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He doesn’t remember what they’re doing, is the thing.
He doesn’t remember at all. They’re at the craft store nearby for some reason, and Grian keeps piling glitter into the cart like he’ll ever be able to afford it, but he’s got a mad gleam in his eyes that Scar knows better than to question. He’d really like to know what they’re doing, and why they’re doing it, but he’s having so much fun that he can’t bother with asking. Grian probably explained in some very convoluted, extended rant, too, the kind that always goes in one ear and out the other. He wouldn’t mind explaining it again, sure, the same way Scar never gets tired of re-explaining the extended Star Wars universe to his best friend, but it’s so much effort to ask.
“Scar! Think fast!” Grian chucks another container of bright neon green glitter at him, making Scar shout and fumble for it. It goes crashing to the floor because of course it does, Scar isn’t coordinated even on his best days, and there’s the distinct sound of plastic shattering as green glitter particles flood the middle of the aisle. He freezes, looking up at Grian. Grian is stock-still, too, wide-eyed as he stares at Scar.
“Um.” Scar says. Grian makes insistent motions with his hands, bringing his index finger to his lips over and over. What a weird thing for Grian to do. “I didn’t⎯”
“Scar,” Grian hisses, and oh, that’s his ‘shut up Scar’ voice. Scar blinks. “Shut up!”
“But I really⎯”
“We’re going to walk away now,” Grian says decisively. He starts pushing the cart in another direction, shoulders stiff as he walks towards the decorative wreaths. Scar’s body jerks slightly like a delayed reaction as he follows, instinctively stumbling after him. He’d follow Grian anywhere. Though it does feel a little bit like they’re leaving the scene of a crime right now.
“We sh⎯”
“Not. A. Word.” Grian’s teeth are gritted. “I am running on two hours of sleep, I have an insane amount of coupons for glitter, and we’re pretending that never happened because I don’t want to clean it up.”
“But Grian,” Scar whines. “That’s so mean. The underpaid people at this craft store didn’t ask for this!”
“You go and clean it up, then.”
“I don’t have a broom.”
“No shit, Scar.”
Grian stops in front of a truly hideous wreath made of overbright fall colours with palm fronds, for some reason. It actually makes Scar’s eyes hurt when he looks at it, so his gaze trails to Grian, who is a much better subject for the perusal. He’s very pretty, Scar has noticed. Even like this, paler than usual with deep bruises under his eyes and messy sandy brown hair. His glasses are all smudgy and the neckline of his red sweater is stretched out to the point that it’s nearly slipping off of his shoulders; must be one of the sleep sweaters, not his profesh ones.
“Give me your glasses.”
“Why would I do that?” Grian complains, even as he pulls them off and hands them over. Scar grins, taking the delicate frames from Grian without dropping or scratching the lenses. He pulls his shirt out slightly and starts cleaning Grian’s glasses with the soft fabric, lessening the severity of the smudges. “Hey, do you think that’d look good in Doc’s kitchen?”
“It’s actually an eyesore, G, as in it makes my eyes sore,” Scar deadpans, passing the now-clean glasses back over. Grian makes an appreciative little hum as he slides them onto the bridge of his nose, which is enough thanks on its own. His best friend doesn’t really know words like ‘thank you’ or ‘sorry’, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still say those things. It’s just a matter of learning to read him.
“Yeah, but, like, Doc’s kitchen is already hideous. What’s a beachy..fall..wreath gonna do?”
“Make it worse. Much worse.” Doc’s kitchen is a sensory overload nightmare. Scar can handle it in small doses, but he doesn’t thrive there in the chaos like Grian does. He prefers his chaos controlled, thank you very much. “And it’s already…so bad.”
“True. I should get it.” Grian gives one of those maniacal little giggles he always makes whenever he’s not slept enough for the past three days.
“You should not,” Scar refutes, checking the price tag. “It’s over fifty bucks.”
“Oh.” Grian sounds genuinely disappointed. “That’s overkill.”
“This entire store is overkill,” Scar mumbles around a yawn. “I’m forgetting something. I was gonna… G, what am I forgetting?”
“Dunno, Scar, what are you forgetting?” Grian’s voice sounds too perfectly rehearsed, is the thing. Usually he’s more than happy to walk Scar back through the winding, twisty trails his thoughts have taken, but right now he seems completely clueless and innocent. Too clueless and innocent. Scar narrows his eyes.
“I’m gonna remember, Grian,” He says pointedly. “You probably should just tell me now and save me the headache.”
“Really no clue what you’re talking about, dude.”
“Grian.”
“Scar.” Grian mocks, pitching his voice high and making a silly face. Scar snorts, knocking their shoulders together. “Do you think they have flower crowns here? It’s been a while since I’ve defaced Pearl’s stupid wolf statue.”
“Insulting people’s religions is rude, G.”
“ I know that, Scar.” Grian scrunches his nose, giving Scar a confused look. “Why would that matter? It’s not like Pearl actually worships the ugly thing. She only has that altar because Timmy dared her to do a ritual and she never took it down.”
“Oh,” Scar says in a small voice. Grian pauses.
“Scar, did you⎯”
“Nope! No, no, nope, oh, look, fake flowers⎯”
“Scar,” Grian gasps around a mouthful of cackles. “Scar. Oh, Scar, that’s too good! You seriously thought she was worshipping the fake stone statue of a wolf with googly eyes glued to it!? We dress it up for Halloween!”
“Yeah, well, I don’t judge!” Scar splutters, throwing his hands into the air. Grian is practically doubled over with laughter, one hand bracing himself against the shopping cart. “I just, I thought, I don’t know, you guys are weird about religion!”
“I mean, duh, but not enough to where we’d worship that.” Grian says once he’s managed to get control of himself, little tears beading at the corners of his eyes from laughter. He blinks and they get caught on his blond lashes, refracting light. Scar thinks he’s dazzling. “We were in a cult, Scar, we weren’t insane.”
“I feel like those two things are slightly related.”
“Being in a cult does not an insane person make.”
“You just said a whole bunch of words in the wrong order.”
“You do that all the time.”
“Truth,” Scar agrees, wandering after Grian. They grab some fake flowers on the way to the decorative sign aisle, so Scott can make them a flower crown for Pearl’s wolf statue. Scar is pretty sure he’s the only one in the apartment building who knows how to do that. “Why are we in here? I thought we were here to get glitter.”
He doesn’t remember if that was their original purpose or not, but still, Scar is pretty sure neither of them have a need for a sign that says ‘faith 🟊 family 🟊 freedom’.
“No, we were here to get felt for Iskall.”
“Felt?”
“The gross zzt fabric.”
“Ohhh,” Scar says in realisation before making a face. “I hate that fabric.”
“Yeah, I know, that’s why there’s none at home.”
“Why’d we get glitter if we were here to get the zzt fabric?” Even making the noise with his mouth reminds Scar too much of felt fabric. Zzt is how that fabric feels against his skin, in Scar’s opinion. He gets goosebumps just thinking of it. The sensation always leaves him feeling icky, kind of like he needs to take a shower to wash it away.
“Glitter bombing Joel.”
“Oh,” Scar says again. That makes sense. Grian is in too many prank wars with too many people to keep track of, and he’s pretty sure that right now all the Hermits are doing various things to mess with Joel as a way of initiating him into the apartment building. He’s already delivered some Elven Kisses, which Lizzie really enjoyed! Now they meet up and bake together sometimes.
“Let’s be real, Doc definitely needs a sign that says ‘in this house, we get wild, but only til’ 9 PM.’” Grian holds up the sign to show Scar. It has written on it exactly what he said, only the ‘we get wild’ is in big swirly script while the ‘in this house’ and ‘but only til’ 9 PM’ are in tiny print above and below it respectively. Scar squints at it.
“Have you met Doc? I don’t think I’ve seen him sleep.”
“It’s ironic, Scar!”
“I don’t get it.”
“Me neither, but it’s funny.”
Scar snorts. “Get him the one that says: REMEMBER, as far as anyone knows, we’re a nice, normal family.”
“Ooh, that’s even better!” Grian grabs the sign, considerably smaller than the other, and tosses it with a clatter atop the multiple containers of glitter. Their cart has an odd array of craft supplies in it, including some fake vines that Scar didn’t notice Grian grabbing and Iskall’s rolls of felt fabric. Scar shudders and takes one step further away from the cart. No way he’s letting that touch him. “Stop staring at the felt like it’s going to jump out and attack you.”
“It could,” Scar argues, pouting at Grian.
“If felt suddenly grows sentient enough to attack you, we’ve got bigger problems.”
“Bigger problems than a Bad Feeling? No!”
“...Well,” Grian shrugs. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess if it was velvet I’d be more concerned with the Bad Feeling than if it was sentient or not. Here, I’ll make you a deal.”
Scar perks up instantly. “Ooh, a deal?”
“Yep,” Grian says with a smirk. “I’ll protect you from the felt if you protect me from the velvet.” He holds out a hand expectantly. There are little specks of glitter dusting his skin from where he kept obsessively shaking the containers and releasing loose bits of sparkle. Scar beams at him.
“Okay!” He shakes Grian’s hand eagerly. “Deal!”
“Great. What else do we need?”
“From here? Nothing. We don’t need anything in that cart.”
“Well, duh. What do we want, then?”
“Dunno,” Scar says, yawning again. He’s really tired, and he’s pretty sure that this craft store is closing soon, unless it’s one of the 24 hour ones that’s around their neighbourhood. He doesn’t know why a craft store could possibly need to be open 24 hours, but they definitely have one or two nearby. Grian hums. “Can we checkout? I’m tired.”
“Me too,” Grian grumbles. “Wish I could fuckin’ sleep.”
“Sorry, G,” Scar says sympathetically. “But I actually can, so let’s leave. Right now.”
Grian laughs. “I forgot how much your filter is just gone when you’re tired. Alright, alright, I think I got enough glitter… Got Iskall’s felt… Cleo’s vines. A sign for Doc, your buttons. Fake flowers. I don’t think there was anything else on the list.”
“Oh, my buttons!” Scar cries, avoiding the felt fabric as he goes digging in the shopping cart for his singular round container of buttons. He pulls off the lid, an easy screw-on-off, and buries his hand in there immediately. He can’t believe he almost forgot about his buttons! A thoughtless, happy little noise slips out. “Oh, that’s the stuff. I love buttons so much, G.”
“Yeah, I know,” Grian says fondly. “C’mon, let’s checkout. I’m about to be the bane of this cashier’s existence with all my coupons.”
“I hope they can stack,” Scar says absently, wiggling his fingers around and feeling the cascade of buttons from within the plastic container. Grian makes a curious hum, a signal for Scar to elaborate. “Well, y’know, some coupons are like⎯ only work when you buy one item. Or, uh, what’s it called..like, different transactions. So you have to buy it all separate.”
“Oh, Void,” Grian groans, which is one of those funny little Grianisms that he always says, like Scar’s supposed to grasp the magnitude of it at all. As near as he can figure, Grian uses it interchangeably like some people say ‘oh my God’. “I didn’t even think of that, for fuck’s sake. Well, I sure hope so now.”
“Yeah, ‘cause we can’t afford all that glitter without it.”
“Definitely not,” Grian agrees. “I’d never spend that much money on glitter alone. That’s outrageous!”
“Everything we’re buying is outrageous,” Scar mutters. Grian snorts. “Did the Hermits give you money or are we covering this ourselves? Because I kind of really need another one of Cleo’s cherry pies in my life.”
“Nah, sorry, bud, they gave us money.”
“Boo,” Scar complains. “I really wanted that pie.”
“Just ask her next time you see them. It’s not hard. Her and Pearl live right across the hall.”
“Cleo’s scary,” Scar whines as they come up to the register. He starts helping Grian put the glitter onto the little conveyor belt, tuning out whatever the cashier says as he does so. Grian replies back, which means Scar doesn’t have to handle the societal part of this at all. “And what if they say no, Grian? What then? That’d be terrible!”
“Cleo has a weird soft spot for you, she isn’t telling you no.”
“You said that about Bdubs, too, and they tell Bdubs no all the time.”
“That’s different,” Grian says confidently. “Bdubs likes to annoy Cleo, you like to be on their good side.”
“Duh. Well, sometimes.” Scar gives a little giggle. “No, really, have you eaten her pie, G? It’s insanely good.”
“I have,” Grian says, amused. “Put your buttons down, too, Scar.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” Scar says cheerfully, putting his buttons down and twisting the lid back on. They’ve managed to get everything unloaded from the cart, so Scar walks around to the other end, where a few bags have already been packed and are waiting for him to pick them up. “I can cover my buttons, by the way.”
“Yeah, but I’m already here. I’ll just grab a few from the swear jar the next time I want a drink.”
“You swear way more than me, I’m pretty sure it’s mostly your money anyway.”
“Okay, first of all, you don’t have to say it, second of all, rude, and third of all⎯ Let me get the damn buttons, Scar, I don’t really care. It’s not a lot of money, they make you happy, and I like seeing you happy. Plus I just got paid yesterday and I feel like I’m fucking loaded.”
“Swear jar~,” Scar sing-songs, making Grian give him a deadpan look.
“That only works when we’re at home~!” Grian sing-songs back, keeping the bored, halfway annoyed look on his face. Scar giggles.
Luckily, the coupons stack, so they don’t have to go through and buy all the containers of glitter separately. The cashier is quiet and efficient, which is Scar’s favourite kind of cashier when he isn’t in a social mood, and Grian pays quickly with no fuss. The Hermits gave him cash, thankfully, so there are no mental mind games to play with using cards and cash or anything else. Scar piles bags down his arms, feeling weighed down as they walk out of the craft store. He hums absently to himself, wondering what time it is. The sun is going down once they’re outside, and the sky is streaked with deep reds and oranges. Really, it’s almost as pretty as Grian is, walking by Scar’s side and looking at their receipt.
“Ha!” Grian crows. “I saved so much money in there! Practically robbed them blind!”
“Hooray for robbing big corporations!” Scar cheers, throwing his hands up and jostling the four bags of glitter he carries. Grian took the felt fabric, thank God, and Cleo’s vines and the fake flowers. Scar’s jar of buttons is rattling around in one of his bags; he can hear it with every step he takes.
“Hooray!” Grian agrees, unlocking his car with a robotic chirp as they approach it. Scar starts putting the bags in the backseat, cramming them in alongside Grian’s photography stuff. Everything except for his camera is there, and most of it isn’t cheap, so Scar is careful as he nudges it aside. “I kind of want nachos now.”
“Why?”
“Dunno. I was just thinking about it.”
“We have nachos at home,” Scar says, digging out his container of buttons before moving so Grian can put everything else away. He crosses around to the other side of the car, sliding into the passenger seat and folding himself up. Grian’s car is not built for tall people with extra long legs, although Scar doesn’t have to squish his body nearly as much as Mumbo does.
“We don’t, though,” Grian groans, shutting the car door and getting into the driver’s seat. “Me ‘n Pearl ate the last of the cheese dip last weekend, and I forgot to get some when I went grocery shopping.”
“Pull into Taco Bell and get some then,” Scar replies cheerfully. “I can cover it!”
“Ooh, good idea. You don’t have to cover anything, though.”
“You bought my buttons, I buy nachos. Also, now I want some.”
“Well, if you put it like that…” Grian pulls out of the parking space, trundling along down the road to the nearest Taco Bell. They don’t go out to eat often, not even with fast food, so this is a bit of an exciting rarity. It’s hard to make ends meet, even with three people living in the same apartment. None of them exactly have the glamorous jobs they expected after college; Grian works full time at the minimart down the street from home, Scar does online design commissions, and Mumbo pulls the night janitorial shift at a local elementary school.
“We should bring something back for Mumbo, too,” Scar says as they drive into the Taco Bell parking lot. Grian pulls his car into the small line at the drive-thru, humming in response. “Oh, what’s that thing he always gets?”
“He likes the apple thing, what’s it called? The cinnamon apple thing?”
“Yeah, yeah! That’s what I’m talking about!”
“Caramel apple empanada.” Grian reads off of the menu, squinting his eyes. “Yep, that’s it. Gross, but Mumbo likes ‘em.”
“Yeah, get him some of those. We can put it in the microwave for when he gets home.”
“‘Kay,” Grian says. The little voice comes through the drive-thru speaker and he rattles off their order quickly. Scar plays with his buttons instead of paying attention, sifting them through his hands and pouring them back into the container. He really likes buttons. He doesn’t even need these, but they’re so much fun to touch that he couldn’t help himself. At least now Cleo will have buttons if she needs to sew on any of his when he brings his clothes over for repair. They repair almost everybody’s clothes in the building; their skill with a needle is unmatched.
“Scar,” Grian says, making Scar look up curiously. “Money, please?”
“Oh yeah!” Scar fishes his wallet from his pocket with only some minor wiggling, thankfully not knocking the container of buttons to the floor. He hands it over to Grian without looking for the money himself; Grian will be much more efficient at that than Scar is, he’s pretty sure. “G, do you want a button?”
“Sure. Don’t give me an ugly one though.”
“I’d never!” Scar claims, but he had been thinking about it. Grian snorts as they pull up to the window to get their food. He looks down at his buttons, humming absently to whatever tinny pop music is playing through Grian’s shitty car speakers. He’s not really a huge pop music lover, but Grian is. He even has an obsession with that one pop star, Ariana Griande. Scar thumbs over a shiny alabaster pearl button, which he won’t give to Grian because it reminds him too much of Pearl.
“Scar, food.” Grian passes over the bag and Scar settles it on his lap, bringing a handful of buttons above it and searching for the perfect one to scream Grian. There’s a squarish red one that reminds him a lot of Grian’s jumper, but there’s also a dark purple round one that reminds him of Grian’s photography skills in some abstract way.
“You get two buttons.” Scar decides.
“Oh yeah? Lucky me.”
“They remind me too much of you, G! You gotta have ‘em both.”
“Alright, alright,” Grian says with a laugh. He parks in the Taco Bell lot so they can eat their nachos. Scar hands over the two buttons, placing them gently in the middle of Grian’s outstretched palm. “Ooh, very nice. I’m guessing the red’s ‘cause of the jumper? And then…the purple because of my photography?”
“Got it in one!” Scar cheers. Grian smiles at him. He’ll never get over that, how effortlessly Grian seems to understand him, especially when his thought processes are so alien to the rest of the world. He’s never had a better best friend than Grian. “Hey, G?”
“Hm?” Grian asks, sliding the two buttons into the pocket of his jeans. He won’t lose them. Grian’s good like that. “Here, put the nachos on the console. I’m starving, dude, can’t remember the last time I was this hungry.”
Scar obliges, arranging the styrofoam box on top of the console so they can both reach for the snacks. Mumbo’s caramel apple things stay safely in the plastic bag, put down below on the floorboards so he doesn’t crush them as he turns to face Grian, sitting sideways in the passenger seat. Grian turns as well, digging into the nachos with an appreciative noise. His face is highlighted by the dying rays of the Earth’s sun, golden light pouring across pudgy cheeks and a strong jawline and making him look like something both ancient and reverent.
Scar’s heart twists in his ribcage.
“You’re my best friend,” he says. Grian glances at him oddly.
“You’re mine, too, Scar. What’s this about?”
“Nothing, I just⎯” The words get stuck in his throat. It’s been a long time since he’s told anyone. He knows what it is, now, knows that there are people like him and he probably isn’t broken, but he remembers what happened last time so viscerally. And even if Grian’s not like that, never has been and never will be, Scar is still so afraid.
“Scar?” Grian is gentle in his probing. “You can tell me anything, you know that?”
“I do, yeah,” Scar agrees, voice thick. “I know that. It’s just really hard.”
“Take your time,” Grian says, shrugging. “We haven’t got anywhere to be. I’d sit with you here forever if we had to.”
“I don’t like sex,” Scar blurts out. Grian blinks slowly at him, and he can feel his cheeks heat with embarrassment even though he’s long since past getting embarrassed around Grian. “Um, well, I⎯ I don’t feel those feelings, the sex feelings, not for anyone, and I never have and I don’t think I ever will. Like, it doesn’t happen, and I don’t know why, I wish it would so badly but it doesn’t, so. I know it’s, it’s stupid, but I just, I don’t know, I wanted to tell you. I’m, gosh, I think the word is asc…asel…”
“Asexual?”
“Yeah!” Scar exclaims, snapping his fingers. “That’s the one.”
“Well, alright then. Thanks for telling me, Scar.” Grian is soft as he looks at him and even softer in his tone of voice. He seriously might make Scar cry. “It’s not stupid, you do know that, yeah? Wanting to come out to your best friend isn’t stupid. I came out to you, didn’t I?”
“It’s different, though,” Scar says quietly. “I’m not… Uh, it’s not the same.”
Grian gives him an unimpressed look, shovelling nachos into his mouth.
“Griannn,” Scar complains. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Don’t say stupid shit then.”
Scar keeps his mouth shut. He doesn’t want to ruin this soft, happy bubble they’ve found themselves in, not when he feels so safe. He knows that Grian probably doesn’t understand what he’s talking about, but he seems neutral about it, and that’s good enough for Scar. Anything is better than being told he’s faking it, or that it⎯ he isn’t real, or that he’s broken and wrong. Scar would love nothing more than to be fixed, he sure of it, but something deep inside his soul is so happy that Grian doesn’t want to fix him.
“Oh my God,” Scar says with wide, round eyes. Grian blinks at him. “The glitter! That’s what I forgot! GRIAN!”
Grian’s responding cackles echo back at him in the small space.
⎯⎯⎯