Work Text:
The shrill alarm clock screamed, forcing Grian to open his eyes and grunt. Why must he wake up? There was honestly nothing he found worthy to live for except for hope. Hope for things to take a turn for the better. A hope that was slowly diminishing with each passing day as the will to live was ebbing away. He got up, tilting his head back and resting it against the headrest before outstretching his arm and turning off the alarm clock.
Grian peeled off the comforters, wincing as the cold rushed to attack him now that his defence was down, and slipped his feet into his shoes, standing up and stumbling about like a toddler who just learnt to walk. His legs were sore. His everything was sore. Gathering all his energy and concentrating it into his legs, he made his way to the bathroom. His hands curled around the edges of the sink as he stared into his reflection. His eyebags were growing darker, a symbol of the lack of rest he got, and his body was growing frailer, a symbol of the lack of food he ate. He looked absolutely horrible. He was absolutely horrible and he still is.
He had fallen into a hole he had dug out for himself. It brought him dread, fear, a growing sense of hopelessness, and misery. It brought him everything but light. He wanted to escape. He wanted to feel the sun’s warmth. He truly did. But he wasn’t made for it. He wasn’t made to smile or laugh or feel joy. What did he do wrong? What was wrong with him?
Everyone moved on, carried by the flow of the day, but not him. He stayed fixed in one spot, dwelling on what had been, refusing to move on. Refusing to let himself forget because if he will forget, he would again become delusional enough to believe the future promised him happiness. He didn’t want to face disappointment again. He didn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let himself move on. It was too hard to. How could he ever forget? He was the reason his father left them and his mother took her own life. Seriously, what was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he have held his family together?
All he had to do was hide behind the mask of normality, all he had to do was pretend he was anything but a Watcher. Watchers were monsters, everyone knew that, their hands brought nothing but disaster, their cold eyes brought nothing but misery, they left chaos in their wake. All he had to do was pretend he wasn’t a monster but of course, he couldn’t even do that. He let his father find out. Fear overpowered the love his father had for him, and to protect himself he left Grian and his mother behind. Grief possessed his mother and led her to take her own life. Grian wasn’t enough to make her stay. Was he ever enough? Was he ever going to be enough?
His fingers dug into the sink even more painfully as he blinked back the stinging tears. Every single time he thought he had gotten over everything, the wounds would reopen, pouring out crimson and drowning him. He wanted to move on but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t. All doors were shut for him except for one. The only way he could move on was if he gave up and succumbed to death. As much as he wanted to fall into the embrace of the grim reaper, this decision was just too difficult for him to make. Every single time he tried killing himself, he’d hesitate a bit too long and would be discovered. The universe wanted him to endure even if his heart longed to stop.
He walked out of the bathroom and sunk down on his bed that creaked under his weight, his head in his hands. Only one word repeated in his head: Why?
Why couldn’t he break free of this cycle, of this life?
There were chains binding him to the ground, cold metal hugging his ankles and wrists. He couldn’t cut himself free from those chains but…
He could cut himself.
He scrambled towards his drawer, pulling open the last one that contained random junk from documents to stamps to keys to…
A box cutter. He pulled it out, inspecting its sharp tip. It could cut really deep. But did he really want to do this? Not really. Did he have a choice? Not really.
He rolled up his sleeve, staring at the healing scars scattered over his arm. New ones would be joining them. Holding the box cutter tighter in his shaky hands, he dragged it over his skin. It stung and it hurt and it bled. But wasn’t this what he wanted? He cut himself again, going deeper in hopes that under all the skin hid a better version of him. More cuts. He needed more.
Too much blood was spilling out of his arms, drops staining his bedsheet.
More.
Stars started to dance around almost as if mocking him.
More
What was he doing? No. He promised Scar he wouldn’t hurt himself anymore. Why was he breaking a promise made to the love of his life?
more
He was doing Scar a favour. Once Grian was gone, Scar could move on and be happy and live the life he deserved without any burden slowing him down.
m… o… r… e…
Black started to seep into his vision, his mind went fuzzy and bells started chiming in his ears. The box cutter slipped out of his grip as he fell back onto his bed, slipping into unconsciousness from losing too much of his blood and from losing too much of himself.
——————
The first thing he registered was the sense of security. With great struggle he opened his eyes and was met with the sight of Scar. He was sitting next to Grian, stroking his hair. Visible tear tracks stained his face and concern painted his features. For a second he was confused as in how did Scar get in but then realised he had the spare keys.
“Scar?” He whispered weakly, trying to prop himself on one arm but wincing as pain soared through his body. Right. He brought his arm to his face, inspecting it. It was clumsily wrapped up in bandages. “Oh Scar...” He murmured, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Grian!” His expression brightened up. He leaned forward and captured Grian in a hug. “I was so scared when you weren’t picking up my calls. Are you okay? I—” A sob escaped his lips.
“I’m sorry. Sorry for breaking the promise I made and sorry for worrying you.” His voice was muffled by Scar’s shoulder, tears dropping onto his sweater. “I— I don’t know how or why or when I got to this p-point. I should’ve thought about you but—” it’s hard remembering all the little ups when they are just too many lows surrounding you.
“I should be apologising. I should’ve noticed you were not fine and needed more support than what I provided.”
“My mother left me and I just can’t let go of it. I can’t believe I nearly made you go through the same thing… I’m so—” A warm finger pressed to his mouth, silencing him.
“No more apologies.” Scar playfully booped his nose and held him closer, gently rocking him back and forth. One hand went into Grian’s golden hair, playing with the strands, the other stroked his back in a soothing manner. He knew Grian liked being held like this.
“How did I get so lucky? I can’t believe I thought about leaving you.” Grian whispered tearfully, “I love you so much, Scar.”
“I love you, too.” Scar repeated, “Please don’t ever leave me.” He added in a low voice.
“I won’t. I can’t promise it but I’ll try my best. For you.”