Chapter Text
The school bell rings, indicating the end of class and without hesitation, students rise from their seats one after the other in disorganized fashion as they take their bags, various murmurs overlapping each other, and leaving the classroom. Schoon stretches his sore arms above his head with a grunt, popping his bones and sighs in relief before putting them back down to place his notebook and pencil case inside his orange backpack. From the seat to his top right, he can see a blond approaching his raven-haired neighbor.
"Hey, Mumbo. Are you gonna come by the workshop later or what?" Tango Tek prods with a playful tone while lightly nudging his elbow to the other's shoulder.
"Sure, mate. With my packed schedule being finally opened once again, I wanna tinker something and simply relax for once." Mumbo Jumbo beams as he stands up and swings his backpack to his shoulder.
"Awesome." Tek grins, turning his head to the back, presumably about to talk to another classmate. "Yo, Impulse!" He waves his hand over his head. "Do we meet by the entrance as usual later?"
"Sorry, man. Skizz and I are gonna have our gig next month, so we won't be seeing each other that often because of band practice." Impulse Connell's gentle voice sounds apologetic as he explains.
Schoon zips his backpack and wears it on his back while tuning out the rest of the conversation, beelining towards the door. He can vaguely hear someone greeting him goodbye as they call him with the nickname ‘Scar’ just because the birthmark on the bridge of his nose looks awfully like a slash scar. He ignores it and leaves the door towards the hallway as he bites the inside of his cheek.
The pencil on the thick and smooth paper swishes as Schoon produces more rough lines to amplify the line art. His hand stops for a moment as something red passes from the corner of his eyes, perking up to see a familiar blond troublemaker of his class. The blond, who always wears his signature crimson jacket over his uniform three hundred sixty-five days a year, turns his head towards Schoon’s direction and makes eye contact, making him avert his gaze and looks back down to his sketch book like nothing happened.
Why does the class clown and local prankster have to be in the same club as him? There’s literally about twenty or so clubs in their school.
It’s not that he hates the guy. Honestly, Schoon personally thinks Grian Dreamslayer (he bets that’s not really his surname) is really good at drawing unique structures that someone can’t usually think of. Whenever he takes a peek at his classmate’s works, he can’t help but stare in awe, completely speechless as no words can describe how amazing they are.
It may be subconscious jealousy or some kind of outside supernatural force, but whenever he sees Dreamslayer, his scar-like birthmark stung like it’s burning to a crisp, heart pounding like a drum against his chest and sweat buckets as his body screamed for him to run as far away as he could, never to be seen again.
“What are you drawing?”
A voice calls from behind, making Schoon yelp and jump violently on his seat as he frantically closes the book in reflex and spins around, only to see the fellow teen leaning towards him with a cheeky smile.
“Oh, my gosh. You scared me.” Schoon breathes a heavy sigh as he caresses a hand to his pounding chest.
“Hi, Scar. Jumpy as always, huh?” Dreamslayer giggles as his diamond sword glints under the moonlight he wipes a tear from his vibrant purple azure eye.
“Y-Yeah. You startled me. How on earth did you do that?” Schoon chuckles as he fully faces Dreamslayer, ignoring how his chest pangs at the uttered nickname.
“You know a magician doesn’t reveal their secrets.” Dreamslayer persuades as he puts a finger to his lips.
“Hey, that’s my line!” Schoon squawks.
“Maybe…” Dreamslayer drawls and shrugs as he feigns ignorance. “Anyway, do you mind if I hang out with you for a while?”
Schoon’s heart drops and body freezes at the statement, the familiar adrenaline rush boosting his body to do something—anything whenever he’s with the blond.
“Why do you ask?” Schoon probes as he tries to hide the waver of his voice.
“It’s- It’s complicated.” Dreamslayer rubs the back of his head as he averts his gaze. “I- I just don’t want to go home early, that’s all.”
“Sure! If you’ll have me.” Schoon perks up, stopping himself for a moment as the gears shift and processes what he said. “Wait, I didn’t mean—”
Dreamslayer clutches his stomach as his laughter fills the room, causing prying eyes to focus on them before going back to their work and minding their own businesses.
“Oh, my goodness.” Dreamslayer sighs in relief as Schoon puts his things inside and slings his backpack on his shoulders.
“Come on, mister.” Schoon frowns as he gently pushes Dreamslayer by the back towards the exit.
During the whole journey from the clubroom towards the cafeteria, Schoon’s twitching lips won’t stop from curving into a fond smile.
As the curtains dance softly while the wind blows from the window, Grian snickers by the doorway as Scar takes the eraser from the teacher’s table with furrowed brows.
“He’s here, he’s here!” Grian whisper yells as he swiftly moves away from the entrance and runs to Scar’s direction. “Scar, do it!”
“Why do I have to do this? How about you do it?” Scar protests as he rubs his free hand at the back of his head.
“Now where’s the fun in that?” Grian huffs and raises a brow.
“You can’t reach the top, can you?” Scar guesses indifferently.
“You- I- Wha- It’s- How- What makes you say that?” Grian stutters with wide eyes before chuckling nervously as he feigns confidence.
“Since you’re such a short boy, I don’t mind lending you a helping hand.” Scar croons with a lopsided smirk as he heads to the door and bends his knees.
“Why you—!” Grian squawks from behind before Scar exclaims when the former vigorously shakes the latter back and forth by the shoulders. “If I could just detach your stilts for legs and replace mine with them, I would’ve done them a long time ago!”
“Why do you keep calling me by my surname? I told you many times to call me by my first name.”
“It’s- I- Would it be weird for you if I’m the one to do it?”
“Why would it be weird?”
“I—I don’t know…”
“Since we’ve been friends for a while now, it’s even weirder that you’re not referring me with ‘Grian’.”
“W-We’re friends?”
“Of course! Am I the only one who thinks that?”
“No! It’s—Thanks…”
“Why are you embarrassed now? I’m supposed to be doing that, letting me say it out loud!”
One of their previous conversations resurfaces, making his chest light as a feather as he remembers vividly how it made him so happy to be called a friend, how much it means to him that his feelings are mutual for once considering his terrible experience during childhood just because he’s a bit different than everyone else.
“G-man, stop!” Scar pleads as his voice wobbles from the movement before breaking off into a chuckle.
“I hate you so much.” Grian stops with a pout as he crosses his arms to his chest.
“Love you, too.” Scar singsongs as he regains his bearings and bends his knees once more, grunting as he springs upward while he reaches the hand that’s holding the eraser and drops it beside the uppermost part of the stile, and Grian carefully pushes the door forward so said object is sandwiched between it and the door frame before heaving his breath once he lands on the floor without tumbling. “Whew! Mission success!”
“Come, on.” Grian intercepts his moment of relief as he pulls Scar’s arm away from the scene of the crime. “We don’t want him to see who did it.”
Scar nods and both swiftly go back to their seats like nothing happened. He zips open his bag and pulls out a random book, frantically opening it to a random page as he pretends to read while peeking over to observe the entrance. From behind him, he can vividly hear Grian wheezing in silent laughter before going radio silent.
As he continues to watch, his heart won’t stop drumming from his chest and inside his ears as he anticipates the event that’s about to unfold. This is his first time pulling a prank towards someone, so he’s both excited and nervous at the same time. Excited that he can successfully pull it off and provides him more confidence to do it again in the future, and nervous that it’ll fail horribly or it will go as plan but the victim will inevitably hate him for it.
Seconds that feel like eternity and finally, he can see a familiar fake mustache going into view as the victim approaches the door and opens it. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion as the marching band inside his body continues to thunder, while the barrier swings and eraser falling with gravity as well as the student moves forward far slower than a turtle.
In the blink of an eye, all moves back to their normal speed once he can see that Mumbo Jumbo’s raven hair is coated with white dust like ice cream with toppings. From behind him, he can hear Grian’s outburst of signature cackling as said victim stares blankly towards their direction.
“You- You should’ve- I can’t—!” Grian stutters between wheezes before going back into a fit of laughter.
“G-Grian!” Mumbo Jumbo’s eyes widen in realization as he shrieks before running towards the blond’s direction.
“Wait, no—!” Grian escapes while Mumbo Jumbo is hot on his tail as both run around the room in circles. “It- It wasn’t me. It was Scar!”
“You- I- You’re the one who told me to do it!” Scar jumps from his seat in panic, ignoring how his seat falls back on the floor.
“I bet you forced him to do it, didn’t you?” Mumbo Jumbo roars.
“Yes! Thank you.” Scar cheers with a grin.
Wheezes fill the air as Mumbo Jumbo and Grian finally settled on the chairs right next to Scar’s as they catch their breath.
“It’s- It’s pretty unusual for you—for you two to be hanging out—together.” Mumbo Jumbo rasps as he muses.
“You know—I’m just that—endearing.” Grian grins triumphally. “Okay.” He exhales deeply. “As you may know already, this spoon over here is Mumbo. We’ve been friends since we were young. You can call him ‘Mumbo’ or ‘Spoon’, whichever’s fine.” He faces Scar as he introduces.
“More like forcefully stuck together than anything, really.” Mumbo intercepts with a fond smile.
“And this is Schoon, otherwise known as Scar. We’ve been hanging out together lately and ended up becoming friends along the way.” Grian continues as he gestures with a hand.
“Nice to meet you, Scar.” Mumbo smiles as he places a hand in front of him.
“L-Likewise.” Scar mirrors the gesture as he shakes the offered hand.
“So, how much did he pay you?” Mumbo huffs as they let go of each other’s hold.
“Come on! Who did you think I am?” Grian squawks.
“He got a dirt on me, unfortunately.” Scar chuckles as he shakes his head in feigned disappointment.
“Don’t ignore me!” Grian yells on top of his lungs.
A scorching desert
Allegiances
A red feather
A wizard’s mountain
Pandas
Broken relationships
Cookies
A clock
Twenty-four hours
Tick tock tick—
Family
Blood
Traps
Bread
Tock tick tock—
Bridges
Explosions
Ties
Blood
Smoke
Sword
Blank gazes
Cold to the touch
Tock tick tock—
Blood
Blood
Blood
So much BLOOD!
Blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood they’re everywhere explosions falling TNTs bodies bodies bodies bodies bodies bodies bodies bodies bodies bodies bodies bodies bodies bodies they’re dead they’re dead they’re dead they’re dead they’re dead they’re dead they’re dead they’re dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead—
Scar yelps as he violently jumps on his bed, quivering terribly as he embraces himself and shrinks to the headboard, rocking himself back and forth in a poor attempt to comfort himself but it’s too cold. He pulls the blanket to wrap every part of his body, but he’s still shivering like he’s in the middle of a blizzard without wearing proper attire.
As the chirping of crickets and rustling of leaves fill the radio silence, he can only whimper helplessly while the images of a diamond sword and deranged purple eyes loop in his throbbing mind throughout the night.
It’s only a nightmare, a dream… It’s just a series of random images blending into a blob of mess made by his own brain to help it analyze and store his memories.
So, it’s only a dream when Scar saw an adult that looks like Grian killing him over and over without remorse.
Right?
A few murmurs and echoing steps fill the huge cafeteria, but otherwise the cool and peaceful air puts a twinkling smile on their faces as they settle down on one of the empty tables.
“We got the room to ourselves!” Grian grins as he plops his backpack on the table.
It’s already been a few weeks since Scar and Grian have been hanging out together in the cafeteria after club time. He still can’t believe that he’s been treating the fellow teen in his mind like he’s about to kill him every time his back is turned when Grian is one of the kindest people he has ever met on the planet!
“Can you not call me by that nickname?”
“Oh, sorry. Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“K-Kind of…”
“Is it- C-Can I ask why?”
“It’s- I—don’t really know. I- W-Whenever someone calls me ‘Scar’, I- I got this weird feeling in my chest and stomach t-that I can’t explain. I honestly don’t mind it, but my instincts are telling me otherwise.”
“Okay. I just thought that the nickname was cool since it portrays how resilient and strong you are no matter what comes your way, not only because there’s an insane scar on your face. B-But if it actually hurts you, I’ll stop. I- I’m sorry.”
“D-Do you r-really mean that?”
“Of course.”
“I think… I want you to continue, you know, calling me ‘Scar’.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to force yourself.”
“No, no. When you think of the nickname that way, I’m- I’m starting to warm up to it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Scar fondly smiles at the memory, forever thankful and can’t thank enough of how Grian still stays by his side despite revealing his ugly past, albeit accidentally when he was caught having a panic attack in the bathroom when he accidentally spilled that senior’s drink when they bumped into each other.
Apart from those few sad times, there’s never a dull moment, and he thinks that he’ll probably never forget these fond memories and will forever hold them close to his heart.
“There are still a few people in the vicinity, but I’ll let your comment slide.” Scar chuckles as he takes a seat across from the blond, setting his bag beside Grian’s before stretching his hands above his head with a grunt.
“Just admit that you love me.” Grian places his chin on his fist as he playfully wiggles his brows with a smirk.
“Pfft! As if.” Scar rolls his eyes with a smile.
All of a sudden, Grian leans forward and reaches for Scar’s face, taking something out with a pinch of his fingers before returning to his seat.
“Close your eyes and make a wish on the magical eyelash.” Grian requests as he hovers his pinched fingers in front of Scar.
“Why—” Scar furrows his brows in confusion.
“No buts!”
“Fine.” Scar huffs and closes his eyes. “Magic is supposed to be my thing, though.”
“Stop stalling or the magic will disappear.”
“Okay, okay! Jeez.”
A wish… Scar never had one before. He can hear Grian’s humming as he contemplates, thinking of many things he probably wants to make it true. Since he never had any friends before, he doesn’t really think about these kinds of things.
Wait. He got it.
“Blow it.” Grian’s voice adds.
Scar obediently blows the hand blindly and peeks an eye open to see Grian pointing a finger towards him with a cheeky smile.
“So, what did you wish?” Grian singsongs.
“Not telling.” Scar sticks his tongue out mischievously.
“Come on! Tell me tell me tell me.” Grian insists as he chants.
Scar chuckles as Grian continues to shake him by the shoulders as he purposely ignores him.
I wish that Grian and I will remain friends.
Scar strained his neck above, stretching his arm back with the bow string as he tried to shoot another arrow towards the three people who were climbing the ladder beside his family’s clock tower.
“It’s the ultimate betrayal.” Scar could hear G***’s even voice declaring from behind.
Suddenly, a sharp pain overtook his back and interrupted his hunt, knocking him forward a few meters away from his previous spot.
“Hey- wait- wait- wait—” Scar used the knockback to boost himself forward as the adrenaline made his body tremble and his flight instincts kicked in. “—no- no- no- no- no- no- no- no- no!”
“I’m- I’m sorry, Scar.” G***’s voice hesitated from behind as Scar continued to focus on running as far away as he could.
“You can’t shoot a man in the back! That’s—” Scar frantically turned back with a spin while pulling out a bucket from his inventory, pouring the scorching hot lava onto the ground between him and a pouncing Grian.
“Of course, I can!” G*** cut him off with a roar, manic grin vivid from his tone as he pulled out his diamond sword and got a few successful slashes from the bridge of Scar’s nose, chest, and a couple on his arms.
Scar winced in every move as the wounds stung like they’re on fire, trying and failing to get a successful hit from G*** with his empty bucket as the two of them continued to bounce left, right, and around the small area with a struggle like a twisted dance to try and end each other’s time.
“Y-You just hit a man in the back!” Scar gritted his teeth, switching to his diamond axe and jumped and weaved as he swung multiple times, trying to land a critical hit towards the now burning blond. Instead of stopping, G*** continued to aggressively swing towards his way as the fire formed a shadow on the man’s face, making his wide and determined eyes glint and look more deranged than they actually were. “You hit a man in the back. That’s—”
“Got to go!”
Everything went pitch black as the thunder boomed like an explosion and G***’s last words filled his ringing ears, threatening to destroy his already fading mind with force.
Scar violently jumps from his bed, wheezing desperately as the chilly air brushes against his sweaty skin while caressing his thumping chest with a trembling hand. Despite not being in that terrible world anymore, he can still vividly smell the horrible scent of smoke, burnt grass, and blood lingering in the air like it was yesterday.
Why?
Is this why he hated the nickname?
Is this how he got this peculiar birthmark?
Is this why he’s been instinctively afraid of Grian since day one?
Is this why they got along so easily despite being the polar opposite of each other?
Does the universe hate him or something?
Just when Scar thought everything was going smoothly for the past couple of weeks, the happy times they’ve been through shatter into millions of pieces like fragile glass and pierce him from every part of his quivering body with the cold, hard truth.
It’s all a fabrication—a big fat lie.
He won’t be tricked anymore. Not again.
Scar finally remembers.