian still stood just outside the office, unsure if Scar wanted him there. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Floor plans,” Scar said, twirling his pen in his hand. “ConCorp is having a gala and people want a whole new place for it. I don’t really understand, but I’m not going to argue with them.”

Grian nodded, “makes sense.”

“Come sit, please,” Scar gestured to the chairs. “I’ll be here for a while still, I could use the company.” Grian didn’t wait, eager to find comfort in Scar’s proximity. “Do you want me to order us some food?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Grian said. He locked eyes with Scar for the first time in hours, Grian offered a small, gentle smile. Scar returned it. 

“What would you like?” Scar picked up his phone, unlocking it but not moving further than that.

“I could go for some pizza,” Grian suggested. Scar dialled, and the atmosphere felt light again. It was a breath of fresh air, a thunderstorm after days of static in the air. It was nice, sweet on Grian’s tongue, enticing in the best way possible. If Grian hadn’t already fallen in love with Scar, he wouldn’t have doubted that the scene in front of him would have pulled him into his fate.

“Are those the Greko-modern floor designs we drew up?” Grian asked, when he got back from picking up the pizza boxes. 

“Yeah, they are,” Scar said. “They felt like the best fit for the gala, but I can’t seem to get them right without you.”

“Lucky for you, I’m right here.” Grian set the pizza boxes down on an empty corner of Scar’s desk, opening it and taking a piece out to eat. “What’s got you stumped this time?”

“Everything, if I’m being honest with myself, but the foundations are already set, they just want the small details.” Scar said as he pulled a piece out of the box as well. “I don’t understand why I’m struggling so much because I’m usually good at plans and builds and landscaping.”

“Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard,” Grian said. “Relax, don’t force ideas to present themselves, that’s only going to result in burn out.”

“You sound like you’re talking from experience,” Scar joked, running his free hand through his hair. 

Grian chuckled, letting it bleed into a facade of horror, barely concealing smiles, “so much experience, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“I think I’d believe anything at this point,” Scar groaned. “This project has absolutely fried me. I am a broken man, G.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Grian rolled his eyes. “Let me take a look at it.”

Scar slid the paper over, turning it around so Grian could see it the right way. Grian let out a small giggle. “Don’t laugh!” Scar exclaimed. 

“I’m sorry,” Grian got out between breaths. “But why does it say ‘Dude, please’ with a sad face in the corner?”

“Like I said, I am a broken man,” Scar laughed along. 

“Who’s Dude’ even supposed to be?” Grian asked. 

“I don’t know? God?” Scar shrugged helplessly. “Anybody that can stop my endless suffering while doing this project.”

“I’ll be your ‘Dude’,” Grian said, an afterthought almost, the weight of his words didn’t catch up to him immediately. When they did, he pulled the blueprints closer to his face to hide his blush. 

“You will? Why, thank you,” Scar said, teasing tone slotted in perfectly, almost there, almost not, perfectly subtle. “But seriously, I really appreciate you helping me with this.”

“Isn’t that what personal assistants do?” Grian asked. “Assist?”

“I guess so,” Scar said, “But I’ve never met any that would go as far as you have. You’re one of a kind, Grian Xelqua.”

“You flatter me, Scar Goodtimes,” Grian smiled. He reached across the desk, grabbing one of Scar’s pens. He uncapped it, put the paper on the desk so he had a hard surface to write on, and started planning. Whenever he looked up, to ask Scar for his opinion, to take a sip of his drink, to grab another slice, he always caught Scar looking away from him. For a split second—each time—their eyes met, and it felt synonymous with bliss. 

“And with that,” Grian breathed. “I think it might just be done.” 

The moon shone in the sky, the lights of the skyline felt like stars they couldn’t see from the light pollution. They had sat in Scar’s office for a while, planning, talking, eating, and with each breath he took, Grian fell a little bit harder. 

“I think you might just be right,” Scar smiled. It was wide, and dopey, and so beautiful. “It’s done! I’m free!”

Grian let his gaze fall to the floor, hiding his love struck face. He collected himself and looked back up at Scar, only letting his gaze stay there for a few seconds before he looked away again. “You are!” He agreed, standing up. He picked up the empty pizza boxes and soda cans, cleaning the mess he and Scar had unknowingly made.

Scar caught his wrist in one of his hands, “hey, don’t worry about it, okay?” He said, loosening his grip, but not letting go. “You’ve already done enough, I’ll clean it up.”

“I really don’t mind, Scar,” Grian said, it was soft, almost a whisper. They were close, close enough that Grian could count the flecks of colour in Scar’s eyes. He couldn’t look away, he didn’t want to.

Scar pulled the can out of Grian’s hand, his hand was still on Grian’s wrist. He hadn’t looked away. “At least let me help then, I’d feel bad if you did it all yourself.”

“Alright,” Grian said, his chest felt heavy with metaphorical humidity. They stayed there for a few seconds longer, looking at each other. Grian could’ve sworn Scar’s eyes flitted to his lips for a fraction of a moment. Just as quickly as it had started, it ended. Scar let go of his wrist, they both looked away. They started cleaning up, sparing glances at the other when they could, when the other wasn’t looking. Grian drove home that night, and his hand never left the gear shift.

Grian woke up with his alarm clock, he instinctively grabbed his phone from his bedside table. He had a text from Scar, he rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing it right. It was a simple message that told him that he didn’t have to go into work, that Scar was sorry that he kept Grian so late. 

He scoffed, setting his phone down. He sat up, his legs fell to the ground, he stretched his arms up above his head. He stood up off his bed, going through his morning routine, putting on a suit jacket, tying a tie around his neck. 

Grian drove to ConCorp, in defiance against Scar’s loose instructions. He stopped by a cafe on the way to get a cup of coffee to wake him up. He got into the lift and got out on the top floor, walking over to his desk outside of Scar’s office. 

Scar looked up at the sudden additional noise, he watched Grian sit down with a confused look on his face. He blinked a few times before standing up and moving towards Grian. “I thought I told you that you didn’t have to come in today.”

“You think one late night is going to put me out of commission?” Grian laughed. “Ye of so little faith?”

“I didn’t think it would,” Scar said, narrowing his eyes a bit. “I just wanted to give you the option if you wanted to take it.”

“Well, I didn’t.” Grian took a stack of papers, sticking it up vertically and pressing the bottom edges into the desk so that they laid flush against each other. “You’d probably flounder without me here, no one to keep you on track or remind you of meetings.”

Scar let out a small chuckle, “that much I think is true. You really do go above and beyond.”

“I’m hoping for employee of the month,” Grian joked. 

“At this rate, I think you’ll get employee of the year,” Scar added on. He was standing directly in front of Grian’s view of his office. It was suspicious, Grian leaned his head to see around Scar, and his shoulders deflated.

“Really, Scar?” Grian stood up walking into his office. “It’s already a mess, how long have you even been here?”

“Listen,” Scar tried following after Grian. “I needed to prepare for my meetings today and it sort of just exploded around me.”

Grian turned around and gave Scar an exasperated sigh. “You are absolutely unbelievable.” 

“I am choosing to take that as a compliment,” Scar huffed, walking around Grian to go back to his chair. 

“Of course you are,” Grian rolled his eyes. He heard a small beep, Scar looked down at his watch. He immediately sat down and pulled his laptop closer to him. He started typing quickly, concerned looks gracing his features. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Cub just asked for an emergency meeting to be called,” Scar explained. 

“Do you have any idea what it could be about?” Grian asked. 

Scar shook his head. “Not a clue, but I don’t really have time for it with everything going on today.”

“I can move things around for you,” Grian offered. “Leave it to me, go meet with Cub.”

Scar sighed, looking at Grian like he was the sun. “Really?”

“Of course,” Grian said simply, because it was simple. He’d do just about anything for Scar. 

Scar stood up out of his seat, walking towards Grian with anxious speed. He lightly set his hands on either side of Grian’s head, pulling it towards him to lay a kiss on his forehead. “Thanks, angel.”

Grian didn’t have any time to process it before Scar was out of the door. Grian stood there for what felt like years, staring ahead of him in shock. When he finally realised what had happened, he felt his entire face flush. He brought both of his hands up to his face to hide the bright red blush and gigantic smile he was sporting. 

Once he calmed down enough to think, he returned to his desk. His smile hadn’t faded, but he was filled with excited energy. He tried to dispel it into rearranging Scar’s schedule, and it worked somewhat. After everything had been finished, Scar’s meeting set into an order he could manage, Grian was still buzzing. 

He called Mumbo, needing to talk to someone about it. “Grian? Aren’t you at work?”

“Scar just kissed me,” Grian said, not being able to wait.

“He what?” Mumbo asked. 

“Well, he didn’t like, kiss me, kiss me,” Grian backtracked. “He kissed my forehead.”

“Why did he kiss your forehead?” Mumbo asked instead. “I feel like I’m missing about eight chapters here.”

“Cub called an emergency meeting, right?” Grian started, he heard Mumbo hum in confirmation that he was listening. “But Scar didn’t have much time today so I told him I’d rearrange it, because that’s literally my job. Then he kisses my forehead and calls me an angel and then just leaves! He leaves, Mumbo!”

“I’m still a bit lost here, but isn’t this a good thing?” Mumbo sounded a bit more muffled than usual, Grian assumed that he was adjusting the phone so he could continue what he was doing beforehand.

“It’s an amazing thing, I’m ecstatic,” Grian said. “But what do I do now? Do I just pretend everything’s normal? Pretend it never happened?”

“You could talk to him about it?” Mumbo told him. “That’s always an option.”

“And say what, Mumbo? ‘You kissed my forehead, called me angel and made me fall madly in love with you and now I don’t know how to deal with it’?” Grian asked sarcastically. 

“That sounds apt,” Mumbo agreed. 

Grian let out a groan, “you are not helping this situation.”

“I’m trying my best!” Mumbo yelled over the line. “You’re not giving much to work with here, Mr. I’m in love with my boss!”

“Hey!” Grian squawked. “Unfair!”

“Sorry?” Mumbo said. “Listen, I’m happy to hear you rant about your little gay panic, but this redstone is taking up a lot of my brain power, and I don’t want to be an absolute spoon about it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grian sighed. “I get it, thank you for listening to me, good luck.”

“I’ll need it,” Mumbo smiled. “Good luck to you too.”

Grian hung up the phone, he felt a lot calmer than he had before, he breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling above him. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling again. He walked back into Scar’s office after a little while, tidying it up for Scar when he got back. It didn’t take long, to Grian’s surprise. 

He busied himself with menial tasks that he hadn’t gotten to—organising his drawers, cleaning his monitor screen—until Scar came back. Cub had walked him back, dropping him off before stopping at Grian’s desk. 

Grian’s back straightened, he corrected his posture. “Mr. Fan, how may I assist you today?”

“Scar cares about you,” he said, cutting to the chase. “Don’t make him regret it.”

“What?” Grian asked. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

“You and Scar have this thing,” Cub explained. “And while I don’t necessarily approve of it, as you’re his employee, I want Scar to be happy.”

Grian’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh no,” he denied. “It’s nothing. Scar and I, we’re just friends, colleagues. He’s my boss.”

“It’s not nothing to him,” Cub said. “Don’t hurt him.”

Grian spared a glance in Scar’s direction, watching him fondly. Cub could probably see the adoration on his face. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good,” Cub said, and with that he walked away. Grian let out a large breath, resting his head in his hands as the anxiety seeped out of his system. 

Grian realised, a few minutes after, that he was scared. He didn’t want to hurt Scar, he definitely didn’t want Scar to figure out Grian’s original ulterior motives of doing just that. Cub said that Scar cared about him, for him perhaps. He couldn’t do something to sever that, he wanted to keep the string between them that fate had threaded. 

Scar was unlike anyone Grian had ever met, and he wouldn’t let himself give that up. Scar was beautiful, kind, perfect. Grian wanted to be selfish, and hold onto the friendship and kindness Scar had so willingly offered to him.

Grian thought about Sahara, his company, his passion project that had escalated into something beyond his comprehension. He wondered if it was worth it, if his company was worth losing Scar over. His heart felt heavy, with anxiety, with guilt. He couldn’t have guessed who it was directed at. 

Grian wasn’t the only one affected by his choices. Sahara was Mumbo’s company as well. He didn’t want to let down his whole company because of something as trivial as a crush. However, it had grown more than a crush, it had blossomed into something so much more powerful, so much more meaningful. He had fallen in love, and he had a choice to make. 

He carefully avoided Scar the rest of the day, acting like he was too busy to talk, pretending he was working on something whenever Scar went somewhere. It all felt like too much to handle, like he was trying to drain the ocean with his own two hands. 

He drove home in silence, not being able to stomach the thought of sound. He could feel the rumble of his car as it passed over pebbles on the street, letting the rhythmic ticking of his signal fill his thoughts. He almost felt outside of himself as he watched vehicles pass by him on the road.

He flopped down onto his bed with a sigh. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, aimlessly scrolling. He closed out of all his apps, letting the phone fall beside him, not having enough energy to hold it up.

A few seconds later, he picked it up with new fervour. He opened his contacts list, scrolling down until found the name he was looking for. “Grian?” Mumbo said, sounding confused. “What’s up, dude?”

“Have you ever fallen in love with someone you weren’t supposed to?” 

“Okay,” Mumbo breathed out. “Can I put you on speaker? I’m just going to clean up now.”

“Yeah, sure,” Grian said, he could tell he sounded a bit apathetic. “What were you up to?”

“Still working on that redstone I was talking to you about earlier,” Mumbo said, wiping red off his hands with a cloth. “So, Scar?”

Grian thought about lying, thought about hiding the truth, thought about doing so much. “Scar.”

“You stay right there, Grian,” Mumbo told him. “I’m coming over.”

“No,” Grian assured. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I’m even bothering you with this.”

“This sounds like a red alert issue, Mate,” Mumbo said. “Not something you should have to deal with on your own. Hang in there, I won’t be long.”

“Okay,” Grian said, he put the phone beside his head, so he could still listen and respond to his friend without much effort.

“Do you want me to stay on while I’m on my way?” Mumbo asked.

Grian felt his nose tense up a little bit, felt the tears well behind his eyes. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Mumbo replied immediately. Grian heard shuffling on the other line: Mumbo collecting and organising his tools. He closed his eyes, letting the sounds coming through his phone ground him into reality. 

He answered monosyllabically when Mumbo included him in the conversations, but he mostly rambled on about redstone and such which Grian appreciated, just being able to hear someone else’s voice, knowing that he wasn’t alone.

He didn’t bother getting up when he heard car doors shut over the line, Mumbo had a spare key into his house. He heard the door unlock, he heard someone call out, asking where he was. He noted distantly that Mumbo had hung up the call. “In here,” Grian said, hoping he could be found from his voice alone.

Mumbo walked in, one foot after the other, and Grian didn’t even mind the pity on his face when he saw him. He did look pitiful, he presumed, crying over falling in love with his boss. “Oh, G.” Mumbo said, inviting him to sit up against the headboard. 

Mumbo locked eyes with Grian, before giving a small nod and leaving the room. The nod must’ve been to himself because Grian didn’t quite understand. Mumbo came back, making sure his steps were soft, with a glass of water. “Hey, Mumbo.” Grian tried weakly. 

“Hey, Grian,” Mumbo replied quietly. “I brought you some water, alright? I get the sense you’re most probably dehydrated.” 

Grian nodded, taking the glass from Mumbo gingerly, drinking small sips of it. He brought his legs closer to himself, adjusting them so he was sitting crossed-legged on his bed. He pulled a pillow from beside him close to his chest, hugging it. 

“So,” Mumbo started. “Want to talk about it?”

Grian started crying again, Mumbo had only said six words but it was enough for everything to pour out again. Mumbo took the water from him and set it on the bedside table, bringing Grian into a hug. Grian sniffled, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes. He nodded against Mumbo’s shoulder. “Scar.”

“I thought it was all good,” Mumbo said, pulling back from the hug, shifting to sit opposite to Grian. “When you called me today, you were so happy about it.”

“I was,” Grian confirmed. “But then Cub told me that Scar cared about me and that I shouldn’t hurt him. I know I should be even happier that Scar cares about me, but it’s just going to make it hurt more when he finds out the truth.”

“The truth?” Mumbo asked. 

“About me,” Grian explained. “About Sahara, about how I’ve been lying to him from the very moment we met.” Grian hung his head. “It’s all gotten so complicated.”

“I’m sorry,” Mumbo said.

Grian looked up, letting out a sniffle. “Why are you sorry?”

“It was my idea in the first place,” Mumbo shrugged. “If I hadn’t suggested it and applied for you, this never would’ve happened.”

“Please don’t be sorry for it,” Grian told him. “Despite how I look, these past few weeks have been unbelievably amazing. It hurts and it will hurt for a while I’m sure, but it’s so much better to have loved than to never know it was even an option.”

“That’s an optimistic way to think about it,” Mumbo joked. “I can always pretend to have fired you from Sahara if it ever comes up. I’ll back you up on it and act really mean about it. If Scar or anyone ever asks, I’ll pretend I let you go because of the potato incident.” 

Grian cringed from embarrassment. “I already said I was sorry for that!”

“And I’ve already forgiven you,” Mumbo said. “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t funny, and it definitely doesn’t mean I’m not going to tease you about it.”

Grian pouted, but it immediately softened into something more kind, something more grateful. “Thank you, Mumbo, you didn’t have to drive out here for me, but you did and I cannot be more grateful.”

“So,” Mumbo raised his eyebrows teasingly. “Scar, huh?”

Grian groaned, “you don’t even know. He’s so pretty and kind and an absolute idiot sometimes, it’s somehow always endearing,” Grian babbled. “I truly never stood a chance.”

“Well, I think it’s safe to assume you don’t have to get any information for Sahara anymore,” Mumbo said. “We’ll just have to make it on our own I guess.” 

“Your tech’s definitely better,” Grian loosened his grip on his pillow. “If that’s any consolation.”

“It is, actually, that makes me very happy to know.” Mumbo nodded proudly. “How about we drown ourselves in ice cream and watch movies until we fall asleep?” 

“It’s like you read my mind,” Grian let the pillow go completely, getting up off the bed. He grabbed the glass of water, bringing it with him to the kitchen where he quickly washed the glass and put it back in the cupboard. He settled into the sofa, after he set the two bowls filled with ice cream down onto the coffee table. He watched his best friend ruminate about what movie to put on, and smiled. “You always know how to cheer me up Mumbo,” he said, momentarily breaking the silence. 

Grian leaned back, a soft smile on his face. He pulled down the blanket that was hung over the edge of the sofa. He wrapped it around himself, sinking further into its comfort when a movie finally started to play. He would regret staying on the sofa when he woke up with a kink in his neck, but he was with his best friend and his heart finally felt lighter. The ocean he was draining felt so much more manageable. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Mumbo poked Grian’s cheek to wake him up. Grian flinched, leaning back.

“I’m up, I’m up,” He yawned. He smelled food being cooked, he looked towards his kitchen to see Mumbo making breakfast. He let out a little chuckle, before getting up entirely. He had a quick shower, brushed his teeth, got changed and joined his friend back in the kitchen. 

He grabbed a quick breakfast, some eggs and toast. “I’m trusting you in my house while I go to work,” Grian said, giving a pointed look to his friend. “Please don’t break anything I can’t replace.”

“Only the stuff you can,” Mumbo smirked. “Don’t worry.”

Grian rolled his eyes, grabbing his keys before leaving the house. He put his playlist on during his car ride to ConCorp, humming along with the songs. He pulled into his parking stall, pulling his keys out of the ignition. He locked his car with his fob, pausing until he heard the honk that signified it. 

He entered the elevator, it was quieter than usual, Grian bore it no mind. He walked to his desk, he stopped in his tracks when he noticed that Scar’s office was empty. It wasn’t like him to be late, he had always gotten there before Grian. The fact that Scar wasn’t there sounded alarms in his head.

He pulled out his phone to see if Scar had messaged him about it, he hadn’t. He clicked his phone off, sliding it back into his pocket. He turned around, not even bothering to set his things down at his desk. He set off towards Cub’s office. 

He made his presence known with a small knock at the door. Cub looked up from his papers, he leaned his head in, signalling to Grian to speak. “Good morning Mr. Fan, I was just wondering if Scar mentioned anything about being late today?”

Cub turned his phone over, tapping to see the display screen, he hummed. “No, why?”

“He’s not in yet and it just seems unlikely of him,” Grian said, wringing his hands. 

Cub seemed to ponder it for a moment before grabbing a sticky-note off of the pile and writing something on it. He beckoned Grian closer, handing the note to him. “This is Scar’s address, go check on him.”

Grian grabbed it, using the adhesive to stick it on the side of his bag. “Okay, thanks.”

“Yep,” Cub said and Grian had to admire how straight-forwards he was. 

Grian went back to his car, typing the address into his phone to get the directions. His mind wandered while he drove to Scar’s house, making up scenarios as to why Scar was late. He could’ve slept in, had a late night, Jellie could’ve been uncooperative. There were so many factors that could’ve gone into it, it felt almost silly to worry. 

He pulled up to an impressive mansion. Double checking to make sure the address was right, Grian stepped out of his car. He went up to the door, knocking on it twice. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Scar to open the door shirtless. 

“Grian!” Scar said, surprised. “What brings you here?”

Grian made sure to keep his eyes locked with Scar’s, forcing himself not to veer down and look at his chest. “You weren’t at work yet, which is unlike you. Cub gave me your address to come make sure you were okay.”

Scar hummed, he opened the door a little wider, inviting Grian in. “I was almost ready, so feel free to sit at the island until I’m done.”

Grian kept his eyes trained on the floor, while he walked to the kitchen island. He tried not to think of the ever-alluring scars that swept across his boss’ chest. They were expansive, they looked painful, but Grian couldn’t imagine him without them. They littered his skin like the heavens had chosen him as a canvas for their beautiful destruction. 

While he was sitting at one of the stools, he saw a cat out of the corner of his eye. He slowly stood up and moved closer to Jellie. “Hi,” Grian said in a baby-voice. “You must be Jellie, I’ve heard so much about you. Do you mind if I pick you up?”

Jellie purred at him, Grian took it as confirmation. He put his hands under her arms and hoisted her up onto his chest. He scratched behind her ears, petting her back and she snuggled deeper into his chest. “I think she likes you,” Scar said, leaning on the wall of the hallway.

Grian startled, “my goodness,” he breathed out. “You scared me.” 

Scar laughed. “Sorry, but usually she doesn’t warm up to people this quick.” Scar walked closer to them, resting his palm on Jellie’s head. It put Scar right behind Grian, so much so that Grian could feel Scar’s breath on his ear.

“Oh,” Grian stammered. Scar made a motion that he wanted to hold her, Grian obliged, placing the cat into his arms. “Well, I’m honoured.”

“You should be,” Scar said, setting her down near her food dish. “I’m ready, if you want to go.”

“Yeah, sure,” Grian said, walking backwards towards Scar’s front door. “Do you want to carpool, take my car? Produce less carbon dioxide?”

“Well, when you say it like that, I can’t not want to,” Scar joked. “It’s for the environment.”

“Mine or yours?” Grian asked, opening the door and holding it open Scar.

“We can take yours,” Scar said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in your car.”

Grian pulled out his keys. “It’s not as fancy as any of yours, but it gets me from place to place in a timely and efficient manner, so.”

“That’s all we can really ask for, is it not?” Scar opened the passenger side door, sliding into the seat. Grian got in too, seconds after, reminding Scar to buckle himself in. 

He put his car into reverse, resting a hand on the back of Scar’s seat to give him enough leverage to look back and make sure he was okay to drive out of the driveway. “Can you put ConCorp’s address in?” Grian asked.

“Actually, the reason I was so late today was because I was going to the Greko-modern floor site,” Scar said. “I was meaning to ask if you wanted to come along as well since you essentially designed it with me.”

Grian smiled, remembering the time put into making them, the time they had spent together. “Yeah, just put in the address.”

“Amazing!” Scar exclaimed. “Oh man, I’m so excited to see it in all its glory!”

“Me too!” Grian said. “I hope it’s translated well from paper.”

“Since it’s your design, I’m sure it will have,” Scar said confidently. “You have a serious eye for it, even if you did go to school, you obviously put in work to get where you are.” 

“Gosh,” Grian breathed. “You’re giving me a big ego, next thing you’ll know, I won’t be able to fit through doors, my head will be too large.”

“Or maybe,” Scar sing-songed. “You deserve rightful praise where it’s due.”

Grian rolled his eyes, making a turn when his GPS told him to. “Sure, sure.”

“Please,” Scar whined. “Just take the compliment!”

“Fine,” Grian smiled, pulling into their destination. “I am skilled.”

They got out in tandem, their doors both closing at the same time. They waved salutations to the workers outside before heading in. Grian’s jaw dropped to the floor as he saw it. It was magnificent, just as he had pictured it in his head. The floor to ceiling windows allowed for brilliant light to cascade onto the glassy marble floor. 

Grian grabbed onto Scar’s arm, squeezing it in excitement. “Oh my gosh!” Scar grabbed onto the hand on his arm and squeezed back.

“This is amazing,” Scar said, awestruck. He looked up to see the skylight, shining light onto the middle of the floor. He pointed up to it, catching Grian’s attention. 

“It’s exactly how I imagined it,” Grian breathed. “It’s beautiful!” Grian twirled around, basking in the light and beauty of the room he and Scar had thought up.

“Be my plus one to the gala tomorrow,” Scar blurted out. Grian stilled, facing Scar, and for the first time, Grian thought he could spot a blush dusting his features. 

“Okay,” Grian beamed. He walked closer to Scar. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Cool,” Scar said, he wiped his palms on his suit pants. “That’s cool.”

“So cool,” Grian agreed. It was a little bit odd, not being the flustered one out of the two, but it was fun seeing how nervous Scar got, how excited he got. It was cute. “Are the statues going to get here soon?”

“Yeah, they should be arriving in about fifteen minutes, actually,” Scar checked his watch, making sure he got the time right. “Until then, what do you say we explore some more?”

“I’d thought you’d never ask,” Grian smiled. He pulled Scar along to a room, Scar followed without complaint. The marble flooring remained throughout, the sound of shoes clacking against it echoes off of the walls. Laughter bubbled up in Grian’s throat as he stepped into the centre of the room. 

There was so much to see, Grian could’ve stayed in the room for hours and still discovered something new each time he opened his eyes. He stood a few feet away from Scar, who had simply stood still while Grian looked upon their creation in abstract wonder. 

He looked back at Scar, who was looking at him. Scar didn’t make any attempts to look away, despite being caught. “What?” Grian asked, “do I have something on my face?”

“You just look really happy,” Scar said, walking closer. 

Grian looked down, the eye contact feeling too intense for him to maintain. “I am happy.” He moved to the farthest corner from the door, brushing his fingertips against the wall. He felt Scar come up behind him. 

“Good, I’m glad,” Scar said, sitting on a random stool the employees hadn’t moved yet. 

Grian turned to partially face Scar. “It’s even better that I can share it with you.” Grian sat down on the stool adjacent to Scar’s. It was quiet for a few seconds, as Scar tried to calm the blush on his face and Grian stared at him like he was the most beautiful thing on the planet. He was the most beautiful thing on the planet, to Grian at least. 

“The statues are almost here.” It was soft, it could’ve been swept up by a small breeze, forever lost to the wind’s mercy. 

“What do they look like?” Grian asked, voice just as quiet, almost a hum. 

Scar paused for a moment, Grian took the time to trace the scars on his face with his eyes. “What do you want them to look like?”

Grian thought for a second, trying to keep a straight face when he gave his answer. “Pac-Man.”

Scar erupted into laughter, Grian joined him. “Pac-Man and the little ghosts?”

“Hey!” Grian crossed his arms over his chest. “Put some respect on Blinky, Pinky, Inky and Clyde!” 

“I’m so sorry,” Scar apologised with faux sincerity. “Blinky, Pinky, Inky and Clyde deserve all the respect I can muster.”

“They do,” Grian nodded, chuckles mixed in with his words. “This is so stupid.”

“You were the one that brought it up!” Scar exclaimed. His forearms were facing the ceiling, both his hands were pointing towards Grian.

“And I don’t deny that!” Grian laughed. 

Scar let his head fall into his hands in exasperation. “I never know what to expect with you, Mr. Xelqua.” 

“Good,” Grian hummed in satisfaction. “How far are the statues now?”

“Outside,” Scar said. “But I have to break it to you, they don’t look like Pac-Man characters.”

“Aw, man! I was really looking forward to that!” Grian pouted, sarcasm flowing out with it.

“Better luck next time,” Scar stood up, and offered a hand out to him. Grian looked between Scar’s hand and his face, smiling to himself before he took the help. 

They watched as the statues of Greek heroes and gods were rolled into the building. As much as he and Scar were amused with the idea of pop culture inspired statues, Grian couldn’t help but fill with awe at what the workers brought in. They were transcendent, the artistry was phenomenal. Grian almost expected to reach out and touch skin, all he felt was cold stone. 

“These are amazing,” Grian said, barely noting that his and Scar’s hands were still connected. It felt right, for them to be holding each other so casually, so effortlessly. Their hands slotted perfectly next to each other, Grian wanted to tighten his grip but he didn’t want Scar to notice and subsequently let go. 

“Aren’t they?” Scar shifted his hand, interlocking his fingers with Grian’s. 

Grian looked up, attempting to gauge Scar’s emotions, motives. Scar just looked back at him with the softest smile Grian had ever seen. “Yeah, you are.” Grian breathed out before realising what he had said. “They are. ‘They’ being the statues, yes.” 

Scar had a knowing look in his eyes, but he didn’t bring it back up. They stayed there for hours, discussing last minute changes, observing it as it all came together. Their hands only broke apart when they ordered lunch. They sat in the grass outside, taking advantage of the warm sunny sky. 

“The gala is at night, right?” Grian asked, picking a fry out of its container.

“Yeah,” Scar answered. “Why?”

“How is anybody going to see?” Grian dipped his fry into one of the sauces. “It relies on natural light, does it not? There isn’t much of that at night?”

“I was told not to worry about it,” Scar shrugged. “Cub’s taking care of it, said that he had a fun redstone plan.”

Grian nodded, “it would've been funny if the guests entered and it was just absolutely pitch black, though.”

“It would’ve been,” Scar agreed. “Speaking of Cub, I’m pretty sure he knew I was here today.” Grian hummed, taking a bite out of his sandwich. Scar took it as a sign to continue. “I don’t know why he didn’t just tell you what I was doing.”

“What? You didn’t want me to show up at your house?” Grian teased. 

Scar rolled his eyes. “It was the highlight of my day, actually. So, there.”

“Thank you?” Grian laughed. “Maybe Cub just forgot.”

“Maybe,” Scar said, but Grian got the sense that he didn’t completely agree. 

Grian let his thoughts rattle around in his brain, trying to figure out a reason why Cub would’ve had him check on Scar. “Maybe he thought you’d forget to remind me, you needed a visual reminder.”

“Okay, that seems quite likely,” Scar laughed around the straw in his mouth. “But that’s exactly why I need a personal assistant!”

“Was Cub your personal assistant before me?” Grian joked. 

“I know you’re joking right now, but you are too close to the truth,” Scar said. 

Grian put a hand over his mouth to cover his shocked expression. “No!” Grian exclaimed, Scar nodded sheepishly. “Scar!”  

“I got you eventually!” Scar defended

Grian let his face drop into his hands in exasperation. “Scar, you had your fellow CEO be your glorified personal assistant until I got there? ConCorp has existed for so long!”

“Let me plead my case,” Scar laughed. “It’s not as bad as you think!”

Grian sighed, but a grin was plastered onto his face. “I’m listening.”

“Until a little while ago, me and Cub went to the exact same meetings,” Scar started. “So, it wasn’t that hard for him to just remind me when we had one. However, once we started doing separate things more often, he encouraged me to hire someone.”

“Encouraged?” Grian smirked, he leaned in a little closer just to fluster Scar.

“Yes, encouraged,” Scar leaned in a little too in retaliation but he leaned back almost immediately. “Otherwise he was going to make an automated machine thing, but I felt like I would break it so I just hired you.”

“The robots aren’t taking over!” Grian gasped. “Sci-fi movies lied to me!”

Scar chuckled. “I can’t meet Pac-Man in real life! Woe is me!”

“This is truly the worst timeline,” Grian exhaled solemnly.

Scar looked like he was considering Grian’s claim. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Oh?” Grian implored, taking a sip of his drink.

“Well, I don’t know if I would’ve met you in any other timelines,” Scar said casually. 

The sun, once warm and kind, became unbearably humid. Grian swallowed, wishing for relief from the tension. “Am I really that good of an assistant?” 

“You’re better than Cub,” Scar offered. “But I don’t really have anything to judge you based on.”

“Let’s just say I’m the best,” Grian smiled. “Feed my ego.”

“I doubt you’re far off from it,” Scar winked. 

Grian scoffed, but he felt his face heat up more than it probably should’ve under the warmth of the sunshine. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to put that on my resume.”

“You plan on quitting?” Scar asked, there was a joking tone but Grian could hear a hint of insecurity embedded within it.

“Well, I think you’ll have to find a new one when you inevitably fall in love with me,” Grian laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “Means I would be out of a job.”

“Well, when I inevitably fall in love with you, I would probably pay for you and stuff. You wouldn’t really need a job,” Scar said, but Grian felt like he was hearing it through cotton. Scar hadn’t denied that he would fall in love with Grian, had accepted it as a fact of life. Grian’s heart started beating a little faster, his yearning grew stronger. He stared blankly at Scar for a few seconds, letting himself organise his thoughts. Scar tilted his head in concern. “Grian? Are you okay?”

Grian squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get himself back in order. “I’m okay,” Grian murmured. “Just thinking about all the cars you’d buy me.”

“They’d all have to be automatics,” Scar made a face. Grian laughed. “Because you can’t drive a manual car.”

“You haven’t tried to teach me since!” Grian argued, stealing one of Scar’s fries. 

Scar wordlessly pushed the rest of his fries closer to Grian. “You never asked!”

“What was I supposed to say?” Grian questioned. “‘Hey, Scar, let’s skip out on work so you can teach me how to drive!’?”

“I would’ve said yes,” Scar said. 

Grian sighed, “I know, that’s the problem.”

“An afternoon without us wouldn’t kill the company.” Scar took a sip of his drink, only to find it empty. He grabbed Grian’s, taking off the lid and pouring it into his own.

“Are you stealing my drink?” Grain squawked. 

“What?” Scar asked. “You took my fries!”

Grian scoffed. “You gave them to me!” 

“So, now I get half of your drink!” Scar said. “Mutualism!”

Grian rolled his eyes, “whatever.” He grabbed one of the fries and ate it angrily, there were only a few left. 

Scar took a sip out of his drink, “hurry and eat your fries. “

“Why?” Grian asked, even though he was eating them quicker than he had been.

“The floor plans won’t gawk at themselves,” Scar shook his head like it was obvious. 

Grian ate the last one, gathering up the garbage they had collected. “Oh, but of course, can’t keep it waiting.”

“It wouldn’t be gentlemanly,” Scar stood up, taking the garbage out of Grian’s hands and throwing it away in a nearby bin. He held out a hand for Grian to take, to hold, to have in his own. Grian accepted it, an infatuated smile on full display.

Grian blushed when he realised what it must’ve looked like to anyone else, how romantic it looked. They were always at each other’s sides, staying closer than what was necessary, whispering and having private conversations. Grian squeezed Scar’s hand tighter, knowing, relying on, relishing in the fact that Scar wouldn’t let go, that Scar would squeeze back.

It felt like euphoria, having Scar so close, so openly. It was like nothing else in the world mattered, existed. It was just Grian and Scar, in the design they created together, holding hands like it was more natural than breathing. 

They stayed until they could see the sunlight fade away from view out of the windows, until the night sky with all of its stars replaced the sun’s warmth. “I think it might be time to go,” Grian whispered to Scar. He leaned in closer than he normally would’ve, still high on the thrill of Scar next to him, without any hesitations or strings.

“I think you might be right,” Scar whispered back. Grian let out a giggle, pulling Scar with him back out to the parking lot. Grian pulled his keyfob out of his pocket, unlocking it from afar. 

Once they had sat down in their seats, Grian gave Scar his phone. “Can you put in your address for me?” He pulled his seatbelt down, pushing it in until he heard the satisfying click of it fitting together. 

“You don’t remember it?” Scar teased, batting his eyes, barely holding back a laugh.

Grian scoffed, letting it melt into a soft chuckle. “I’ve been there once , Scar.”

“I could just tell you,” Scar said. “Where to turn and such.” Grian turned so he could face Scar more clearly, he crossed his arms over his chest, he levelled a glance at him. “Okay, geez, I’m putting in my address.”

Grian smiled, resting his hands back on the steering wheel. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Scar said. 

The drive back was uneventful, quiet, serene. Words weren’t exchanged, there was no use for them, silence rang volumes. A song hummed quietly on the radio and the directions interrupted briefly every once in a while. Grian snuck glances at Scar when he could, Scar looked back just as readily. 

Grian pulled into the driveway for the second time that day, putting his car in park, unlocking the doors. “Is this your stop?” Grian joked lightly.

“You should join me inside,” Scar said, and it looked like he wasn’t expecting to. “I’ll make us dinner or something.”

Grian paused, considering it for a moment. He unbuckled, opening his door, answering with his actions rather than his words. He nodded in Scar’s direction, who hastily followed in his steps, exiting the car. 

Scar opened the door, letting Grian in first. Jellies came up to them immediately, meowing to get their attention. Grian knelt down, scratching the fur behind her eyes. “Hi, Jellie!” Grian cooed. “How was having the whole house to yourself today, huh?”

Scar dropped his keys on the table in the foyer, he stepped around Grian and Jellie with a soft smile. Grian picked the cat up while he followed behind Scar at a respectable distance. “You can hang with Jellie in the living room while I get everything set up.”

“I’d feel bad if you did it all by yourself,” Grian said, petting the cat in his arms. 

Scar let his elbows rest on the kitchen island. “I doubt you’d get much done while holding Jellie.”

“How do you know she isn’t the rat in my hat?” Grian asked. “Like Ratatouille.”

“His name Remy, thank you very much,” Scar corrected. “And seeing as you aren’t wearing a hat,” Scar trailed off, letting the air carry the words for him. 

Grian sighed, he reluctantly set Jellie back down, she padded away to be on her own. “There, now, I am free to help you.” Grian huffed, Scar breathed in, sounding like he couldn’t believe Grian. “You’re not the only one that can be incredibly stubborn.”

“Oh, believe me, I am well aware,” Scar said, his fond grin betrayed any hostility that could’ve been in his voice. 

Grian beamed. “What do you need me to do?” 

Scar pointed past Grian to a door. “Go into the pantry and get me some pasta.” 

“On it,” Grian gave a mock salute before pulling on the handle. It was a walk-in pantry, because Scar was rich and Grian shouldn’t have expected anything else. “What type do you want? You have a million in here!”

“Just pick one you like,” Scar replied. Grian rolled his eyes at the lack of a real answer, he surveyed his options again before settling on the one closest to him. He brought it out and set it next to Scar who was putting a pot of water on the stove. “What type of sauce do you want?”

“Just pick one you like,” Grian shot back. Scar turned to Grian, a tired look in his eyes. Grian smiled, a mischievous aura surrounding him. 

“Fine, but if you don’t like it, that’s on you,” Scar said. 

Grian pushed himself up so he was sitting on the counter facing Scar, “I am prepared to deal with the consequences of my actions.”

“You are, are you?” Scar raised his eyebrows at Grian, pulling out the ingredients and dishes for the sauce. 

Grian hummed in confirmation. He paused for a second, giving Scar a strange look. “It’s weird looking down at you.”

Scar chuckled. “Does this mean you look up to me?”

“I said that it’s weird looking down at you,” Grian replied. “I’ve always looked down on you.”

Scar gasped, his exhale came out as a mix between a laugh and scoff. “Are you sure you want to be saying this to your boss?”

“It’s not like you’d fire me,” Grian said, surprisingly confident. “I’m the best personal assistant you’ve ever had, remember?”

“You’re the only personal assistant I’ve ever had,” Scar rolled his eyes. 

“You’ve had Cub,” Grian teased, he reeled back in laughter at the look Scar shot him.

“Look, I told you that,” Scar started. 

Grian cut him off, “and you definitely shouldn’t have.”

“I’m starting to realise that.” Scar stirred the water in the pot with a wooden spoon. He grabbed salt out of the cupboard, pouring some into the slowly warming water to get it to boil faster. 

“In a good way?” Grian asked, swinging his legs back and forth. 

Scar thought about it for a moment, before letting an easy smile settle on his face. “In a way that I think you get a little too much joy out of making fun of me,” Scar winked, letting it be known that he didn’t mind.

“Maybe just a smidge,” Grian brought his hands up to his face, pinching his index finger and thumb together, careful not to let them touch. His legs were still swinging, occasionally, they would brush up against Scar’s.

“I don’t really make it that difficult, do I?” Scar looked at Grian, his eyes couldn’t seem to choose where to look, flitting from Grian’s eyes to his lips and back up again. It might have been the steam from the water on the stove, but the room seemed to get warmer. 

“Not really,” Grian breathed out, he leaned towards Scar, only slightly. He didn’t want to initiate anything if Scar wasn’t comfortable with it. Scar turned more towards him, Grian could see the old and healed wounds on his face so clearly. They were so beautiful, Grian wanted pepper soft and loving kisses onto every single one of them. 

They both leaned in a little bit more. Grian rested a hand on Scar’s shoulder to steady himself, to keep his balance as he got closer and closer to the edge of the counter. Their faces were inches away from each other, their noses almost brushing. Grian’s heart was rapidly beating in his chest, excitement and anxiety melding into one. 

Scar closed his eyes, Grian could count each individual lash. They could feel each other’s breaths, intermingling in the small space between them. “Scar,” Grian whispered.

“Yeah?” Scar breathed out. 

“The water’s boiling over,” Grian said, he nodded his head to the pot. The edge of their noses collided gently as he did so.

Scar paused, taking in Grian’s words. He pulled back quickly, letting out a yelp. Grian let out a laugh, his head fell back against a cupboard. Instinctively, his head went up to hold it. “Are you okay?” Scar fretted. 

Grian nodded, still laughing. “I’m alright!” 

Scar broke into laughter too, “oh my gosh.” He took a few seconds to recollect himself, turning down the heat on the stove. He grabbed the pasta, carefully putting it into the water. “Do you mind passing me that cloth?”

Grian turned around, grabbed the cloth, handed it to Scar, watched as he wiped away the water that had spilled over the edge. Grian took the opportunity to stare at Scar’s hands, at how carefully they pressed the cloth to the glass stove. The lights above the kitchen island cast a warm glow onto Scar, it made him look as if he had a halo. Grian wouldn’t have doubted it if he were an angel.

Scar continued cooking, they continued talking, Grian’s legs continued to brush up against Scar’s whenever they found the chance. Scar let Grian taste-test the sauce, making sure that it would be enjoyable for both of them. Scar blew on it to cool it down before resting the wooden spoon between Grian’s lips. 

They made light conversation as the pasta cooked, as Scar plated their food, as they decided to sit at the island rather than moving to the dining room, as extravagant as it probably was. Grian washed the dishes after the meal, much to Scar’s persistence that it was unnecessary. 

By the time they had finished, it was late, the sky was dark, and Grian didn’t want to leave. The night air was cold, and Grian could see the leaves of trees move in the wind, he didn’t want to have to bear it, bear being without Scar.

“You should stay the night,” Scar said, putting the last dish away. 

Grian sputtered. “Pardon?”

Scar blushed, red spanned out taking up residence across his nose and cheeks and ears. “I just mean that it’s pretty dark out there, it might be dangerous.” Scar scratched the back of his neck. “You could just leave tomorrow morning when it’s lighter and you can see better.”

Grian’s breath hitched at the thought, he wanted to— desperately —but his mind still reached out for excuses. He took a deep breath in, calming his thoughts, “sure.”

“I have extra toiletries, if that’s what you’re worried about, and I have some old clothes that’d probably fit you,” Scar rushed out, he stopped himself, mouth still half open. “You said sure.”

“I did,” Grian nodded. “Was I not supposed to?”

“I just expected you to say no,” Scar shrugged. “Like you used to when we went out for lunch.”

“It could be fun, we could watch movies or something,” Grian said as an explanation. “And who am I to refuse fun?”

Scar motioned for Grian to follow him, waving his hand to the hallway that dissected off of the kitchen. “I’ll show you the guest room and ensuite.”

“Of course it has an ensuite,” Grian scoffed. 

Scar stopped, turned around to face Grian, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” Grian slid between Scar and the wall, moving in front of him. “You’re just rich, I expected it from you.”

“When I have guests over, I like them to be comfortable,” Scar defeated, walking towards their destination. Grian walked backwards so he could still face Scar. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

“Not at all,” Grian hummed. “It’s just a little predictable, that’s all.”

“I think that’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Scar pouted.

Grian laughed. “What, that you’re predictable?”

“Yes,” Scar said, opening a door. He shuffled inside, Grian followed closely behind. It was a large room, beautiful and cohesive. 

“You’re not that predictable about other things, don’t worry,” Grian reassured him with a light hand on his forearm. “Your richness just shines through sometimes.”

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” Scar asked, opening the linen closet and pulling out a towel. He set it on a hook in the bathroom for Grian. 

“You have three staplers,” Grian deadpanned. Scar thought about it for a moment before he grinned, it was satisfied and proud and terribly pretty. “Scar?”

“Yeah?” Scar asked, leaning on the doorframe of the bathroom.

“Do you, by chance, have any contact solution?” Grian asked, not expecting much, he didn’t expect Scar to have it. 

“G-Man,” Scar gasped. “Are you blind?”

Grian groaned, shoulders deflating in exhaustion. “Oh my gosh. Dude, please don’t make a big deal out of this.” Grian ran his hands down his face as Scar stared at him in wonder.

“You’re blind!” Scar giggled. “Do you have glasses?”

“Yes, I have glasses, Scar,” Grian sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you have contact solution?”

“Right!” Scar snapped his fingers, pointing at Grian to emphasise it. “I will go check for you! I actually think I might have some in my bathroom.”

“Thanks!” Grian called out after him. He set his bag on the edge of the bed, pulling out the case for his contacts and his glasses case. He brought them to the bathroom and set them on the counter. He waited for Scar to return, hopefully with a bottle of contact solution. 

He pushed himself onto the counter, he didn’t know why. He never usually sat on his counters in his own house. Maybe it was because Scar was rich, it felt like rebellion to sit where he wasn’t supposed to. Maybe it was because he’d done it once, and he wanted to continue being taller than Scar. Grian didn’t dwell on it long, a bottle pushed into his distracted hands brought him out of it.

“Here you go,” Scar said, he also had a set of clothes that he put beside Grian’s glasses. “I’ll leave you to your shower.”

“Thanks,” Grian smiled, Scar closed the door behind him. Grian poured the contact solution into the case and took them out. He had a quick shower, glad to be out of the suit he had been in the entire day. 

He towelled his hair, grabbing the clothes Scar had left him. He paused as the shirt fell onto his shoulders. It smelled like Scar, Grian blushed. It made sense, it was Scar’s shirt, but the idea hadn’t crossed his mind. He brought the collar up to his nose and took a deep breath. 

He let the collar drop in favour of hiding his face in his hands, even though no one was around to see him. Before he left the bathroom, he put on his glasses, surveying himself in the mirror. The clothes were baggy on him, not his size, closer to Scar’s. 

He opened the door, putting his stuff into his bag, folding his suit and setting it on top. He ran a hand through his hair, stepping out into the hallway. He could see Jellie on the back of the couch, sitting right behind Scar’s head. 

Grian cleared his throat quietly, but it was loud enough to get Scar’s attention. His head whipped around, fast enough to cause Jellie to hop onto the floor. “Grian!” He exclaimed. “Come sit, I’m just looking through movies to watch.”

“Have you settled on one yet?” Grian asked, he walked behind the couch to the other side, sitting down next to Scar. 

“I was waiting for you to actually pick,” Scar confessed, waving the remote around as he spoke. He finally looked at Grian, wholly and fully, and his mouth dropped open a little. Grian was aware he looked nothing like he did normally, his hair was unkempt, he was wearing his glasses, his clothes were ill-fitted. 

A soft red bloomed over Scar’s cheeks, Grian smiled softly. Scar had changed, Grian noted, into some sweats and a black t-shirt. The sleeves of the shirt fit snugly around his biceps, showing them off a little bit. Grian looked back up, catching Scar’s eyes with his own. “I know,” Grian laughed softly, “not my usual attire.” He pulled at the hem of the shirt he was wearing, looking down at it appraisingly. 

Scar laughed too, in harmony with Grian, “no, it’s not,” Scar agreed. “But it’s nice to see you in casual clothing, you look more relaxed.”

“I am more relaxed,” Grian hummed, leaning his head back on Scar’s sofa. “Although I don’t think I will be when I have to find a suit to wear to the gala tomorrow.”

“Do you not have one?” Scar asked. Grian could see him out of the corner of his eyes, in his peripheral vision, he pushed his glasses up from where they’d slid down the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m sure I do somewhere,” Grian shrugged, “I’d just have to find it; planned on doing it tonight, but,” Grian gestured around vaguely, hoping Scar knew what he was talking about. 

“We can go shopping for one tomorrow if you want,” Scar suggested, there was a sense of hope weaved in between the threads of his voice. 

Grian considered it for a moment, he considered the anticipation he could barely see on Scar’s face. “I don’t really want to buy an entirely new suit just for one night.”

“I’ll pay for it,” Scar said offhandedly as he cycled through the movie options with the remote. 

Grian sighed, exasperated, fond, adoring. “Scar, I have enough suits, I’m sure I’ll be able to find one at my house.”

“But if we bought them tomorrow, we could match!” Scar looked over at Grian, sending him a pleading look. “It’d be fun! Please?”

“Fine,” Grian relented, inching closer to Scar on the sofa. “But you’re making us breakfast in the morning.”

“Was already planning on it,” Scar nodded his head in Grian’s direction.

“Do you not trust my breakfast making?” Grian asked, holding a hand to his chest in mock offence. 

“Do you know where any of the dishes are?” Scar pointed the remote at Grian like it was a microphone. “Where is the silverware? The plates?” 

“Point taken,” Grian cringed. Scar clicked on a movie, Grian didn’t really pay attention to the title or the summary, he trusted Scar’s judgement on films. He doubted he’d really be watching when he and Scar were so close together, when their knees almost touched whenever one of them moved even slightly, when he could reach out and rest his head on Scar’s shoulder.

Grian shifted his feet up onto the sofa to sit cross-legged, his knee pressed up against Scar’s thigh for a moment, long enough for Grian’s face to flush red. “Do you want some popcorn?” Scar asked, momentarily pausing the opening credits. 

“Yeah, I could go for some,” Grian nodded. Scar set the remote down on the coffee table and got up off of the couch. He came back with a bowl and he set it on Grian’s lap. “Is this caramel popcorn?”

“Yeah,” Scar said. “You do have a sweet tooth, right?”

“You remembered?” Grian asked, taking a piece out and putting it in his mouth.

Scar looked at Grian, eyes narrowed to convey his confusion, like he was taken aback. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” Grian replied, “it was a while ago. It wasn’t that important.”

“It’s you,” Scar said. “Of course it’s important.”

“Oh,” Grian said because there wasn’t anything else to say. His mind drew blanks, only able to focus on the overwhelming feeling of being so hopelessly in love with another person. The feeling was vivid, almost tangible, like he could reach out and hold it in his hands, cradle it like it was made up of stardust and indescribable matter. 

“Oh?” Scar asked, a small smile on his lips like he could tell what was going on in Grian’s mind, in his heart. 

“Oh,” Grian repeated. He was staring at Scar, not bothering to hide what he was feeling, letting it all be on display for the world to see. The intensity of it, of realising his love again and again left him breathless, left him yearning. 

Grian moved closer to Scar, under the excuse of them sharing the popcorn. He turned his head to the movie, images flashed in front of his face, but he couldn’t truly see them. The outline of Scar staring back at him just as intently was burned into his eyes and he never wanted to let it out of his sight. 

Halfway through the movie, Grian’s eyelids felt heavy. He felt the waiting arms of slumber lull him, pull him into a calm dormancy. His head dropped, falling lightly onto Scar’s shoulder. He heard a soft, loving exhale as he finally drifted off. 

Grian woke up to a hand carding through his hair, his mind was foggy and he wanted nothing more than to nestle back into the warmth that surrounded him. A comforting hand splayed across his back, protecting him from the outside world. Grian sighed contentedly, ready to spend the rest of his life in strong and steady arms. 

“G?” Scar whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. Grian stirred, pulling back slightly, still in the embrace. He scrunched his eyes shut, regathering his bearings. His head had been on Scar’s chest, his ear had been pressed up against his heart. 

“Scar?” Grian mumbled out, bringing up his hand to rub at his eyes. His glasses weren’t on, he didn’t remember taking them off. He slowly opened his eyes, he looked up at Scar’s face. He was smiling, Grian couldn’t help but mirror it. “Morning,” Grian yawned, slipping out of Scar’s gentle hold.

“Morning,” Scar echoed. Light streamed into the room from partially closed curtains, the outlines of it on the hardwood floor were blurry, and Grian reached out a hand to pat the cushions to find his glasses. “What are you looking for, there?” 

“I can’t see,” Grian explained, hoping it would be enough for Scar to catch on. Scar leaned forward, grabbing something off of the coffee table. He offered them to Grian on an outstretched hand, “thank you.” 

“You look cute in glasses,” Scar blurted out, his face immediately went red. “You look cool in glasses, cool.”

“Cool, huh?” Grian teased. 

Scar cleared his throat, “what do you want for breakfast?” 

Grian rolled his eyes, but let him change the subject regardless. “What do you want to make?”

Scar shrugged and got up off the sofa to go to the kitchen. Grian followed after, watched as Scar made pancakes and eggs and plated it for them both. Scar offered Grian more clothes, ones that fit Grian just a little bit better so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself when they went shopping.

It felt domestic and enticing and addictive, Grian wanted more. He wanted more quiet mornings where Scar made them breakfast, or nights where they fell asleep on the couch. He wanted to be with Scar, for as long as he could, he wanted them to be together. 

They walked out to Scar’s driveway, Grian wondered aloud if they were going to be taking separate cars, Scar dispelled the idea. Grian turned the key in the ignition, and drove onto the street behind them. Scar put in an address to a store that sold formal attire, he didn’t let Grian see the name, claiming it a surprise. There were always surprises between them, and Grian had grown to love every single one.

He followed the directions his phone called out over the quiet ambience they had created. He drove through the city streets, the layouts and displays looking more expensive the closer they got to their destination. Grian sighed, a newfound sense of clarity washing over him as to why Scar had hidden the name of the store. 

He parked his car when he arrived at his destination. Grian couldn’t see any of the prices on the suits from outside, but he could tell they were expensive. Scar excitedly grabbed his arm, and pulled him through the large mahogany front doors. He pulled suits off the racks seemingly at random and placed them carefully into Grian’s arms. After Grian could barely see over the pile, Scar steered him in the direction of a fitting room to try them all on.

“I don’t know,” Grian said, pulling at the cuffs of the suit jacket. “I don’t really like the blue.”

“Yeah, I don’t think this is the one either,” Scar agreed. He turned to one of the employees, “do you have anything with red accents?”

The employee nodded, rushing away to grab more suits. Grian looked at the mirror to his side, appraising the suit he was wearing. He adjusted the collar, straightened his tie. He tilted his head, seeing how the cut of the suit jacket fit on his shoulders. 

Scar came up behind him, they locked eyes with each other’s reflections. Scar’s eyes were captivating, hues mixing into a bright show of unadulterated beauty. Grian could’ve stared at them forever if he was allowed. “So, what colour are you going to go with?” Grian asked.

“Been thinking about a classic tux with some light purple accents,” Scar mentioned. “Like a soft lilac colour.” 

“That sounds nice,” Grian said. “Soothing almost, it’d suit you.”

“It’d suit me?” Scar smirked. Grian rolled his eyes. “Gri, was that a pun?”

Grian let out something between a laugh and a sigh, “not intentionally.” He turned around to face Scar and shrugged. Over Scar’s shoulder, he could see the employee rolling in a clothes rack of red accented suits. He motioned towards it with his head.

Scar turned around, following Grian’s line of sight. “Oh!” He exclaimed. He walked over to them, stifling through to see which ones would fit Grian best. He pulled one out, holding it up to the light to get a better look at it. “What do you think of this one?”

“It’s nice,” Grian said, it was noncommittal, unenthusiastic. Scar sighed and put it back, searching for a new one. “Why did you put that one away? I said it was nice!”

“You didn’t actually like it, though,” Scar said. He pulled another one out, “go try this one on.”

Grian rolled his eyes, but took the suit from Scar. It continued like that until Grian had tried every single suit the employees had brought out. The last one Scar handed him was beautiful, there were delicate flowers embroidered into the lapels. Grian walked out of the dressing room, giving Scar a little spin to show it off completely. “Well?” Grian asked. “What do you think?”

Scar didn’t reply for a few more seconds, his mouth was slightly agape. A blush tinged his cheeks, nose, ears. It was faint, but it was there. “I,” Scar stopped himself. “ Wow .”

“I take it, this is the one then?” Grian asked, a hint of a smile on his lips. Scar wordlessly nodded, still a little flushed. Grian bit the inside of his cheek lightly and smiled. “Alright,” he moved over to the bench, pulling his wallet out of his bag. 

Scar stopped him, “my treat,” he said. His hand was on top of Grian’s, the touch sent shivers down his spine. “Like I said last night, I’ll pay for it.”

“Scar,” Grian started, meeting Scar’s intense stare. It was everything Grian wanted. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not,” Scar said. “Please, let me.”

Grian looked away with a defeated sigh. “Fine,” he relented, if only to see the smile that overtook Scar’s face once he did.

“Thank you,” Scar said, he lifted his hand and Grian yearned for the touch. 

“Now, for your suit,” Grian said. “You were thinking purple, right?” 

“Oh, I already have my suit. Today was for you,” Scar waved his hand. “Are you going to change, or just wear that for the rest of the day?”

“I mean,” Grian considered it. “The gala’s not too long of a wait, I think I’ll just wear it if I can.”

“Okay,” Scar nodded, walking off to the till. Grian watched him pay for the suit, Grian reached around his arm to try and look at the price. His eyes widened at the number, he promptly dropped the tag and took a few calming breaths. Scar walked back with a garment bag in his hand. He excused himself into one of the dressing rooms and exited in a soft purple suit that had Grian’s heart racing. “What?” Scar asked. “I don’t get a wow?”

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Grian blurted out, not really noticing the words coming out of his mouth. His eyes looked over the suit, it fit Scar perfectly, it brought out the softness of his eyes, the freckles that were splattered across his cheeks. 

“That’s definitely more than a wow,” Scar smiled. 

“What?” Grian asked, shaking his lightly before looking back at Scar. “Sorry, what did you say? I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You weren’t?” Scar asked, he tilted his head a little to the side, a teasing smirk on his face. “Am I really that distracting?” Grian’s face went redder than his suit. He stammered out a few incoherent sentences about nothing in particular. Scar’s smirk grew wider. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Grian conceded, giving up on trying to defend himself. Scar walked over to him, and motioned for him to turn around. Grian furrowed his eyebrows before a stroke of genius overtook him. “What? You enjoying the view?”

Scar turned him back around, dropping something into Grian’s hand. “Your tags were still on,” he said. “But yeah, I was.”

“Scar!” Grian yelped. The man in question broke into a fit of giggles. 

“You started it!” Scar laughed. “You can’t blame me here.”

“I did no such thing!” Grian crossed his arms as he let the blatant lie slip between his lips. 

“Sure,” Scar rolled his eyes, tugging lightly on Grian’s arm. “Come on, we should get going.”

“Okay,” Grian replied, “Just let me grab my bag.”

Grian met Scar outside the building, Grian was about to lead them to where he had parked his car, when Scar pointed to somewhere. “Look.”

“What?” Grian asked, turning around to see what Scar was talking about. 

“Look,” he said again. “It’s us.”

“Scar, I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about,” Grian looked back at him. 

Scar scoffed and took Grian’s hand in his own, a familiar weight. He pulled Grian along with him to a flower shop. He pointed to the bouquet in the display case and then to their suits. “Look, it’s us.”

Grian looked between the three. “Huh,” he hummed. “I guess it is.” Grian smiled, hoping that Scar had the same idea. He opened the door, hearing the jingle of wind chimes as he did so. He walked up to the cashier, Scar was still holding his hand. “How much for the poppies and lilacs in the display case?”

“I will go check,” they said. “Give me one second.” 

“Take all the time you need,” Scar told them. “I’m paying for it, by the way.”

“No you’re not,” Grian replied. “You literally bought my suit, let me buy you a bouquet.” 

“I’m a CEO, Grian. I’m sure my pockets can handle it,” Scar squeezed Grian’s hand gently. 

“It’s about the principle, Scar,” Grian argued. “Please, let me do this for you.” 

“We’ll see,” Scar shrugged. Grian let out a tired scoff, but didn’t let it bother him as the cashier returned with the bouquet in hand.

“It’ll be about $36.78,” they said, reading it off of the tag. “Is that everything for you today?” 

“I think it will be,” Grian said, pulling out his wallet. Scar’s hand shifted in his pocket. The cashier offered them the debit machine, Scar let go of Grian’s hand to grab it, tapping his card and waiting for the purchase to go through. 

“Perfect, thank you for shopping here! Have a great day!” 

“We will, you too!” Grian called out, barely hiding his seething rage at Scar. He grabbed the flowers and walked out of the store. Scar followed closely behind. “Are you kidding me?” Grian pouted once they were both on the pavement. “I was going to buy them for you.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, G,” Scar said. 

Grian shook his head. “Maybe to you, but you’ve done so much for me. I just wanted to be able to repay you.”

“Gri,” Scar whispered. 

Grian continued. “I know it sounds stupid, and the flowers can’t pay you back for all of the lunches and the suit, but at least it’s a start.”

“Grian,” Scar said, he pulled a hesitant hand up to Grian’s cheek. He could feel the imprints of the scars on his palm. He leaned into the touch. “You don’t have to repay me, I did all of that because I wanted to, not to make you feel guilty about it.”

“But I want to,” Grian said back, quietly so as to not disturb the atmosphere around them. “You deserve it.”

“And you deserve more than that,” Scar let his hand slip away, carefully pulling out a flower from the bouquet, it was a lilac. “Here,” he said, carefully putting it into Grian’s suit pocket, over his heart.

Grian looked down at it, then back up at Scar. He pushed the bouquet into his hands, he searched around for the prettiest poppy in it. He plucked it out delicately, putting it into Scar’s pocket. “There,” Grian said, meeting Scar’s eyes. His hand was still on his chest. “Now we match.”

The petals of the flowers tickled Grian’s wrist, but he didn’t dare move his hand away from where he could feel Scar’s heart beating. They were close enough that they were breathing each other’s air, Grian felt lightheaded in the best way. His thoughts spun around his head, as they both leaned in. 

“We should,” Scar muttered. “The gala,” he tried helplessly. “They probably want us there early.” 

“Yeah,” Grian agreed, but neither of them made any move to leave. “We should get going.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Grian pulled his hand off of Scar’s chest. His heart almost broke, not being able to feel Scar’s pulse under his palm, beating for Grian. They pulled away, their heads clearing, the breeze in the air chilling the skin. 

They walked back to Grian’s car in relative silence, though the scuffling of shoes on cement rang out around them. The hum of the radio filled the vehicle with something to focus on rather than the tension between them. It was lessening by the second, but that didn’t mean much when it was still so high. 

The venue for the gala was even more beautiful than when Grian had seen it the day before. The decorations scattered along the perimeter were breathtaking. He and Scar shared a look before they got out of the car, it was one of pure ecstasy, elation, excitement. Their hard work had paid off, into something beyond words. 

Grian opened his car door, stepping outside and breathing in the fresh air. There was something inexplicable about the entire situation, about how he had Scar by his side every step of the way. Scar walked over to stand next to him, holding his arm out so they could link them together. Grian let out a fond chuckle before putting his arm around Scar’s.

They walked through the doors, Grian chanced a look to Scar, the fairy lights reflected in his, they looked like constellations. They were beautiful, Scar was beautiful. Grian looked back in front of him, looking at people put up decorations, hearing people talk about ice sculptures. People ran around them, frenzying to get everything set up in time. 

Scar pulled Grian along to a corner of the room. “Cub!” He called out excitedly. 

“What’s up?” Cub asked, he looked down at their outfits. “Already ready, I see.”

“Thought it’d be easier if we were already dressed,” Scar explained. Cub looked between them, at the flowers adorning their suits and smiled to himself. Grian noted that his arm was still linked with Scar’s, he blushed at the thought. “Is there anything you need us to do?”

“I think we’re pretty much done, if I’m being honest,” Cub said, looking down at the clipboard in his hand. “You could talk to the ice sculpture company and see how it’s coming along, but that’s about it.”

“Wow, really?” Scar asked, surprise evident in his demeanour, voice, facial expression. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” Cub shrugged, flipping through the pages of his clipboard, double checking everything. “People have been on their best behaviour today.”

“I bet it’s because the big bosses are here,” Scar laughed. “Wait, are we intimidating? G, do you think we’re intimidating?”

Grian looked between the two of them, not expecting to be included in the conversation. “I think that to a lot of these people, you are,” Grian started. “You’re their higher-ups, you hold a lot of power over them.”

“Are we intimidating to you, Mr. Xelqua?” Cub asked. His eyes were squinted a bit, like he was appraising Grian, waiting to study his answer. 

Grian couldn’t stop the small snort that came out of his mouth, “I don’t think I can ever be intimidated by Scar after seeing him inhale and then subsequently sneeze out a piece of lettuce.”

Scar turned to Grian, a scandalised look on his face. “I thought we agreed never to bring that back up,” he stage-whispered. Grian laughed again, Cub and Scar both followed.

“Did that really happen?” Cub asked, incredulously looking at his best friend. Grian nodded enthusiastically. 

Scar shook his head in opposition, “no it didn’t. I swear it didn’t. You’ve got to believe me, Cub.”

“You know, Scar,” Cub started, slowly, dragging it out, letting the hopefully desperate expression on Scar’s face settle there. “I don’t think I do,” he laughed at the way Scar hung his head and covered half of his face with his hand in shame. Cub moved to turn and leave before he looked back at them. “Why don’t you guys check on the ice sculpture?”

Grian could tell that Scar was relieved at the change of topic, “you got it.” Scar fished his phone out of his pocket with the hand that wasn’t around Grian’s arm. He dialled a number Grian couldn’t begin to recognise. “Hey, this is Scar Goodtimes calling about the Ice sculpture for the gala tonight.”

Grian tuned his phone call out, listening to the cadence of Scar’s voice instead. It sounded rich, soft around the edges, Grian could listen to it forever and never get tired. Grian wanted to place a hand on Scar’s chest to feel his voice reverberate through it, feel the vibrations. He blushed at the thought.

“Perfect, thank you!” Grian heard Scar say, he slid the phone back into his pocket. He pulled Grian’s arm, guiding him along to follow him. Grian did it wordlessly, still reprimanding himself for his wandering thoughts about his friend, about his boss . 

“I guess we didn’t need to get here early,” Grian said once they had stopped. They were in one of the rooms at the back, closed for everyone except Cub, Scar and apparently Grian. “They had everything figured out already.

“You could help me out with my speech,” Scar suggested, he unlinked his arm from Grian’s to sit in one of the chairs. He sat on the arm of it, letting his feet stay on the cushion. 

“What do you have so far?” Grian asked, sitting in the chair opposite to it, his legs hanging over one of the arms. The leather squeaked uncomfortably whenever Grian shifted. He turned his head to look at Scar, who was staring back at him with a sheepish smile. “Do you even have anything?”

“That’s why I wanted your help!” Scar exclaimed, gesturing to Grian with both his hands. 

“Scar,” Grian started. “You are quite literally a salesman, you know a lot more than me when it comes to this.” He shifted a bit, causing one of his legs to fall to the floor. “Just say whatever is in your heart.”

Scar paused for a moment, looking at Grian, not saying anything. His shoulders loosened and a small smile crept onto his face. He took a deep breath, muttering something that Grian couldn’t quite hear. “What product is it again?”

“Scar!” Grian shouted. He covered his face in both of his hands. The familiar sense of exasperation gave him butterflies in his stomach. He looked at Scar through his fingers. “I cannot believe you.”

“I know,” Scar laughed, almost apologetic but not quite. “But see, this is why I need you.”

“You’re selling a smart watch,” Grian sighed. “It does everything your phone or computer can do but it’s on your wrist. It includes speakers, bluetooth connectivity, health and fitness monitors, can sync with any brand of device, making it the first ever smart watch to be this viable.”

“I genuinely don’t know what I would do without you, Gri,” Scar cleared his throat. “This product has been in the works for a long time, because ConCorp has only wanted the customers to receive the best version of it. Finally, we are satisfied with how it’s built and what it offers, and we cannot wait for you to get your hands on what our executives have dubbed ‘The Smart Watch of the Century’!”

“Have they really dubbed it that?” Grian asked, eyebrows furrowed, nose scrunched up.

“No,” Scar shook his head with a scoff. 

Grian blinked a few times. “So, you’re lying.”

“I wouldn’t,” Scar interrupted himself. “Yes, I’m lying, but the consumers don’t know that, so it’s fine.”

“Is that how marketing works?” Grian brushed the hair out of his eyes with his hand, “you just lie to the public and hope they don’t call you out on it?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Scar replied. “They don’t really care about integrity as long as they have the product in their hands.”

Grian hummed, it was the first piece of potentially valuable information that he could’ve given Mumbo and Sahara. Grian knew it would never leave the room he was in unless it came out of Scar’s mouth. “Interesting.”

“Capitalism,” Scar corrected softly. He pulled out his phones, presumably to check the time. “Are you hungry?”

“Still full from the lunch we ordered to the suit place, but I am a little parched if you know how to remedy that,” Grian replied. Scar’s face lit up, he hastily stood up, grabbing Grian’s hand and interlocking their fingers. Grian sighed happily at the contact. 

Scar brought him to a large industrial fridge, filled with drinks and appetisers. “Have you ever had sparkling cider?” He asked, grabbing one of the bottles and pouring it into two champagne glasses.

“Carbonated apple juice?” Grian questioned, “I think I’ll pass actually.”

“Just try it!” Scar pleaded, holding a glass out. “It’s really good, I promise.”

Grian squinted suspiciously at Scar, “I’m trusting you on this.” He carefully took the glass out of Scar’s hand, slowly bringing it up to his lips. His eyes never left Scar’s. He took a sip, swishing it around in his mouth, deciding if he liked it. 

He dejectedly looked away, taking another sip. “You like it! I told you!”

“Yeah, I’ll admit,” Grian sighed. “It’s good. Happy?”

“Yes,” Scar smiled. “Very, actually.” 

Grian rolled his eyes, but his pride was worth seeing Scar happy, seeing him smile, seeing him in general. He wanted to confess his love, scream it from the rooftops, grab Scar’s hand in his own and show him the meaning of the gesture. Instead, he swallowed the sparkling cider in his mouth and asked Scar a question. “How long until the gala starts?” 

“About fifteen minutes,” Scar answered, “want to go look at the guest list and see who’s coming?” 

“Do you even have to ask?” Grian giggled, rushing away to the front doors, leaving Scar to run after him. Grian unlocked the tablet and opened up the list of guests. It was arranged in alphabetical order, if they had brought a plus one it was listed beside their name. To Grian’s surprise, Mumbo was listed as a guest. “Wait, do you know Mumbo Jumbo?”

“Yeah,” Scar said, he was looking over Grian’s shoulder, their faces were intimately close. Grian could feel his breath on his neck. “Why? Do you know him?”

“Quite well, actually,” Grian leaned back so he could look at Scar as he spoke, he swallowed when he realised their noses were almost brushing. “How do you know him?”

“Went to school together a while back,” Scar shrugged. “What about you?”

“He’s kind of like my best friend,” Grian said, “met after college and became fast friends. He has a key to my house, even.” 

“Oh,” Scar said, and Grian wanted to imagine it had a hint of jealousy, disappointment. “That’s nice, he seemed like a bit of a hermit back in school, so I’m glad he’s gotten out there a little more.”

“Oh no, he’s still a hermit, I’ve just weaselled my way in and he’s been forced to accept it,” Grian grinned. 

“Classic Mumbo,” Scar said softly. “Have you heard about his new business?” Scar said before immediately dropping his face into his palm. “Of course, you have. You’re best friends.”

“Sahara?” Grian questioned, hoping that his voice didn’t raise too much in pitch to be noticeable. “Yeah, I’ve heard about it.”

“The engineering that must’ve gone into that is crazy!” Scar complimented. “I’m excited to see where it goes from here.”

“You’re not worried about the competition?” Grian wondered, setting the tablet back down on the stand. 

Scar hummed in thought. “I like to think ConCorp has pretty steady and loyal customers, and I feel like ConCorp and Sahara are being used to fill different wants and needs, so as of right now I wouldn’t consider their success our downfall.”

“As of right now?” Grian teased, bumping his shoulder against Scar’s.

“You never know,” Scar shrugged. “Their redstone is a big deal, I’m sure they’ll gain traction just for the spectacle. Have you seen it in action?”

Grian nodded, not having it in himself to lie to Scar—any more than he already had. “I have, it’s absolutely crazy, I don’t understand it at all but it’s so cool to see.”

“We should go see it one day,” Scar suggested. “It could be fun.”

Grian thought it sounded almost wistful, yearning. “Yeah,” he said softly. “We should.” He looked down at the tablet, tapping it once to get the screen to light up. The fifteen minutes had almost passed. “The guests should be arriving soon.”

“They should,” Scar agreed. “Which means we should get to the stage in the main room.”

“Probably,” Grian said, taking the initiative and holding Scar’s hand and bringing him along. Scar’s hand tightened in his, it was comforting. They spotted Cub on the stage, fiddling with one of the lights and went up to stand with him. Scar let go of Grian’s hand to move it to the small of his back to steady him as they stepped up the stairs. Grian’s heart stuttered. 

“Are you alright?” Scar asked. Cub turned around with a tired look. 

“Bulb went out,” Cub explained. “The rest of the lights in the circuit aren’t lighting now, because I can’t switch it out.” He held up the replacement bulb in his hands. It was small, Grian could only assume that was what made it such a difficult job.

“Can I try?” Grian asked. Cub looked his way, offered a small shrug and tossed the bulb to Grian.

“Be my guest, I am done with it.” Cub stepped back to give Grian some room. Grian brought the string of lights up to his eye level, holding the spare bulb between his knuckles. He slid his nail in between the casing and the bulb, pulling it slowly with a stable grip. He twisted it a tiny bit to get it out, and switched them so that he was holding the spare. He popped it back in with a little bit of force and the string of lights lit back up. “You are a lifesaver, thank you.”

“Happy to help,” Grian smiled and turned to face them both. He saw people piling into the room in his peripheral vision. “Oh, looks like the guests are here.” 

Scar turned around, yelped quietly, before patting Grian on the arm. “Can you go get the microphone and stand, it’s just off to the right.”

“I’m not even clocked in, am I getting paid for this?” Grian grumbled. 

“Grian, you don’t clock in,” Scar said, confused. “You’re paid a salary.”

Grian took a second to think about what Scar had said. “I am, that’s right. Microphone, coming right up.”

“Thank you, sunshine,” Scar said. “You’re the best!”

Grian walked off of the stage as quickly as he could, if only to not let Scar see the horrible blush he was sporting. He was sure Cub saw it, though, with the little snicker he let out. He jumped down the last two stairs, catching himself with the railing. He grabbed the microphone and the stand, carefully bringing it back up, hoping that the redness in his cheeks had lessened enough for Scar to not notice.

He passed it to Scar, who adjusted it to his height, Grian scowled at how tall he was. Scar looked back and laughed at his expression. He tapped on the mic, letting the ring alert everybody of their presence. Grian shied away from the prying eyes, trying to fade more into the background. It wasn’t his night, it was ConCorp’s.

“Hello, everybody!” Scar said, his voice confident and sure of himself. “My fellow CEO and I would just like to say a few words to introduce it all to you.” He offered the mic to Cub. 

“Hey, my name is Cub Fan. I am the head of technology, and I am very excited to show you all our second generation of Smart Watches.” Cub took out a clicker and a projection of the product appeared behind him. He moved out of the way so everyone could see it. “I won’t bore you with all of the details, but I’ll let you know that it has been one of our most ambitious projects yet. It finally being ready to be in your hands is an exciting day for all of us.”

Cub handed the mic back to Scar and walked down to the main floor. Scar set it back in the stand, taking out his own clicker. “This Smart Watch has features that you all have been wanting. You can listen to music, watch movies, connect it to headphones,” Scar listed it off like he was reading it off a teleprompter. It was amazing to see him so in his element. “But most importantly, it is compatible with any brand, whether it’s your phone, computer, tablet or television, ConCorp’s Smart Watch has you covered. Our team has even dubbed it the ‘Smart Watch of the Century’. It’s been so important that you enjoy this project, and we are finally proud enough of how it is built and its features, that we’re taking it from our hands to yours.” 

The audience started to applaud, Grian let himself join them softly, careful not to jostle his glass of carbonated apple juice. “However, there is one more person that we couldn’t have this event without.” Scar looked at him, a prideful joy in his smile. “Grian Xelqua, would you like to come up and say a few words?”

Grian froze, lamely pointing a finger at himself, as if he wasn’t the only Grian Xelqua. Scar gave him an encouraging nod. Grian walked up to the mic on unsteady legs. Scar followed Cubs lead and walked off of the stage. 

Grian sighed when he saw the microphone, he adjusted it, pulling it down to where he could use it comfortably. “Tall people,” he joked, getting light laughter from the crowd. “I was not expecting to be up here tonight, so forgive me if my speech isn’t perfect.” Grian took a breath, readying himself. “I helped with the design of the room you are standing in, to see it before me is surreal. I could’ve never imagined it. When you stare at a blue sheet of paper with white lines that have been redrawn countless times, you almost lose sight of why you want it, of why you’ve already come so far.” He gestured to the room. “But then you see it, in all of its finished glory and suddenly the long nights where you wanted to pull your hair out were all worth it. I think that sentiment can be shared with the creation of the Smart Watch as well.” Grian raised his glass in toast. “To ConCorp.” 

He walked off stage, walking directly to Scar. “That was a nice speech,” he said before Grian could start.

“You could’ve at least warned me,” Grian laughed. “‘Would you like to say a few words?’” Grian mocked. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Well, you did great anyways,” Scar smiled. He grabbed the glass out of Grian’s hand, setting them down on a nearby table. “May I have this dance?”

Grian rolled his eyes, straining to hear the music before it got louder. “Fine.” They walked out onto the floor, surrounded by other people who were doing the same. It wasn’t a waltz—or any sort of two person dance—but they still stayed close together. 

As the song progressed, Mumbo walked up to them. Grian immediately stopped dancing and glared at Mumbo. “Hey Mumbo!” His voice was cheery, his face was anything but. “You never told me you knew Scar!”

Mumbo laughed nervously, “never thought it was important enough, really. It’s not like I knew how to assist him, personally.”

Grian heard Scar laugh from behind him. “Mumbo! It’s been far too long! How’s the new business?”

“Not as booming as I’d like, but it’s been pretty steady,” Mumbo nodded. “Is there anything to drink here, I’m getting quite thirsty.” He looked at Grian as he said, as if he were trying to get a message across. Grian received it clearly.

“I’ll go get us some,” he nodded, walking away and letting Mumbo talk to Scar alone. He made his way to a waiter, grabbing three glasses from their tray. Mumbo and Scar looked like they were still having a discussion about something, so Grian took the long way back, weaving through people dancing. He was careful, making sure he didn’t spill anything and make a mess of the floors. 

Once he saw Scar nod and Mumbo straighten his tie, he assumed it was safe to return. He handed them their glasses. Mumbo took a sip and then excused himself from the conversation. “That was really it, farewell!”

“What did you guys talk about?” Grian asked, he had a sneaking suspicion he already knew, he wanted confirmation for it.

Scar scratched his neck awkwardly, “just about work stuff. How Sahara was doing, the new product.” 

“Ah,” Grian said, a bit too knowing. “I see. Productive talk, then?”

“Very much so,” Scar cleared his throat. “Actually, learned some valuable knowledge.”

“Is that so?” Grian prompted, watching as Scar took a sip of his drink. The glass settled on his lips and Grain didn’t know it was possible to be jealous of a cup. 

Scar smiled at him, eyes soft, calm, happy. “Yeah,” Scar said. He looked down, biting his lip to keep his smile at bay. His head perked up when a new song started playing. “Do you know how to waltz, Grian?”

“I’ve been known to dabble,” Grian smiled, he quickly drank the rest of his sparkling cider and set it on a waiter’s tray. 

“You really like that cider, huh?” Scar wiggled his eyebrows.

Grian scoffed, “shut up.” He held back the comment of there being something else he liked even more.

Scar led, Grian followed, looking at their feet occasionally to make sure he wasn’t going to step on Scar’s toes. The hand against his side burned, but he didn’t dare move away. The pads of Scar’s fingers tapped against Grian rhythmically, following the time signature of the music. The three counts echoed inside of Grian’s head, keeping him on track. 

Grian could still smell the fresh scent of poppies and lilacs from their suit pockets, it was soft, warm, all encompassing, Grian wanted more of it. He stepped closer than he needed to, Scar didn’t seem to mind. 

The song ended, bleeding into something new. Grian hoped that Scar’s hands would stay, that they would keep dancing, holding each other. “Do you know this song?” Scar asked, his grip on Grian’s hand tightening momentarily.

“I think so,” Grian replied. They were still close, Scar hadn’t let go, Grian would’ve rather died than let go first. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Scar answered, he let go of Grian’s hand to rest it on Grian’s other side. Grian let his free hand settle on Scar’s shoulder. “Just wondering.” They swayed to the rhythm, Grian had to resist the urge not to rest his head on Scar’s chest, not listen to his heartbeat, not mould to fit next to him perfectly. Scar leaned down to whisper something in his ear, effectively breaking his train of thought. “I’m bored, want to get out of here? Maybe get some food?”

“Wouldn’t it be considered rude? You’re the CEO after all,” Grian whispered back, reeling off of the feeling of Scar’s breath on his ear. 

“I’m sure Cub can handle it,” Scar waved off Grian’s concerns, tugging him along towards the exit. “Come on, there’s a fast food place nearby.”

“You are such a bad influence on me,” Grian grumbled, following after him. 

When they got outside, they took a simultaneous breath of fresh air, soaking in the darkening sky. They walked over to Grian’s car, he groaned when his hands hit the steering wheel. “What’s wrong?” Scar asked.

“I don’t want to drive,” Grian whined. He hunched forward, resting his on his hands. 

Scar sighed fondly. “ConCorp isn’t far, just drive there and we’ll take one of mine, deal?”

“Okay,” Grian lifted his head up and started the car, inching out of the parking spot and driving onto the main road. The lampposts on the pavements had lit up, guiding Grian’s way. The radio hummed with music Grian couldn’t recognize. He pulled up to ConCorp’s garage door, pausing as Scar got out and opened it. 

He motioned for Grian to go in and find a spot to park himself, he parked in an empty stall along the wall, putting his keys into one of his pockets. He walked towards where he saw Scar coming out of a room. “Let me guess,” Scar started. “You want to take the red ferrari?” 

Grian gasped in fake shock, “how did you know?”

They both dissolved into giggles. Scar nodded his head in the direction of the car, “well, come on then.”

Grian followed the sight of the familiar red, excitedly getting into the passenger seat. He looked at Scar as he sat down, smiling brightly, like there was no other place on earth he would rather be. There wasn’t. He wanted to be with Scar, perhaps even for the rest of his life. Grian licked his lips, before swallowing down the tension rising in his chest. “So, food?”

“Food, yes!” Scar exclaimed. His hand settled on the gear shift, he flexed his fingers like there was something missing. “Right this way.” 

The sky had gotten darker in the time it took them to get out, some of the brighter stars were visible, Grian looked at them in awe. “Can we go stargazing?” He asked, still transfixed with the constellations. “You know go to the city outskirts, so there isn’t as much light pollution?” Grian finished his sentence with a look to his companion.

“Of course,” Scar said, looking at Grian briefly as he turned a corner. “If you want to do something, just say so and we will.”

“Okay,” Grain smiled softly. He decided to test his luck, “can I hold your hand, then?”

Scar didn’t respond right away, but after a few seconds, he lifted his hand off of the gear shift, grabbed Grian’s, and put them both back on. Twin blushes broke out on both of their faces. “Like this?” Scar asked.

“Yeah,” Grian breathed. “Like this.”

Grian tried to calm his heart by taking steadying breaths, it only worked a bit. His heart was still racing as they got to the drive thru. “What would you like?” 

“Is it your treat?” Grian bantered, desperately hoping his voice didn’t wobble. 

Scar pursed his lips like he had been caught, “maybe.”

Grian rolled his eyes, as was expected. “I’ll get a strawberry milkshake and a large fries.”

Scar nodded in confirmation. He rolled down his window, the staticky voice came through the speaker. Grian heard Scar order, he was staring at their hands, still connected. Scar looked back at him after he had finished, Grian’s eyes shifted up. For a second, they simply stared at each other like they were the only people alive, like they were the only ones in the universe. 

“You’re so important to me,” Scar said, suddenly sentimental. He brushed his thumb over Grian’s hand as he drove up to the window. “I really hope you know that.”

“You’re important to me too,” Grian murmured. He wanted Scar closer, more than just his hand. Grian wanted to feel Scar's arms around him, comforting and safe. Confessions of love cycled through his thoughts, begging to be let out.

Grian could taste something bitter on his tongue. He was lying to Scar, it was by omission, but it was still a lie. He felt pins prick his heart, he felt almost like he was drowning, like he was submerged without air and no way to escape. Scar still held his hand, blissfully ignorant. 

He didn’t let it go even after the employee passed them the two milkshakes and fries, like he thought that Grian wouldn’t have let him hold it again if he stopped. Grian would have, he would’ve done anything for Scar.

He watched in subtle awe as the lights slowly faded into nothing. The black abyss enveloped them in warmth, with twinkling lights to lead them head first into something Grian hoped he wouldn’t live to regret. 

Skyscrapers that once towered over the world felt small, insignificant. He gasped at the stars washing away the shadows that had once rendered them invisible. Grian felt a bit envious, for invisibility meant invincibility, he didn’t want to feel so vulnerable. 

The cement of the pavement of the city streets morphed into gravel, then into sand. Grian dreaded stepping down onto the beaten path, worried about the sand never leaving him, sticking to his sling, clinging to his clothes. The moonlight illuminated it nicely, it looked red with the reflection of the exterior of the car.

Grian turned to Scar, observed his hand resting on the steering wheel. He looked light, without the same inner turmoil Grian had festering in his chest. He wanted to take out his heart, offer it to Scar, hope that it was enough. 

He was undeniably beautiful, with the scars that covered his face, arms, chest, with the freckles that were speckled between them. His lip quirked up whenever he found something funny, his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It was almost too much, how deeply Grian had fallen, but as his gaze remained trained on Scar, he realized that there was no other option for him. Fate would have had it happen either way.

Scar pulled into a clearing, he parked the car. Grian savoured the extra pressure against his skin, even if it was brief beyond measure. The fries were still warm, where they sat in the bag on Grian’s lap. Their hands broke apart when they exchanged the foods, opened the doors, stepped into the open air.

The frigid bite of the breeze cut through tension in Grian’s chest. Scar had climbed on top of the hood of the car, Grian followed. Scar had gone to the right side, even though the left side had been closer to where he’d been. Grian gave up on trying to understand the action, just sighed, equally confused and endeared. 

“The stars look so much kinder out here,” Scar breathed out. 

“Kinder?” Grian inquired, taking a sip of his milkshake.

He heard Scar exhale, watched his shoulders relax. “Like they’d listen to you.”

Grian tilted his head up to the sky, taking in the constellations, the blinking lights of satellites they couldn’t have escaped. “Yeah, they do.” Grian looked at Scar, who looked back at him. “What would you tell them?”

“I don’t know,” Scar said. “Everything? I don’t think they’d answer but,” Scar trailed off.

“Sometimes just listening is enough?” Grian finished the sentence for him, scooting a little bit closer.

“Yeah,” Scar said, an imitation of a laugh settled into a single sigh. “Would you have anything to say?”

Grian pondered, he did, of course he did, but he didn’t want them so out in the open. “I think I do, but I don’t think I’d want to say them right now.”

“One day?” Scar asked, it almost sounded like Scar wanted to be there when he did. 

“One day,” Grian agreed with a nod, he hoped Scar would be there when he finally said all the things he’d been wanting to say.

“Imagine if they did start talking back, though,” Scar chuckled. “Like a booming voice coming down from the sky.”

“Scar!” Grian shouted through laughs. “How do you come up with this stuff?”

“I think you just bring out the worst in me, G-Man,” Scar smiled. Grian scoffed, grabbing a fry and putting it into his mouth. 

“Worst?” Grian asked, “is that what you’re going with?” Grian twisted his straw in between his fingers, stopping when it squeaked.

“Maybe the best,” Scar shrugged, he took off the lid to his milkshake, dipping his fry in and then eating it. “I haven’t decided yet.” Grian erupted into laughter, looking away from Scar to regain his composure. He expected to hear Scar’s laughs join his, expected them to meld into one. They didn’t. 

Grian’s laugh petered out. He turned back to Scar, seeing glimpses of love and want in his eyes. Scar was looking at Grian as if he had hung all of the stars in the sky, as if he was all of the stars in the sky. His head was tilted, he had a dopey grin on his face and it was almost confusing. “Scar?” 

Scar was looking at his lips, Grian’s tongue darting out to lick them. It felt like Scar was asking for permission, Grian gladly granted it. They both leaned in a little bit, a current of electric energy heated the space around them. Scar reached out a hand to rest it on Grian’s upper arm, guiding them closer together. 

Their faces were so close, Grian could feel Scar’s breaths on his face, the small puffs of air that came with each exhale. He wanted nothing more than to close the gap between, finally have their lips collide, connect, coalesce. 

He paused, when they were barely touching. He couldn’t do it, the guilt swam up to the surface. “Scar,” he whispered. Scar hummed and Grian could feel it. He pulled away, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

Scar was silent for a moment, and every second felt like another tonne had been added to the weight on Grian’s chest. Scar reached out to cup his face, bringing him back so they were face to face again. A smile broke out on his face, and Grian had never felt more lost. “Is it that you’re a CEO and founder of Sahara?”

Grian stilled, Scar wasn’t supposed to know that. Nobody was supposed to know that. “How?” Grian barely got out, his throat constricting with fear, with guilt, with a small sense of betrayal. 

Scar tucked a piece of hair behind Grian’s ear. “ConCorp does background checks,” he explained. “And you may not have any public ties to the company, but it wasn’t too hard to find the connection.”

“And,” Grian started, but it was halted, by something he couldn’t describe. “And you still let me lie to you everyday?”

Scar chuckled softly and it was the most beautiful sound Grian had ever heard. “I knew you’d tell me when you were ready,” Scar said. “I was willing to wait, I wanted you to be comfortable. Besides, ConCorp has been thinking of buying Sahara, wanted to know if we could work together.”

Grian groaned, dropping his head into Scar’s chest. Days, weeks, months of turmoil that could’ve been entirely avoided caught up to him. He could still smell the poppies and lilacs. Scar laughed, the feeling reverberated through his skull, echoing in his head. 

Grian muttered something, but it was lost to the night air. Scar’s hand shifted from Grian’s cheek to the back of his head. His fingers played with hair there, soft, calming, in a way Scar always had been. He scratched lightly at Grian’s scalp and Grian looked up with a pout.

Scar sighed fondly, they stared at each other for a second, looking at the reflections of stars in their eyes. “Can we kiss now?” 

Grian rolled his eyes, but tugged at Scar’s tie, pulling him closer. The feeling of Scar’s lips on Grian’s own was heavenly. The kiss tasted like Grian’s strawberry milkshake and Scar’s chocolate one. It was euphoric, like every single moment in his life had led up to it. 

Far away in the distance, he heard the launch of a firework. He brushed it off as his imagination, until it bloomed above their heads in the sky. Grian and Scar pulled away in surprise. “I guess that’s what Cub meant,” Scar said lamely. 

“What?” Grian asked, still partially breathless from the exhilaration of the kiss. 

“Light show,” is all the Scar offered before he was leaning in again. Grian met him halfway. The second kiss felt just as lovely as the first. It still tasted just as sweet. 

When they pulled apart, they rested their foreheads against each other. “I’m in love with you,” Grian said before he could say anything else.

“I’m in love with you too,” Scar responded just as readily. Grian leaned back and kissed Scar’s nose, and his cheeks, and the space between his eyebrows and everywhere he could reach. Scar giggled at the sensation.

“So, does this mean I’m fired?” Grian asked, teased, when they had calmed down. His head was on Scar’s chest, listening to the steady heartbeat.

“What?” Scar laughed. “Why would you be fired?”

“I have a little memory of you saying that when you inevitably fell in love with me, I wouldn’t need a job,” Grian said. “And you’ve apparently fallen in love with me.”

“Do you want to be fired?” Scar asked, brushing a hand through Grian’s hair.

Grian hummed, curling into Scar. “Not really, I like being your assistant,” he stifled a yawn. “I get to spend a lot of time with you.”

“Are you getting tired?” Scar asked, Grian nodded into his chest. “Alright then, let’s go home.”

Grian sighed but let go of Scar momentarily so they could get everything back into the car. Grian automatically rested his hand on the gear shift, Scar smiled when he saw it. The drive back to Scar’s house was nice, uneventful, full of unbridled love. 

They put their milkshakes in the fridge, changed out of their suits into pyjamas Scar had lying about. They cuddled on the covers of Scar’s bed, hand in hand and irrevocably happy. “I know what I would say to the stars,” Scar whispered. 

“What would you say?” Grian traced the marks on Scar’s bare chest, outlining them with a gentle caress of his fingertips.

“I’d thank them for letting me meet you.” Scar rubbed light circles into Grian’s arms. Grian blushed, tilting his head up to look at Scar with a half-baked scowl. “You’re so cute when you blush.”

Grian went even more red, and batted Scar’s arm. “You can’t just say things like that!” Grian turned back, hiding his face in Scar’s neck. “You’re awful.”

“You love me,” Scar teased.

“I do,” Grian smiled, sleepily and content. “I really do.”

Grian woke up to a cold bed, and the smell of pancakes and bacon wafting into his room. He sat up with a yawn, reaching over to Scar’s bedside table to grab his glasses. He slid them on and started walking towards the kitchen. “Good morning!” Scar exclaimed, cheery and beautiful.

“It would’ve been better if I could’ve woken up next to you,” Grian smirked, picking up one of the cooked pieces of bacon. 

“There’s always tomorrow,” Scar smiled, leaning in to kiss him. It was so casual and it made Grian’s heart bloom with affection. 

“Yeah,” Grian sighed. “Tomorrow,” he said, but it sounded like forever.