Chapter Text
Grian felt like he was going to fall right out of his booth. The music was vibrating the building as if it were a heart trying to beat its way out of a rib cage. He could feel the headache starting to form as he shifted around, lurking in the depths of his head.
Looking down at an empty glass in front of Joel, he could see the neon lights in the reflection. It shimmered as the lights changed, casting colors on the table.
“Grian?”
“You there mate?”
He looked up at the two in front of him with a frown. Jimmy had been clapping, but his hands now hung in the air, abandoned.
“You good G? You zoned out a little bit there-”
“Yeah yeah.” He swatted his hand around, placing it on the table to push himself up. His head felt light. “I'm going to get some more drinks. You guys want anything?” Jimmy shrugged.
“I'll have a Bramble.” Joel said. “Thanks G.”
“Okay, I'll be back boys.” Grian said before turning into the crowd. He headed for the bar on the other side of the room, weaving through the tipsy and tipsier. The air was hot and muggy and Grian wanted to leave. He wasn't fond of clubs and parties, but never thought he hated them. He felt like he did.
He didn't go all that often, but when Jimmy and Joel wanted to go he did. Whenever they visited. He wanted to at least feel like he had a social life.
Finally making it to his destination, he sunk into the stool, resting his chin on his head. The bartender walked up to him as he asked for their drinks, and left. He hoped it wouldn't take too long. Today just wasn't his day. The only good thing about today was the fact it was saturday. He enjoyed work, but a full time job was bound to tire someone out. Especially someone like Grian.
Things were better though. They had been. He called Pearl all the time. His few friends were good friends. Winchester was good. His job was going well, besides the daily slipups. Even his coworker was nice. This was the first time he’d ever had a coworker he actually enjoyed talking to. He was even cooking for himself more. That was a miracle to be honest.
Maybe he should stop thinking and start drinking.
‘Hi.”
Grian snapped his attention to the left of him, eyes landing on… a stranger? A man had sat in the seat next to him, looking straight at him.
“…Hello?”
Grian stared at him. He was wearing a threadbare t-shirt and a carhartt jacket, the colors barely visible from the lights around them. Grian looked down. And jeans. He looked back up to see brown hair tied up into a ponytail and skin littered with scars.
“I thought you were cute.” The man sputtered out, clearly more than tipsy. His cheeks were flushed and he had a glossy expression in his eyes. Green eyes. Aimed right at Grian.
Grian just looked down at his lap and shook his head, laughing. This was embarrassing.
“Who dared you to say that?”
“I wasn't dared. You're cute.” He replied instantly with wide eyes. “Gosh, that would be mean…”
Grian froze a little, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Should he believe him? And if he was telling the truth, Grian wasn't sure if he could resist. Talking of course! He hasn't talked to a new person in ages. The guy muttered a couple things to himself before returning Grian’s eye contact with a smile. A charming one at that.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Usually he would say no. A random man coming up to him calling him cute? Why was Grian not absolutely creeped out by this guy? And he sounded American. Why would you say yes to someone like that?
“Yeah. Only if you tell me how many drinks you've had.”
Why had he done that?
Maybe it was the smile that erupted on the guy's face.
“I'm not really sure. There was a blue one… and an orange one…” He stared down at his hand, starting to count the drinks on his fingers.
“Okay, no more drinks for you…” He trailed off.
“Scar. I'm Scar!” He reached his hand out to shake Grian’s, which he cautiously accepted. An interesting thing to do in the setting they were at.
“Grian.”
-
Him and Scar had been talking for a while. He had lost count of how many drinks he’d had, and now had a throbbing headache. That wasn't good. But he was okay, because he was laughing.
Scar was talking about a trip to disneyland he’d taken, waving an animated hand around to symbolize a rollercoaster. Something called Space… fountain? Mountain?
“I've never been on a rollercoaster before.” Grian said, gazing at the ceiling.
Scar’s jaw dropped.
“What?” He squeaked. “No way!”
“Yes way.”
Scar leaned in closer with wide eyes. His face had lost any comical expression. “I promise you will go on one if it's the last thing I do.”
“That sounds like a threat.” He said, bringing the colorful straw up to his mouth.
“Maybe it is.” He said in a low voice. Grian stopped sipping his drink. His heart faltered. He guessed that was what the first drop of a roller coaster felt like.
“Anyways!” The brunette clapped as his eyes brightened again.”I think your first ever roller coaster should be…”
And there he goes again. Grian sat still watching Scar get back into his groove, eyes still wide. He had known this man, Scar, for what. An hour? And he couldn't understand him. It was like he was the moon orbiting around the earth, caught in his gravitational pull. One second he would be serious, confident. Flirtatious. Anything but clumsy. The next, he would spill his drink and say, “Oh dang it man!” He hasn't done that yet, but Grian thought that would be in character for him.
He was a strange man. Maybe both of them being drunk didn't help, but Grian wanted to learn more about him. No, drunk Grian did. Perfectly sane Grian wanted to leave and never see him again. What if they got to know each other though? Would it even last? No- No he couldn't.
But something inside him wanted to settle on Maybe.
“Hey, you good?” Scar asked, stopping in the middle of his rant while placing his hand gently on Grian’s arm. They met each other's gaze, brown staring into green.
Grian thought about the question. His pounding headache had finally arrived, and his vision was foggy. The lights hurt his eyes.
“No- I mean I'm just a little-” He waved his hands around.” Off. I feel sick.”
Scar laughed, taking his hand of Grian. Grian wished he hadn't.
“Too many drinks? Yeah me too.” He leaned against the bar. “You wanna go outside?”
“You know, yeah. That's good.”
Immediately, Scar grabbed Grian by the hand and pulled him up. And, woah, was he dizzy. He clinged onto Scar’s arm as they stabled each other.
“C’mon.”
Grian trailed behind Scar, now able to see the brown Levis label on the back of his jeans. They ambled towards the exit, past all the people. Grian looked for Joel and Jimmy, but they had left their table. Strange. He should text them.
As Scar pushed the back door open, Grian softly gasped. The air was cold against his club-confined skin, already healing the headache a little. Breathing in, breathing out. The back of the building wasn't very interesting, a cobblestone street with a single flickering streetlight. There were garbage bins to their left, and a forest to the right.
“I'm surprised it’s this cold.” Scar said. “It's only September.” He leaned against the brick, sliding down the wall. Grian did the same.
“You must not be used to the UK.” Grian said sarcastically. It was pretty obvious.
Scar snorted. “You're right on that one.” He paused, and made a small gasp.
“I have a good idea! Guess where I'm from.”
Grian looked at him. He had a crooked smile on his face from the adrenaline rush of a random drunk question.
“Why are you so excited about me guessing where you're from?” Grian asked, laughing.
“Why not, I wanna see you get it wrong!”
And Grian himself wouldn't judge, because why not? Why not? He thought about it. Obviously he was from America, but where? That place was massive. Could he just go with the region?
“Okay, can I go with like, east or west-”
“Nope. Gotta be a state.”
“But I don't even know all the states!” Grian added, baffled.
“Just try! If you don't know it then ”
Grian thought. He tried to list the ones he knew in his head. California… Texas… Was New York a state or city?
“Hmm.” Grian raised his hand up to his chin, tapping it.
“You give up-”
“No. I'm pondering the three states I know.”
Scar giggled. “Okay.”
Grian unconsciously smiled, zoned out thinking about states and the man next to him.
“Pennsylvania.” Grian said simply. He went with the most niche state he knew. Scar’s jaw dropped again.
“What?” He squeaked. “How- the- how did you know what?”
Grian looked at him, mouth wide open. He burst out laughing.
“Are you-” he laughed again. “You're kidding me?”
Scar just shook his head, too stunned to speak.
“I just guessed! Don't look at me like I'm some kinda witch!”
“Hey- hey- I'm not!”
“You are!” Grian exclaimed, turning his back to Scar.
“Pleeeaseeeee. Im sorrrryyy.” He pleaded.
Grian turned back around. “I forgive you.” He said nonchalantly and shrugged. Or so he tried. They looked at each other for a moment. He could finally see Scar’s green eyes in the streetlight.
“Good.” Scar said. “Okay- but there's no way you knew that before or..?”
“No! I pinky swear.” Grian held his hand out. This was not a ploy to touch Scar’s hand again.
Scar grinned. They interlocked their pinkies, shaking their hands up and down.
“You swear?”
“Swear.”
They both pulled back and any remaining conversation had been pinned for now.
Grian let out a cold breath, resting his head against the brick behind them. Silence. Surprisingly, not as awkward as you think. It was nice to sit. Not having to think about anything with the cloudy brains they both had. The air was chilling him. He closed his eyes, listening to the rise and fall of Scar breathing.
“You wanna dance?”
He opened them again to look at the man next to him.
“What?”
“You wanna dance?” He said again, this time with a little more enthusiasm. “You're shivering. Get that blood pumping, you know?”
Grian groaned. He wasn't really sure if he wanted to dance but he sure didn't like being cold. And his headache had been feeling better.
“Get up, cmon, don't be a party pooper.” Scar said as he got up off the ground.
“I'm not a party pooper!”
Scar smirked down at him. “Yes you are.”
Grian stood up, struggling a little until Scar grabbed his hands to pull him up. They looked at each other yet again, and Grian realized how tall the other was.
“I'm not a party pooper.”
“You're short though.”
“I am aware.” Grian said flatly, turning around again to face the wall.
“But that won't ruin our dance?” Scar asked hopefully. He held his hand out again, and Grian turned around. He wasn't sure if it was drunk Grian or perfectly sane Grian that wanted this. It couldn't hurt?
Grian took Scar’s hand. He was pulled across the cobble, one of his hands on Scar’s shoulder and one interlocked with his hand. The music playing in the club could be faintly heard from their spot in the back of the building.
Scar moved one of his hands cautiously to Grian’s waist.
“Is this okay?” He whispered, only audible to the two of them and the crickets nearby. He just nodded, a little too stunned to speak. He’d never danced with someone like this before.
They tripped over each other's feet, both muttering apologies as they moved. Grian wanted to use the dark as an excuse for his skills, but even that couldn't excuse them.
“You can tell I'm not very good at dancing.” Grian looked down, cheeks flushing even more now.
“You're great! I never encountered such a magnificent dancer.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. They swayed over to the flickering streetlight, basking under the soft glow. Grian looked into Scar’s eyes again and he could really see them now.
They were a specific shade of deep, fern green. There were specs of yellow scattered around, like craters on the moon. Or stars in the sky.
“I'm still cold.” Grian whispered. “Your plan didn't work.”
Scar let go of the other, and took his jacket off. He took his phone out of the pocket to stuff the item into his jean pocket.
“Here.”
He draped the brown fabric over Grian’s shoulders, giving a slight smile to the other. Suddenly, the back exit door crashed open.
“Scar!” A man yelled.
“We've been looking for you all over the place!” There were two American men with broad shoulders and smiles. One had jet black hair, one brunette.
“Uh- okay. Give me a second!”
Scar turned back to Grian to give an apology, but one of his friends beat him to it.
“Sorry about interrupting your time with your… friend, but the uber is waiting!”
Scar whispered “Sorry. Keep the jacket.” To Grian before he was pulled by the arm by the man with black hair.
“Skizz!” He hissed, but they had already started walking away. Grian stood under the streetlight, watching the man he’d just met get pulled away from him. What had just happened? Had he been in some kind of movie? A cheesy rom-com? He almost felt sad, eyes locked on the brick wall he and Scar had been leaning on just minutes before. He would never see him again. Why did he feel sad?
He just zipped the jacket up, stuffing his hands into the large pockets. It smelled good. Not like the alcohol Scar was drinking, like lavender and dust. Probably like Scar.
Grian just walked back to the brick wall and slumped against it. He should probably text Jimmy and Joel.