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Snow fell in lazy spirals outside Grian’s bedroom window, clinging to the glass like it was trying to peer in and judge his packing skills.
“So far,” Grian muttered to himself, standing in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, “this is going great.”
His suitcase was open on the bed, half-filled with folded jumpers, jeans, and far too many scarves. He’d already repacked it twice, once because he was sure he’d forgotten something important, and a second time because Jimmy had walked past his door, taken one look inside, and said, “You know you’re only gone for a weekend, right?” before laughing and disappearing down the hall.
A winter lodge weekend. A whole group of people. Snow, fireplaces, shared meals, late nights.
And Scar.
Grian shook his head slightly, as if that alone might knock the thought loose. He grabbed another jumper from his chair and folded it with unnecessary precision before placing it in the suitcase. It was ridiculous to be this nervous. He knew almost everyone going, Scott, Jimmy’s boyfriend, was practically family at this point; Bdubs and Impulse were always good fun; Pearl and Gem were easy to talk to and there were still many more going too. He liked these people. He was friends with them.
Scar was also his friend.
That was the problem.
They’d known each other for years, thanks almost entirely to Jimmy being Grian’s brother. Scar had been Jimmy’s best friend for as long as Grian could remember, a constant presence drifting in and out of their lives with an easy smile and a laugh that filled rooms. When Grian was younger, Scar had just been Jimmy’s friend, louder and endlessly charming. Somewhere along the way, without Grian quite noticing when it happened, that had changed.
Now Scar was someone Grian thought about far too often. Someone whose messages he reread before replying to. Someone whose absence over the past few weeks, busy schedules, clashing plans, had been felt more sharply than Grian liked to admit.
They texted, sure. They had each other’s numbers. They sent memes and the occasional “how’ve you been?” But they never hung out alone. It was always group settings, always Jimmy involved, always safe and carefully distanced from anything that might reveal just how much Grian cared.
Grian zipped up a smaller bag and tossed it near the door, then reached for his phone just as it began to buzz in his hand.
“Speak of the devil,” he murmured, glancing at the caller ID.
Jimmy.
He answered. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” Jimmy said brightly, the sound of movement and muffled voices in the background. “You packing?”
“Yes,” Grian replied. “Actively. Responsibly.”
“Uh-huh. Define responsibly.”
Grian rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his mouth despite himself. “I have clothes, warm ones. Shoes, chargers, I’m fine.”
“Did you pack gloves?”
“Yes.”
“A hat?”
“Yes.”
“An extra scarf in case-”
“Jimmy.”
Jimmy laughed. “Okay, okay. Just checking. You’re driving separately, right?”
“Yeah. You and Scott already left, didn’t you?”
“We’re just about to,” Jimmy said. “Scott’s insisting on letting me control the music.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“It really is. Oh! Also, just so you know-” Jimmy paused, just long enough to be suspicious. “Scar’s already confirmed he’ll be there.”
Grian felt heat rise to his cheeks instantly, like his body had betrayed him before he could even react. He was grateful Jimmy couldn’t see him right now.
“I know Scar’s coming,” Grian said, a little too quickly.
“Mmm,” Jimmy hummed. “Just making sure you were emotionally prepared.”
“I’m emotionally fine.”
“Are you?” Jimmy’s tone shifted into something teasing but familiar, the kind only a brother could get away with. “Because last time I mentioned Scar, you nearly walked into a door.”
“That was unrelated.”
“Sure it was.”
Grian exhaled, staring at the soft glow of fairy lights strung around his headboard. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re predictable,” Jimmy replied fondly. “Relax, G. It’ll be fun. You’ve missed him.”
Grian swallowed. That part was harder to deny.
“It’s been a few weeks,” he said instead. “We’re all busy.”
“Mm-hmm. Well,” Jimmy said, voice brightening again, “we’ll see you tonight. Drive safe, yeah?”
“I will.”
“Oh, and Grian?”
“Yes?”
Jimmy grinned audibly through the phone. “Try not to pack your entire emotional baggage along with the suitcase.”
Grian hung up before he could respond, dropping his phone onto the bed and burying his face in his hands.
Great. Fantastic. Perfect.
He sat there for a moment, letting the embarrassment fade into something quieter and more dangerous, anticipation. Seeing Scar again. Hearing his laugh in person, not through a phone speaker. Sharing a space, a weekend, maybe a few moments by the fire or out in the snow.
Grian closed his suitcase and zipped it shut, heart beating a little faster than it should have.
It was just a trip. Just friends. Just Christmas lights and winter air and one very inconvenient crush he’d been carrying for far too long.
And he had a feeling this weekend was going to make it impossible to keep pretending that was all it was.
Grian slung his jacket over his shoulders and grabbed his keys from the dresser, giving his room one last glance to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything obvious. The suitcase stood by the door like a silent accusation, zipped and ready, far too calm compared to the storm of thoughts buzzing in his head.
“Weekend away,” he muttered. “Totally normal.”
The lodge was only a few hours’ drive, Jimmy had said, easy, scenic, relaxing. Grian repeated that to himself as he hauled his suitcase down the stairs and into the front hall. The house felt oddly quiet with Jimmy and Scott already gone, their usual noise replaced by the low hum of the heater and the faint tick of the clock on the wall.
He wrestled his bag into the trunk of his car, breath fogging in the cold air, and paused for a moment with his hands resting on the edge of it. Snow crunched softly beneath his shoes. The sky was already beginning to darken, that early winter twilight creeping in far too fast.
This was happening.
Grian slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and pulled away from the curb. Houses blurred past, glowing with warm lights and half-hung decorations. Reindeer figures and blinking wreaths dotted the streets, little reminders that Christmas was creeping closer by the day.
He turned the radio on for background noise, though he barely registered the music. His thoughts kept circling back, stubborn and persistent.
He wondered what Scar would be like this weekend. If he’d changed at all in the weeks since they’d last seen each other. Probably not, Scar always seemed like the sort of person who stayed effortlessly the same, warm and bright no matter how much time passed. Grian pictured his smile, the way he gestured wildly when he talked.
Grian tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
It wasn’t that he expected anything to happen. He’d learned long ago not to. Scar was Jimmy’s best friend, for one thing, and Grian had grown up watching the two of them joke and bicker like brothers themselves. For another, Scar was… Scar. Easygoing, friendly, affectionate with everyone. It was far safer to assume that whatever Grian felt was entirely one-sided.
Still, the idea of a whole weekend together made his chest feel strangely tight and light at the same time.
The road slowly gave way to open stretches of snow-dusted trees, branches heavy and white, the world quiet and still beyond the glow of his headlights. Grian let out a slow breath, forcing himself to focus on the drive. The further he got, the more the nervous energy settled into something steadier, something almost like excitement.
Eventually, a familiar notification sound broke the calm.
At a red light, Grian glanced at his phone mounted on the dashboard.
Scar: Heard you’re driving up tonight! Safe travels, yeah?
Grian’s heart jumped, traitorous and immediate.
He stared at the message for a second longer than necessary before typing back.
Grian: Yeah, just left. Should be there later tonight. You already there?
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
Scar: Just pulled up with everyone else. Place looks amazing. You’re gonna love it.
Grian smiled despite himself, warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the car’s heater.
Grian: Looking forward to it.
He sent the message, then added quickly:
Grian: Save me a spot by the fire.
The typing bubble paused.
Scar: Always do.
The light turned green, and Grian set the phone down, heart thudding a little harder than before as he drove on. Snow continued to fall, thicker now, soft and quiet, wrapping the world in white.
The lodge waited somewhere ahead, full of friends, laughter, holiday lights.
And Scar.
Grian swallowed, a nervous smile tugging at his lips as he pressed on, unaware that this weekend was already beginning to unravel the careful distance he’d spent years building.
By the time the lodge came into view, Grian’s fingers had gone numb from gripping the steering wheel too tightly.
It rose out of the trees like something pulled straight from a postcard, warm golden lights glowing against dark timber, wide windows reflecting the falling snow. A plume of smoke curled lazily from one of the chimneys, and laughter carried faintly through the crisp night air even before Grian shut off the engine.
So much for easing into things.
He parked alongside a familiar cluster of cars, recognizing Scott’s almost immediately. The moment he stepped out, cold air bit at his cheeks, snow crunching underfoot as he grabbed his suitcase from the trunk. The place smelled like pine and woodsmoke, sharp and clean, and for a second he just stood there, letting the quiet settle his nerves.
Then the front door flew open.
“Grian!”
Jimmy’s voice rang out across the lodge’s front steps. He appeared bundled in a scarf and coat, grin wide and unmistakable. Scott hovered just behind him, offering a friendly wave.
“You made it,” Jimmy said, jogging down the steps. “Took you long enough.”
Grian snorted. “Sorry I don’t speed through snowstorms for fun.”
Scott laughed. “Ignore him. He’s been unbearable since we got here.”
“Untrue,” Jimmy said easily, grabbing one end of Grian’s suitcase. “I’ve been delightful.”
They hauled the bag up the steps together, warmth spilling out the open door along with the sound of voices and music. The lodge interior was even better than the photos Jimmy had sent, high wooden ceilings, fairy lights strung along exposed beams, a massive stone fireplace crackling at the far end of the room.
Bdubs and Joel were arguing near the couch about who had claimed which bedroom first. Pearl and Gem sat cross-legged on the rug, surrounded by mugs and half-open snack bags. Someone had already put on a Christmas playlist.
And then-
“Hey, Grian.”
Scar stood near the fireplace, hands tucked into the pockets of a soft-looking jumper, firelight catching in his hair. He smiled the moment their eyes met, easy and genuine, like no time had passed at all.
Grian’s brain stalled completely.
“Hi,” he managed, voice coming out quieter than he intended. He stepped inside, snow melting off his boots as he shut the door behind him. “Wow. This place is… yeah.”
“Right?” Scar said, laughing softly. “Jimmy wasn’t exaggerating for once.”
“Hey!” Jimmy protested, though he was already being dragged away by Scott to help with something in the kitchen.
That left Grian and Scar standing there, suddenly alone in the middle of the room despite the chaos around them.
Scar shifted his weight, smile never quite fading. “You made it in good time. The drive wasn’t too bad, I hope?”
“Not awful,” Grian replied. “Snow got heavier near the end, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Good,” Scar said. He stepped aside, gesturing toward the fire. “C’mon. I saved you a spot.”
The words sent a small, traitorous flutter through Grian’s chest.
He followed Scar toward the fireplace, settling onto the couch beside him. The warmth soaked into his bones almost instantly, the crackle of the fire mixing with soft chatter and music. Scar handed him a mug, their fingers brushing for just a moment, brief, accidental, and yet Grian felt it all the same.
For a second, everything felt dangerously perfect.
Grian stared into his mug, cheeks warm for reasons that had nothing to do with the fire, and thought: This is going to be a long weekend.
Grian took a careful sip of the hot chocolate, grateful for something to focus on besides the way Scar was sitting just a little too close. It was comfortable, easy even, but that somehow made it worse.
“So,” Scar said, resting his elbow on the arm of the couch, turning slightly toward him. “How’ve you been? It feels like it’s been forever.”
“Yeah,” Grian agreed softly. “Work’s been a lot. Same old stuff, just busier than usual.” He shrugged. “What about you?”
Scar hummed thoughtfully. “Pretty similar. Lots going on. I kept meaning to reach out more, but every time I did, something came up.” His smile turned a little sheepish. “Guess that’s adulthood for you.”
“Guess so,” Grian said, meeting his eyes for a brief second before looking back at the fire. “Still, it’s good to see you again.”
Scar’s expression softened. “It’s really good to see you too, Grian.”
The moment lingered, warm and quiet, like the rest of the room had faded out entirely.
Naturally, that was when the front door burst open.
“We have arrived!”
Cold air swept through the lodge along with laughter and stomping boots as Skizz barreled in first, nearly tripping over the doormat. Impulse followed close behind, brushing snow off his coat, while Martyn and BigB hauled in bags and loudly complained about the drive.
“Why is it always colder right when you arrive?” Martyn said, shivering dramatically.
“Because the universe hates you,” Bigb replied without missing a beat.
The lodge erupted into overlapping greetings and laughter as everyone gathered near the entrance. Grian stood to help make room, joining the flurry of hugs, waves, and shouted hellos. Scar moved with easy familiarity through the group, greeting Skizz with an exaggerated handshake and clapping BigB on the shoulder.
Within minutes, the space felt fuller, louder, and brighter.
Once bags were stowed and everyone had something warm to drink in hand, the group naturally gravitated toward the living area. People claimed couches and chairs, some sitting on the floor, others leaning against furniture. Grian found himself wedged comfortably between Scar and Pearl, knees nearly touching Scar’s as they settled in.
“So,” Skizz said, rubbing his hands together. “What’s the plan for tomorrow? Because I didn’t come all this way to not cause problems.”
Scott exchanged a glance with Jimmy, a grin spreading across both their faces.
“Well,” Scott said, “you’re in luck.”
“There’s a ski resort about ten minutes from here,” Jimmy added, bouncing slightly with excitement. “And because it’s Christmas season, they’re going all out. Night skiing, winter markets, festive food stalls-”
“Fireworks,” Scott finished. “And some kind of ridiculous obstacle course thing.”
The room immediately filled with excited reactions.
“Oh, that sounds dangerous,” Martyn said, clearly delighted.
“I’m in,” Joel declared.
“I’m not skiing,” BigB said firmly. “But I will watch everyone else fall.”
“There’s hot cider, right?” Pearl asked.
“Obviously,” Scott replied.
Grian glanced sideways at Scar, who looked genuinely thrilled, eyes bright. “You ski?” Grian asked quietly.
“Poorly,” Scar said cheerfully. “But enthusiastically.”
Grian laughed, the sound blending easily into the noise around them. “That tracks.”
“Tomorrow’s going to be amazing,” Skizz said, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “Snow, chaos, and Christmas vibes.”
Jimmy clapped his hands together. “Exactly. Tonight we relax, eat too much, and tomorrow we embrace the madness.”
The group erupted into agreement, excitement buzzing through the room like static. Grian leaned back into the couch, warmth surrounding him, friends, firelight, laughter.
And beside him, Scar shifted closer, their shoulders brushing.
Grian swallowed, heart fluttering.
If tonight already felt this full, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to survive tomorrow.
The lodge eventually settled into a quieter rhythm.
Laughter in the living room softened into low murmurs, one by one people drifting off toward their rooms, tired from travel and the long drive. By the time Grian slipped away, the fire had burned down to a steady glow and only a few voices remained, muffled and distant.
His head felt full in that pleasant, heavy way that came from too much socializing and not quite enough rest.
Tea sounded like a good idea.
The kitchen was dimly lit, warm yellow light spilling across wooden counters and hanging copper pans. Grian filled the kettle at the sink, the rush of water loud in the otherwise quiet space. He set it on the stove and turned it on, humming softly under his breath as he reached for a mug.
It felt nice, being alone for a moment. Quiet. Safe.
What Grian didn’t realize was that he wasn’t actually alone.
Scar lingered just outside the kitchen doorway, having slipped away from the living room with the same thought in mind, something warm, something calming. The moment he spotted Grian at the counter, back turned and entirely focused on the kettle, Scar’s expression shifted into something mischievous.
Oh. This was perfect.
Pranking each other had been a staple of their childhoods, Scar and Jimmy teaming up against Grian more often than not, Grian getting his revenge when he could, and the occasional rare moment where it was just Scar catching Grian off guard. Those had always been Scar’s favorite.
Scar moved quietly, stepping closer until he was right behind Grian.
“Hey, G.”
Grian jumped so hard he nearly dropped the mug, spinning around and slamming back against the counter with a hand over his heart. Scar doubled over laughing immediately, his cackle filling the kitchen.
“Oh my god, Scar!”
Scar wiped at his eyes, still laughing. “You should’ve seen your face!”
“I hate you,” Grian said, though he was already laughing too, breathless and wide-eyed. “I hate you so much.”
“No, you don’t,” Scar said easily. “You love me.”
The words slipped out smooth and casual, paired with that familiar grin, and Grian’s brain short-circuited just enough to make him miss a beat.
“I-” Grian cut himself off, shaking his head as he tried to regain composure. “That was cheap. You always do that.”
“And it always works,” Scar replied, stepping closer as if drawn in by gravity. “You’re just very easily startled.”
Grian snorted. “Says the man who screams at spiders.”
“They’re terrifying,” Scar said defensively. “At least your fear was me.”
Grian opened his mouth to respond and then froze.
They were close. Closer than he’d realized. Scar’s knee brushed his, one hand resting on the counter beside Grian’s hip. The warmth of him was impossible to ignore, the air suddenly feeling much too small.
Scar seemed to notice at the same time, his grin faltering just slightly.
“Oh,” he said softly.
Heat rushed to Grian’s cheeks. He swallowed, suddenly acutely aware of his own heartbeat. Scar’s eyes flicked to his face, then away again, a faint blush creeping up his neck.
Before either of them could say anything else, the kettle let out a sharp, piercing whistle.
Both of them jumped.
Grian laughed, a little breathless, and turned away quickly to grab the kettle. “Right, tea.”
“Saved by the kettle,” Scar muttered, then laughed again, rubbing the back of his neck.
Grian poured the water, hands steady now, or at least steadier than his thoughts. The moment passed as quickly as it had come, settling into something quieter and easier. Comfortable.
“So,” Scar said lightly, leaning against the opposite counter. “Can’t sleep?”
“Too wired,” Grian admitted. “You?”
“Same,” Scar said. “Figured I’d grab something warm and pretend I have my life together.”
Grian smiled at that, tension easing as he added a teabag to the mug.
The kitchen door swung open suddenly.
“Okay, you cannot tell me that’s the best place to put the mugs,” Jimmy said, marching in mid-argument.
Bdubs followed him, arms crossed. “It makes perfect sense! It’s closer to the kettle.”
“Yeah, if you want chaos,” Jimmy shot back.
Both of them stopped short when they noticed Grian and Scar.
“Oh,” Jimmy said slowly, eyes flicking between them with immediate suspicion. “What’s going on in here?”
“Tea,” Grian said quickly.
“Crime,” Scar added at the same time.
Jimmy narrowed his eyes. “I knew it.”
“We were literally just talking,” Grian said, groaning.
Jimmy hummed, clearly unconvinced, but let it go, reaching for a mug. “Fine. But if either of you scares me, I will retaliate.”
Scar grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Grian took a steadying sip of his tea, heart finally slowing as the kitchen filled with familiar bickering and warmth again.
Still, the echo of Scar’s laughter, and that too-close moment, lingered longer than Grian liked to admit.
The rest of the night passed easily after that.
Tea was finished, mugs were rinsed and left to dry, and the kitchen argument slowly dissolved into tired laughter. One by one, people drifted off again, footsteps soft on the wooden floors as doors clicked shut down the hall. Eventually, Grian excused himself too, wishing Jimmy, Bdubs and Scar goodnight before heading toward his room.
The bedroom was cozy, soft lamplight, thick blankets, a window looking out onto snow-covered trees that glowed faintly under the moonlight. Grian shut the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment, exhaling.
It had been a good night. Fun and comfortable.
So why was his heart still racing?
He changed into sleepwear, washed up, and crawled into bed, pulling the duvet up around his shoulders. The mattress was warm, the room quiet except for the distant hum of the lodge settling for the night.
And, inevitably, his thoughts drifted back to the kitchen.
Scar’s laugh. The way he’d stepped so close without seeming to think about it. The casual You love me, said like a joke, probably meant as one. The brief moment where neither of them had moved, where the space between them had felt charged and fragile all at once.
Grian squeezed his eyes shut, face warming beneath the covers.
That wasn’t normal. Scar wasn’t usually like that with him, not specifically. He was friendly with everyone, sure, but that had felt… different. Hadn’t it?
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
Grian groaned softly and rolled onto his side, staring at the darkened wall. He was overthinking it. Of course he was. He always did when it came to Scar. Scar teased, Scar joked, Scar got close without realizing the effect he had on people. It didn’t mean anything.
It couldn’t.
Scar couldn’t possibly feel the same way Grian did. That was just Grian projecting his own feelings onto a perfectly normal interaction. A prank, a joke, two friends standing a little too close because the kitchen was small.
That was all.
His breathing slowly evened out as he forced himself to let the thought go, replaying the moment one last time before deliberately pushing it aside. Tomorrow would be busy, ski resort, snow, friends, chaos. No room for spiraling.
Eventually, the tension in his chest eased, exhaustion finally winning out.
Grian’s eyes slipped shut, and with one last, traitorous thought of Scar’s smile, he drifted into sleep.
Morning came softly.
Grian woke to pale winter light spilling through the curtains, the world outside quiet and white. For a few seconds, he stayed there blinking up at the ceiling, warm beneath the blankets, his mind blissfully empty.
Then memory caught up with him.
The kitchen. Scar’s laughter. How close he’d been.
Grian groaned quietly and rolled onto his side, burying his face in the pillow before forcing himself up. New day, he told himself. Fresh start. Stop being weird.
He got ready quickly before padding out into the hallway. The lodge was still mostly asleep, doors closed, the air calm and hushed. The smell of coffee drifted faintly from the kitchen.
Of course it did.
Jimmy and Scott were already there when Grian stepped in. Jimmy leaning against the counter with a mug in hand, Scott perched on a stool, scrolling through his phone. Both looked far too awake for how early it was.
“Mornin’,” Scott said easily.
Grian grabbed a mug. “You’re both monsters.”
Jimmy grinned. “Sleep well?”
“Fine,” Grian said, filling his mug with tea this time. “Why?”
Jimmy’s grin turned knowing.
“Oh, no reason,” he said casually. “Just wondering if you had any… interesting kitchen encounters last night.”
Grian froze mid-pour.
Scott’s head snapped up immediately. “Kitchen encounters?”
“Jimmy,” Grian warned, heat creeping up his neck.
Jimmy laughed. “I’m just saying, when Bdubs and I walked in, you were bright red and Scar looked like he’d just been caught stealing biscuits.”
Scott’s eyes lit up. “Oh? Do tell.”
Grian groaned, setting the kettle down a little harder than necessary. “Nothing happened.”
“That’s not what your face says,” Scott replied calmly, clearly enjoying himself.
Grian sighed, rubbing at his forehead. He knew this was a losing battle. “Scar scared me. On purpose,” he added pointedly. “Like he always used to. And then,” he hesitated. “He was standing really close. That’s it.”
Scott hummed. Jimmy tilted his head.
“And that flustered you,” Jimmy said.
“Yes,” Grian snapped. “Because he surprised me. And because Scar doesn’t understand personal space.” He waved a hand vaguely. “It’s not a thing. Just Scar being Scar.”
Jimmy didn’t tease him this time. Instead, he glanced at Scott.
Scott glanced back.
The look they shared made Grian’s stomach drop.
Scott set his phone down. “Are you sure about that?”
Grian frowned. “Sure about what?”
“That it didn’t mean anything,” Scott said gently. “Scar’s usually pretty good at reading people.”
Grian’s thoughts immediately spiraled, unwanted and insistent. Scar had lingered. He had looked flustered too.
“No,” Grian said quickly. “It was nothing. I’m just overthinking because-” He cut himself off, cheeks warm. “Because I’m me.”
Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “You might want to keep an eye on him today,” he said lightly. “Just see if anything else feels off.”
Grian shot him a look. “You are not helping.”
Jimmy laughed, holding his hands up. “Hey, I said might. Pay attention, that’s all.”
Scott smiled into his mug, clearly entertained by the exchange.
Before Grian could protest further, footsteps sounded in the hallway. A door creaked open, followed by a sleepy voice.
“Is there coffee?”
Pearl appeared first, wrapped in a blanket, followed shortly by Bdubs and Impulse, all slowly waking up and filtering into the kitchen. The quiet morning dissolved into gentle chatter and clinking mugs.
The moment passed.
Conversation shifted to breakfast plans, to the ski resort, to who was going to regret waking up early later. Grian relaxed back into the rhythm of it, nodding along, laughing when appropriate.
Still, as the lodge filled with life and voices, Grian couldn’t quite shake the thought Scott had planted.
Are you sure about that?
He stole a glance toward the hallway, half-expecting Scar to appear.
And despite himself, Grian found he was paying a little more attention than he had before.
The rest of the morning unfolded in a comfortable blur.
More doors opened, more sleepy greetings echoed down the hall, and soon the lodge was alive with movement and noise. By the time they were ready to leave, the excitement was buzzing through the group.
They split up into a few cars, keys jingling and engines starting up in the snowy driveway. Grian found himself following Jimmy and Scott out to Scott’s car, Scar already hovering nearby with his hands tucked into his pockets.
“Shotgun’s taken,” Jimmy said smugly, sliding into the passenger seat.
Scott rolled his eyes as he got into the driver’s seat. “As if you’d ever let anyone else have it.”
That left the back.
Scar opened one door and paused, glancing at Grian. “You mind?”
“Not at all, go ahead,” Grian said quickly, climbing in after him. He buckled his seatbelt, painfully aware of how close their shoulders were even with the space between them.
The engine hummed to life, soft Christmas music spilling from the radio as Scott pulled onto the road. Snow-laden trees passed by the windows, sunlight catching on ice and frost. Conversation drifted easily, Jimmy talking about the resort schedule, Scott chiming in now and then, Scar occasionally adding a comment from the back.
Grian mostly listened, nodding along, letting the calm settle his nerves.
It felt normal. Comfortable.
They pulled into a small breakfast place not far from the resort, its windows fogged from warmth and the smell of food already making Grian’s stomach growl. The rest of the cars were already there, the group piling out and heading inside together in a noisy cluster.
The restaurant was cozy and crowded, holiday decorations hanging from the walls. They pushed a few tables together, menus passed around as everyone talked over one another.
Grian ended up seated across from Scar.
Orders were taken, drinks arrived, laughter filling the space as stories were shared and jokes thrown around. Everything felt easy, like it always did with this group. Familiar.
Then, between sips of tea and half-listening to Bdubs and Joel arguing about something entirely unimportant, Grian glanced up.
Scar was looking at him.
Not in the casual, friendly way Scar usually looked at everyone, but focused, like he’d been watching for a moment longer than necessary. Their eyes met.
Scar froze.
For a heartbeat, the noise around them faded. Then Scar blinked, looking away quickly and turning back to the conversation beside him like nothing had happened.
But not before Grian caught the faint pink dusting across his cheeks.
He looked back down at the table, heart thudding, thoughts spiraling faster than he could stop them. He hadn’t imagined that. Scar didn’t blush like that for no reason. And Scott and Jimmy’s words echoed in his head again.
Grian risked another glance up, but Scar was laughing now, animated and relaxed, as if the moment hadn’t existed at all.
Still, Grian couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was shifting, quietly, subtly, right under his nose.
And for the first time, he wondered if maybe his feelings weren’t as one-sided as he’d always believed.
After breakfast they all left to head to the ski resort. When they arrived, the ski resort was buzzing with energy.
Lights twinkled along the buildings, music drifted through the open air, and the sound of laughter carried across the snow. People split off in small groups, arguing cheerfully about what to do first, skiing, snow tubing, the winter market.
“Ice skating,” Pearl declared decisively. “We’re doing ice skating.”
There were a few groans, a few cheers, and then unanimous agreement.
The rink sat tucked between two buildings, strung with warm lights and surrounded by low wooden rails. Inside the skate rental area, everyone fumbled with laces and boots, some more confidently than others.
“I will fall,” Bdubs announced. “Just so we’re all emotionally prepared.”
“You’ll be fine,” Impulse said. “Probably.”
Grian stepped onto the ice carefully, arms slightly out for balance. It took a moment to adjust, but soon enough he was gliding along, laughter bubbling up as people immediately started slipping, grabbing at each other, and dramatically flailing.
Scar, unsurprisingly, skated with reckless enthusiasm.
He attempted something that might generously be described as a spin and nearly wiped out, catching himself at the last second.
“That was intentional,” Scar said, laughing.
Grian laughed too, pushing off to follow, only to feel his skate slip unexpectedly. His balance faltered, the world tilting just enough to make his stomach drop.
Before he could fully panic, a hand caught his arm.
Scar steadied him instinctively, skates digging into the ice as he pulled Grian back upright. “Whoa, I got you.”
Grian’s hands landed against Scar’s jacket, their momentum bringing them closer than necessary. They both laughed, breath fogging in the cold air.
“Thanks,” Grian said, still smiling. “I swear I’m better than that.”
Scar grinned. “Sure you are. I’ll just have to keep an eye on you.”
He didn’t let go.
Grian became acutely aware of it, the way Scar’s hand stayed firm on his arm, the other at his waist, the easy warmth of him despite the cold. Scar’s laughter softened as his gaze lingered, eyes flicking from Grian’s face… then lower, just for a second too long.
Grian’s heart stumbled.
Scar cleared his throat abruptly and let go, skating backward a step. “Balance restored.”
Both of them were blushing now, faint but unmistakable.
“Yeah,” Grian said, hoping his voice sounded normal. “All good.”
They rejoined the flow of skaters like nothing had happened, but Grian could still feel the ghost of Scar’s hand, like it hadn’t quite faded yet.
He didn’t notice Scott watching from the rail until Scar skated off again.
“Interesting,” Scott said mildly, gliding up beside Grian.
Grian groaned. “You saw that.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Scott replied, smiling. “You two are terrible at being subtle.”
Before Grian could respond, Jimmy’s voice cut across the rink.
“Scar! Race you to the other side!”
Scar turned instantly, grin sharp and competitive. “You’re on.”
They took off, skates cutting fast and clean across the ice, the group immediately erupting into cheers and shouted commentary.
Scott nudged Grian lightly. “So,” he said, “still convinced it’s nothing?”
Grian watched Scar laugh as he raced Jimmy, chest tight but warm. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.
Scott smiled, satisfied.
They joined the others in laughing and placing mock bets, the rink alive with noise and joy. Grian cheered as Jimmy nearly wiped out on a turn, laughed when Scar barely edged ahead at the end.
But even as the fun carried on, Grian couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted again, small, fragile, but undeniably there.
And this time, he wasn’t sure he wanted to dismiss it.
The rest of the day unfolded in a rush of cold air, bright snow, and shared laughter.
After ice skating, the group migrated toward the ski lifts, helmets and goggles pulled on with varying degrees of competence. Grian wasn’t the best skier, but he wasn’t terrible either, and that was enough to keep him moving alongside everyone else without incident. Mostly.
At one point, BigB confidently announced, “I’ve got this,” before immediately taking a wrong turn and vanishing into a bank of powder. The silence that followed lasted exactly two seconds before Gem burst out laughing.
“Oh no,” she said, clutching Grian’s arm as she wheezed. “Did he just-?”
BigB popped back up, snow-dusted and indignant. “I meant to do that.”
“That’s what Scar said earlier too,” Grian replied, grinning.
Gem laughed even harder, nearly losing her balance. “I love this group.”
They spent hours like that, skiing in loose clusters, stopping to warm up with hot drinks, regrouping whenever someone inevitably fell or took the wrong path. Joel attempted tricks he absolutely should not have attempted. Bdubs cheered him on anyway. Martyn filmed everything, narrating like it was a nature documentary.
Through it all, Grian felt light.
Every so often, he’d catch Scar looking his way, never for long, never obvious. Just a glance here, a brief smile there. Each time, Grian pretended not to notice, even though his chest fluttered a little whenever it happened.
Nothing crossed any lines. Nothing changed.
And yet, it felt like something was quietly being built between the laughter and the snow.
As the sun dipped lower, painting the slopes in soft gold, the group gathered again, cheeks flushed and voices hoarse from the cold and constant talking. They shared stories from the day, exaggerating near-misses and spectacular falls like they were legendary feats.
Grian listened more than he spoke, smiling easily, warmth settling deep in his chest. This was what mattered. Friends, shared memories, a day that felt full in the best way.
When they finally got back toward the lodge, tired and happy, Grian glanced around at the group, Gem chatting animatedly with Pearl, BigB still brushing snow from his jacket, Jimmy laughing loudly at something Scott said.
Scar walked a few steps ahead, hands tucked into his pockets, humming quietly to himself.
Grian smiled, letting the moment linger.
Whatever questions lingered in his mind, he didn’t need answers tonight.
For now, it was enough to be here, surrounded by people he cared about, carrying a day’s worth of joy with him as the winter sky deepened overhead.
No one went inside right away.
Skizz declared that it would be a waste not to play in the snow, and suddenly everyone was scattering across the open area in front of the lodge. Gloves went back on, coats were zipped, and laughter filled the air almost immediately.
Scott and Pearl claimed a spot near the steps, carefully sculpting a snowman with far more intention than necessary.
“He needs structure,” Pearl insisted, patting the snow into place.
“He needs style,” Scott countered, adjusting what looked like a scarf around the snowman’s neck. “He’s festive.”
Nearby, Scar and Jimmy were deep in concentration, trying, and failing, to build something taller than themselves.
“This would be going better if you’d stop knocking it over,” Jimmy said.
“I am improving it,” Scar replied, immediately causing the top half to slump sideways.
Skizz, meanwhile, had constructed what could only loosely be described as a fort, a boxy shape with a slanted half-roof that looked like it might collapse if someone sneezed too hard.
Others were scattered around the area, some building half-hearted snow sculptures, some sitting on the lodge steps wrapped in blankets, sipping hot cocoa and chatting as they watched the chaos unfold.
Grian had started on a snowman with Joel, the two of them packing snow and arguing over proportions.
As he pressed snow into place, his thoughts drifted, unhelpfully, back to Scar. To the kitchen prank. To the teasing from Jimmy. To the way Scar had looked at him earlier that day.
A grin slowly spread across Grian’s face.
“Oh,” he said suddenly, straightening up. “I’ve got an idea.”
Joel’s eyes lit up immediately. “I like that tone.”
Grian leaned in, lowering his voice. “We start a snowball fight.”
Joel didn’t hesitate. “I’m listening.”
“Jimmy and Scar,” Grian continued. “First targets.”
Joel laughed. “Absolutely.”
They abandoned the snowman without a second thought and quickly built a low snow wall nearby, packing it down just enough to serve as a shield. Behind it, they formed a neat pile of snowballs, hands moving fast and efficiently.
Grian grabbed one, testing its weight.
“On three,” Joel whispered.
Across the clearing, Jimmy was mid-sentence, gesturing wildly as Scar tried to fix their collapsing structure.
“One,” Grian said quietly.
“Two.”
“Three.”
They popped up at the same time and threw.
Both snowballs hit their targets perfectly, one smacking Jimmy square in the shoulder, the other bursting against Scar’s chest.
There was a split second of stunned silence.
“Oh, it is on,” Jimmy shouted.
Scar laughed, already scooping up snow. “Traitors!”
Snowballs flew almost instantly. Jimmy and Scar retaliated, Skizz ducked behind his fort and began launching snow with alarming accuracy, and within moments the entire clearing erupted into chaos.
Pearl shrieked as a snowball narrowly missed her, retaliating immediately. Scott abandoned the snowman with a dramatic sigh and joined in. Even those who’d been sitting on the steps jumped up, laughing as they grabbed handfuls of snow and joined the fray.
Grian laughed so hard his sides hurt, ducking behind the wall as snow sailed overhead. He popped back up to throw another, Joel being chased across the clearing as Jimmy shouted mock threats behind them.
Snow crunched underfoot, laughter echoed through the trees, and for a while, nothing else mattered.
It was messy, cold, ridiculous, and perfect.
The snowball fight burned itself out the way all good ones did, everyone far more exhausted than they wanted to admit.
One by one, people dropped out, hands raised in surrender, laughter turning breathless as they leaned against each other or collapsed into the snow. Grian ended up hunched over near the steps, trying to catch his breath while Joel dramatically flopped beside him.
“I’ve been taken out,” Joel declared. “Tell my story.”
“You were hit by three snowballs and tripped over your own feet,” Grian said, grinning.
“A heroic end.”
Eventually, Scott herded everyone back inside before anyone froze. Wet coats were shed by the door, gloves draped over radiators, boots kicked off in uneven piles. The lodge filled quickly with warmth again, fire crackling, music playing softly, the smell of food drifting from the kitchen.
Dinner was loud and cozy. People squeezed around the table or perched on counters, sharing plates and retelling the snowball fight like it had been a legendary battle. Scar exaggerated dramatically about being “ambushed,” Jimmy pointed accusingly at Grian from across the room, and Skizz insisted his fort had been “structurally sound.”
Afterward, the night mellowed into something softer.
As the fire burned low and the energy in the room quieted, Skizz stretched and yawned loudly. “Alright,” he said. “Before everyone disappears for the night, same plan tomorrow?”
Scott nodded. “There’s still a bunch we didn’t do.”
“Snow tubing,” Pearl added. “And that market we didn’t get to.”
“And more skiing,” Gem said easily, looking around the room. “I’m not done embarrassing myself yet.”
That earned a chorus of agreement and laughter.
“Back to the resort, then,” Jimmy declared. “One more full day.”
Grian smiled, warmth spreading through his chest as he looked around at the group, tired, happy, comfortable. “Sounds perfect.”
The night wound down not long after that. People filtered off to their rooms, exchanging quiet goodnights. Grian lingered by the fire for a moment before heading to his room, the lodge calm and peaceful once more.
As he crawled into bed later, muscles sore and heart full, Grian stared up at the ceiling and let himself smile.
Tomorrow promised more laughter, more snow, more memories.
Wrapped in that hopeful certainty, sleep came easily, and before it felt like any time had passed at all, morning was already there.
Grian barely remembered getting out of bed before he was already sitting at the table, half-awake, listening to overlapping conversations and the clink of cutlery. Breakfast was loud and cheerful, plans being tossed around between bites, everyone eager to squeeze as much fun as possible out of their last full day.
Before he knew it, coats were back on and they were piling into cars again, laughter spilling out into the cold air as they headed back to the resort.
The day unfolded much like the one before, full of movement and noise and joy. They split up and regrouped constantly, trying new activities, teasing each other relentlessly. Grian went tubing with Gem and Pearl, screamed the entire way down, and laughed so hard afterward his face hurt. He skied again with the others, spent too much money at a hot drink stall, and nearly collided with Joel at one point, which became the subject of endless jokes.
Scar was everywhere, laughing, gesturing wildly, warm and bright as always.
And every time Grian caught sight of him, his chest tightened just a little.
By noon, Grian found himself sitting on a low wooden bench near the edge of the resort, fiddling with his gloves while Scott leaned beside him, sipping from a paper cup.
“You’ve been quiet,” Scott said lightly.
Grian huffed out a breath. “Have I?”
“Mhm,” Scott replied. “Which usually means you’re thinking too much.”
Grian hesitated, then nodded. “I think I like him too much,” he admitted quietly. “And I think I’m making it worse by pretending I don’t.”
Scott smiled softly. “You’re not very good at pretending.”
Grian snorted. “Neither is Scar.”
Scott glanced toward the slopes where Scar was skating along with Jimmy and Skizz. “Exactly.”
Grian frowned. “You really think he might feel the same?”
Scott shrugged, casual but sincere. “Based on how he’s been around you? Yeah. And Jimmy’s mentioned it too. He thinks Scar’s been acting weird for a while now.”
That made Grian’s heart stumble. “Jimmy said that?”
“He did,” Scott confirmed. “More than once.”
Grian stared down at the snow, thoughts racing. The idea felt terrifying and fragile, and suddenly very real.
“Maybe,” Grian said slowly, “maybe I should just tell him. Get it over with.”
Scott’s smile widened. “I think that’s a great idea.”
“What if I ruin everything?”
“Then you’ll still be honest,” Scott said gently. “And I don’t think Scar’s the kind of person who’d let that ruin anything.”
Grian nodded, nerves buzzing under his skin. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
The rest of the day passed in a strange haze after that. Grian laughed and talked and joined in like normal, but a part of his mind was always searching, watching for the right moment. When Scar wandered too close, Grian chickened out. When they were alone for half a second, someone else inevitably appeared.
Eventually, they all drifted toward the winter market area of the resort.
The space was cozy and colorful, stalls packed close together, lights strung overhead, the air filled with the smell of sugar and spice. Everyone spread out almost immediately, drawn toward different booths, ornaments, handmade scarves, little craft stations where people were painting or carving gifts.
This was it.
Grian scanned the crowd until he spotted Scar a short distance away, standing near one of the booths with Skizz. Grian headed in their direction, then slowed, stopping behind a nearby stall when he heard his name.
He hadn’t meant to listen. Truly.
But once he heard it, he couldn’t stop.
“So,” Skizz was saying, voice teasing but curious, “you and Grian, what’s going on there? Are you two dating or what?”
Grian’s heart leapt painfully into his throat.
Scar laughed softly, but it sounded nervous. “No. I can’t date him.”
The words landed like a punch.
Grian’s breath caught, heat flooding his face as his stomach dropped. He didn’t wait to hear more, didn’t stay long enough to catch the hesitation in Scar’s voice, or the reason that followed.
He turned away quietly, slipping back into the crowd, keeping his head down so no one would notice.
I can’t date him.
Of course.
Embarrassment burned hot and sharp in his chest, right alongside the ache. He’d really let himself believe, just for a moment, that maybe Scar felt the same. That all those glances and closeness meant something more.
Clearly, he’d been wrong.
Grian forced his breathing to steady as he wandered past stalls he no longer cared about, the excitement of the market dulling into background noise. He told himself it was fine. Better to know now than later. Better to be disappointed quietly than to say something he couldn’t take back.
Still, the thought lingered, heavy and painful.
He’d been ready to confess.
And now, all he could do was carry the weight of words he would never say.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a strange, careful balance.
Grian laughed when he was supposed to laugh. He joined conversations, helped Gem pick out a gift, let Joel drag him into one last activity he didn’t even remember agreeing to. On the outside, he was fine, smiling, joking, moving along with the group like nothing had changed.
On the inside, Scar’s words replayed over and over.
I can’t date him.
Every quiet moment gave them space to echo. On the lift ride, waiting in line, walking between booths when no one was talking to him directly. Grian kept telling himself not to dwell on it, not to spiral, but the disappointment sat heavy in his chest, dull and persistent.
Still, he managed to have fun. He laughed hard enough a few times that it surprised him, and for brief moments, the ache loosened its grip.
Scar seemed normal. Laughing with Jimmy, chatting with Joel, moving through the group with the same warmth as always. If anything, it made things worse. It made it easier for Grian to believe he’d imagined everything.
By the time they headed back to the lodge, the sky had begun to darken again, the world lit by strings of lights. Everyone was tired but buzzing, voices overlapping as they piled inside, boots kicked off and coats hung up in familiar places.
The lodge filled with laughter almost immediately.
Grian stayed near the edges of it.
He gravitated toward Gem, lingered in conversations just long enough to be polite, and quietly avoided wherever Scar happened to be. It wasn’t dramatic or obvious, just small adjustments. Taking a seat across the room instead of beside him. Leaving a conversation a little earlier than usual.
Scar noticed anyway.
At one point, he wandered over while Grian was refilling his drink. “Hey,” Scar said, easy as ever. “You good? You’ve been kinda hard to pin down today.”
Grian’s chest tightened. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said quickly, offering a small smile. “Just tired, I think. Long day.”
Scar tilted his head, clearly unconvinced but not pushing. “Right. Yeah. Makes sense.”
Grian nodded, then gestured vaguely toward the kitchen. “I promised Pearl I’d help with something. Catch you later?”
“Sure,” Scar said, stepping back to give him space. “Later.”
Grian slipped away before the conversation could stretch any further, heart pounding harder than it should have.
A little while later, Scar left the living room to help Skizz with something. The moment he was gone, Grian felt the tension in his shoulders spike.
Now.
He cleared his throat. “Hey, um,” he said, raising his voice just enough to be heard. “I was thinking of driving into town real quick. We’re running low on tea bags, does anyone need anything?”
Bdubs perked up immediately. “Gummy bears.”
Grian nodded automatically. “Yeah, sure.”
Jimmy frowned from the couch. “We still have tea.”
Grian didn’t meet his eyes. “I know, I just wanted a different flavor.”
Jimmy studied him for a long second. He knew that tone. Knew that deflection. Grian could practically feel the skepticism radiating off him.
But Jimmy didn’t call him out.
Instead, he sighed and nodded. “Alright. Just drive safe, yeah?”
“Always,” Grian said quickly.
He grabbed his keys before anyone else could question him further, pulling on his coat and slipping his shoes back on. The cold air outside hit him like a shock as he stepped off the porch, snow crunching beneath his feet.
Grian glanced back at the warmly lit windows of the lodge for just a moment, then turned away, climbing into his car and pulling the door shut.
The road out of the lodge was quiet, lined with snow-dusted trees that glowed softly in the fading afternoon light. The sky had shifted into that gentle gradient of winter sunset, pale blue melting into soft pinks and golds, bright enough that headlights weren’t really necessary yet.
Grian drove with the window cracked just slightly, letting the cold air rush in. It helped clear his head.
He hadn’t realized how much he needed the space until now, until the lodge, the noise, and Scar’s presence were miles behind him. Alone in the car, with nothing but the hum of the engine and the quiet music playing low on the radio, his thoughts finally had room to settle.
He wasn’t angry. Or even truly upset.
Just embarrassed. And maybe a little sad.
He’d been so close to saying something. Had let himself believe, hope, that there might be something there. Hearing Scar say he couldn’t date him had snapped that hope in half before it ever had the chance to become real.
Grian sighed, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel.
He knew there had always been a risk. He’d accepted that long ago. So why did it still feel like this? Why did his chest feel heavy, like something important had slipped through his fingers without him ever holding it?
Because he’d almost said it, he realized. Almost let himself be vulnerable. And now he didn’t have to.
In a strange way, that was a relief.
If Scar didn’t feel the same, then nothing had to change. No awkward conversations. No strained smiles. No risk of ruining the easy, familiar thing they already had. Grian could tuck his feelings away again, where they’d been for years, and things would go back to normal.
He told himself that was for the best.
By the time he pulled into the small shop’s parking lot, the sky had deepened into soft amber hues, the snow reflecting the last light of day. The shop was warm and quiet inside, the bell above the door chiming as he stepped in.
He grabbed tea, several boxes this time, different flavors like he’d claimed, and a bag of gummy bears for Bdubs. Standing in the checkout line, he felt lighter than he had all afternoon. Not fixed. Not perfectly fine.
But steadier.
The drive back felt calmer. His thoughts didn’t race the same way anymore, the knot in his chest loosened just enough to breathe around. He knew the heaviness might linger for a while, but that was okay. He could handle it.
The road stretched on, trees thinning as the town disappeared behind him. He was somewhere in that quiet middle space now, not close enough to the lodge to see its lights, but far enough that the small shop felt like a distant memory. Snow began to drift down again, light at first, dusting the road in a soft white layer.
Then the car sputtered.
Grian frowned, easing off the gas. “No, no, no…” he muttered, coaxing the steering wheel like it might listen. The engine coughed once more before giving up entirely, the dashboard lights blinking on as the car rolled to an unhelpful stop on the shoulder.
He sat there for a second, staring out at the falling snow.
“Fantastic.”
The snowstorm wasn’t terrible, nothing dramatic, but it was enough to be a problem. Enough to mean he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Grian pulled out his phone and called Jimmy, explaining the situation as calmly as he could.
There was a pause on the other end.
“Don’t worry,” Jimmy said. “Stay put. I’ll send someone.”
Grian didn’t ask who. He already had a sinking feeling.
Sure enough, about ten minutes later, headlights cut through the snow. A familiar truck pulled over in front of him, hazard lights blinking warmly against the darkening sky.
Scar.
Grian swallowed and stepped out of his car, cold immediately biting at his face. Scar hopped down from the truck, bundled up and smiling in that easy, familiar way.
“Hey! Jimmy said you were stranded,” Scar said, concern flickering behind his usual brightness. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Grian replied quickly, forcing a smile. “The car just decided today was the day.”
Scar chuckled softly. “Cars love doing that.” He paused, studying Grian for just a moment longer than necessary, like he was trying to read something unsaid. “Let’s take a look.”
Grian hovered nearby as Scar worked, holding a flashlight, passing tools when asked. He tried to keep things light, tried to act normal, and for the most part it worked, at least on the surface. Still, he could feel Scar’s glances, brief and thoughtful, like he’d noticed the shift in Grian’s energy but wasn’t sure what to make of it.
The snow began to fall heavier as Scar finished tightening the last thing under the hood.
“That should do it,” Scar said, wiping his hands on a rag. He glanced at the sky, then back at the road. “But… I don’t love this weather.”
Grian followed his gaze. The snow had picked up, wind pushing it sideways now.
“We could wait it out a bit,” Scar continued. “Might be safer. I’ve got a blanket in the truck.”
The thought made Grian hesitate, being alone with Scar, like this, for who knew how long. His chest tightened, but the cold cut through the hesitation quickly.
“Yeah,” he said, hoping it sounded casual. “That’s probably smart.”
They climbed into the back of Scar’s truck, the door thudding shut behind them and muting the storm outside. Scar grabbed the blanket and immediately draped it around Grian’s shoulders.
“Here,” he said. “You’re freezing.”
Grian shook his head, fingers clutching the edge of the fabric. “You need to stay warm too.”
Scar paused, then smiled softly. “Guess we’ll share, then.”
They settled shoulder-to-shoulder beneath the blanket, the space between them closing naturally. Their breaths fogged faintly in the cold air, warmth slowly building where they touched. Grian kept his gaze firmly on the opposite window, heart beating just a little too loud.
Snow clung to his hair, melting slowly.
Without thinking, Scar reached out, gently brushing the snowflakes away, fingers lingering for half a second too long.
Grian stiffened slightly, then relaxed, still refusing to meet Scar’s eyes, afraid of what he might see there, and what it might make him feel.
The truck idled softly, snow tapping against the windows in a steady rhythm. Neither of them spoke for a while.
Grian stared ahead, watching the flakes blur together, his thoughts drifting despite himself. Scar had come so quickly, almost immediately after Jimmy must’ve told him. Of course he did, Grian reasoned. Scar was like that.
The cold seeped in again, sneaking beneath the blanket. Grian shivered before he could stop himself.
Scar noticed instantly.
Without a word, Scar shifted closer and gently took Grian’s hands in his, enclosing them fully. His palms were warm, steady. It was such a simple gesture, practical even, but Grian’s face burned anyway, heat rushing up his neck. He kept his gaze stubbornly fixed on the window, refusing to look.
Scar’s thumbs brushed lightly over Grian’s knuckles.
The silence stretched again, thicker now.
Then Scar spoke. “You know… you’ve been different since this afternoon.”
Grian’s breath caught.
Scar tilted his head, trying to catch Grian’s eyes. “You won’t look at me and you keep disappearing. Did I do something?”
Grian shook his head quickly. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m just tired. Long day, that’s all.”
Scar didn’t answer right away. His grip didn’t loosen either.
“Grian,” he said gently. “That’s not it.”
Grian swallowed. He hadn’t meant to be obvious. He thought he was doing a decent job pretending everything was fine. The realization that Scar had noticed anyway made his chest tighten.
He sighed, shoulders slumping. “It’s stupid.”
Scar’s voice softened even more. “Try me.”
There was nowhere left to hide.
Grian took a shaky breath. “I like you,” he said quietly. The words felt unreal once spoken, hanging fragile between them. “I have for years. I was actually going to tell you today.”
Scar stilled completely.
“But then earlier,” Grian continued, rushing now, afraid he’d lose the courage if he stopped, “I overheard you talking to Skizz. You said you couldn’t date me, and I didn’t stay to hear why. I just assumed it was because I’m Jimmy’s brother. Or because you don’t see me like that. And I felt stupid for even thinking you might.”
His voice dropped. “So I figured it was better not to say anything at all.”
Embarrassment burned hot as he finished. Grian turned his face away again, trying to pull his hands back, suddenly too aware of how close they were.
Scar didn’t let go.
Instead, Scar shifted, lifting one hand from their joined grip to gently cup Grian’s jaw. His touch was careful, almost reverent, guiding Grian’s face back toward him.
Grian’s eyes finally met his.
Whatever he saw there stole the breath from his lungs, softness, warmth, and something unmistakably real.
“I said I couldn’t date you,” Scar said quietly, “because I didn’t know how Jimmy would feel about it. Not because I don’t want to.”
Grian barely had time to process the words before Scar leaned in and kissed him.
It was slow and tender, a question and an answer all at once. A confession made without words.
Grian froze for half a heartbeat, then his hands tightened in Scar’s, and he kissed back, heart racing, the cold forgotten entirely.
The kiss lingered, soft and unhurried, like neither of them wanted to be the first to pull away. Scar’s hand stayed warm against Grian’s jaw, thumb brushing gently along his cheek as if grounding them both in the moment.
When they finally parted, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the small space beneath the blanket.
Grian laughed softly, a breathless, disbelieving sound. “You like me?”
Scar smiled, the kind that reached his eyes. “Yeah,” he said simply. “Have for a while. Guess we’re both pretty good at overthinking.”
Grian’s face warmed all over again, but this time it was different, lighter. “I thought I ruined everything,” he admitted. “I thought you’d never see me as anything other than Jimmy’s brother.”
Scar’s expression softened. “You’re not just that,” he said, gently. “You never have been.”
Snow continued to fall outside, muffling the world until it felt like they were the only two people in it. Scar’s thumb traced small, absent patterns along Grian’s jaw, then dropped to lace their fingers together again.
“So,” Scar said quietly, a hint of nervousness creeping in now, “when we get back… do you want to tell Jimmy together? Or do you want me to be brave and face him alone?”
Grian snorted softly. “Please. He’s going to be insufferable about this either way.”
Scar laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Fair.”
The storm began to ease, the wind dying down to a gentle hush. Outside, the road slowly reappeared beneath a thinner veil of snow.
Scar glanced toward the windshield. “Looks like we might be good to head back soon.”
Grian nodded, still not letting go of Scar’s hand. “Yeah. Just give me another second.”
Scar squeezed his fingers. “Take all the seconds you want.”
They sat there a moment longer, wrapped in shared warmth, the weight that had been sitting in Grian’s chest all day finally lifting, replaced by something steadier, brighter.
When they did pull away to head back, Grian knew one thing for certain:
This weekend had changed everything.
The drive back to the lodge felt completely different.
The snowstorm had faded into a light dusting, the road clear enough to travel safely now. Grian followed behind Scar’s truck, headlights cutting through the quiet evening, his thoughts no longer heavy but buzzing, warm, bright, almost unreal.
When they pulled into the lodge’s parking area, both vehicles came to a stop near each other. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Grian stepped out first, the cold air sharp against his face. Scar joined him a second later, the lodge lights glowing behind them. They stood there, hands tucked into sleeves, just looking at each other. Smiling in that slightly stunned, giddy way that felt brand new.
Scar broke the silence with a grin. “So,” he said lightly, “how do you think Jimmy’s going to react?”
Grian laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly? I’m pretty sure he and Scott already have a bet going about how long it’d take me to confess.”
Scar blinked. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish,” Grian said. “He’s always known I liked you. He just… didn’t know you felt the same.”
Scar shook his head, laughing softly. “Wow. I’ve been underestimated.”
They stood there a moment longer, smiles lingering, the cold forgotten again. Grian leaned in first this time, and Scar met him halfway, their kiss easy and familiar, less nervous, more certain.
They barely had time to pull apart before they heard a gasp.
Both of them froze.
Grian turned just in time to see Jimmy standing a few feet away, one hand over his mouth in the most dramatic display imaginable. Scott stood beside him, arms crossed, absolutely thrilled.
“Oh my god,” Jimmy said, pointing between them. “I knew it.”
Scott laughed. “Pay up.”
Scar’s jaw dropped. “You actually had a bet?”
Jimmy grinned. “Oh, 100%. Scott said before the trip ended. I said before Christmas.”
Grian groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t believe this.”
Jimmy stepped forward, dropping the theatrics just enough to sling an arm around Grian’s shoulders, then turning to Scar with mock seriousness. “Now listen here,” he said, wagging a finger. “If you hurt my brother-”
Scar held up his hands, smiling. “I’ll treat him right. I promise.”
Jimmy studied him for half a second, then broke into a grin. “Yeah, I know you will.”
The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and warmth. The group celebrated with cocoa and blankets piled high in the living room, teasing Grian endlessly while Scar took it all in stride, never once letting go of Grian’s hand.
By the end of the trip, it felt natural.
Sharing blankets on the couch. Sitting a little closer than before, Grian leaning into Scar without thinking. Smiles that lingered. Blushes that came easier.
The lodge was filled with joy, the kind that stayed long after the lights dimmed and the trip came to an end.
When it was finally time to leave, no one rushed. Boots were pulled on slowly, scarves adjusted twice, goodbyes stretched longer than necessary. Outside, the snow sparkled under the pale morning light, untouched and calm, like it was reluctant to let them go too.
Grian lingered near the lodge steps, hands tucked into Scar’s sleeves as if letting go might make the whole weekend vanish. Scar smiled, warm and certain, and leaned down just enough to press a soft, unhurried kiss to Grian’s lips, nothing dramatic, just quiet and real, the kind that felt like a promise. The teasing cheers from the others only made them laugh, foreheads resting together for a moment longer before they finally pulled apart.
The ride home was quieter, but lighter. Messages were already being sent before the cars were out of the driveway, plans for calls that night, dates penciled in for the next weekend, talk of who would visit who first. Distance suddenly felt manageable when it came with something to look forward to.
Back in their separate homes, nothing faded. If anything, it grew stronger. They carried the trip with them in small ways: inside jokes that sparked laughter at random moments, photos shared late at night, countdowns to the next time they’d see each other.
And whenever the days felt long or the world a little too loud, Grian only had to think of snow-covered mornings, shared laughter, and that goodbye kiss in the cold air. This wasn’t an ending at all, it was the start of something happy, steady, and unmistakably theirs.