Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The roof of the sandcastle isn’t necessarily the most comfortable place to sit, yet here Grian and Scar are. Grian is trying not to shift too much. He’s trying not to come across too anxious. He’s trying not to burst the warm silence that they’ve found. Scar does it for him.

“So… when you lose your next life,” Scar says. “Do you think you’ll leave?”

“Who says I’ll lose my first before you lose your last?” Grian jokes. Scar smiles weakly. “I mean- that wasn’t funny. Sorry. But, I dunno, I only owe you my first.”

Scar seems to find that even less funny. Grian feels a bit queasy.

“You’re right,” Scar says. Grian doesn’t speak. He doesn’t want to promise anything he can’t guarantee. 

The sun is getting low in the sky. Grian’s eyes dart over the desert, scanning for any unlit pockets where monsters could spawn and cause danger. Any eyes looking back from beyond where the sand tapers off into forest. A hand settles on his shoulder, and his head whips round to Scar.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to frighten you,” Scar says. “But you gotta relax.”

“What?!” Relaxing is the last thing Grian needs to do. Not when there are still so many ways Scar could die.

“Nothing’s gonna happen,” Scar says, grinning. “I’m certain.”

“You literally don’t know that,” Grian says. “I’m just watching out.”

“Stop watching,” Scar says. “Would you be calmer if we were inside? Then at least you can’t see the possible danger.”

“I don’t need to be calmer.”

“I would really prefer it,” Scar says frankly. “You’re freaking me out. You and your scary wings.”

Grian hadn’t thought about his wings, but he realises that, yeah, they’re pretty scary right now. They stretch up on both sides to their full wingspan, right up into the sky. He pulls them in quickly, his right wing almost whacking Scar in the head. 

“Sorry,” Grian says. “They kinda just do their own thing.”

“I’ve noticed,” Scar giggles. He picks up his cane and pushes himself to his feet, reaching a hand out to Grian. “C’mon, let’s head in. I’m getting cold anyway.”

“Why should I do what you say?” Grian says, standing up anyway and ignoring Scar’s outstretched hand. 

“You’re the one with the life debt,” Scar jokes, starting his descent down the stairs and into the tower. Grian hums noncommittally, following along. He’s not sure the life debt goes as far as telling him when he needs to ‘be calmer’. 

They wander downstairs to the kitchen, where Scar leans against the counter and sends another grin Grian’s way. Grian rolls his eyes, trying desperately to ignore the red in Scar’s. His eyes, instead, fix straight through the barred windows and right back outside. 

Scar groans. “C’mon. Can you please relax?”

“No,” Grian says, sounding mildly offended. 

“What do you usually do when you’re stressed?”

“Nothing,” Grian says. “I’m not stressed for no reason- If you remember I do have a life debt.”

“Forget the life debt for a moment-”

“Forget the- Forget the life debt?!”

“I’m not gonna die on Monopoly Mountain!” Scar says. “C’mon, we’re at home.”

Grian pauses for a moment as his head tries to catch up. Scar thinks this is home? 

“Personally, I like to brush out Jellie’s fur when I’m feeling stressed,” Scar says. “Especially when it’s been a while. She loves it so much I think she matts her hair specifically so I’ll clean it out.”

Grian has a horrid moment where he thinks of his own wings. He shakes his head of that thought, ignoring the curious look Scar shoots him in response. “Any ideas I have are terrible ones. If you’re bored just go to bed, sun’s setting anyway.”

“So you do have ideas?” Scar prompts, his smile spreading ever further across his face. 

“Bad ones,” Grian says. 

To Grian’s horror, Scar’s whole face is lit up with joy. “You have to tell me now,” he urges. He crosses the room to Grian, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “If they’re actually bad ideas we can pretend it never happened and move on.”

“ Scar-”

“Grian.”

Grian pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “ Fine. ”

Scar claps his hands together in delight. 

“The thing that sort of… jumped to the front of my mind- and it’s not even really an idea, it just- well it’s stupid really.” He takes a deep breath. “So me and Timmy- well Timmy’s like… kinda my brother, right?”

“I actually didn’t know that,” Scar says. 

“Well, so he is,” Grian says. “Kinda. And we both have wings. So he’d preen my wings and I’d get his, but we’ve both been kinda preoccupied and I honestly forgot. But it’s been a while so my wings have been kinda uncomfortable. And I can’t think that’s helped with me being anxious- but to be clear my anxiety is a survival mechanism.” 

Scar looks confused. Grian sighs. 

“You could… You could preen them, if you wanted,” Grian says. “Or at least that’s the idea that my brain flung at me without my permission.” 

The confusion clears immediately from Scar’s face and is replaced by a wide eyed certainty.

“Absolutely,” Scar says. “Yeah, of course.”

Grian cringes internally as he feels his wings fluff up happily behind him. To Scar’s credit, he doesn’t react at all. 

“You’re sure?” Grian asks. “It can take a long time. And sometimes my fingers cramp up when I do it, I dunno if you-”

“I’m certain,” Scar says, honesty dripping from his every vowel. “So where do we do this? Can we sit? If it’s gonna take a while I probably wouldn’t last standing.”

“Oh, yeah we should definitely sit,” Grian says. There’s a fluttering anxiety building in his gut, which he does his best to ignore. 

“Oh! If we sit on my bed in front of the furnaces it’ll be all nice and warm,” Scar says. 

Grian breathes out shakily, smiling nonetheless. “Good idea.” 

He sits down cross legged at the end of Scar’s bed, facing out the window. Something about that view outside, that assurance that he’ll see if anything comes from at the very least this direction, settles a small amount of the anxiety building within him. 

Scar sits directly behind him, hands ghosting over his feathers. “So, how do I- where do I start?”

“Uhm, it honestly doesn’t really matter,” Grian says. “They’re pretty good at falling right no matter what you do, they just need a bit of a nudge sometimes. Some of ‘em might be broken? If you wanna tug them out? But try and give me a warning if- OUCH!”

His wing flinches out, thrashing out into the air as Scar pulls a feather out.

“Oh, God,” Scar says. “I’m sorry- maybe you shouldn’t trust me with this.”

“No! No, it’s- it’s fine,” Grian laughs awkwardly. He’s not sure he doesn’t agree with Scar. “Just a bit more warning next time? Maybe you should try just laying some right at first?”

Scar hums. His fingers land back onto his wings, so light he can barely feel it. He starts at the top, gently moving some feather’s back to their natural position. Grian sighs contentedly, the muscles in his shoulders relaxing with those in his wings. 

They’re like this for a while, Scar slowly gaining confidence as Grian slumps further. He struggles not to feel a little annoyed. Scar is… as good at this as he could be. He clearly hasn’t done it before, but it still feels nice - but that isn’t even what’s getting to him. It’s the care Scar is taking. He’s taking his time, his fingers stay light and gentle. Once in a while he quietly checks in to make sure he isn’t doing anything wrong. It’s unnatural. Scar isn’t like this with him. Grian would go as far as to say that Scar isn’t like this with anyone . He’s confident and brash and unfaltering. 

What’s worse is what this means for how Grian treats Scar. He’s not about to turn around and start being sweet, especially not in this desert heat. He’d rather take a little trip off the edge of the mountain. 

Scar’s hands stop moving, and Grian turns his head to look over his shoulder.

“Something wrong?” He asks, more quietly than he’d expected.

“I’m done,” Scar says. “Haven’t taken out any more of the broken feathers but they all look in place at least.”

Grian tenses slightly. “Yeah… maybe I’ll keep that for next time I see Tim.”

“That may be wise,” Scar says.

“Do you…” Grian falters for a moment. “Do you want to get the front?”

Scar takes a moment too. “Yeah, for sure! Turn around.”

Grian takes a deep breath. He moves quickly, turning around and sitting cross legged facing Scar. They’re a little further away than they were when Grian’s back was to Scar, but now Grian can see that distance. He stretches out his wings.

Scar runs his teeth over his bottom lip in thought, surveying the project. 

“You might need to move a bit closer,” Scar says. “I’m not sure my arms’ll be able to take stretching like that for the whole time.”

Grian nods and shuffles closer. 

Scar’s eyes meet Grian’s. 

“Jesus,” Scar mutters, and Grian thinks he must have done something wrong.

“Sorry, we can stop, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable-” he starts moving, but Scar’s hand grasps his forearm quickly, holding him in place.

“No, it’s not- it’s just hard when you’re looking up at me like that,” Scar says, like that clears up anything in Grian’s mind. 

“Oh,” he says. “I can uh- I’ll close my eyes?”

“No! No, it’s just-” Scar sighs. “You just look really- just really- I don’t know, cute?”

Grian splutters, wings shaking out. 

“You’re literally looking up like a puppy!” Scar says, throwing his hands up in defence. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I-I-” Grian blushes a furious red, brow furrowed. “ Sorry ?”

“Are you apologising or did you not hear me?”

Grian’s mouth moves soundlessly, trying desperately to think of the right words to say. He quickly gives up, setting his eyes, frustrated, down at his hands. Scar laughs quietly. 

“I’m not trying to fluster you,” he says, clearly pleased with himself. 

“Yeah, well apparently it’s easy,” Grian grumbles. “You’re using my wings for evil.”

“This is my dastardly red life plan,” Scar says. His fingers find their way back to Grian’s wings, smoothing over a patch that sends a shiver up Grian’s spine. “I’m finding your weaknesses. Weakness one, getting called cute-” he sinks his fingers into the roots of another patch, and Grian’s head slumps forward- “Weakness two. The wings.”

“The wings-” Grian’s voice comes out somewhat slurred- “The wings are definitely a weakness.”

“What does it feel like?” Scar asks. “Is it like a cat, because you’re acting kinda like a cat.”

“It’s not, really,” Grian says. He shivers upwards and looks down. “It’s very human. Maybe a bit bird but… mostly human.”

“Is there anything you can compare it to?” Scar runs a hand over the top of one wing. 

“It’s…” He zones out for a moment, and shakes his head to bring himself back to his senses. “It’s its own thing. It’s like if you had wings.”

“That doesn’t- Your brain’s all broken,” Scar laughs. 

“It’s not broken,” Grian argues. He twitches his wings out of Scar’s grasp. “It’s hard to describe. It’s like if you were gentle in any other way. You’re being nice and it’s making me weird… Maybe we should go back to not being nice.”

“I like being nice.” Scar pouts. 

“You do not,” Grian argues. “You’re the conman of the century. You like winning.”

“I like being nice to you,” Scar says.

Grian doesn’t look at him. “That’s not true either. You like to argue with me.”

“I can like two things.”

Grian, in an act of shocking confidence, takes one of Scar’s hands in his own. Scar takes the other, and Grian ignores the disappointment he feels in realising that this means Scar’s hands won’t find their way into his feathers anymore. 

“Sup,” Scar says casually. 

“Y’know,” Grian replies.

“I actually don’t,” Scar says matter of factly. 

“I don’t want to say anything embarrassing,” Grian mutters. 

“Don’t worry,” Scar says. “If you do, I'll just make fun of you forever.”

“Ha ha,” Grian says without laughter. 

“Say anything.”

There’s a pause, and Grian feels very, very uncertain. Then, Scar smiles at him with all the clarity in the world, and Grian doesn’t even need to think.

“I’m glad we’re allies,” Grian whispers. “We kind of balance. Your crazy and - well, actually, my crazy too - I think they work out to 0.”

Scar smiles at him, and this time Grian holds the eye contact. He stops thinking about what that eye contact means. What it feels like to have Scar watching him. Understanding him. Learning and thinking and seeing him. He just thinks about green. Flecks of gold. Dark, black, pupils. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Scar says. He’s almost talking in his salesman voice, but it’s lower and quieter and closer. Scar’s thumb brushes over the back of Grian’s hand. “I think I’ve been perfectly reasonable so far.”

“You keep convincing people to pay for invisible friendship points,” Grian points out.

“Made visible by their handy certificates,” Scar counters. 

Grian laughs quietly. 

“You’re right,” Scar says. “And it’s good to have you protecting me. You’re good at it.”

This doesn’t feel the same as it has felt. Hands in hands, faces a breath apart, warm and close on top of Scar’s bed and in front of a furnace flickering away. They don’t usually compliment. They don’t sit, eyes set strictly in one place, thumbs brushing calloused skin. They just don’t. But here they are. 

“So you only like two things?” Grian asks. He’s floating something out into the room - it’s clear to him and he’s sure it’ll be clear to Scar - but it’s tentative enough that it could be ignored. “Being nice and arguing with me?”

“Ok, good point,” Scar says. “I like a couple more things than that.”

“What like?” 

Scar looks at him like he knows exactly what Grian wants to hear. “Oh, y’know, cats, long walks on the beach, Monopoly Mountain - home, a good deal, etc, etc.”

Grian doesn’t need to ask to know he’s included in ‘Monopoly Mountain’. It’s a given. He squeezes Scar’s hands three times, and struggles not to react as he realises what he’s saying immediately after he’s done saying it. At best it means ‘I love this’, at worst ‘I love you’. 

Scar squeezes back twice. No significance.

Chapter Text

It isn’t insignificant to Scar that Grian chooses to find him after Joel goes red. 

It’s not that he’s putting in any particular effort, but it’s better than nothing, and it isn’t insignificant. He’s not actually sure Grian was planning on this timing, but regardless, it isn’t insignificant. 

“I can’t stand living this close to Tim,” Grian groans. He’s lying on the ground outside Scar’s base, one arm held over his eyes, blocking the sun. 

“Were you complaining about me like this last time?” Scar says, only half joking. 

Grian scoffs. “If I had a problem with you I told you.”

That’s fair, Scar thinks. In the desert, whenever Grian found some new thing to complain about, he’d just flick Scar in the arm or roll his eyes or sigh passive aggressively. 

“What’s so hard about living near… Timmy? Jimmy?”

“He’s just so dumb,” Grian says, shaking his head. Then, reluctantly, “I dunno, actually. I’m mostly just looking for something to be annoyed at.”

“Why?” Scar isn’t even really paying attention. He’s organising, something he only finds himself doing when he’s got something weighing on his mind. 

“Bored,” Grian says. “The Southlands are fun but there’s no danger. Need some people to get a move on and die.” 

Scar doesn’t say anything to that. He raises his eyebrows to himself, but he’s not facing Grian anymore so he doesn’t see it. 

“Maybe I need to talk to a professional about that one,” Grian jokes. Scar quite wants to agree but he thinks that might be a bit hypocritical of him. “How’s stuff without your teammate?”

Scar huffs. “Bad. I miss Joel. I don’t see why we can’t still be friends!”

“He’s red,” Grian says, like that explains anything.

“I was red last time,” Scar points out. 

“It’s different this time,” Grian says. That leaves more questions than it answers.

“Whatever,” Scar says. “I don’t like having no friends, though.”

“Go make friends, then.”

“I already had a perfectly good friend!”

“I can’t help you with this,” Grian says. “That’s the way it is.”

Scar isn’t looking for solutions, though. He would’ve thought Grian would be able to understand that. “I’m just saying.”

Grian doesn’t reply to that. Scar turns back around to look at him again. He’s in the same position as before, arm still resting over his eyes. His wings are lying limp over the grass. Scar wonders if they’ll be stained when Grian eventually gets up.

“Don’t fall asleep on my lawn,” Scar says, throwing a balled up piece of paper at Grian’s head. 

“Why should I do what you say?”

“You’ll get all grassy.”

“Don’t be right about things,” Grian says, starting to push himself up from the ground. 

Scar offers his hand to help pull Grian up. Grian’s eyes go wide. There’s an uncomfortable pause as Grian just stares at Scar’s hand, before finally taking it and allowing himself to be pulled up.

“What was that?” Scar asks, unable to stop himself.

“What?” Grian asks. 

Scar fixes him with a deadpan stare. “Come on.”

Grian rolls his eyes and reels away from him. “It was nothing. Forget anything happened.”

There’s another long moment of silence as Scar stands, a few feet in front of Grian, searching his face for answers. It doesn’t give any. 

“Nope. What was it?”

Grian groans and rubs his temples. “It’s honestly not a big deal.”

“Ok. But what is it?”

“That’s just… we just haven’t—God this sounds weird—touched since… since you died.”

“Huh,” Scar says. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He hadn’t really thought of any of it. It didn’t weigh on his mind at all. 

“I mean, I only thought of it then,” Grian says, turning away from Scar and scratching his head. “I was waiting for you to try and hit me.”  

Scar has to pause for a moment. Has to watch the side of Grian’s face as he looks off somewhere. “Why is that the one that stuck?”

“Huh?” Grian turns back to face Scar and jumps slightly. Scar thinks maybe he’s staring a little too much and glances away. 

“Well that’s not the only time we’ve ever touched.”

“I guess.” Grian shrugs. “It was the most memorable.”

Scar’s a bit offended, to be completely honest. “Hey!”

“What?” Grian asks. He’s sort of half back to normal now. He’s making sparse eye contact when he speaks. He isn’t turned in the opposite direction so he doesn’t have to look at Scar.

Scar grins menacingly. “You don’t think any other touches might have been more memorable?”

Grian grimaces. “Ew, disgusting. Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not being gross! That says more about your- I was being wholesome!” Scar argues. Grian looks at him suspiciously. 

“You’re not wholesome. What are you trying to say anyway?”

“Well, I mean. What about that time I did your wings for you?”

Grian watches him for a while, mouth ghosting over syllables that never leave his mouth. Then, hesitantly, he rolls his eyes.

“Whatever. We’re off topic. What were we talking about?”

“Nothing,” Scar says. “Nothing important. Can I poke you?”

Scar is convinced that if he could just prove to Grian that not every touch between them is violent, everything will be ok. He’s not sure what ‘everything’ needs to be ok. Until this moment, he was sure everything already was ok. 

“No.” Grian quickly shuts it down. “It was one stupid flinch. Ignore it, it’s a death game, I’m gonna be paranoid.”

“Right, but last time-”

“This isn’t last time.”

Now it’s Scar’s turn to roll his eyes. He places his hands on his hips, shifts his weight to one foot. He fixes Grian with an angry stare. 

“Let me poke you.”

“I’m not going to let you poke me! God, you’re such a- I TOLD YOU NOT TO POKE ME!”

Scar giggles as he pulls back the offending digit. “Now that’s a more regular reaction! See, I’m a genius!”

“You’re such an idiot,” Grian mutters without any real heat. 

“But I’ve proven that I’m not always gonna hurt you.” Scar’s voice drops. 

“That’s not- hm…” Grian studies him for a moment, eyes travelling up and down Scar. It’s a foreign feeling, the crawling self consciousness it places in him. “I wanna say something to you.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I’m… sorry. For… all that.”

“All that?”

“The ring, the desert. Dude, the first death. Probably the others too. All-” Grian gestures vaguely- “that.”

Scar shrugs. “Thanks? I feel like you already paid the debt for that?”

“We’re off topic,” Grian says, shaking his head furiously. “What were we talking about?”

“How perfect I am,” Scar says. He’s not going to try and fight Grian on this. It’s not worth the effort, he knows he’d lose (he doesn’t have a great track record in winning fights against Grian) and he honestly doesn’t even know where he’d start. It’s not worth telling Grian to change how he thinks about things. He’s always either thinking way too much or not at all. 

Grian is watching Scar sternly. Scar thinks maybe he missed him saying something. He doesn’t bother checking what it was. 

Scar grins at Grian. “What are you up to today?”

“You can’t veer me off the subject that easily.”

Scar waits.

“Ugh, fine. I’m off to find Scott. I can’t tell you why but you can come along if you need something to do.”

That’s the largest olive branch Grian has ever handed Scar. Practically an olive tree.

Scar shakes his head no. “I think I’ll just be alone for a bit.”

“Suit yourself,” Grian says. He thumps Scar’s shoulder twice on his way past. It’s a friendly gesture, but suddenly Scar understands what Grian meant. But he doesn’t flinch. So that’s one point to him.

“Bye, G. I’m sure we’ll hang out soon.” He’s casual about it. Like this isn’t literally a game of life and death. 

“Probably,” Grian says. “You’ll be sick of me.”

Chapter Text

“Scott I genuinely can’t take it anymore,” Grian groans. “Is it not like this for you too?”

“I think it’s different,” Scott says through a laugh. “Pearl and I are plenty tragic but it’s… definitely a different kind of tragic to you and your soulmate.”

“I think he’s actually trying to torture me,” Grian says, his hand covering his face tensely. 

“Ok, that’s something Pearl does do,” Scott says. “The number of times I’ve caught her just round a corner freezing us to death.”

Grian’s hand whips down from his face and his eyes squint with fury. Hushed and hurried he says, “ Scar’s been doing it with her! ”

“That honestly doesn’t surprise me,” Scott says, far too calmly for Grian’s liking.

“If you’re gonna antagonise her can you at least have the manners to be angry about it?” Grian’s hand finds its way back onto his face. 

“I don’t think I’m known for my fury,” Scott says. 

“Of course my sister would want to help my… soulmate do something like this…”

“Your sister?”

“I mean you’d hope either of them would be a little more loyal!”

“Are we having a conversation? Or…”

Grian huffs out a sigh. “Sorry. We are. I’m just taking the opportunity to not be the one making progress. And it’s nice to talk to someone who actually listens .”

“Scar doesn’t listen?” Scott asks. “I always figured he’d be the communicative type. Thought maybe he was the key to you two fixing your… whatever you’ve got going on.”

Grian chooses to ignore that. “People think he’s this polite, friendly, thoughtful guy… he’s a menace.”

“I notice you didn’t say ‘but’.” Scott raises an eyebrow. 

Grian glares back. “Well I meant to.”

Scott shrugs. “Sure.” He ignores Grian’s stare even as it grows ever more murderous. “You said he was torturing you. How come?”

Grian’s glare falls to sorrow for a second before quickly gathering back to careful rage. “We’re just out of sync… He’ll be all happy and bouncy and I’ll just be so tired of it! And I can feel all that and it just makes me angry ! And then he feels me being mad and gets upset and I’m not even trying to upset him! And then I get angrier and he gets bored of it and–ugh!”

“Mm,” Scott hums. “I guess I do feel that a bit with Pearl. But then me and Pearl don’t have to deal with the, uh, softer feelings.”

Grian squints at Scott. “What are you on about?”

“Well,” Scott smirks. “Me and Pearl have never locked lips. Just saying.”

Grian is silent for a moment, eyes wide with something akin to betrayal, before he mutters out, “yes, maybe that doesn’t help.”

Scott is polite enough to seem a little surprised. “So you have kissed?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Grian says.

“It’s just interesting, is all,” Scott says. “I mean you two have never been particularly… Lovey dovey.”

Grian cringes as thoughts of fingers in feathers come flooding back to him. Worse than thoughts- feelings, which he’s sure Scar will feel. He hopes Scar thinks he’s with Bigb. “Yeah. I guess not.”

“Unless you’d say otherwise..?”

Grian sighs and lets himself calm. “When we were in the desert… I don’t know… We had a couple of sweet moments.”

“None since?”

“Not, uh,” Grian’s head turns, staring out of the window, desperately avoiding eye contact. “Not last time.”

Scott understands painfully quickly. “Wh- Does that mean that this time-“

“It’s confusing, alright?”

“I thought you felt tortured?”

“Absolutely I do,” Grian says, nodding furiously. “But sometimes torture is… all that stuff.”

“All that stuff,” Scott repeats.

“The idea that the universe has spoken and the one person most compatible with me is him is just… Well, that’s just wonderful, isn’t it?” He’s talking with the venom of a red life, or at the very least a yellow, but his wings still taper off into green. 

“I… understand where you’re coming from,” Scott says. “We’re three games in. It’s all very complicated.”

Grian sighs. He suddenly feels very tired. “Yeah. You’re not wrong.”

“I killed you,” Scott says. “Last time.”

“Still not wrong.” Grian stands up. “I should get back. I might swing by Pearl’s tower and make sure neither of them are about to torture us.”

Scott laughs. “Of course they are.”

Grian tries to laugh back. It falls flat. “See you later, Scott.”

Scott waves, and Grian goes on his way.

Scar doesn’t bother feeling guilty as he puts hand above hand and pulls himself up Pearl’s ladder and into the tower. Partly because he hasn’t actually been told he’s not allowed, there have just been some strong hints, but more so because of the low level anger that has been simmering in him since they all first received their soulmates.

It’s a foreign feeling to Scar, this quiet, constant anger, so it’s clear where it comes from, and Scar is honestly surprised by quite how much rage a man as short as Grian can fit inside of him. He’s heard that thing about concentration - less space for the anger to spread out - but this feeling is filling him from head to toe with more to spare. 

He’s not surprised to find a sword pointed straight at him from the moment he pulls himself up through the little hole at the top of the tower, so there’s no spike of fear to worry Grian. Although Scar isn’t convinced Grian would actually care. 

“Why hello there!” Scar says, completely disregarding the weapon as he heaves himself up. “How are you this fine afternoon?”

“‘M alright,” she says. She doesn’t immediately lower the sword, considering for a moment. Then it drops to her side. “Bit bored, to be honest.”

“Well good news! I bring entertainment!”

Pearl raises an interested eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Wanna help me torture my soulmate?”

Pearl grins. “Only if I get to join in.”

“Of course,” Scar says. “I brought a cactus if you wanted to do it that way?”

“Sure, I don’t mind.” Pearl looks him up and down quickly. “I’m always surprised when you’re just fine with cactuses. Given… y’know.”

“I didn’t know you knew about that,” Scar says, surprised but not upset. 

“Grian told me,” Pearl says. For a moment, as she looks down at the ground, the red in her eyes is a little less visible. Then she looks straight into Scar’s eyes, and it’s quickly impossible to avoid.

“I guess there were only two of us there for that,” Scar says. “Was he gloating about his win?”

Pearl scoffs. “God, no. It was right after, so, y’know.”

“I don’t know,” Scar says. His salesman voice drops completely. 

“Well. Y’know how right after he was pretty upset?” 

“No? At the very most he’s been apologetic with me.”

Pearl pauses. “Huh.” 

“He was upset? Why was he upset?”

“He killed you,” Pearl says, like it’s obvious. 

“Sure,” Scar agrees. “But he killed other people that game. He’s killed other people since. And I told him to do it.”

“Right,” Pearl says. “But he killed you .”

“I don’t see how that’s different.”

Pearl looks at him like he should know better. Scar doesn’t. 

“C’mon,” she says. “You guys have your weird little thing going on.”

“We do?”

“Ok, now you’re joking,” Pearl says. “You guys have kissed - you know there’s a thing.”

“How come you seem to know every detail?!” Scar asks, far more flustered than he wants to be. “If I was in your position Grian wouldn’t tell me anything!”

“Sisterly responsibility, I guess,” Pearl says. “I have to put up with his nonsense.”

Scar needs a moment, here. “You’re siblings?”

Pearl bursts out laughing. “God, you two really do have a communication problem, huh?

“He’s the one who doesn’t tell me anything!” Scar says. “Just orders me around.”

“Ok, and you’re here to torture him,” Pearl says. “I feel like maybe it’s a joint effort to be silent and weird about each other.” 

“Don’t outsmart me,” Scar complains. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m not trying to outsmart you. It just happens naturally.” Scar doesn’t miss the little smile Pearl tries to hide from him. “All I want is to help you be normal.”

“If I wanted help being normal I’d go to…” Scar searches his mind for one person to fill that blank. “Is Impulse normal?”

Pearl seems to think for a moment, screwing her mouth and furrowing her brow. Then she shakes her head. “Ehh, in the very first game he was a traitor. I wouldn’t say so.”

“How do you know that?” Scar asks. It seems like everyone’s been having secret conversations behind his back. 

“I know many things…” Pearl widens her eyes dramatically. Then giggles. “I have contacts that tell me secret information…”

“Really?” 

“Nope! I’m just perceptive.”

“Why does everyone know more secrets than me?” 

“Who knows more secrets than you?”

“You! Grian! Probably every other stupid person on this server.”

Pearl sighs. “Lemme think if I have a good secret to tell you.”

Scar gasps happily, purses his lips. He bounces on the balls of his feet. He waits patiently as she thinks.

“Sometimes…” She giggles evilly. “Sometimes I call people Tilly by accident…”

Scar sighs. “You’re just a crazy lady.”

“Sure am! But my secrets-” she wiggles her eyebrows- “they’re all true. I heard... that you guys kissed.”

Scar's eyes widen and look straight out the window. “Oh! Grian’s outside, I should probably go!”

“That excuse won’t work on me!” She peers down at the ground. “Oh, he actually is. I thought we were gonna torture?”

“Next time! See you later, crazy lady!”

And with that, Scar starts scaling back down the ladder.

Chapter Text

There’s shouting before Grian’s even stepped up to the door. He can hear it, even through the stone walls of this castle. He almost turns back, but he’s bored and he’s tired and he’s itching to talk with his friend. With his soulmate. 

He knocks quietly on the door, realising pretty quickly that it’s very possible that nobody heard it behind all the shouting, but the shouting falls to nothing as his fist comes away from the door.

There’s a shuffling, and then Bdubs’ face appears in the window, peering with wide eyes out at Grian. Then, the door swings open, and Bdubs is grinning at Grian like he’s the first face he’s seen in years.

“Grian!” He says, going in for a hug. “We weren’t expecting you to come by!”

Grian glances over Bdubs’ shoulder to where Etho, Cleo and Scar stare wordlessly at him from their seats around their long dinner table. 

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt-”

“-No, no , not at all,” Bdubs says, placing a hand on Grian’s shoulder and all but pulling him into the room. “The more the merrier!”

Grian doesn’t miss the way Cleo glances at Scar. Scar does.

“I-I really wasn’t planning on staying very-”

“-Honestly don’t worry!” Bdubs says, his eye twitching slightly as he leads Grian to a chair. “It’s nice to see people who aren’t in the family, sometimes.”

“It’s a noble attempt, Bdubs, but I don’t think Cleo’s gonna stop being mad at me just because Grian’s here,” Etho says, a hint of humour in his voice. 

Cleo glares at Etho.

Then, she turns, smiling in a way that truly frightens him, to Grian. “It is nice to see you, Grian, but can I ask if there’s something in particular that you’re here for?”

For a moment, Grian blanks completely. “I, uh-”

“He’s here for dinner!” Bdubs interrupts, pushing an empty bowl towards Grian. 

“ Bdubs ,” Cleo warns through gritted teeth. He hangs his head slightly, and pulls the bowl back towards himself. 

“I just came to see if I could have a chat with Scar? But if he’s busy it’s honestly fine- I’m just bored.”

Scar looks up at him, a smile on his lips. “Can I go out, mom? I’ll do the dishes when I get back.”

Grian stifles a laugh. 

“Yes, fine,” Cleo says, gesturing with one hand and rolling her eyes. “But don’t go too far. And DO NOT die!” 

Scar is up and out of his seat without a beat of hesitation, pulling Grian up by his arm and straight out of the door. As the door pulls closed, Grian spots one last pleading look in Bdubs’ eyes before he’s hidden from view. He giggles a little. 

“God, I felt like a primary school student again,” Grian says. “Knocking on your door and asking if you can come out to play.”

“Tell me about it,” Scar laughs. It seems the tension from before has been left firmly behind the tower door, because Grian feels his muscles relax and his smile grow. 

“Wanna sit on the end of the bridge?” Grian asks. 

Scar nods. “It’s not like I’m allowed to go much further.”

Grian laughs and quickly makes his way onto the end of the bridge, using his wings for that little bit of extra momentum. If he looked back towards the manor he might see Jimmy and Joel right now. To his surprise, that’s a comforting thought. Everything’s a little comforting right now. 

Even Scar, sitting a little too far away on the end of the bridge. 

“Your outfit keeps making me laugh,” Scar says. Grian rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll have you know that I look really cool right now,” he says, puffing his wings up. 

“Oh, of course,” Scar says. “Very, very cool.”

“Yes.”

“Yup,” Scar says, popping the p. 

There’s a silence that stretches on for far too long, given what they’ve been through. Given the hours spent in each other’s company. Given how easy Scar’s smile had been mere seconds ago. Grian adjusts his sunglasses on his head. So much for comfort. 

“We haven’t really spoken one on one since… well…” Grian gestures significantly, as if all of the last game can be described in one half shrug. “Have we?”

“Not really,” Scar says. “I’m with mom a lot, so…”

“It is so weird to hear you call her that,” Grian says. He tries his hardest to sound teasing. He’s not sure what he sounds other than nervous. 

“Well, it’s what she is,” Scar says simply. Not with anger, though, which Grian counts as a win. 

“I really want us to be ok,” Grian says, in a show of honesty that he physically winces at as soon as the words pass his lips. “God, I’m sorry that was such an awkward thing to say. Ignore that.” 

Scar doesn’t speak, but he leans his elbow onto his knee and leans back even further from Grian, watching him with an almost blank expression. Grian’s usually okay with feeling watched. This bothers him. His feathers ruffle uncomfortably. The wind starts to pick up. 

“Ok, the wings can calm down,” Scar says. He’s almost smiling now, which sends a ripple of something different through the waves of anxiety in Grian’s stomach. “Is this what you wanted to talk about?”

“Kind of? Not completely,” Grian says. “I don’t know, really. I guess I just wanted to talk. I’m used to seeing you.”

There’s something trained in Scar’s expression. It doesn’t shift or react, even as Grian watches Scar sift through the information in his head. Grian wonders what he’s thinking. He wonders if he knows how much power he has right now. How he could tilt his lips down for just one second and send Grian spiralling.

Scar doesn’t frown. He says, “Yeah I guess I’m used to that too.”

“Trust me to kill the good energy we had going on,” Grian laughs awkwardly. 

Now Scar frowns, more confused than upset. “What’s going on with you?”

Grian’s wings tense. “What?”

“Why are you being all negative?” Scar asks. “This is- this isn’t… you’re like a beaten up puppy.”

Grian shoves memories of a sand filled room down as fast as they rise up in his head. “I’m trying not to mess this up.”

“Me too,” Scar says. “So calm down.”

“So you also want us to be ok?” Grian asks, less tentative than annoyed. 

“Yeah,” Scar says, like it’s obvious. 

“Well then why did you go all silent and start studying me!”

“It wasn’t a very Grian thing to say,” Scar says. “And I figured you’d be fine with the eye contact given how much of it you give all of the time.”

Grian supposes that may be fair. He feels a prickle of rain on his skin.

“It’s starting to rain,” Grian notes. Scar hums and looks up at the grey sky. 

“I’m not really dressed for the weather,” he says, pushing his own sunglasses up his nose. “I guess you aren’t really either.”

Grian huffs out a laugh. “God, no. But when am I ever, really?”

“At least you’re not overheating like in the desert,” Scar says. 

“Ok- I learned my lesson quickly,” Grian says. “It’s not like I was just running around after you in my jumper the whole time.”

“It was weird to see it back after the desert,” Scar admits. “I’d gotten so used to the tee.”

“Imagine how weird it was to see you in the cloak,” Grian laughs. He’s not looking at him, but he can see out of the corner of his eye as a smile pulls at Scar’s lips. 

The rain starts to pick up a little, and Grian’s wings quickly cover his head. He glances to the side where Scar sits, just out of reach, slowly getting wetter and wetter. He extends his wing out, not far enough to cover Scar, but obviously an offer. Scar looks up at the wing and down at Grian, and starts to shuffle in closer. 

He stops as soon as he’s under the wing, sheltered from the rain but still a hand or two away from Grian. 

“Is that not uncomfortable?” Scar looks up at the outstretched wing. 

“Nope,” Grian says. “My wings are probably the strongest part of me. I could hold it there all day.”

“Bit of a brag,” comes a voice from beneath the bridge. 

“Do we have an eavesdropper?” Scar asks, his voice quickly pitching upwards into his showman voice. It’s interesting to watch Scar’s persona shift so quickly. It’s almost careful, a word Grian rarely ever uses to describe Scar. 

“Martyn,” Grian says. “We’re in down time. You can’t kill us.”

“I’m not killing!” Martyn comes out from under the bridge. “Just being nosy.”

“Save that for the neighbours, please,” Scar says. He leans forward to where Martyn stands, confident as ever and grinning at the two.

“How long have you been down there?” Grian asks. He tries his best to sound nonchalant.

“I just showed up.” Martyn holds his hands up. “I was sheltering from the rain.” He looks up to the sky, squinting against the rain that falls onto his face. 

“There’s more room under this wing,” Scar offers. Grian is about to disagree, when Martyn grins and starts pulling himself up onto the bridge, on the other side of Scar.

“I will absolutely take that offer,” Martyn says. “We’re in down time, and I don’t want to get soaked.” 

Scar shuffles in closer to Grian, so that their sides are pushed - rather uncomfortably - together. Martyn seems to be sandwiching Scar in from the other side.

“Well this is cosy,” Scar says. Grian scoffs.

“Y’know, it’s my wing. I can’t believe you’d offer me up as a glorified umbrella!”

Martyn laughs. “You can’t?! This is classic Scar!”

Scar giggles and shoves Grian’s side lightly, causing a slight downpour on Martyn’s head, and subsequently a high pitched yelp.

“Sorry!” Scar says, turning to Martyn on his other side.

“You apologise to him and not me?!” 

“We’ve found Scar’s favourite of the siblings!” Martyn celebrates. “I knew you were just pretending to like Grian!”

“ No , don’t put that- siblings?” Scar spins back around to face Grian. “How many siblings do you have?!”

“A couple,” Grian supplies, shrugging. 

“Four,” Martyn answers. Grian splutters angrily.

“How am I supposed to keep any mystery when apparently all of you love ruining it!”

Martyn doubles over laughing.

“Oh, I’m glad you’ve amused yourself!” Grian complains with no real heat. 

Martyn sits up, wiping a tear from one eye. “Oh, so am I Grian. I need to think of more secrets to share…”

Scar leans back for a moment, forgetting the rain and bumping his head on Grian’s wing. 

“I’d be happy to hear some more secrets,” he says. “I’ve always loved secrets.”

Grian groans. “Nope. Martyn, get lost. Me and Scar were having a very productive conversation before you showed up.”

Martyn sighs dramatically and hops off the edge of the bridge down onto the hill.

“I guess I’ll just walk home alone in the rain,” Martyn says. “Oh, woe is me.”

“You’re fine,” Grian says. “Go away.”

“Alright, fine,” Martyn says, dropping the act and crossing his arms. “But just know I plan to tell Scar every secret I know about you at the earliest convenience.”

Grian ignores Martyn, especially as he returns to his melodrama and hangs his head as he walks away. 

As soon as Martyn is out of earshot, Grian whips his head round to face Scar. “You are not to ask him for my secrets, understood?”

Scar just smirks. 

Knowing he won’t get a promise, Grian sighs and brings his hands, clasped, to his lap. “What were we talking about, anyway?”

Scar lets out a long whistle. “If I say I have no idea will you be mad at me?”

“You’re too used to Cleo,” Grian jokes. “Remember, she’s the angry one, not me.”

Grian is offended by how fast Scar’s eyebrows shoot up.

“ YOU aren’t angry?”

“Nope. I’m despairing, and sometimes a bit sarcastic, but I am not angry.”

Scar scoffs. “I was there in the last game. Lies like that don’t work on me.”

“What?” Grian infuses as much of the aforementioned despairing into this one word as he can muster. 

“You know what I’m talking about,” Scar says. “I figured this was one of those things that happens to us and we never bring up again.”

“I think that part was supposed to be unspoken too.” Grian shifts so he’s fully facing Scar. “Anyway, I genuinely don’t know what you mean.”

“The feeling sharing? The ‘oh- his heart just skipped a beat, guess he’s with…’.” Scar laughs bitterly. “I’m saying I could feel you boiling all of the time.”

Grian turns beetroot. He hadn’t considered that that one was being shared out too. Actually, he hadn’t even really remembered that feeling. It was just sort of there. He regrets turning to face Scar. 

“Ah,” Grian says. It’s not worth fighting it. Grian doesn’t have a great track record of letting fights with Scar end before they’ve done irreparable damage. 

Scar hums.

“Well- Cleo is at least angrier than me.”

“Sure, buddy.”

“Where did you learn to be condescending?”

“I’m hurt! I always knew how to be condescending!”

“Ok, where did you get good at it?”

“Well I am a big brother now.”

“So Bdubs is younger than you?”

“I don’t know what to tell you. It’s different this time. That’s the way it is.”

“And Etho’s your dad?”

“Sure is!”

“Is he… very paternal?”

“Pfft.”

“I think he’s got it in him.”

“Oh, so I’m the problem, not him?”

“Obviously not what I’m saying.”

“Sure.”

“One of these days I’ll try and get Etho on my side.”

“I would not recommend it.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m usually as angry as I was then.”

Scar shrugs. “Sure. But what was so different about it that you were suddenly so angry.”

Grian feels a bit uncomfortable. He shifts, doesn’t answer. 

“Oh my god, it’s because I was your soulmate.”

Grian doesn’t let the past tense sting him. “Well, so, it was , but- ok so. It wasn’t like ‘ohh, I hate Scar, can’t believe I’m with him.’. I swear.”

“Grian, it’s fine. You don’t have to have wanted to be my soulmate. We can move on.”

Grian’s heart sinks. “No! No. It just felt cruel. Didn’t you think it was cruel?”

“I don’t know, G. I wasn’t angry when you told me.”

“I think you think I was angry at you.”

“You’ve definitely made it sound that way.”

“No, I-“ Grian pauses. He’s out of breath, somehow. He takes a couple deep breaths. Scar doesn’t interrupt. “I was angry at… don’t you think it’s messed up that after all we’ve been through together, after everything, whatever higher power decided that we had to suffer more.”

“I wasn’t suffering.”

“Not like-” Grian groans. “I don’t think you’re listening to me.”

“I’m all ears!”

“Well, you’re not hearing . I wasn’t angry at you. It wasn’t suffering because I was with you. It was… it was suffering because I was with you and we had to die, right? It was suffering because I was with you and it wasn’t gonna last.”

Scar is quiet. Grian can’t look at him. The weather is clearing up a bit, but there’s a storm brewing in Grian’s head. He’s embarrassed and he’s scared and he’s… he’s angry.

The rain stops, and Grian feels a tugging at his hand. Scar takes it, softly, not looking at him. His face is still. Careful. 

“Scar! Downtime’s nearly over! We gotta plan!” Bdubs’ voice comes calling from the door. 

Scar squeezes Grian’s hand, just once, and lets it go. He jumps off the edge of the bridge, turns back to nod once at Grian, smiling, and wanders back home.

Chapter Text

“What are you doing here, Scar?” Cleo asks, her voice immediately apprehensive. Scar shuffles awkwardly.

“You’d better not be back with a flint and steel,” Etho adds. 

“I’m not, I swear!” He holds his empty hands up, a gesture of peace. “I just wanted to talk to Grian. Is he around?”

Cleo and Etho share a look, and Scar has to remind himself that they aren’t actually his parents. Not anymore at least. 

After a silent exchange of raised eyebrows and pointed glances, Etho shrugs at Cleo and turns back to Scar. “He’s in the nether.”

Scar glances at the big purple portal behind the two and sighs. “Alright. Well, thanks anyway. See you later.”

“Wait, Scar,” Cleo says, stopping Scar with a hand on his arm as he begins to turn and leave. “He won’t be long. Wanna sit with us for a bit? Have a bit of company?”

Scar rolls his eyes. “I’m not lonely.” He sits down anyway. 

“You don’t have to be lonely to hang out with your-“ she looks, with real confusion, to Etho- “parents?”

Etho laughs abruptly. “Nope, not that.”

“Fine. Your friends.” 

Scar raises an eyebrow but doesn’t bother contesting. He knows he doesn’t have any friends. The powers that be and his own foolishness guaranteed that. 

It’s quiet for a bit. Etho’s in the chests, shifting items around. Every now and then he moves over to the crafting table and makes some other thing with deft fingers before returning back to the chests to find a spot for it. 

Scar’s wondering if maybe he wasn’t supposed to sit directly onto the floor when Cleo joins him. 

“So,” Cleo sighs, leaning back on her palms. “What’re you after Grian for?”

Scar tenses. “Uh… trader things. Yeah, he owes me a diamond.”

“Oh, we can pay that now if you want,” Cleo suggests. Scar doesn’t remember her being so trusting, but they’re between secrets and most people are just hanging out or sleeping, so maybe there’s no reason to be on guard. 

“Oh, no, I have to talk to Grian about something else too,” Scar says. Cleo watches him, smiling, encouraging him to keep talking. He doesn’t say anything. 

“That’s the chests organised,” Etho says, and Cleo claps her hands together happily. 

“Now we just have to hope that Grian doesn’t come back and immediately ruin it,” she laughs. Etho groans and joins them on the ground. 

“If he does, we're kicking him out,” he says, tone clear of any genuine threat. 

Scar’s not sure how he feels about this setup. His not-parents and not his Grian under one roof. But that’s exactly it. This isn’t like last time. Cleo and Etho aren’t bickering, and Scar hasn’t even thought about where Bdubs is, and there’s no ticking in his head. So if that’s true, maybe it’s not like the first time either. 

His muscles relax a little. It’s not like the first time, so there isn’t any sand in his boots. Obviously there isn’t sand anywhere. 

And then Grian comes hurtling out of the portal. 

“I clearly shouldn’t have been in there,” he laughs, still stumbling. His clothes look a bit scorched in places but otherwise he seems unharmed. His wings sit red and yellow on his back, the green now all fallen out. 

“Did you have much trouble?” Cleo asks. 

Grian scoffs. “Yeah. And all I wanted was blocks!” He opens the chest nearest to him and starts emptying out the contents of his inventory into it. Etho sighs and shoots a look at Cleo. She just chuckles. 

“Scar’s here to collect your debts,” she says. Grian’s head turns and he raises an eyebrow at Scar.

“Are you running scams again? Trying to get Etho and Cleo to pay diamonds I don’t owe?”

Scar laughs nervously.

“He actually didn’t let us pay,” Etho says, and Grian raises an eyebrow at Scar. 

“I wanted to, uh… discuss something with you, G.”

Grian steps away from the chests and joins the others on the floor, sitting cross legged opposite to Scar.

“Sure,” he says, smiling. “Fire away.”

Scar swallows, and his throat feels rough. Like he’s been out under the beating sun all day.

“I was hoping we could talk in private?”

Grian leans forward, eyes interrogative and dark. He makes piercing, unfaltering eye contact. Then, he stretches back casually, his wings lifting with his arms. “Sure thing,” he says.

Scar ignores yet another silent conversation between Cleo and Etho, and pushes himself to his feet. “Where to?”

Grian springs up. “Bdubs’ room?” 

Scar nods. “Sure.” 

They make their way up, and find themselves each on one end of the bed. 

“What’s up?” Grian asks. He’s got a spring that Scar wasn’t expecting. Scar hasn’t seen Grian enough this time round. He’d guessed he’d be taking this worse, but he does know that keeping secrets always came naturally to Grian.

“I just wanted to see you,” Scar admits. He tries, failing, to keep his voice light. “Wanted to talk.”

“About anything in particular?” Grian asks. “I feel like you don’t usually seek me out.”

“I do!” Scar says. He’s offended. “Maybe not as obviously as you. I’m tactful.”

Grian laughs. “Sure.”

“I am.”

“So not anything in particular?”

“I just wanted to talk to my soulmate.” Grian’s eyes widen. “Sorry! My- you’re not my anything, sorry. To you.”

“You can- I mean-” Grian clears his throat. “-I think, technically, we are. I think that’s- I mean, I feel like I have the same soul?”

“This is getting deep,” Scar said. “And you don’t want to be my soulmate.”

“What?”

“It’s fine, I just wanted to talk to my friend.”

“Look, Scar, we have a lot of… complicated history,” Grian says. 

Scar nods. It cannot be denied. 

“I feel like you think that means I don’t like you.”

“You’ve definitely not liked me before.”

Grian’s brow twitches with an emotion Scar can’t quite place. “That’s- that’s so far from the truth.”

“I don’t wanna bring up… things that are in the past,” Scar says.

“It’s fine, Scar,” Grian says. His shoulders are slowly tensing up and his wings are drawn in close to his body. “If we’re talking about this then we’re talking about it.”

“It doesn’t seem fine,” Scar says, glancing pointedly at Grian’s wings. 

Grian groans. “You know very well that whatever they’re doing is very, excruciatingly not an intentional decision on my part.”

Scar laughs a little.

“What is it you want to bring up?”

Scar takes a deep breath. “When we were… Linked,” he says, pointedly avoiding repeating a certain word. “You… Well you clearly didn’t want to be- And I’m not- I’m not blaming you, I just- Y’know? And with… y’know..?”

“With BigB?” 

Scar sighs and nods. Grian’s frown still hasn’t lifted from his face, but he’s finally stopped staring straight into Scar. Instead, his gaze is pointed right at his shoes.

“We’re really talking about this,” Grian comments. 

“Listen- we really don’t have to do this, G, I just wanted-”

Grian waves his hands in the air, stopping Scar mid-sentence. His eyes move up to settle back onto Scar. “Nope. We’re doing this. Just… I just need a minute to… I need to say the right thing.”

“You really don’t, G.”

Grian takes the moment anyway. Scar’s sure with anyone else, or maybe just in any other situation, he’d feel awkward faced with a pause like this, but all Scar feels is a churning in his gut. 

“I did want it,” Grian says. “I liked being… soulbound with you. I’ve told you this.”

“But?”

“But,” Grian agrees. “I think I like being annoyed by you too much. And annoying you back.”

Through the churning anxiety, Scar fights back a smile. “That feels… accurate.”

“We’re not not a disaster,” Grian says. “I think that’s what fuelled that one. But also, I would like to point out the number of times you hurt us both for fun! I know you used to run off to Pearl’s tower to be a menace with her!” 

Scar can’t fight back the smile this time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Grian scowls, but his wings soften and fluff out comfortably. Scar’s smile spreads. 

“Ok, maybe I know something about that.”

Grian scoffs. Then, his expression softens. “I am actually really sorry. I didn’t want you to feel like I didn’t care. Or like I don’t care. Wouldn’t care. I don’t know, whatever.”

“Y’know,” Scar says. “Sometimes I wonder if we only hang out when we have some kind of duty to do it.”

“We’re hanging out now.”

“Ok- long term hanging out,” Scar says. “Sleepovers, and stuff.”

“Nope. The desert.”

“You only followed me to the desert because you felt a duty,” Scar says. “This is exactly what I’m saying.”

“And when I lost my first life? That was all I owed you. I stuck around.”

“I have no proof you didn’t just do that because of duty too.”

“Is my word not proof?” Grian rolls his eyes. “And! Need I remind you- you betrayed me !”

“And then I let you kill me,” Scar says. 

“Hold on,” Grian holds his hands up. “I won that fight fair and square.”

“Originally I was going to let you kill me,” Scar says. 

“Exactly!”

“And then I still let you kill me.”

Grian groans. “You’re so annoying.”

Scar grins. 

“Can we stop talking about the ring?”

Scar’s grin drops. His hand quickly finds Grian’s. 

“Sure,” he says, squeezing it once. 

Grian squeezes three times. Once per life, Scar thinks. 

“We got off topic,” Grian says. “I didn’t hate you when we were bound. I didn’t even dislike you. I honestly thought you maybe hated me . And I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Never,” Scar says quickly. Easily.

“Oh.” Grian’s wings fluff up. “Well same here.”

“So are we just saying things out loud now?” Scar asks. He figures if this is the opportunity then he might as well take it. 

“I guess,” Grian says quietly. 

“Sometimes I miss the desert,” Scar says. 

Grian sits with that for a second. “I feel like we took different things from the desert. You took…” He looks a little lost. 

“I took you,” Scar says, his thumb smoothing over the back of Grian’s hand. It’s as true as it can be. Maybe he didn’t leave the desert with Grian, but he certainly didn’t leave without him. 

“And I didn’t take you. You know exactly how I left you in the desert,” Grian says quietly.

“You don’t want to talk about the ring,” Scar reminds Grian. 

“We’re saying things out loud,” Grian says simply. He’s tense now, but his hand is loose in Scar’s. It’s almost funny, Scar thinks, that here, now, with his hand this limp, he’s talking about the place where the last thing Scar saw was a white-knuckled fist.

“You don’t want to talk about the ring,” Scar repeats. “I miss the sandcastle, anyway. And pizza. And Mr Bubbles.”

Now Grian won’t stop frowning. Scar nudges Grian’s knee with his own. 

“I’m sorry,” Scar says. 

Grian shakes his head. “No, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. At least, not at the moment.”

Scar laughs.

“I’m so selfish,” Grian says. “I’m the one who doesn’t want to talk about the ring, meanwhile you died there! How moronic is that?”

“I took the coward’s way out,” Scar replies. “I deserted you.” He shoots a little smirk at Grian.

“Did you just make a pun?!”

“Maybe! Just keeping things light.”

“ Keeping things- I beat you to death and you’re trying to ‘keep things light’?!”

“It’s not a big deal,” Scar says, squeezing Grian’s hand. “And we agreed on that fight. I lit the door. So can you stop blaming yourself because it’s bumming me out.”

Grian grumbles angrily to himself, but squeezes Scar’s hand back. Three more times. 

“What’s with the three squeezes?” Scar asks. He doesn’t miss how Grian’s eyes shoot wide open. 

“It’s nothing,” Grian says. “Just a habit.”

Scar raises an eyebrow. “I guess it makes sense if you keep secrets this time round. I’m so sick of it though.”

Grian seems to think for a moment. “I could think of a good secret to spill. I’m sick of keeping my mouth shut all the time.”

“Oh, please!”

Grian looks down at their linked hands, then back up at Scar. “Sometimes I miss the desert too.” 

“Really?” Scar knows that Grian enjoyed the desert, but he didn’t realise that had lingered. He remembers a crazed look that never really seemed to leave his eyes. He remembers that in his own eyes. He remembers Grian being tired, and sweaty, and anxious, and a bit of a lunatic. He does not remember genuine enjoyment. 

“Don’t look so sceptical! We had some nice moments.”

Huh. “I- you miss our nice moments?”

“Yeah,” Grian says. He looks at the floor. 

“I didn’t know you remembered our nice moments,” Scar admits. “I kinda thought you’d forgotten most of the desert. We never talk about it.”

“Well… There are things I don’t want to remember.”

“The ring,” Scar says.

“The ring,” Grain agrees.

“I don’t really want to remember that either,” Scar says. Grian frowns, and Scar holds tighter to his hand. “And not because I died there. I clearly got over that.” He gestures at his body, in one piece. 

“Well that makes one of us,” Grian says.

“Why don’t you blame me more?” Scar asks. “I can take a bit of blame.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I blame you for plenty.”

“Like what?” Scar’s curious now. What wrongs has he done?

“Leaving the sandcastle a mess,” Grian says. “Dragging me around on a llama. Dying.”

Scar takes his free hand and places it on Grian’s shoulder, right next to his neck. “My bad.”

“Right,” Grian says. “Now, what did you hate about the desert?”

Scar huffs out a breath. He doesn’t really think negatively about the desert. “I hated all the sand in my boots. Sometimes I feel like I can still feel it.” He shudders.

Grian seems to consider something for a moment, before nodding silently to himself. 

“Alright.” Grian swallows. “Blame me for some stuff from the third time round.”

Scar doesn’t need to think about this. “I didn’t like you running around behind my back.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t need to-”

“-Let me apologise. Don’t accept it. Don’t say I don’t need to be sorry. I did a cruel thing.”

Scar inhales deeply. It comes naturally to Scar to forgive Grian. It’s all he ever does. 

“Ok,” he agrees. “I didn’t like dying alone. To be honest, I’m more upset about dying then than in the desert. At least I was there with you. At least we were at home, together.”

“I’m sorry,” Grian whispers. “I didn’t like that either.”

Scar circles his thumb over the back of Grian’s hand. Then, taking his left hand from Grian’s shoulder, he reaches into his pocket and fishes around for a second, before pulling out a sprig of lilac. He places it, ever so gently, behind Grian’s ear. 

“Don’t forgive me,” Grian says, barely audible.

“I forgive you. Do you forgive me?”

“Yeah.”

Scar presses his forehead against Grian’s. His left hand hovers gently over Grian’s neck, ghosting the skin there. Grian’s free hand falls to his knee, and his wings fluff outward and then in, circling Scar’s back, enclosing them in their own bubble. Scar thinks maybe he can leave the desert now. He’s found a sweeter moment. Grian’s hand is pulsing a waltz. 

“Is the sand in your boots now?” Grian asks. 

Scar sighs. “Yes.”

“Take your boots off, shake the sand out.”

Scar wants to stay, head against head, hand in hand, forever. But he has to listen to Grian. So he pulls back, pulls at his laces, pulls at his boots. He holds them out over the ground and shakes. 

“There. It’s all gone.”