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The sea of green filled every inch of the surrounding landscape, neat short grass ran along the ground as far as the eye could see. Sat perched atop his knees in a small, sun-kissed patch of land, was Grian.
Said man had been travelling across the various biomes around his home through a mix of soaring amongst the clouds and walking on foot- though the latter was only when his wings would begin to ache. Today, he was on a mission. A colourful, gorgeous mission which bloomed with new life.
Grian was searching for untouched flowers.
So far, he'd come across multiple patches of half trampled petals and broken stems. Something that he silently cursed his fellow hermits for, having an idea or two which of his friends had been over this way. Perhaps it was Mumbo, being as clumsy as ever while farming for gunpowder, or maybe Joel had been careless while collecting and grinding up dye.
When he flew over a small river not far from his own base, Grian had never been more relieved to find a patch of beautiful blooming flowers. Just the species he was looking for, too! The deep scarlet petals of a small gathering of poppies danced in the light wind, alongside a couple taller, light purple lilacs.
Now, sat in the burning heat of the sun, the Avian was mostly still. The only movement came from his hands dug deep in his pockets, desperately searching for the small pair of silver scissors he'd brought along. It was in this moment, that Grian deeply regretted his hoarder tendencies.
His pockets appeared to be full of all sorts of treasures, it was rare that he emptied them. He was a bird after all, so each time someone dear to him had gifted something pretty, Grian burrowed it away. This consisted almost entirely of neat little pebbles, oddly shaped twigs, a range of all differently shaped buttons and best of all, each pretty little stone that he'd been given along with the words 'it reminds me of you!'
As he searched, Grian had to resist the urge to line up each gift and admire them. Instead settling for running gentle fingers over each trinket as he sifts through. It might seem strange, treasuring things that seem like junk to most; but not to Grian, and not to those emerald eyes which seemed to glisten with joy handing everything over.
It took a little while, as Grian was sure to take his time and be careful with his search, but eventually he recognized the familiar coolness of metal. Bingo! He was quick to slip them out, eager to finally collect each of the brilliant flowers and begin putting together his bouquet.
That was until a large dusty brown boot came crashing down, stomping directly on the patch of flowers he was desperate to gather. His heart both sank with despair while also somersaulting with joy. The flowers were ruined, now another mess of crushed petals littering the grass.
However, he didn't need to think twice about who exactly had ruined his plan, those boots were well known to the Avian. With a heavy, deep breath in, Grian tilted his head upwards to face them.
"Grian! I've been looking for you everywhere! What are you doing all the way out here?" Scar exclaimed, his hands resting on the expanse just above his hips.
Suddenly blood rushed up to his ears, a loud thumping could be heard matching the beat deep in his chest.
"Scar..." he drew out the 'r' as he whined, "I was trying to gather those! You ruined them."
Grian straightened his knees as he rose, stretching his arms out to his sides.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to." His face fell, eyes dropping to the floor to assess the damage.
"It's okay, what did you want?" He wanted to be angry, it had taken him hours to seek out exactly what he was looking for. Yet, Grian didn't have the heart to remain upset; not when Scar had lost his smile and the shine in his eyes had dulled. If it had been anyone else though, Grian was sure he'd be furious.
"I'll find some to replace them! I think I have a dandelion in here somewhere..." It took only a few seconds before Scar pulled out a little yellow flower from his pocket and presented it to Grian. It was small and had clearly already begun wilting but to Grian, it was wonderful.
A gentle warmth spread along his cheeks, stopping at the very tips of his rounded ears; his feathers ruffling with a similar emotion. He took the flower lightly, admiring its flawed beauty. Time seemed to slow down as Grian looked back at Scar, his smile raised slightly on one side as it always did when he was genuinely happy. Grian hoped one day that he'd be the reason that charming smile never faded.
"Thank you." He breathed, pulling his eyes away before Scar realized he was staring. "Now what did you want me for?"
"Hmm.. wonderful question, I have no idea. I shall let you continue with your flower picking Gri, see ya!" And with that, and a few failed attempts to engage his elytra on time with his rockets, Scar was off.
Which left Grian alone in the plains field once again. The stem of the butter yellow dandelion grew heavy in between his fingers while his heart calmed, his body eventually following. His thoughts floated, the feelings he harbored felt completely alone.
-
Thoughts of the little yellow flower were now in his past, left behind when Grian had fallen into a restless sleep; his last memory was holding it pinched between his pointer finger and his thumb as he lay atop his bed, lost in both pretty and very ugly thoughts.
Now, it was a new day. The small paper, which contained a short list of objectives, scribbled in messy blue ink, hung neatly on the fridge in Grian’s kitchen. He studied it, even though there were only minimal notes written down, five short lines coming together to compose a checklist. The top line had a wobbly line running straight across the middle, though it still clearly read ‘flowers.’
After yesterday’s incident, Grian went on to search the entire surrounding area, finding only one measly half wilted poppy. So, when he returned home empty handed after the sun crept below the land and nightfall fell onto the server, he made peace with adding an extra step to his to-do list. His last option was now jotted down in a different shade of blue ink at the very bottom of the list, ‘Pearl.’
Really, he knew that this would've been the easiest and fastest option since the start, but Grian wasn't always one to take the quickest route. Usually, but not always. When it came to projects like his base, something that he generally wanted to complete as fast as he could- he didn't mind leaving the back half finished.
But this? This wasn't for him, this was a present for someone very dear to him. Someone he had admired from up close for a painfully long time, he knew it had to be special.
Grian had recognised the flutter in his chest and the tingle in his cheeks from the first day they'd met in season six. Paired with the constant ache to seek him out, the longing to hear his voice and spend as much time together as the other would welcome (which was a lot, Grian came to find quickly that the vex had a hard time saying no.)
Grian knew he was doomed from the start, he was in love with Scar.
The realization that this was more than a silly crush was somewhat recent, actually. It was during a semi regular hangout with their closest group of friends, playing a video game as they always enjoyed doing together. Both his and Scar’s characters had come to an unfortunate end, leaving behind a decapitated head that his friends could manipulate and move around. Gem decided- for God knows what reason- to wed the pair.
It was silly, really. The whole thing lasted no more than two minutes, Scar seemed as frazzled as he was. But, when she brought the heads together and made them kiss, twice, Grian could no longer breathe.
That night he had cried himself to sleep, thoughts full and heavy of someone so dear to him. Scar was his best friend, nothing more, nothing less; it was that simple fact that had sent him spiraling.
In light of the event, Grian came up with a plan. He was going to confess. He had been toying with the idea for months now, but Grian was not a silly man, far from it. It was closure he needed, this had been ruining his thoughts, his sleep, his life for far too long. Once he had closure, he could begin to move on. That's what he hoped, anyway.
So now he was making his way down to the shopping district to execute plan b. He hoped that Pearl wouldn't be here today, that she'd be busy working on her base or perhaps spending time with friends.
Grian landed just outside, shaking off his wings to readjust his feathers and settle them back down after flight. He walked through the open doors, taking in the way the light poured through the stained glass windows, a gentle warmth radiating around the room.
“Grian! Hello hello!” Pearl’s voice echoed through the room, “could you wait there for a little? I'm just finishing up the pearldle reset.”
A little bubble of anxiety formed in the pit of his stomach, at the sound of her voice. Pearl was going to help him pick out flowers.
“Alright! No rush.” Grian hummed, looking around at the decor. He definitely didn't drop in here often enough, the atmosphere was unmatched on the server.
It only took a few minutes for Pearl to wander over to Grian, fumbling with her bag. It was impossible not to notice the brightly coloured patches of blue, pink and yellow which coated her hands and followed up her arms in small patches.
“Wanna try your hand at guessing the word this time around?” Pearl pushed, the devious grin hinted towards it most likely being very difficult this time.
Grian occasionally tried his hand at the games his fellow hermits had put together, if not simply for the fun, at least to show an appreciation for the time and effort they put into creating them. However, he had never attempted Pearl’s wonder of a game and there was only one reason for it.. his reading comprehension was absolutely abysmal. His level of skill in that department usually rivalled that of a skilled six year old. Hence his to-do list consisting of single words or very simple notes.
This wasn't information he shared often, so he had never asked for help with the game. Yes, he'd made a few comments here and there about not being able to read, but it seemed like nobody genuinely believed him.
“Not today, Pearl. I'm here for some… flowers.” He wanted to grimace at the way her eyebrows raised closer to her hairline but he kept his expression light.
“Sure, do you know which ones you want, or are you here to figure it out?” Pearl smiled softly, walking over to the main body of the shop and motioned with her hand for Grian to follow.
“Um, Yeah. I know which ones.” Grian swallowed, suddenly feeling hot under the collar. This is why he was counting on Pearl being elsewhere today, she was too clever for her own good.
“Great. I'll show you where they are, then. What are they?” As they walked through the rows of beautifully lined flowers, Pearl busied her hands with fixing small imperfections.
With a deep breath, he said “poppies and lilacs.”
Pearl stopped. Only for a second before she continued back her pace, walking now with more purpose than before.
“Here,” she smiled, reaching out into a small crate of fresh looking poppies, “how many?”
“Just a few, maybe about 6 of each?” He hadn't actually considered the size before now, but he didn't want anything terribly big. After all, neither of the two were particularly big fans of over the top gifts.
Pearl didn't say another word for as long as it took to sift through and find six of the best looking ruby flowers. Which wasn't long at all, her fingers were quick and skilled at their craft.
She moved on to the next row, the box in front of her now full of lilacs similar to the ones he had found yesterday. Taller than the poppies, and the colour of pale amethyst. Grian watched as she gathered them, a small smile on her face.
“Are these okay?” He nodded, politely thanking her for her time as he handed over the few diamonds.
“No need, it's only twelve flowers after all. Something special I presume?” With a wave of one hand, she dismissed his attempt to pay. With the other, she handed him the small bunch.
Any words he tried to speak died in his throat, the weight of them still lingering. How could he respond? Pearl was brilliant with her words, offering Grian to share as much or as little as he felt like. The Avian had never been much of a liar.
“No, not really.” Was all he gave her, a brief shake of the head.
“Alright,” she drew out the t, “I recognise these flowers from somewhere, though?”
Dread fluttered across his body, running down his spine and settling in his chest.
“Dunno, I better be going, thanks Pearl!” Grian waved goodbye and all but stumbled out the door. If she recognised the flowers and had understood his intent, then he would not be sticking around to hear about it.
Once he returned back to home base, he found a comically large glass- the only thing he could find- to store the newly acquired gift, and set them carefully inside with a healthy splash of water. Finally, the first step of his checklist was complete.
-
The next stop Grian made was a short and sweet endeavour. In fact, he'd already managed to pick the perfect paper to wrap the bouquet of flowers, with the help of Mumbo. The pair had spent a little over an hour designing a pattern of various colours and shapes, blending some parts more than others to create something beautiful. Mumbo hadn't asked and Grian hadn't told.
They were at Mumbo’s base, he was working on some of the boulders and smaller rocks along the border between his land and the edge of Scar’s train. The paper was left inside, neatly stacked on the desk they'd cleared to paint. It was silent, not necessarily uncomfortable but Mumbo was engrossed in his work and it had left Grian to wander alone in his thoughts again.
“Mumbo?” His voice wobbled slightly, surprised to hear his own voice.
Mumbo hummed in response, acknowledging Grian.
“Have you ever been in love?” It was a heavy question, one he'd never expected to ask another person. Though if there was anyone he wanted to talk to about this particular topic, his mustached best friend would be the one.
“What? I,” He stammered, his head whipping around to face the Avian. “No, I haven't. Why do you ask?”
Now it was Grian’s turn to hum, acknowledging the question as he thought carefully about his next words.
“Being in love opens the door for rejection, I suppose.” Bringing a hand underneath his chin to lean on, Grian awaited a response.
“Thats true,” Mumbo said, slowly. “But rejection is everywhere.”
“I know.” Grian sighed.
“Do I get to know why you're being all cryptic about love?” He kept an eyebrow raised, watching Grian as he sat still on an old boulder.
With one look his way, Mumbo nodded once, understanding the gesture.
“Just… How do I deal with rejection? Should I even risk opening that door?” He grumbled, bringing hands to his face and applying deep pressure across his eyes.
“Hm. I think you'd be silly not to, no? You could face rejection in any aspect of life, why risk keeping that door closed forever more. If this is about… confessing, then my opinion is to just do it.”
“What if he hates me?” It was real, raw. Mumbo stopped dead in his tracks.
Grian had never talked about his sexuality before, not even when in a room full of his openly accepting friends. It was certainly a shock, to say the least.
With his elbows now resting on each knee, Grian didn't even seem to care that he'd just come out to Mumbo. So, Mumbo didn't mention it.
“He.. won't. I'm sure, if you're feeling like this about him, then he must be a good person. A good person won’t hate you for something out of your control.”
It had been a while since Grian had heard Mumbo act so wise, his wisdom usually composed of unsure suggestions. Though he could see how correct Mumbo was about this, Scar had never once given him the impression that anything, besides stitch, could bring on any level of hatred. Scar is kind, Grian couldn’t imagine him being anything but kind about this.
That didn’t stop the deep rooted worry that gnawed away at him any time his mind remembered the plan event.
“Plus! If it goes well, you can totally rub it in. Bragging rights and all.” Mumbo said.
“Not likely, but thank you.”
Grian remained with Mumbo for another hour or so before deciding to take his leave and returned back home to try and create a first draft of his confession. Though his low level literacy skills definitely showed him up as Grian could hardly finish one line before balling up the paper and throwing it across the room in frustration. The line was half wonky, slanted word and half a mess of scribbles and lines where he’d crossed out and started again. It read:
‘Scar, I need to confess something to you.’
Grian could hardly read back his own penmanship, but when he managed it, he cringed. He thought it sounded lame, generic and so incredibly not Grian. Despite that, he was determined to come up with something, so he tried to push through. Unfortunately, his low level literacy skills definitely showed him up as he couldn’t piece together a single other line. Instead deciding to ball up the paper and throw it across the room in frustration.
Perhaps he’d have to improve the whole thing. Somehow.
Suddenly, his communicator buzzed harshly in the pocket of his red sweater. It was a welcomed distraction, allowing him to pull away from the task at hand and refocus his attention elsewhere.
He answered it without bothering to check the caller ID.
“Yellow?” He spoke down the line.
“Grian, um hey.” It was Mumbo’s voice that talked back. “I hope you weren't busy. I thought I should probably let you know that you left your paper back at mine.”
Well, shit. Reflecting back on it, Grian didn’t once step foot back inside of the building, let alone think to pick up the stack on his way out.
“Damn, are you still home? I’ll come by and pick it up.” Grian held the communicator just far enough from his ear to check the time, it wasn’t that late yet- thankfully.
As he stood from his chair, Mumbo answered.
“No need, actually! That’s also partly why I’m calling,” Grian dropped back onto the seat. “Scar was passing through when I noticed, so he kindly offered to drop them to you on his way back. He’ll be leaving here in about thirty.”
Even the mere mention of his best friend’s name sent a wave of butterflies through his lower abdomen.
“Alright, thanks for letting me know.” Grian nearly said goodbye before he decided to add one more thing. “Oh, Mumbo? Don’t let Scar look in the bag please, tell him it’s something boring, like insurance paperwork for my shop.”
It took a beat, but Mumbo agreed, his tone of voice airing on suspicion. It was then that they said brief goodbyes and hung up the line.
As long as Scar didn’t look inside the bag, there was nothing else that could possibly go wrong. Grian was sure of it.
…That was until about thirty five minutes later. He had busied himself in planning the next building around his dock, sketching quickly as inspiration took him. Grian was positioned by his window, ensuring he had a clear view of his area. That had meant he noticed almost immediately when small droplets of rain flicked onto the glass.
At first, it was a light splatter. Nothing notable. However, that changed when a sharp clap of thunder roared across the sky, rumbling down around the residents of Hermitcraft; accompanying that was a sudden downpour, as if someone had dumped a never ending bucket of water from the sky above. His view very quickly blurred and he could no longer see anything but a large smudge of water.
He thought about Scar (something not unusual for Grian,) and how he hoped and prayed that the Vex hadn’t been caught in the rain. As the weather continued to storm, the room growing darker and cooler with each wave of thunder, he continued to watch the clock hung upon his wall. The minutes ticked slowly, each second that pushed forward was another second that Scar had not yet arrived.
Grian could no longer focus on the notebook balancing on his knees, the plans to create infrastructure were long abandoned. Another day, he thought, he’d find productivity in another day; one where Scar was not about to turn up at his door any moment now, possibly drenched in fresh rain water.
It wasn’t long after that thought that the doorbell sang a simple tune to alert Grian of somebody's arrival. His heart leaped as he rushed to the front door as fast as his legs would manage.
When opening the door, he was met with a sight that all but took his breath away. In front of him stood Scar. His hair, now a few shades darker than it usually was, lay swept back leaving his forehead exposed. Time slowed as Grian took in every aspect of his appearance, a few beads of rain dripped down across his face, gathering together on his chin before weighing enough to drip onto the collar of his jacket. It was a coat, if you could even call it one, that Grian recognised as the one Scar had bought recently. A dark olive green with white faux fur trim along the bottom edge, cuffs of his sleeves and lining the front collar. Grian had always thought the colour complimented his tanned skin tone perfectly, despite it being much darker than his eyes, the two shades worked well together.
Following his arm down, Grian nearly cried out to snatch the loosely topped leather bag from his grasp. Instead, he pulled himself back to present time and reached out to grab Scar by the collar and yank the man inside the building. His arm shivered with the cold air, briefly being pelted with sharp, ice cold drops of rain. The collar was soaking wet, but Grian didn’t mind.
Scar made a surprised noise, something akin to ‘wahh’ or ‘wooh wooh.’ But, there was no hesitation as Grian pulled him into the building. He never seemed to mind being pulled around, poked or prodded.
Once he was safely inside, Grian released his grip and quickly shook off his hand, wiping it dry on his own sweater. He closed the door, then turned to face Scar with his wrists leaning heavy on his hips.
“Really Scar?” Was all he said.
Scar smiled sheepishly, now handing over the bag.
“It might be a little bit wet, sorry ‘bout that.” Grian snatched it quicker than he was meant to, then took a deep breath. He set the bag down on a kitchen towel to dry off.
“You could’ve waited, it wasn’t urgent.” It’s probably ruined now , is what Grian wanted to say. Yet, he couldn’t seem to find the words. Just like the flowers, he should be furious at Scar for not using his common sense and waiting for the rain to cease, but he just couldn't.
Scar shimmied off his jacked, tugging firmly at each sleeve to release the hold the sodden fabric had on the bare skin of his arms. “What should I do with this…?”
He held up the jacket, which was actively dripping. Upon further inspection, there was quite the puddle underneath Scar, his boots directly in the center.
“Just go and take a shower, use anything you need. I’ll bring you some dry clothes and some more towels.” Grian sighed, taking the jacket from Scar. When the item of clothing switched hands, Grian almost toppled straight over with the weight of it. It was an already well made piece but adding the water weight made it nearly too much for Grian to hold. The concept forced a gentle warmth to tingle across his cheeks, Scar had made it look like it weighed nothing.
“Okie dokie! Thanks Gri, you’re the best.” He shot Grian a bright smile and made his way towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of water and slightly muddy footprints in his wake. An oversight, really.
“Take those boots off!” He yelled, “I’ll be right back.”
Grian didn’t wait around for a second longer, running straight to the washing machine to drop off the soaking wet jacket. Next, he headed to his bedroom to find a clean set of clothes in what Grian hoped would be close enough to Scar’s size. The hermits slept over here often, so he always had a handful of spare clothes in sizes that didn’t match his own.
Piling them up, he took them in the direction of the bathroom and knocked on the door. He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen, really, but it certainly wasn’t the door swinging open to find a very shirtless man. Thankfully, the rest of him was fully clothed.
Grian’s eyes snapped shut, whipping his head around so fast he was afraid he pulled a muscle in his neck. His face warmed up, as did the tips of his ears and base of his neck. Scar chuckled, though it could’ve rivelled a giggle. Void, he wanted the ground to open up beneath him and swallow him whole.
“Here,” Grian spoke with as much composure as he could muster. “I’m sure you’ve worn this exact set before, actually, so it should have no problem fitting.”
Handing over the folded pile of casual clothing, Grian still kept his back turned. Scar thanked him with another laugh, this one somehow sweeter than the last- like his voice was laced with honey. He retreated back into the bathroom and once Grian was sure he heard the door close, he made quick strides to the bag full of his precious paper.
He pulled it up to the counter and undid the popper holding it closed, reaching a hand inside to retrieve his items. Disappointment flooded through him as his fingers glided across smooth, soggy, wet paper. Grian delicately took the paper out from inside the leather bag, taking in the new appearance. What was originally brightly coloured paints, brought together with joint effort to create a beautiful, unique pattern, was now a mess. Lines of colour slid down each piece, running together to create a blur of brown-purple hues. This wasn’t what Grian wanted, not at all.
With sad eyes, he scanned the waterlogged art, trying to come up with a fix that he could carry out in a short space of time and with limited materials. He couldn’t think of anything now, though, and instead chewed on his lower lip in defeat while lining them up on the radiator to dry. At the very least, he was glad that they used a thicker cardstock, so none of the paper was chewed up or ripped.
Just two more steps to go. Two short days and he could finally get everything off his chest and move on. Grian didn’t believe for a second that Scar would feel the same, and if there was some small part of him, buried deep down, that had some hope left- then it was nobody's business.
Scar had only stayed for a short while, after his shower the two ate some leftover spaghetti and watched half of a Star Wars movie. Grian didn’t feel strongly either way about the show, but the way Scar’s eyes sparkled like freshly polished gemstones made him weak to any request. By the time they’d gotten through the first half, the rain had completely stopped and the sky outside was beginning to dim.
“Thank you for the shower, I’m sorry if I damaged your important paperwork.” Scar frowned, eyeing the now empty bag.
“You’re fine.” Grian pushed a tone to his voice that wasn’t entirely genuine. He was devastated that the paper was no longer perfect, and that the flowers would now be wrapped in nothing more than a mess.
Scar nodded, and if Grian was going to listen to that small nagging deep in his chest, nestled somewhere next to his heart, he would say that Scar was blushing. Instead, he made a mental note to check the light bulb for imperfections. Though, it was looking at him for this final time that Grian realised that he wasn’t wearing a jacket.
“Are you going to be okay? It’s quite chilly now that the sun has gone down.” He asked, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.
“No, no. I’ll be fine! I’m manly enough to withstand some cold air, Gri.” Scar smiled politely, but Grian didn’t miss the slight shake in his voice. Looking down at his arms, which were crossed together in front of his chest, Grian gasped.
The hair on his arms stood on end, goosebumps lined up neatly along each forearm. “No way. Give me a second.”
And a second he was, it didn’t take any time at all to find one of his biggest, coziest and consequently most worn hoodies. Grian wasn’t much of a hoodie guy, but this was his all time favourite. It was a similar shade of red to his everyday sweater, only with more of a burgundy hue, it had deep pockets and written across the front in bold, white letters was a brand name. It was simple in its design, but it was incredibly comfortable and the material was perfect.
He held it out to Scar, a small smile tugging at his lips. Grian enjoyed giving gifts, and although this wasn’t necessarily a gift, he still rather enjoyed sharing his precious things with someone he loved dearly.
“Are you sure? I might get it wet,” Scar was hesitant to take it, “Isn’t this your favourite?”
Grian felt his heart flutter, knees feeling weaker than they had a few moments prior. He hadn’t mentioned this hoodie in months, perhaps even longer, and didn’t often wear it outside of the house. Deciding that thinking too deeply into it would be dangerous for his heart, he let the thoughts drift away.
“Yeah, but I don’t mind if you get it wet. As long as you’re warm, that’s all that matters to me.” Grian couldn’t help himself, the last sentence slipped out before he could process it.
Scar didn’t miss a beat, grinning from ear to ear as he took the hoodie and slipped it on over his head. It fit perfectly, where it had been quite oversized on Grian, it was only slightly baggy on Scar.
“Thanks Gri, you’re the best.” His voice was soft, buttery smooth. Grian thought he might faint. “I’ll return it soon! No promises on when though, it’s super cozy!”
And with that, Scar was off. Grian tried not to think about the sight, Scar wearing his hoodie, how gorgeous he looked, how Scar could now smell Grian’s aftershave everywhere he went. Scar didn’t seem to mind, and that was what allowed him to drift off to a much more restful sleep.
-
Today was the day. After yesterday’s events, Grian made sure to keep an eye on the paper as it sat on the radiator. Luckily, by the next morning it was completely dried and ready to use as wrapping. The smudged lines remained as they appeared yesterday, new, unintentionally mixed colours now painted each surface. With fresh eyes and a good night’s sleep under his belt, it didn’t look so bad.
Of course, it was still ruined. Nothing could change that. All the work he and Mumbo had put into making them look perfect was washed away and replaced with something akin to a child’s art, a new piece brought home from a busy day of school. Still, it was his only option now.
Grian made moves to gather the paper into a pile, walking it over to the kitchen island where he set it down next to the jar of flowers he’d retrieved from his bedroom that morning along with everything else he thought might come in handy. This included a pair of scissors, some scotch tape and a ruler (for good measure.)
He had everything he needed cluttering his work surface, waiting to be created into something beautiful. Staring down at each item, they stared back. When he had made the decision to put together a bouquet of flowers for Scar, to possibly alter the state of their friendship forever, he hadn’t actually considered what the last step of the process would be.
You could say that Grian is an artist, most people would. His mind was clever, creating blueprints and planning each creation of his to an incredibly high standard; not only was he brilliant, everything he created had such a strong sense of life and personality.
Yet, as he ran his gaze over the mess on his counter, his mind was entirely blank. He wasn’t sure where to start.
Deciding to just dive into it, he laid down the paper flat on the table, the design against the marble, and taped multiple pieces together to create the right length. Next, Grian took one flower at a time, wiping off the droplets of water with a paper towel and tried his best to position the stems neatly along the inner paper.
He continued to work on making it look perfect for about half an hour, moving each stem over millimeters at a time while trying to make everything come together nicely. In the end, when he took a step back to gauge the final product, his face fell in a huff of disappointment.
It wasn’t.. Bad. It could be worse! Grian tried to convince himself that the mess of paper, differently raised flowers- which happened to clash with each other in all the wrong ways, was perfect in its own way. He held it up, contorting his wrist in each and every direction to find a position where it looked a little bit less… sad. Studying it, he realised that where the middle came together was bland.
Placing the bouquet on the counter once more, he rushed off to dig through his desk draws. Eventually he found what he was looking for, a simple roll of white silk ribbon. Plain, but it would have to do. Grian could no longer remember why he’d originally purchased this ribbon, maybe for some past passion project, but he was certainly thanking the Void for it now.
Back at the table, he cut a strand of ribbon without thinking to measure and slipped it around the waist of the flowers. It pulled tight into a knot, and Grian worked his fingers around in an attempt to create a bow. However, it seemed that no matter how he tried- no matter which direction he pulled and prodded- when he pulled it tight and let go, it fell flat and the ribbon dropped back into two short strands.
Grian couldn’t tie a bow.
The realisation dawned on him like an anvil dropping from above. He’d never tried to create one before, he’d never needed to. It couldn’t be that hard, right?
He tried again, and again, and again. Never having any luck. The closest he seemed to come was one big circle above a thick, tight knot.
Grian dropped down to the floor in frustration, careful not to knock his wings on the furniture around him. What could he do now? Tears threatened to brew in the corners of his dark eyes as he desperately wracked his brain for ideas.
He couldn’t tie a bow. But you know what he could do? Braid hair. Gem had recently sat and taught him how to properly braid her hair during a recent sleepover. Maybe he could ask her to help?
Pulling out his communicator, he brought up Gem’s contact and frantically typed.
Grian: gem!!! SOS!!! i need your help, could you stop by anytime soon?
GeminiTay: uh okay, omw
The relief Grian felt as the device vibrated moments after he sent his message.
“Grian.” Gem’s voice rang through the air. “What is that? ”
Grian swallowed, beads of sweat forming along his forehead. He knew he’d have some level of explaining to do, but that didn’t mean he was ready to say it out loud.
“Could you just… fix it? Please Gem, it’s important.” She looked at him, somehow looking entirely unimpressed whilst simultaneously very confused. Her red-orange hair curled down past her face, covering an eyebrow that Grian just knew was raised.
“I would like to know why it's important, Grian. But yes, I can help you fix it.” She sighed, uncrossing the arms that had been held there for the past few minutes.
When he didn’t answer, she picked up the poorly made bouquet and began to unravel it. She had to use the scissors to cut through the few very knotted pieces of ribbon and to unlatch the small amount of tape somehow holding everything in place. Grian watched with bright eyes as she worked her magic, somehow, everything was smooth and easy when Gem did it. The paper glided like it was magic, unlike the crumpled, stiff mess that he was forced to deal with.
Gem worked fast, needing little to no adjustments for the flowers like Grian had, and using a generous amount of scotch tape to secure everything beautifully.
“I will have to teach you to tie a bow, this is embarrassing.” She laughed, gesturing to the now sliced up circle of ribbon on the counter.
“It’s for Scar.” Grian blurted without thinking, the words having been on the tip of his tongue for a few minutes now.
“Oh my god.” Gem gasped, spinning around at the speed of light to face him. Grian was suddenly more interested in his unpainted fingernails. “You’re giving this to Scar?”
He nodded slowly, still not bringing up his head to face her directly.
“Well that is adorable, Grian. He’s going to love it.” Despite not being able to see her face, Grian could hear the smile in her voice. His face warmed, he had the best friends anyone could ever ask for.
“You think? I’m going to confess today, it’s the day we first met seven years ago.” He remembers that day like it was yesterday.
“I know he will, and I’m sure it’ll go well. It’ll be nice having another gay person in GIGGS. Or, two even.” Gem said, finishing up the flower bouquet. “But I’m pretty sure Scar was going to head into the mines today, you might want to run and catch him before he leaves.”
She handed him the finished product, which was absolutely beautiful. Later, he'd ponder why on earth he couldn’t achieve the same look with his similar techniques. But right now, he had newfound confidence and a hot guy to catch.
“Thank you Gem! I’ll let you know how it goes!” He called, holding the flowers tightly in one hand before running to the door.
When Grian arrived at Scar’s base, the air was eerily silent. He called out, waiting to hear an answer back before continuing to walk through the zoo, then eventually the train, where he now sat in Scar’s home carriage. With the short time limit he thought he had, he decided to give in and call Scar directly. It rang only once before the call went through and he heard the familiar voice over the line.
“ Grian! Hello!” Scar’s voice echoed, a very bad sign. He sounded rushed, not to mention the odd clattering of background noise which accompanied him.
“Hi Scar, where are you?” He got straight to the point, dread forming a pool in his lower stomach.
“Ha, it’s funny you ask that.. You wouldn’t-” The line was awful, every word crackled and sparked like faulty electricity. It sounded like Scar was interrupted, a shout could be heard, kind of, over the communicator. “Sorry about that. Could you come and help?”
“Where are you?” Grian had already risen from his spot at Scar’s kitchen table.
“I found a mineshaft in the cave inside magic mountain. It’s pretty easy to find, but be careful.” The beep of the call ending cut Grian off from responding or asking any further questions.
Leaving the present on the kitchen counter, now forgotten, Grian wasted no time leaving the train and flying straight to the spot Scar mentioned.
Hovering above the mountain, he could see the start of a cave entrance, thankfully the only one visible. He headed down, holding his sword in one hand and torches in the other. There was no clear path, not really, and it was full of all the mobs you’d expect in a cave system like this. Grian fought off each and every zombie, skeleton and spider he came across and made sure to place plenty of torches to ensure they did not have this problem on the way out.
It was so painfully Scar to not have properly lit up the way down, along with the occasional dirt pillars and thrown items that he clearly had no room for. It wasn’t long before he found the tell tale signs of a mineshaft, wooden beams lined the top of the tunnels and broken rail tracks failed to lead the way. This place was well known for being a maze of sorts, so Grian stopped and planned a route to take in order to track down his friend.
He moved through the pathways like clockwork, careful to block off any dangerous holes, plug up free flowing lava and mark his directions well enough. Then, he heard the sharp hiss of cave spiders. Grian hadn’t yet come across any mobs through the mineshaft, so he listened close and followed the sounds, hopeful they might lead him somewhere.
And they did. Not far from where he heard the noise originally, there was a spawner coated in webs. He made quick work of said spawner, destroying it cleanly before he moved on to kill each and every spider with ease. Then, after he turned the corner, he finally located Scar.
Scar was sitting on the cold stone floor, propped up against the same kind of wall. He was awake. Grian had never felt more of a rush than he did in that moment.
“Gri, you came.” Scar coughed, a weak smile forming on his lips.
“Are you okay?” Grian dropped to knees so he was by Scar’s side, looking him over again and again.
“I’m fine, just a small cut on my arm. Can we get out of here now? I need to feed Jellie.” Scar tried to laugh, but it only trailed into another cough. Grian inspected both arms, quickly finding the ‘cut’ that Scar was talking about.
It was not a small cut. No, it was a rather large gash. His skin had been sliced from the outer corner of his elbow down to the middle of his forearm.
“You’re such an idiot, dude! This needs tending to before we leave, have you got any spare fabric?” Grian raised his voice, with adrenaline slowly wearing off he was beginning to take slow deep breaths. Scar is here, Scar is safe.
He shook his head, and that's when Grian really paid attention to the man. In an emergency, he would’ve probably forced the shirt off Scar’s back to dress the wound, but Scar was wearing something far too precious to ruin with blood. Scar was wearing the hoodie he’d borrowed the day prior, the sleeves now rolled up and bunched above the crease of his elbow.
Upon seeing this, his breath caught in his throat and Grian couldn’t help but meet Scar’s eyes. The green was darker in the dim lighting of the cave, but never ever dull. A prominent blush was painted across his cheeks as Scar immediately averted his gaze.
Grian was able to compose himself, with his heart still pounding, enough to pull his own sweater over his head and tie it around the fresh cut. He did his best to ensure the entire thing was covered and that the tie was tight enough to hopefully stop the bleeding, grateful that it was at least covered now and had a lower chance of letting infection in.
“You’re going to ruin your sweater.” Scar frowned, lifting his elbow to take a look at the makeshift bandage.
“I don't mind, and that's all we had. Can you stand okay?” Grian asked, genuinely not feeling bothered about ruining his clothing. He had plenty of similar looking sweaters.
Grian helped Scar to his feet, holding out his hand so Scar could grab hold of him and pull his weight up. Which he did, luckily without much trouble. Once he was standing and stable, Scar eventually let go of Grian's hand, though it definitely lingered for a little bit longer than it should have. Grian didn't want to think about what that could mean.
With the help of the torches he placed on the way down, the walk back to the surface and back to the train was easy. Thankfully Scar was only hurt in one place, and that place didn't affect his mobility while walking on foot.
Once they were back up and into Scar’s living room, Grian almost forcefully pushed him down onto the comfortable cushioned seat and told him to stay put while he found the correct supplies to dress the wound.
On his way to the medicine cupboard, which he had rummaged through many times to find a whole host of things to remedy Scar’s… poor decisions, he passed by the counter and was reminded of the present that lay waiting for its time to shine. His stomach dropped, anxiety coming back at full force. He’d been so distracted with the task at hand that he’d completely forgotten about his original plan.
Gathering what he needed and passing back through the kitchen, Grian made the final decision that it was now or never. Or well, after Scar’s arm had been properly cared for.
Grian popped it down by the side of the chair, lucky that Scar hadn’t seen him do it.
“Okay, this might sting a little. I’m going to clean it first, then apply the antiseptic cream and a bandage.” He explained, and then confess my love.
“M’kay.” Scar hummed, watching Grian as he worked on removing the now brown stained article of clothing. He threw it to the side, plans to attempt to remove the marks later.
Slipping on a pair of sterile gloves, Grian got to work. It was a surprisingly fast process, actually, since the bleeding had stopped a while ago and the cut wasn’t as deep as it first appeared to be. Cleaning took the longest because Grian was being oh so careful with how he moved around the area. He was gentle with each step, but concentrated so hard that he hadn’t noticed the way Scar looked down at him with a fondness that could not be explained with words. Like he was watching the most precious thing in the universe.
As he finished tying up the bandages and tucked in the edge, he peeled off the gloves and let go of Scar’s arm. “I’ll be back in a minute, don’t move your arm too much.”
He then left the room to dispose of the used supplies and bag up his clothing, leaving it by the door to grab on his way out.
It was time. Grian felt his chest tighten, blood rushing to his ears. Now or never.
Picking up the bouquet, he took one last long, deep breath to compose himself before he walked back into the room where Scar remained sitting.
Grian coughed, loud and purposeful, to alert Scar of his presence. His hands shook and the paper crinkled under the tension of his hands, he didn’t offer the flowers to Scar straight away, instead stepping closer and speaking.
“I don’t really know where to start with this, or what to say…” Grian let the words fall naturally, looking down at his feet. “And I don’t expect you to say anything back, not if you don’t want to.”
“Scar, you’re my best friend. And an idiot, I mean, somehow every single part of this stupid plan went wrong and almost all of it was your fault! I think somehow that was important though, because these flowers are for you. This is all for you, Void, why is this so hard?”
“What I’m trying to say is that I like you, Scar. It’s scary and weird but it’s the best feeling in the world. I get it if you don’t feel the same, but I needed some level of closure for this before you gave me a heart attack.”
Grian could’ve continued. He had so, so many things that he wanted to say, most of which were stupid and trivial but important to him. Instead, he was stopped dead in his tracks because Scar gently took the present from his hands and warm arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a hug. It was silent for a minute, Grian unsure whether to reciprocate the action but ultimately caving and pulling Scar impossibly closer. Time stopped around them, letting the pair have nothing but each other for a little bit.
When Scar pulled back, there were tears beginning to well up in his eyes. Scar looked down at the flowers, his fingers tracing each of the petals. “This is beautiful, Gri. Thank you.”
There was another bout of silence as Scar admired the present, smiling softly as he did so.
“Today is a special day, isn’t it? I didn’t realise you remembered it too. I like you as well, Grian, definitely more than a friend would.” In that moment, when Scar looked back up at him with those gorgeous green eyes, everything was perfect. Nothing else mattered.
And if Scar put the flowers down to pull Grian into a kiss, that was between them and the universe.