Chapter Text
"Grian, we all see how you look at him!" Jimmy laughs, incredulously.
Grian groans, and puts his head into his hands.
"I've never seen you act like this, babe— err, mate?" Joel adds rather unhelpfully, "I've never seen you look like this."
"Doesn't matter," Grian cuts in. "I'm not in love with anyone. Especially Scar."
Jimmy and Joel laugh, then glance at each other, disbelieving looks in their eyes. One pair brown, one pair green.
(It's not the same shade of green as Scar's though. Scar has an emerald green, and Joel has this muddy brown-green shade to his. Not that Grian would ever say that outloud, though. That would be admitting he's looked closely at Scar's eyes.)
"What does it even matter?" Grian squaked defensively, "Not like you haven't had tons of partners, Tim.. That blue haired one—"
"Scott?" Jimmy cuts in.
Grian continues, "Tango, Martyn, at one point, I think.."
"I'm still dating Tango— doesn't matter. Canaries don't even mate for life— you do. That's why it's so special."
"Plus," Joel says, "you can't say Scar doesn't interest you even slightly. There's something about him."
"He's nothing like us," Grian admits, after a moment of quick silence. "We steal and we drink, we're Bad Boys. He's quiet, or at least in class. Not with his friends, I think. I don't think he's ever broken a rule in his life."
"There's a ton of boys— or girls, whatever— that are like that," Joel says. "What's so different about Scar?"
Grian pauses. What is so different about Scar? Perhaps it's the eyes, crinkling just in the right places. Maybe it's that grin, cheerful and ever-so-slightly mischievous. Or maybe, it's that personality of his—
No. Those are thoughts that land you in trouble, at least with your mates. Those are thoughts that come with years long of teases. He knows that because of Joel, who's been in love with the same girl almost the entirety of his life. He's not in love with Scar, and he knows that because he's smarter than to fall in love here.
Once Grian gets enough money, he's skipping town. He's been acutely aware of the fact that this town is not somewhere he wants to stay. He's been careful not to make many meaningful connections, at least in the last few years.
He would've almost made it without the Bad Boys. Jimmy, his half-brother, dragged him along to meet his friend. They liked his personality, he fit right in. Just like that, he was a Bad Boy.
"I won't disagree— Man's handsome," Jimmy disrupts Grian's thoughts, his loud voice projecting over them, "but don't you think he's a bit too.. preppy for us? He's a good kid."
"That's the point— don't you think?" Grian cuts him off this time. "I mean, Mumbo was a good kid. Good grades n' all."
"Well, look what happened to him," Joel says. And it's true, partly.
Mumbo K. Jumbo, Grian's first ever friend. Before Grian had the common sense to stick his hands in his pockets and look away, he came up to Mumbo and befriended him. It started an 8-year-long friendship, only ending when Mumbo moved away in the ninth grade.
He missed Mumbo, sometimes. A Bad Boy would never say that, though, so he doesn't. It turns out, he hides a lot of things from his boys, intentionally or not.
Grian swallows. "Doesn't matter. I'm not in love with Scar, and that's final," he states, stomping away for emphasis. His friends looked at eachother again, behind his back, and a plan formed between the two's silent words. They had always had that connection.
—
Turns out, it was not final. A class project, a mandatory one, otherwise they wouldn't be here, in their ELA class. Grian was always advanced with his English, but he ditched often, so he was not put into the upper classes. Not that it would matter now, in their senior year.
Jimmy was only a Junior, so he and Joel were alone. A group of four, needed, so perhaps it didn't matter Jimmy wasn't there.
"Hey!" Joel called across the room, "Scar, you and your partner come join us!"
Scar jolted his head to Joel's voice, likely suprised that he was called by someone he hardly interacted with. Not that Grian blames him.
He sat with his twin-brother, Bdubs. They had very few similarities, only their hair truly looking alike. Both messy and brown, with stripes of white hairs. Poliosis, he thinks, something their father had passed down.
Other than that, they hardly looked related. At the most, cousins. Scar was tall, and more scrawny, with the brightest green eyes you'd ever see. A long, strong nose, one apparently from his mom, and big eyes. It was his eyes that drew people to him.
He was handsome, real handsome. Not like in movies, with the chiseled and clean faces. Just plain nice to look at. People liked him. He was charismatic, always popular with crowds, but it never got to his head. Most ironically, he had a few small scars around his face. Not too big, but enough to notice.
Bdubs, on the other hand, was shorter and stockier. He had big eyes, too, and a flat nose. While not necessarily Grian's type, he was also quite popular. Grian swears he has a whole harem.
Bdubs was loud and exciting, always the class-clown. People liked him, too, and perhaps it boosted his ego a little more than it did Scar's. He was almost like a doll, with his big features and soft face.
Grian groaned once Joel called them over. He his head against Joel's shoulder, glaring at him at the same time.
"Why—" He groaned, "I thought I told you. I don’t—"
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, if judging by future circumstances, Scar cut in.
"Why, hello there!" He welcomes, smiling. That's how he greeted people. A cheerful tone in his voice.
Bdubs smiled and waved, greeting them as well. Grian was too busy looking at Scar (in mourning, of course) to listen to the conversation.
He never noticed Scar had faint freckles. It made sense, as Bdubs had it as well, but..
"—Right, Grian?" Joel jeered, and Grian turned to look at him.
"I said," Joel repeated, a stupid grin on his face, "that if we," motioning to the entire group of people, "all work together, we'd have a chance of getting a good A on this project."
"That'd be wonderful," Bdubs interjected. "Scar can barely read, so we can use all the help we can get."
Scar sputtered, "Hey! I can read." He messed with his shirt-collar. He wore an aqua, orange and yellow striped shirt, cut slightly too short at the stomach. He wore high jeans to fix it, a nice blue that goes well with the shirt. Scar always dressed nice, juxtaposed to Grian, who usually just threw on a random T-shirt under his usual get-up
Grian most of the time donned the same things: a red turtleneck sweater, black jeans, boots, and a black leather jacket. The latter of which he had gotten from the Bad Boys, handcrafted by Jimmy. (One of the things he doesn't mess up, apparently.)
"Show us, then, because if I fail and Cleo yells at me—"
"You can call her mom, y'know," Scar mutters.
"Doesn't matter what I call her. If she yells at me, I'm telling your secret." Bdubs smiles, revealing a toothy grin, except a singular tooth was missing. He glances towards the other two, accidentally locking eyes with Grian. He turns back to Scar quickly.
Secrets. Something Grian has a lot of, and something that made Scar a hundred percent more interesting. Not that he wasn't interesting before, of course.
"Ooh, secrets!" Joel exclaims, having the same thought process as Grian, it seems, "What's your big secret Scar? Killed someone?"
"None of your business!" Scar gasps, and the English teacher (or as he prefers to be called, professor), silences them.
—
That's how you end up in a random boy's, who all your friends insist you have a crush on, house. Along with your mate and his twin, of course.
He had met Cleo and Etho once before, at a school event when he was younger. Which is how he knew slightly what features they passed down onto their children; Cleo's strong features and her bright green eyes, and Etho's hair and freckles. At least that's what they passed down to Scar, it seems.
Sometimes, it feels like adults don't age like kids do. Like they look the same years apart. This is apparent with Etho, who still has that newly-twenty look to him, even if he's now in his late thirties, or even early forties. He kept his curly, white hair in a small man-bun, and kept a mask on at all times. Grian never knew why, but never pushed on it. He knew better to question adults.
Cleo seems to have changed a lot, but not in a bad way. She held her hair in a loose ponytail. Her bright-orange hair was held in braids. She was slightly unsettling, being undead and all, but perhaps the entire family was a little strange.
"It's up this way," Cleo leads, a bowl of food in her hands. "I know you all think you're mature now, but stay safe. And—"
"We know, Ma," Bdubs groaned. "If we can't be safe, be careful. We're at home, I don't know what you want from us."
"You never know with teenage boys," Cleo mutters.
Scar mumbles under his breath, "My legs hurt," as he enters their joint room.
"Your legs always hurt," Bdubs retorts. Scar rolls his eyes, then looks to the side. "Alright," Bdubs says as Cleo sets down the bowl of snacks, "Welcome to our bedroom. Do whatever you want."
"Well, maybe not whatever you want," Scar adds, "But y'know. Make yourself at home."
It's nice. Slightly messy, but nice. There's drawers by the door, and a desk by the window. A bunk bed, the top had orange covers, and the other green, sat in the right-most corner of the room. The orange one on top, and the green on bottom. The one on top has various plushies and dolls of things, Disney and cats, mostly. There also seems to be a reoccurring theme of Star Wars on the top bunk, posters hanging on the walls, and even stickers of stars on the roof.
The bottom side is more messy, per se. The green covers remind Grian of moss. On the bedside counter, there's figurines and.. various amounts of clocks.
"I like to keep track of the time," Bdubs says, noticing Grian's surveillance of the room. "Helps me keep on schedule."
"You say that as if you're on time for anything," Scar butts in.
Bdubs scoffs. "I'm on time for my bedtime."
"Your bedtime?" Joel laughs.
"No, he's honest. 6 o'clock, every night, as soon as the sun goes down. Do you see the things I go through?"
Grian watches as the conversation goes down, still processing the room, and really, the fact that he's with Scar in his house. It feels so private, almost.
There's also the fact that Scar's family seems so... normal. Arguing constantly, maybe, but normal.
A father, a mother, and two brothers. He feels like he's watching one of those sitcoms on TV, where everything is so dysfunctional, but it's them. And they're all happy.
Grian takes off his leather jacket and puts it on their drawers.
—
The English project goes smoothly, in all honesty. Not that he cared much for it, just a grade to pass for him. A collaborative research project, or something.
It gives him an opportunity to understand Scar just a little more. To dissect Scar's personality, idiosyncrasies, and habits. In true English passion, he created a list about Scar:
He has few interests, but they're substantial and don't go away quickly.
He loves cats. And Star Wars, and Disney. It's apparent from his room, but it seems like he wouldn't stop talking about it if he could. Grian knows this, as he jumped into a thirty-minute long discussion about Disney, he thinks. He wasn't really paying attention.
His emerald-green eyes seem to twinkle when he gets excited.
Scar's laughs are like hiccups, unless you make a real good joke. Then, it's explosive. Or, atleast, it makes Grian explode. Joel noticed.
Did he mention the eyes? They're beautiful. It's captivating, how they display all his emotions in plain view. When he's happy, bored, or snippy, they crease and fold in different ways.
(He's not obsessive. He's a good observer, noticing small details.)
"Are you kidding me? Gosh, Grian, you're really heads over heels," Jimmy laughs at him during their lunch.
"No, you've gotta understand—"
Joel cuts him off, "What is there to understand? You've got a huge crush on Scar G. Clocker, and you're too puss to admit it!"
"Okay, you didn't need to yell that at the level you did, first of all. Second of all—"
"You've got a crush on who?!"
Grian sees the familiar sight of Pearl Moon, his next-door neighbor and almost-sister. Sister in everything but blood, atleast. Another connection he failed to cut off once he started distancing himself from everything.
If anything, Pearl was nosy. Of course she'd hear this.
"Scar? As in, Scar GoodTimes? Bdubs' brother?"
"Yes!" Jimmy exclaimed, grabbing onto Pearl's forearm. They were close, too, especially due to the fact they were in the same year. "He keeps denying it, hard. That's how you know he's got it bad."
"I will admit," Pearl grins, "You two would be great together! Scar is sweet, he'd even your rough edges out."
"I do not like Scar. Now, if you're going to keep insisting, I'm just going to go," Grian exclaimed, slamming his hands on the table and storming off.
"You're both really stupid, too!" Pearl yelled after him.
It's not a big deal. It really isn't. Sometimes, it's just overwhelming and frustrating, and you've got to cool off.
It's not his fault he ran face-first into Scar.
"Ah— I'm so sorry Grian—"
Grian looks up at Scar. He looks tired. More tired than usual. "Scar, you alright buddy?"
Scar shuts his mouth, and looks off to the side sadly. "Just..." he sighs. "I'm just in a bit of pain. I was going to go the nurse's to see if they had any painkillers."
Grian hums. "Well," he says. "I've got painkillers in my car. You can, uh, have some if you want."
"You suggesting we ditch, Grian?" Scar smirks at him, a michevious glint appearing in his eyes.
"I'm not suggesting anything," Grian shrugs, sharing the same look. "Unless you want to?"
And again, it's not his fault that Scar agreed.
—
"I've never ditched class before," Scar starts, in Grian's car. It's busted up and old, but it's Grian's. He paid for it all by himself, and it's something he could take with him.
"Thought so. You seem like a good student. I can't imagien you running off from your responsibilities."
"Hey, I never said I've never run off before," Scar grinned mischievously. "I think my parents are like... two big fights away from a divorce 'because of me."
Grian turned to him. "Really? Your parents seem nice."
"They are. Just not for each other," Scar leans back, looking down at his hands, avoiding any eye contact with Grian. "Etho is barely there. He has friends and a life, and he's generally a very social person. He doesn't do all that husband or dad stuff. Err, well, he tried once, and it hurt me real bad. That's what happens when you play with fire, he says. You get burnt."
"Mom's nice too" Scar continues. "She's smart— too smart to stay at home with the kids all day. She's always been there, though, which is more than I can say for ol' Pops. Too busy with his nerd group."
Grian nodding, focusing on what Scar had to say. When he had gone to their house, all he wanted was to live like Scar. Good parents, a nice neighborhood, filling food. He can't say he doesn't still feel slightly envious. He still had those things, just not exactly as Grian had thought. Not like a sitcom, though. Not perfect; like he thought it was.
"I can't say that my parents were ever there either," Grian started, wanting to comfort the other. Scar was still looking downwards. "I don't want to dump that on you, though."
"No, go on," Scar pushes, a determined look on his face now that he turns to stare directly at Grian. "Well, unless you don't want to of course," he backtracked quickly, a polite smile appearing on his lips.
Grian chuckled. Maybe another time, he voiced. It's a long story.
—
They ended up at the edge of their small town. It overlooked a part of the desert. Nobody ever came this way. Cities were on the other side, and the sand stretched for miles here.
"I'd like to live in the desert," Grian mentioned, throwing rocks down the cliff. "Seems nice."
"Wouldn't you get super hot?"
"Well, yeah, but that's why you wear thin clothes. Not like this sweater, or the jacket." It was already hot in their town, during the Summer, but not nearly as hot as it would be in the middle of the desert. He could already feel sweat falling down his face as the heat crawled at him.
Scar sat down on the cliff side, watching Grian's rocks fall down slowly.
"The desert does seem nice," Scar agreed. "Could have your shirt off, and people wouldn't mind as much, probably."
Grian laughed, loud and sudden. "Is that your first thought?! That you could take your shirt off?"
Scar flushed red. "Well— am I wrong?!"
"Well, no," Grian laughed, "but still!"
Scar smiled his smile, and that's the moment Grian realized everyone was right, because he suddenly felt dizzy. Perhaps it was the heat dripping into the town, but it didn't matter.
He thought he'd be angry at this realization. That he let himself get attached again, after everything that's happened. With his family and Mumbo.
He found that it was freeing, loving someone. He found that it was something he could get used to.
And if he drove home, and dropped Scar off at his house, and collapsed into his bed, then he did it with a slight smile on his face and butterflies fluttering around him.
—
Another day, weeks later, and the sun shined bright. It was nearing summer again, and he'd be graduating this year. Working at the local movie theater turned out to make less money than you'd think, much less than needed to move far away. It would be better in the summer and after though, since he could work full-time, as well as reaching 18.
The boys (and Pearl, of course) had apologized about their incident, and Grian didn't mind. It made him feel lighter, slightly. Again, a feeling he'd never mention, just to keep his Bad Boy appearances.
Joel's birthday, his 19th, was coming up too in June. Much sooner than Grian's.
"I think I want to marry Lizzie," he said one afternoon.
"Marry her? Don't you think you're too young for that?" Jimmy asked.
"Maybe," Joel answered. Lizzie was already out of school, taking a gap year before college. Waiting for Joel, perhaps. "But I love her. I know I've loved her for seven years."
"Do it," Grian said. It took all of them by surprise. Grian rarely spoke in conversations like these, and was often the reasonable one. Maybe Joel’s hopeless romantic nature rubbed off on him.
Jimmy smiled. "You feel happier nowadays. You seem happier."
"I feel free." Grian said, his back on the ground and his arms spread. "I feel free," he repeated.
"Well, if you feel free," Joel transitioned the conversation, "feel free to come to my party. It's going to be pretty big, because I'm famous, of course."
When did Joel get such a big ego? Maybe they're all changing, Grian thinks.
"And, don't be afraid to bring a plus-one too!" Grian turns to look at Joel. "Not that I'm saying that you have to," Joel adds.
Grian isn't afraid anymore.
"Are we moving on from the fact that Joel wants to marry Lizzie?" Jimmy asks. "Because I feel like that's a pretty big deal."
"When I'm out of here," Joel says, and both Jimmy and Grian recognize he means their hometown, "I'm going to marry her."
—
"Hey Scar!" He calls out. He and Scar have been getting closer, recently. After ditching together, it's hard not to be friends.
His call startles Scar a little, which makes everyone around him chuckle. It's just a few people, Bdubs, Martyn, and a red-headed girl with antlers he doesn't recognize.
"Oh, hi Grian!" He greets, still a little surprised. "Did you need something?"
He pulls Scar in, to whisper something in his ear. The deer-lady glares at him, with a slightly amused look on her face.
"Party on June 29th," he whispers, "Be there."
Scar whispers back, "I will," without a beat.
—
Graduation comes and goes, as does May. It's freeing. He and Joel got drinks for the occasion. Jimmy hadn't graduated quite yet, but still celebrated with them, saying that a success for one bad boy is a success for all.
Joel, despite most definitely not being qualified, has whipped up a drink he had dubbed The Bad Boy. They weren'r very creative with names.
"To the Bad Boys!" He said, holding his glass to the air.
"To the Bad Boys," Jimmy and Grian repeated in unison. They laughed as they drank down whstever concoction Joel had created. It wasn't too bad.
Graduating was a doozy. He looked into the eyes of people he'd most likely never see again. The girl with antlers, who he later learnt was Gem, a close family-friend of the Clockers; the blue-haired boy Jimmy once dated, Scott; so many others. He looked into Scar's eyes and decided that he wouldn't be one of them.
It was courage that gathered into him, as he hugged Scar.
"You're a special one, Scar," he had laughed, pecking Scar on the cheek. "Don't forget that."
Scar flushed red. "Thank you. You are too, G," he smiled.
Mumbo was the only other person to call Grian "G". They were both special people in his life. Grian didn't think he minded.
"Don't be a stranger," Grian muttered. Don't be a stranger like Mumbo.
—
It was so sudden. Grian was laughing with his friends one day, and then the next...
It was an accident. Nobody saw it coming, especially Jimmy. Poor Jimmy.
Sixteen going on seventeen and dead.
Jimmy has always had the worst luck. Despite his talk, he was always the most malleable of the bunch. Too nice, not enough bite.
The last time Grian saw Jimmy the day of, even if they didn't really speak. They live together, after all. The last time they had a real conversation was when they had cheers. Joel spoke to him everyday. He had just hung up when everything happened.
It was an accident, a horrible accident. Jimmy's horrible luck had landed him in the wrong spot, wrong time. Couldn't have been prevented. If he didn't stop to pet the stray cat, if he didn't help someone carry their groceries, if he didn't...
How to describe Jimmy? Jimmy was.. so many things. Undeniably, so very human, almost to a fault.
Joel spoke first at his funeral. His best friend, of course. "Jim was a true Bad Boy. As many flaws he had, he was a true one. He always stuck by me. Ever so loyal. I wouldn't have traded him for the world. He was kind, most importantly. Would've had anything just to see people smiling. I remember, when he was nine, he cried over a pet he barely knew. He had it for about two weeks before it died. He still cried." Pausing, Joel looked around, maybe surveying the crowd. The faces Grian thought he'd never see again— that he wouldn't have seen again. "He was the nicest person I ever knew."
Joel didn't say much other than that. He would've said more if he could manage it. Grian couldn't blame him. He could barely see Joel's eyes peeking over his sunglasses.
(Once, Jimmy had said something about the sunglasses. When they were very little, maybe even about the pet Joel had spoken about, he wore sunglasses at the pet's pretend funeral. He said it would cover their tears.)
"He was the best of us all," Grian said at his funeral. "I've known him since he was born, being my half-brother and all. We've stuck together after our parents died. He's always been clumsy. Thought he just needed to grow into his legs. Maybe he just hadn't fully.
"Tim— Jimmy. He was smart, even if nobody liked to admit it. He always had this quick wit. We met this guy once, and he said it. He knew how to make people laugh, and he loved to do that. He loved to make people happy."
People spoke. He hadn't realized how many people loved Jimmy. Scott, the blue-haired boy he thought he'd never see again, spoke long. So did Tango. Of course Tango spoke, Grian had forgotten the two were dating at the point Jimmy died.
Scott spoke about Jimmy's determination. How he got injured once trying to impress Scott, trying to get something brand new for him. How he had fun living, something about a pet pufferfish.
They broke up eventually, but it was clear Scott loved Jimmy. Perhaps he even still does.
Tango spoke about Jimmy's kindness and creativeness. With his crochet projects, something Grian didn't even know Jimmy did. How smart he was.
Joel kept looking into Jimmy's eyes, the same way they'd look when they were alive. This time, Jimmy didn't look back, with a grin on his face. He stared coldly and distantly into the distance.
—
The party wasn't the same as it would've been. A nineteenth birthday spoiled by the death of a loved one.
Scar showed up. He hugged Grian, first thing. He hugged Joel too, even if they didn't know each other. They whispered something to each other. Grian didn't care what they said, because it made Joel smile. Weakly, but it wasn't a fake smile, so it counted.
"It feels awkward, you know?" Scar muttered on the porch of Joel's house. "The mood is so damp, I can't say I blame them."
"Well, Joel already invited half the town. He said it was a funeral party too, now. It's what Jimmy would've wanted, not for us to mope around." Is it? Jimmy wouldn't be here to protest that claim. Maybe Grian doesn't know what Jimmy ever wanted. What did he want to pursue?
"..I didn't know Jimmy that well. I talked to him a little, helped him with this train-project of his, but I didn't know-know him. I know he was smart, and kind, and funny, but I wonder what he was like. Really."
"He... He felt a lot of emotions, and he wasn't afraid to show them. That's something I admire him for."
Scar turned to look at Grian. Grian looked away. "He seems like an admirable person."
Nodding, Grian turned away, ready for the end of the conversation. Before he did, however, Scar leaned closer and whispered, "I have something to tell you later."
Grian agreed. His head felt like it was full of fog, not quite present in the moment.
Grief is weird. It makes you feel all weird and disengaged. Like you’re not really there, a pale ghost of the world. And people stare, too, when they know you’ve been through something. It’s strange.
He entered the house again and walked over to Joel, who stood in the corner at his own party, a somber look on his face.
"Hey, Beans." His last name was always a joke to the rest of the Bad Boys. Really. His last name was Beans. His name was Joel Beans. He said this with a comforting tone in his voice, though.
Joel smiled weakly at the nickname. Not a genuine one, but one to know that he was glad Grian was here. They were the only ones left after all.
"Grian," he started. "I'm moving with Lizzie to Empires City."
Grian only stared at Joel.
"I just can't be here anymore. Jimmy was the only thing keeping me connected to this town, really, and now I just.."
"I understand," Grian found his voice. "I wouldn't want to be here either."
Joel looked at him. "Thank you," he said, with all sincerity. "Don't lose contact," he almost whispered.
Grian was the only one left.
—
Grian drank. He usually did so when he was either upset or celebrating. He was 18, and he had nothing to do.
With nothing to do, he picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts.
Again, grief is a strange thing. It manifests in different ways, but it just made Grian feel numb. He didn't cry after Jim's funeral. He lived in a hole where all he felt was nothing. He didn't leave his room much, nevermind his home, other than work. He didn’t do much else but work.
Jimmy's room, in their shabby little apartment, must've been collecting dust.
He couldn't stay here anymore.
He passed through Jimmy and Joel's names on their contacts. Dead and gone. Nothing left for them here. His thumb stoped when it hovered over Scar's. Didn't he want to talk to Grian about something? He never had the chance to, after Grian holed himself up and self proclaimed himself as a hermit.
It rang a single time before an answer.
"Grian!" Scar's voice rang loud across the phone. "How have you been?" His voice turned from confident to solemn in a matter of a few moments. He must've been excited that Grian phoned.
"I've been.." What do you say to that? When you're in the place Grian is now, what do you say? Do you be honest or do you not bring down the mood? "I've been the best I could be," he settles for.
"I get it." Scar says.
Grian speaks up, before Scar can say anything else, "What did you want to tell me last time?"
"What?"
"At the party," he recalled. His voice felt sore from the lack of speaking. Even at the movie theater job, he remained as silent as he could. "What did you want to tell me?"
"Oh, well— Doesn't really matter.. You've got more important things, and I think—"
"No, tell me. I want to know. You matter to me, and you're all I really got right now."
"...I went to the doctors a while back. Mid June, before.. You know." Scar swallowed. Was he nervous? "They, uh, well. Remember how my legs hurt? They said there's something wrong with them. I'm 18 now, so I have to take care of it myself, but it sounds bad. They say I need surgery for some things.. They say I might need a cane, or even a wheelchair."
Grian blinked. Scar was athletic— not someone that fell into Grian's depiction of someone needing a wherlchair. On the swim team, he had gone to nationals, once, Grian heard. That was before they had met, but when Joel was telling him and Jimmy about the other kids, that's what he was told. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened. I don't know," Scar answered. "I was fine and then I wasn't." His voice waivered a bit over the phone. "I don't want to stay here. Everything hurts. I keep passing by my old pool and thinking I have lessons tomorrow."
Scar grew up here. They had always been in the same classes. Grian only really started noticing him middle school, though he had been in the district since he was 7. He must've been swimming since even before Grian arrived.
Grian was hit with this sense of urgency. He couldn't stay here either. If he did, he would surely be swallowed by it. It being sorrow, it being memories, it being grief. He can't let himself be buried by it.
Grief is strange, because you find that you feel guilty for doing anything else but grieve.
"Do you want to live in the desert with me?" Grian asked abruptly. He couldn't stay here any longer. Otherwise, it felt like the walls might crash into him.
"What..? Grian," Scar's voice goes soft, "I can't live in the desert. I just told you, I might need a mobility aid or something. I'm sure they don't have much accessibility in the desert"
"Scar, I can make it work, please," Grian begs. He never begs.
"Where would we even stay? There aren't buildings for miles in the desert. Are you listening to me?"
"Then we travel the miles. There's a town about seventy minutes away from here. It's nice." Grian has looked there multiple times. There's a nice place to rent. Big and spacious. It had always been some sort of far-off dream. He would always dream of a nice house with a yard, especially when he was younger.
"Where would we even get the money?"
"It's not bad. Just twenty gold a month, or so. I have a little over two-hundred in my account. That's ten months. I could work there too."
"I just think—"
"Scar," Grian said seriously. "If you don't want to go, then you don't have to go. But I'm going."
Scar was silent for a few moments, thinking. It's not often he thinks before he speaks. He stutters a bit, and Grian can imagine his face, flushed red and concentrated in thought. It's almost humorous, and Grian has to stifle the laughs. He feels a little crazy right now.
Grief is weird because you have thoughts that make you laugh, then it comes back to you. He's dead, Grian. And you're laughing.
"I'll go. I'm 18 now, anyway. I can't—" Scar pauses. "I need to be elsewhere. Anywhere but here."
—
"What even was your secret?" Grian started up, driving past buildings. It was a good ten minute drive to the desert. The town might be small, but it's spacious. He wonders how many other hermits, like him, hide in those apartments.
"What secret?" Grian can't blame him for that one conversation slipping his mind. That must've been back in March. How things change in less than six months.
"Y'know, the one Bdubs knows about. He said something about it in English last year."
Scar paused. "I told Bdubs everything. A lot of things could be a secret in his books."
"I'll give you a secret in exchange for yours. I'm genuinely curious. If it's something like you stole gum once when you were three, I'm kicking you out."
"Deal," Scar said immediately. "Okay. So you know that we've known each other for about six months, but we've been in the same area for, like, twelve years?"
"Sure."
"I used to have the biggest crush on you," Scar smiles. "It's funny how inconsequential it seems now."
"Big word," Grian mutters.
Grief is weird because you can be entirely in love with someone, and still grieve.
"What's your secret?"
"It seems silly to say it now," Grian smiles.
"Well, go on! I said it first, it's your turn."
Grian looks directly into Scar's eyes. "I guess, in simple words, I like you too."
Grief is weird, and Grian hates it. Love is weird, too. Grian doesn’t know how to feel about that either.
Scar, oddly, says nothing more on the matter. There's a smile on his lips, though, and Grian hopes thats answer enough.
—
It's silent until they see a pet store fly by their car window. Or, rather, they fly by the pet store. They’re going real fast. It’s dark, but the streetlights lighten the store and make the sign visible.
"I've always wanted a cat, you know? Etho said he was allergic to cats, but I think he was just pretending so he didn't have to take care of them."
Grian takes a moment to consider this, before taking a sharp turn back to the store.
"Woah— where are you going?"
"We're getting you a cat."
In truth, Grian had also always wanted a cat. He never had the chance though. Now? He has gold, all to himself, and a life to live.
Grief is weird because one moment, you're sitting in your bedroom not making a sound. The next, you're in a pet store, looking for the perfect cat.
—
It's twenty miles in, where Grian realizes that there's no going back.
It makes him excited.
Scar has transferred to the back of the car, talking in a high-pitched voice to the cat. Jellie, she's called.
Grief is weird, because no matter what, you have to move on.
Scar looks at Grian, when they arrive at that desert town.
"We'll be okay," Grian says.
—
Grief is weird, because there's so much you leave behind.
Scar gets calls, especially at the beginning. It was late at night when Grian called, no-one must've noticed when Scar slipped out.
Grian spills, one day, about everything. When Scar told him about his family, he knew he had to say something back. It took him a while.
"Scar," he said one day, when Scar was in the kitchen of their rental, leaning onto his cane. "I was raised in a cult. The Watchers one, if you were old enough to remember." There was a whole thing on the news about it. It was a whole scandal.
"Slightly. Why do you bring this up?"
"Thought you should know. My parents, and Tim's mom, devoted their entire lives to that thing. Died during it." It’s strange to mention Jimmy so casually now. It seems like your whole life is ending when you’re grieving, and then it doesn’t end. In fact, it goes on.
"Did you know them well?"
"Not really."
It seemed simple, how it came up. How that Grian never brought it up before, and it's just like that. It's just a fact, now, not a life changing thing.
It seems anticlimactic. In those sitcoms you watch, or the books you read, you'd think it'd make a pretty big deal.
All Scar had to say was: "You're still you” and Grian remembers why he loves the man.
Joel calls Grian, every week. Grian gets to hear his voice get stronger after Jimmy’s death, gets to hear him grow. Scar starts answering calls after a few weeks.
If Grian overhears Cleo yelling at Scar over the phone, he pretends not to.
Love is weird, too, because Scar and Grian sleep in the same bed, but they don't think it was ever made official.
Growing up, Jimmy would always grab loose feathers from the ground. When Grian said it was disgusting, Jimmy had responded with saying that it was nature, and it was beautiful. He said that it meant freedom and trust.
One day, Grian just gave Scar a feather, pristine and beautiful, and Scar smiled that smile. The same one that made Grian fall deep for Scar. It just made him love the man more.
Call it lazy, but it was their way. Simple.
Jellie was a comfort to both of them. A reminder of home. Perhaps she was spoiled a little too much.
He kept the bad boy jacket in his closet now, the one joint with Scar's. He doesn't wear it, it's too hot for that. It's just a reminder, now.
Scar uses his cane to walk around. He can't sneak up on Grian with it, but it makes him feel better. There's days where his body still hurts, and Scar says his sickness is only going to get worse. It's not exactly a nice, finite thing. Neither of them have positive things to say, but it's there and it isn't leaving. Scar seems to have come to terms with it.
The town is nice. It is, really. A closed off but tight-knit community of so-proclaimed hermits. Grian isn't quite acquainted with everyone yet, but it's nice. He wonders what he left behind, back in his hometown. He does courses online, and he picks up a internship at some architectural company that's in the area.
Grief and love are weird, because it's about the past and the future. Some things from the past he never outruns, and some things he forgets. Grian doesn't mind waiting it out to see.