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Scar’s night both ended and started when a knock on his door startled him out of another marathon of the Star Wars films, in release order because he’d watched them chronologically last time. He’d gone to open it without hesitation; his friends were going through a lot, and they often used his place as a buoy in the sea that was life. Scar was more than happy to facilitate that.
“Well hello there.”
Standing in his doorway, shirtless and shivering, was Grian. He was visibly held together by little else but two metaphorical threads, and Scar didn’t ask any questions as to why. He simply stepped aside and let his friend in. His half-naked friend.
“I’ve had a shitty day.” Grian said.
Scar believed him. Though, it was clear that ‘shitty’ didn’t exactly encompass it. Grian didn’t explain much, only that he was hallucinating again. A face, to be exact. One he didn’t name. And Scar empathed his way to figuring out that it didn’t need naming either. He wasn’t about to pick apart Grian’s past right now. He just needed safety, which Scar could try to provide. And a shirt, which Scar definitely should get him.
Scar knew the look on Grian’s face all too well. Sometimes it was there so often it would be easy to assume that this was the blond’s natural settings, and that any peaceful contentedness was put on. It was a face that said he’d run out of places in which he could exist and that Scar, for reasons neither of them ever really voiced, had become a sanctuary away from it all.
Grian didn’t ask to stay, didn’t need to, as he made his way to the guest room in the back of the apartment and collapsed on the bed like a bird whose wings had been shorn mid-flight. He’d given Scar permission to join him, and like hell was Scar about to lose that opportunity. It didn’t take him too long to find a tissue box and a clean shirt from within the depths of his apartment, and soon he was wordlessly climbing under the covers. Not too close, not too far away.
It was quiet for a moment, just the sounds of the street and a bit of their breathing, but Scar couldn’t sleep before he knew Grian was able to.
“Is the face gone?”
Between the faint car horns, Scar heard a sigh from behind his back and felt the bed dip as Grian finally put his whole body-weight on it. It was better, and for the night that would have to be enough.
+++
Grian stayed all weekend, after only a bit of pleading from Scar’s end, and it was nice. Just to have Grian within reach and okay. Being friends with Grian could feel like being two planets orbiting the same sun, but never seeing an eclipse. He was there, and then not – completely against his own will and pulled by some unseen force. Well Grian could see it, Scar supposed.
So Scar was taking some joy in Grian’s orbit aligning with his own for once. He was taking more joy in seeing Grian walking around in his clothes. Which he was pretty sure meant nothing at all.
It definitely meant nothing when he accidentally walked in on Grian in nothing but a pair of his boxers, and the over-sized t-shirt Scar had given him the night before. He had a set of jeans strewn over the bed, waiting to be put on in an effort to feel normal, but had yet to move for them when Scar had barged in.
Very apologetic and apocalyptically awkward, Scar had backed out of the room with his hands over his eyes, even if he didn’t exactly see anything. As he winced his way back down the hall Scar realised that most friends wouldn’t be so scandalised by the incident. And that most friends wouldn’t want to repeat the activity. And that most friends wouldn’t want to see their friends in even less clothing next time and – oh dear god.
He was screwed.
+++
“Hey,” he said, pointing to the tv remote as casually as he could one afternoon whilst he handed Grian a mug of tea, “Could you pass me that, beautiful?”
It had slipped out, and Scar wasn’t going to be taking any more questions on the legitimacy of that fact.
Grian froze, mug halfway to his mouth, and he stared as though Scar had blipped out of existence before reappearing again. He didn’t respond beyond that, simply passing the remote over robotically.
“Too much?” Scar laughed awkwardly, “Just thought it would make you smile.”
Grian still didn’t answer, simply shrinking into the sofa with a wide-eyed look and a forced smile. He nodded absently, as though Scar had admitted to something incredibly illegal, and Grian was biding his time until he could call the police. Still, Grian didn’t do that, instead just looking ahead at the tv and vaguely watching it.
The next day, as Grian was scrolling on his phone in the kitchenette, Scar leaned on the counter with the confidence of someone who definitely did not have butterflies fluttering around in their stomach, “I think I’ll miss seeing you first thing in the morning, it’s a pretty great view.”
Grian flinched slightly, looking through Scar and then almost jumping when his eyes refocused, almost shocked that Scar was truly there.
“Are you-?” Scar started to ask, but he stopped himself, “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No,” Grian replied, almost too quick, “No. It’s fine. Just… tired.”
Scar nodded, unconvinced.
That night Scar walked past the guest room to hear soft movement hours after Grian had supposedly gone to bed. He gently opened the door and peaked inside.
“You okay?” He asked, whispering to the room as to not disturb Grian if he were truly asleep.
Grian’s eyes gazed up at him from the bed and, although he was looking at him, it felt as though he’d been looking in that direction for a while before Scar had appeared. After a few seconds, his eyes shut.
Scar felt awkwardly like a parent who’s caught a child in a bad attempt at pretending to have gone to sleep, but he didn’t call Grian out, instead taking a few hesitant steps into the room. Scar sat on the edge of the bed, respectfully distant.
“Sleep well, sweetheart.”
As he closed the door behind him once more, Scar could practically feel Grian’s eyes boring holes into the wood panelling.
+++
Scar was on an unexpected early shift, and he was trying desperately to be quiet. Especially when he realised he’d left his laptop charger in the guest room. Instead, he was rummaging around the room like a cat with a laser pointer taped to its forehead.
“Sorry, sorry.” He whispered when he saw Grian stirring to the commotion of his room being turned upside-down, “I’ll be back before you know it honey.”
And, without thinking much at all, he pressed a light kiss into Grian’s hair.
He’d blame it on habit, something he’d picked up from his mum but, in reality, he didn’t know what possessed him to do it.
Whatever it was, Grian didn’t react, didn’t move. Scar just stood in shock for a second too long before he left, keys jangling softly behind him. He left the apartment and descended the stairs with a strange heaviness in his chest. Because he really hadn’t meant to start flirting with Grian. But he hadn’t been joking in the slightest. Maybe the heaviness was because Grian hadn’t outright rejected it. Scar had kissed his hair and called him honey and Grian just… let him.
The weight in his chest clearly offset the lightness on his back because, as he reached his car, Scar realised that he’d left his laptop in the apartment. Which meant he had to go back and face Grian again.
The trudge back up the stairs felt like he was on his way to the gallows. Opening the door to the guest room again might as well have been the deadly blow because Scar’s brain had left his body yet again as he picked up his laptop.
“Sorry. I wanted to let you sleep, but I forgot my laptop,” He said, rambling aimlessly and feeling dumber for it by the second, “I guess I was so distracted from seeing such a handsome face so early in the morning.”
He smiled painfully before leaving again, physically face palming. His regret deepened when he heard movement behind him, clearly having actually woken Grian up, on top of making a fool out of himself.
Work was a welcome punishment, and mostly mindless. Which Scar supposed was a good thing, since his brain had melted out of his head during his weekend with Grian.