Chapter Text
“Papers, please.”
Scar nodded, handing over his passport and the necessary papers. The flight from New York to Yorkshire was a long flight, but with the necessary podcasts, he could make it enjoyable.
“All good to go, sir. Go on through.” She handed his papers back, and he walked through to the plane.
The fluorescent lights buzzed, and the gentle chattering of families, couples, and friends filled the compact tunnel.
Reaching his row, he pushed the luggage into the compartment above him, and sat down in the seat closest to the aisle. Almost as soon as he could get comfortable, a mother and her child of 6, maybe 7, years of age appeared beside him.
“Hi! Mind if we come through?” Wavy orange hair flowed down to their hips, wearing eccentric clothing, in the style of a hippie's. Piercings and tattoos decorated their skin.
The child was grasping her hand tightly, looking between the two adults.
“Of course, of course, here, I'll just–” Scar stood up, then promptly sat back down after allowing them to take their seats.
“Cleo, nice to meet ya! This is Bdubs, my one and only child. We’re going to visit our extended family for Christmas. You?”
Scar accepted her extended hand.
“Scar. I’m going to visit my friend Mumbo in Yorkshire for a month until university resumes. I teach art.” He wasn’t used to talking with strangers, but it was best to be friendly, in fear that if he wasn’t, the atmosphere would be tense for the rest of the flight.
“That’s nice! I took a course in botany, but never got to put it to good use,” Cleo pulled out a packet of salted peanuts, “Want some?”
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Scar stood up, grabbed his luggage and said his goodbyes to the mother and son.
Once he was out of the plane, Scar navigated his way through the familiar route of the airport, until he was at the main entrance.
While waiting, Scar decided to enter the gift shop, scouring a few items he thought were both Mumbo and his friends back in his countryside town. For Mumbo, a small manual music player and a packet of strawberry gumdrops. Impulse, Skizz, and Tango got a small packet of candy or chocolates, and small plane figurines.
After paying the cashier, he headed over to the vending machine for a soda pop. He eyed the colorful options, then fiddled with the buttons a little before getting the can he wanted.
“Scar?”
He jumped, feeling a lean hand on his shoulder, before turning around.
“Mumbo!” Scar slung the paper bag over his arm, embracing him as tightly as one could.
Mumbo was slightly taller, but Scar was most definitely more muscular. After a few moments, Mumbo pulled away and placed his hands on Scar’s shoulders.
“How was the flight? I hope it wasn’t too bad!” He was beaming at being able to see his best friend, even though they talked every day.
“It was fine! I met this friendly person and their son on the flight, her name’s Cleo. She’s seeing family. But, other than that, it was peaceful!"
They hugged again, this time for a slightly shorter time, as Mumbo wanted Scar to get home quickly so he could have enough rest for the next day.
“I got you something from the gift shop! I also brought some trinkets from America I think you’d like!” The two of them walked through the airport together, Mumbo updating Scar on his life and vice versa. When they reached the car park, Scar was joyed to see the old car running on its last legs.
“You still have it! I honestly thought that you’d replace it ever since it stopped in the middle of the motorway.”
“Never! She’s my pride and beauty!”
The ride back was it’s usual. Friendly banter, awe of the flower fields, and even more updates on both of their lives.
On the outside, Mumbo’s place was a more modern style, with a few plantations sprouting here and there. A two story building, the first floor being the recognizable redstone store.
The inside had a collection of books going into extreme detail about the engineering and implications of redstone. Most heroes, and one or two villains, came here as they knew their information would be private, the engineering genius valued customers over work. Most citizens also came for work on their prosthetics, or general trinkets. Mumbo could really do anything.
When they arrived inside Mumbo’s apartment floor, Scar was surprised to see a new roommate with him. It wasn’t usual for Mumbo to share living spaces, after all, they’d stayed in separate dorms during their college courses.
The way he could tell was by the extra coat on the hanger, a small pair of shoes compared to Mumbo’s, and the sound of clattering on the inside.
“Hey G! Scar’s here, you know, the one I went to uni with!” He called.
A small head popped out from the corner, and the avian walked over to the two.
The golden brown hair on him covered the red, yellow, and blue wings, with the ones on his back folded neatly on his back. He wore a rolled red sweater and gray pants, with a white apron, and his arms covered in clay.
He was a curious creature, eyes darting around, but always returning to where Scar stood.
“Grian. Nice to…” He extended a clay encased hand, before taking it back and just nodding briefly.
“Scar, nice to meet you too!” He nodded in response, watching the avian. In the corner of his view, he could see Mumbo fidgeting. Not out of nervousness, but more for habit.
“I’ve still got the spare bedroom for you, clean and everything! I’ll meet you in the kitchen when you’re ready. Chicken fajitas for dinner tonight.” The three of them then walked into the lounge, before going their separate ways. Grian, to his pottery, Mumbo, to his kitchen, and Scar to the room.
It was the same and the years before that, a blue-tinted bed, with two bedside drawers, a wardrobe next to a bookshelf with books, trinkets, photos, and pottery on it. On another wall there was a circular window, letting the light blaze through.
He didn’t bother unpacking yet. His muscles ached, his brain was foggy, and all he could do was sleep.
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The soft texture of the cotton blanket wrapped around him made Scar cling tighter to the embrace of sleep. Wearingly opening his eyes, Scar noticed how the sun was now a dusk, a hint of midnight blue in his room. Chicken fajita wafted in from the kitchen, seeping in under the closed door. He was suddenly aware of how dry his mouth was.
Scar glanced towards his suitcase, sighed, and decided to start unpacking everything for the month ahead.
Once he’d sorted everything into the different materials per drawer, he picked out a pair of pajamas, shut the closet door, and got changed. Scar looked at himself at the mirror placed in the corner, and slightly admired the choice of deep green on this day.
Scar picked up his cane and left his room. He pulled up behind Mumbo and peered over to see the stove.
“Mmm, smells good Mumbo! When will it be ready?”
“Soon! I’ve got to finish seasoning and it’ll be ready!”
Scar watched as Mumbo expertly seasoned and organized the food into separate bowls. He saw how focused he was, admiring the expertise.
He walked over to the dining table in the center of the room, and found himself curious at the avian’s movements.
He moved…erratically, but it seemed as though Grian constantly knew what he was doing. Moving the pottery by the window to let it dry, removing the litter, cleaning up the clay stains. Scar was caught looking at him by Mumbo, who waved a hand in front of his face.
“Uhh…earth to Scar? Hello? You’ve been staring at Grian quite intensely for the past few eh, minutes.”
Scar snapped his eyes away, flushing and his ears pointing down.
“Sorry.” He muttered sheepishly.
Mumbo called Grian over, and the avian removed his clay stained apron, set it on the window sill, and walked to the table.
“This looks fab, Mumbo! You’ve really outdone yourself here.” Grian stated.
The two grinned at the chef, and together they dined in peace, gentle chatter between them.
“So, you moved in around 3 months ago, right Grian?” Scar inquired, which got Grian to look up from his fajita which he seemed far too interested in.
“I..yes, I’ve got a pottery store next door, and Mumbo and I decided to have a coffee together and we just became close friends.”
“Not as close as Mumbo and I.” He grimaced.
The air tensed. Mumbo glanced at Scar, Grian stopped mid-bite through his fajita.
Scar was aware of every breath he took, every blink, and each movement of his hands. He was also unnaturally aware of the other twos. Nervous tics, like a shaking of the leg or picking of their nails.
“Did I mention how good these are? I remember making you some back when we graduated together, but I’d burnt the chicken, over-seasoned the veggies and got the wrong type of bread!” He tried to laugh, but it came out forced.
Mumbo forcefully chuckled, but his shoulders seemed to loosen.
“Yeah, I-I remember that. You were so proud of yourself too, until you tried it and almost threw up.”
The atmosphere loosened a bit, and soon they all got back to talking about their high school sweethearts and their childhoods.
Scar took the dishes, and washed them up, allowing the two hosts to retire to their rooms early. He’d already thanked Mumbo for making such a fabulous dish, but thanked him once more when he was leaving.
“No problem, it’s my pleasure. Good night, Scar.”
“Mumbo.”
He turned around, facing Scar.
“Sorry for what I said, you know me. My mouth tends to slip–”
“It’s all good, Scar. Night.”
“Goodnight.”
Then he was alone, the washing-up liquid creating bubbles, which swiftly flowed down the drain, just like the life he was promised years ago.
Scrub scrub scrub.
One more promise, gone.
Clink.
One more friend lost over a petty romance.
“Scar?”
He jumped at the voice, looking up, expecting to see Mumbo in his sleepwear, but instead received an avian looking up at him from the hallway.
“The soaps getting everywhere.” The soap was indeed flowing over the sink, getting onto the marble counter.
“Hmm? Oh no no no no..” He scrambled to turn off the tap, grab a cloth, and started wiping everything away. The soap solution easily soaked into the fabric, and Scar breathed a sigh of relief when everything was cleaned.
“Thanks, Grian,” he placed the dishes into the dishwasher, and tidied up the counter, “Sorry for my little outburst, earlier. Words tend to slip out of my mouth when I’m nervous, and there's not much I can–”
“Dude, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. Everyone has something, ya’know?” Grian sat on the counter, facing Scar.
“I’m sure you know that Mumbo'll be out tomorrow, maybe we could get to know each other better? There’s this new museum about an hour from here, can we check it out?”
“Sure, why not? I’ve always loved museums and such anyways.”
The avian nodded, they said their goodbyes, and then he left. Scar considered going after to tell him how he’d love to spend the day with him, but couldn’t muster enough courage. Not yet, but maybe tomorrow.