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The night was warm, far too warm. Scar didn't like it one bit.
He had his shirt open, the muscles of his chest visible between sheets of black that complimented his silhouette, trousers a bit too tight showed off his assets.
It was warm, so warm. A layer of sweat settled permanently on his body, making the clothes stick to his skin as he sat.
He was in his apartment, at the very least. Muscles burning from the inside out, pulsing as electric shock shot through his body, his nervous system throwing a tantrum worse than usual. Maybe he'd exerted himself, pushed his body too far too fast and now here he was, sitting on a chair in his dark dining room unable to move to reach his meds. It was far too hot for this, he told himself. Like the heat had anything to do with this.
Grian wasn't home. Mumbo wasn't home. Cub wasn't home. He was alone, alone and hot and having a horrible flare and Void was there any food he could have? Add ‘hungry’ to the list, make it a full course meal on all levels of bad.
A pang of hope coursed through him as he heard the lock, speechless but grateful there was finally someone to help him out, even if it was fetching the pills by his bed.
“Scar? You home buddy?” —Grian’s annoyed voice felt like frost to the touch, and he laughed just from the relief it brought to not be alone and a mess.
“Hey G… pills… please…” —a cold hand touched his shoulder as the blond came into view. He was blurry, as everything was, but he was safe now in his presence.
“Bad flare?” —a kiss was placed atop his head and he leaned into the touch. It was warm, but Grian was a special kind of cold that never fully went away, like the evergrowing emptiness of the void itself.
“Mhm. Real bad.” —he heard shuffling in the background, then the small clicking of pills and glass on the wooden table.
He looked down and fumbled with the pills before taking them, slamming the glass down and looking up again, eyes closed. His whole body trembled and shook, pain radiating from the inside of his limbs. Hopefully the meds would take effect soon, or he might just die.
A cold hand stayed put on his shoulders, grounding him, an anchor to a ship in turbulent, violent waters.
His nerves settled down painfully slowly, yet he was so lost in the pain the two hours it took for him to finally be able to move were a blur. Grian stayed beside him through it all, hand on his shoulder running down his back from time to time, patient and silently observing, and Scar could not be more thankful.
He took a deep breath in, deep breath out, and turned to look at his attentive boyfriend, who was already looking back at him through a worried smile.
“Are you alright, Scar?” —his heart ached in his chest at the look of utter love and sadness in his partner's eyes, a knot tying itself in his throat and butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
“Better, thank you. You're a lifesaver.” —the blond smiled and leaned over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.
“Why didn't you call? I would've come sooner” —Scar raised a hand to the blond's cheek, running a thumb from the corner of his mouth back to the soft skin of his aftershave.
“I wanted to, but I couldn't move” —Grian frowned, and Scar thought it the most adorable thing he'd ever seen.
“Oh Scar…” —arms wrapped tightly around him, and he pressed his cheek to his boyfriend's chest, hugging back as much as he could. It wasn't a lot, but the intention is what counts.
They stayed like that for a while, with Scar slowly falling asleep to the relaxing sounds of Grian's heartbeat and the steady in and out of his breathing, only interrupted by the lock of the front door.
He looked around sleepily to a tired Cub stumbling in, a happy Mumbo right behind him.
“Why are you both awake? It's incredibly late!” —Mumbo’s voice resonated in the apartment, a stark contrast to the quiet humming of the night.
“Scar had a bad flare and I helped him through it, tho we were nearly falling asleep cuddling” —the aforementioned simply nodded, not bothering to speak when soft Grian chest was right there.
“Damn Scar, could've called. We would've come runnin’ to help you.”
“He said he couldn't move, that's why he didn't call. Let's not make him speak too much okay? His voice was hoarse earlier and we're both really sleepy. And why are you two so late anyways?”
“Got caught up in a project.”
“Lost track of time fiddling with a redstone contraption!”
“Typical. C'mon boys, let's get to bed, poor Scar's had one hell of a night.” —Grian’s voice was exhausted and worry made itself clear through the mask of annoyance. He felt warm inside, a good kind of warm, different to a summer night.
Grian helped him stand, and he and Cub acted as crutches for him to walk to the King sized bed they all shared, Mumbo helping him out of his clothes while the others changed.
They laid on the bed together, Grian in front of him and Cub hugging him from behind, Mumbo following soon after. He closed his eyes happily, lazy and comfortable. His bones still burned, nerves still making him shake, the flare never truly gone, but he was loved, and safe. What else could he need?