Work Text:
Grian woke with a start.
His heart pounded in his chest as he sat upwards, a shout of a familiar name caught in the back of his throat as his eyes snapped open. Hands scrambled to grasp hold of the thin red string that was wound neatly around the bottom of the fourth finger on his left hand. A brief, panic tug proved that it was still taut. That was good. Taut meant that Scar was still safe. Taut meant that Scar was still alive.
Grian forced his lungs to gulp down air, something his chest seemed to always slightly struggle with when he was away from Scar. In and out. In and out. Once his breathing had slowed, he slowly lowered himself back down onto the mattress and closed his eyes, hoping to re-enter the land of dreams. Despite his best attempts, the man couldn't fall back asleep. Phantom pains of TNT and burnt wings flared across his back, preventing him any temporary peace with memories of mistakes and regret. He lay there, breathing in and out, for what felt hours before the door creaked open. A faint slither of torch light shone through, illuminating the room. Grian didn't need to sit up to know who the person was, the faint ache that was always in his chest that had started to fade the moment the door opened told him everything he needed to know.
A single whisper broke the silence. "Are you awake?"
"Yeah."
"Follow me?" Grian knew that Scar had intended for this to sound commanding, but the small part of doubt in his mind doubt that Grian caused caused it to come out questioning. Instead of responding, he swung his legs out of the bed and stood up, rubbing what little sleep that remained out of his eyes.
Scar shot the blonde a small smile, before turning and setting off with a purpose. Grian was content to simply follow the older man, fingers twiddling with the small red string that tied the two together as soulmates absent mindedly for reassurance. He didn't notice that Scar had led them outside until the cold nip of the night breeze drew him from his thoughts.
He turned and looked at the older man, questions filling his eyes. Scar simply just shushed him and grabbed his shoulders. "Dance with me."
A small smile crept across Grian's face. "There’s no music," he protested.
"Doesn't matter. Dance with me."
"Scar you'll step on my feet!"
"Then so be it. Dance with me."
Laughter bubbled out of Grian's mouth before he could stop it. Shaking his head, he raised his own hands to Scar's waist, gently placing them before they began to sway and shuffle their feet. "You do realise neither of us can dance, right?"
"What's this then? Walking?"
"Swaying isn't exactly the pinnacle of dancing, Scar."
"It's enough," Scar smiled softly. "It's enough."
Grian looked at the older man with amazement. Scar is the moon, he decided. Even after everything, he's still here. Still by my side. Never leaving. After all this time, I'm still lucky.
Letting out a mischievous grin, Grian shifted his hands so he was now holding one of Scar's in his own. The older man barely had time to be confused before he was being twirled rapidly by the blonde. Shocked laughter burst out of his mouth and the familiar feeling of affection blossomed in Grian's chest.
A small tug on Scar's hand and he was back against Grian's chest. As they started to softly sway again, Grian looked into those brilliantly brown eyes that seemed to hold the galaxy within them. Sometimes Grian thought that Scar was the remnants of space; made of stardust nebulas and blinding light instead of flesh and blood and bones. He was too pure– too holy– to be anything but celestial.
It was peaceful outside. Everybody was asleep. Nobody was there to bother them. The server was silent apart from the two of them. The two just breathed and swayed, content to just embrace each other in the night breeze. All of their problems about the virus, the past, faded away. As Grian looked into the eyes of the nebula-like being in front of him, he had an overwhelming feeling that everything would turn out alright.
Their bodies gradually slowed in their swaying before they were simply standing and embracing one another. Grian let his eyelids flicker shut, content to just hold Scar for a moment. He breathed in. And out. Slowly, Grian reopened his eyes. His hands reached for the ones that were pressed against his shoulder blades, gently massaging the muscles that no longer had a purpose. Taking them gently into his own, he brought them in front of their faces before lacing their fingers together. His eyes followed the brilliant red thread from his finger to Scar's. Undeniable evidence that they were bound together. Undeniable evidence that they would be alright.
Not saying a word, Scar simply took his other hand to move Grian's over his heart. The steady thump soothed something deep in Grian's mind. In this moment– just this moment– he could forget how the red of the string reminded him of TNT and hellfire.
He never mentioned to Scar how red reminded him of bloodied fists and broken feathers and red, red, eyes that held no remorse. Red was broken promises and lava pools and bust lips with bloodied teeth. Red was the colour of regret and failure as far as Grian was concerned.
Scar squeezed Grian's hand softly, somehow managing to notice that the younger had been drawn into his thoughts again. Grian's gaze softened from the tense stare it had become when he was caught up in memories of past lives only he remembered. For now, he could forget. The taut feeling of the thread allowed a small smile to spread across his face. The two breathed in sync, content to stay in their little bubble of peace for a moment longer. In and out. In and out.