Archive of Our Own

Charlie Chaplin once said something along the lines of how life was a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long-shot. 

Grian couldn’t help but be curious about what sort of comedy his life would be. 

When he thinks about dying, he wouldn’t really mind if something catastrophic like a surprise heart attack caused by an undiagnosed arrhythmia would suddenly come and kill him out of nowhere. But if he thinks about stabbing a knife to his chest or backflipping from a roof, he’d get incredibly bothered to the point of wincing.

Grian throws a pebble into the ocean. He watches as it lamely sinks, making a lackluster ripple when it hits the surface of the water. He didn’t know why he was disappointed—he had never learned how to do stone skipping. Yet, there is now a diminishing spark inside him that wished, even against all odds, for the pebble to miraculously hop four, perhaps even five times across the sea. 

He stares at the ocean for a little longer, thinking of how the vast body consumes the pebble thrown at it, leaving no traces of it as it now lies below the waters—unable to be dry again for perhaps a very long time.

He turns when he eventually gets bored from looming over the fence, about to continue his walk home, when suddenly…

“Aaaaahhhh! Somebody help!”

A winded, high-pitched, yet oddly muted call of distress reaches Grian’s ears. 

He stops, contemplating on what to do, before jogging towards the voice, curious to see what was happening. Although, out of all the things that he expected to see, he really didn’t expect a man getting absolutely mauled by a bunch of seagulls. 

“Please, help me!” The man calls again when he notices Grian's presence, his voice cracking in his panic. 

The pesky birds are seriously getting at it. Every time the man tries to wave his arms around to try and scare them away, they immediately come to pull at his coat and peck on his chest, rendering him in a tight spot as the only thing he could really do to protect himself was to wrap his arms around his body while they take their turns bullying him. 

“My shins! Ahhh, they're going for my shins!” 

Grian wastes no more time gawking at the absurd scenario, running towards the man and shooing the birds away. Luckily, the birds seem more intimated by him than they do the man, some of them flapping their wings to back away as Grian awkwardly flails his arms around. 

“Oh! My coat!” The man wails, wrapping his arms around his coat as the birds latch their beaks on to the fabric and pulling it in all sorts of directions. 

“Do you have food in your pockets?” Grian half screams, his voice getting drowned by the cawing seagulls as they continue pulling his coat. 

The man squints at him, before going wide in realization.

That was all it took for Grian to grab on his coat, quite impolitely digging his hands inside the man’s inner pocket before grabbing on to something remotely crumbly, and tossing it out onto the streets. 

The birds immediately release their hellish torment on the poor man, flocking to—what Grian realizes are cookies—littered on the ground. 

“M–my cookies…!” The man says dejectedly, looking at the carcass of cookie fragments that quickly disappear into the birds’ stomach. “I was about to give those away to promote my business…” 

Grian dusts the feathers off his shoulders, taking a look at the man.

He’s about Grian’s age, maybe older, with dark brown hair and sun-kissed skin. There are many healed scars decorating his features, and his eyes are green. 

Usually when someone says they have green eyes, it is either slightly grey or brown. But this man’s green was actually green. Like when you remove it in its context as an eye color and just present it as it is for people to see, they would undoubtedly say that it's green. 

Finally noticing that he is being stared at, the man turns, smiling warmly at him.

“Ah, my saviour! May I know to whom I owe my thanks?” 

Grian blinks.

“Um… it’s Grian.”

“Grian! G! G-man!” The man claps his hands together. “What a wonderful name! Shining as bright as the person who possesses it!” 

“Thank you…?” 

“No, no, I should thank you.” He bows, putting a hand earnestly on his chest. “You, my brave friend, have saved me from those… darned… beastly… birds!” He raises a shaking fist, eyes fiery with resentment. 

“They are very pesky birds,” Grian nods in agreement. “Although… I've never seen them ganging up so aggressively on someone like that over some cookies.” 

The man’s face brightens. “Oh yes, that’s because I've spiked those cookies, made them absolutely irresistible!” He flashes Grian an innocent smile, before frowning again. “Those darned birds… they must’ve sniffed it from a mile away… stealing them from right under my nose…” 

Grian doesn’t have enough time to ask about the words ‘spiked’ and ‘cookies’, as the man swiftly continues talking. 

“Anyway, the name is Scar ‘Goodtimes’ Clocker,” he tips his imaginary hat. “First son of the Clocker family, provider of the good times.”

“Provider of the good times?”

“Provider of the good–est of times!” His grin widens.

Grian stands frozen in place. Was he flirting with him? Is this some kind of innuendo he didn’t know of? 

“It’s what I sell,” Scar states shortly after noticing Grian's confusion, nodding enthusiastically. 

“You sell… good times?” 

“Yes, indeed! All of the good times! Small good times, big good times…” He flaunts, waving his hand around before pausing. “In fact…”

Scar's undoubtedly green eyes twinkle as he stares at Grian, making him squirm in the spotlight. 

“I offer you, dear Grian, one free good time! As a thank you for saving me.” 

Grian blinks at the offer.

“Huh? A free what?” 

“A free good time!” Scar repeats, inching closer to Grian and grabbing on to both of his hands. “Now aren't you a lucky fellow? I'll let you know, my products aren't cheap!” 

Scar winks. 

Heat spreads through Grian's cheek. This man's audacity would be outrageous if it weren't for the fact that a small, traitorous, freaky part of him was absolutely charmed. 

Still, he wasn't looking for that kind of ‘service’. He respected other people's hustle, of course, including those in the ‘industry’ as he understands quite greatly himself how hard it is to get by these days. But he personally didn't really need nor want what they provided, even if it was free, and from an objectively, very hot guy.

“I appreciate it, but I'm not looking for your type of um… service.” Grian rejects awkwardly, palms starting to sweat in Scar's grasp. 

Scar's expression switches into that of a sad puppy that got kicked and abandoned in the rain. He lowers his head slowly in dejection. 

“N–no, wait—” Grian panics. “It's–it's not that I don't find you attractive or anything, It's just—” 

“Attractive?” Scar pipes up suddenly. “You find me attractive?” 

The man adopts a big smile on his face, that immediately turns into a confused frown.

“Wait. Attractive? What does being attractive have to do with…” 

Grian watches in real time as Scar finally realizes how his words might've been taken differently as his eyes slowly open in horror and color drains from his complexion.

“Oh! Oh, no! No, no, no! Not that kind of service!” 

He looks around in contemplation, before pausing in a direction and dragging Grian's hand along with him. “Here, here, let me show you personally!” 

Scar ushers him over to the side, where Grian is now presented to the sight of a comically big wagon.

His jaws open in disbelief. 

How did he not notice this before?

The wagon is made with quality wood, carved in unnecessary, yet intricate swirls and loops. A teal–colored roof hangs above the main body, a single lantern hanging on its edge. 

Grian also notices, quite fondly, what seems to be little hand–painted drawings of flowers and cats on various parts of empty space of the body. The patterns are inconsistent and faded, and the cats look a bit lopsided, but it has a unique charm to it, showing how much it is loved. 

Scar lets go of Grian's hand to step to the front, pulling on the handles to adjust the wagon's position for Grian to see better. 

“Let me introduce you to… The Swaggon!” 

The man announces theatrically, posing on the side of The Swaggon with an added flair of jazz hands. 

“Impressive.” Grian smiles approvingly. 

“Why thank you, I made it myself!” Scar bows. “Come, come, see what's inside!”

Encouraged by the invitation, Grian takes a curious step closer to the Swaggon. He stops right next to Scar, leaning in to see what exactly the mysterious ‘good time’ is supposed to be. 

“Mrowwww,”

A grey tabby cat greets him lazily. She's comfortably sprawled inside The Swaggon without any plans of moving.

“Oh Jellie, please move. We have a very important customer here.” Scar stage whispers to the cat, seemingly not having the heart to move Jellie himself and opting to try and bribe her instead. “Please move, I'll give you salmon later, I promise!” 

Jellie flicks her tail, unamused. But as the very kind and understanding cat she is, she decides to remove herself from her very comfortable position and trots away, laying down on one of the handles instead. 

“Thank you, Jellie!” He calls, sighing in relief. “Well, now that the cat is out of the wagon—” Scar turns back to Grian, gesturing at the various things now revealed since Jellie was no longer sitting on them. “—please, take a look at everything I have to offer!” 

As instructed, Grian glances over to the items, only to unexpectedly giggle at the absurdity of Scar's various product options. 

“Scar.”

“Yes?” 

“They're all watches.” 

Indeed, inside The Swaggon are lines and lines of different kinds of watches. 

There are aviators, luxury, smart, and even pocket ones. All of every color and design, from expensive to cheap, from antique to modern. 

They're organized in a way that has no rhyme or reason, arranged like people in a crowd, with their own stories and characters that mixed beautifully in ungrouped chaos. A cheap children's watch with a popular cartoon character printed crudely on its plastic strap sits snugly next to a luxury one in stainless steel, both of them having the same value in the haphazard tidiness Scar has created.   

The oddest thing, however, is the fact that none of these clocks are ticking. 

Every single one of the watches is stuck in a random time, with no indication of ever moving forward. 

Grian can't help but find hilarity in the strangeness. 

“Are you… are you selling broken clocks, Scar?” 

“Broken?!” Scar gasps, looking offended at the accusation. “I'll tell you that they are not broken! They are perfectly what they need to be!” he pouts, crossing his arms together. 

Grian takes a glance over at his phone's clock, which reads 15.37, before taking another look back at the assortment of watches where he discovers that… yeppp…

“None of them are actually telling the right time!” 

“—Because they're telling the right good time!” Scar counters with an argument that definitely makes no sense. 

“What?” Grian smiles widely in bafflement. “What are you even saying?” 

Scar starts aggressively babbling a string of gibberish before closing his mouth shut when he realizes that he wasn't really going anywhere. 

He decides to take a different approach as he grumpily points to some of the watches. 

“Just take one and see it for yourself.” 

Grian blinks at the man's resignation, but quickly accepts his offer as he mulls over which one to get. 

“I can pick any one of these?” He asks, eyeing the seemingly expensive-looking ones. 

If he squints, he could see how some of the gold color shines just a bit too realistically, or how some of the little jewels decorating the face glimmer just a little too bright. These can't be real gold or gems, he tries to convince himself. But if he did bring one of the more luxurious-looking ones to a horologist and make them able to fix it, maybe he could make a pretty decent cash out of it. 

“Pick one that calls for you the most,” Scar nods from beside him.

Somehow, that cheesy line is able to make Grian's original pursuit of choosing the most advantageous watch falter. He decides to open his horizons and take consideration of all the other options. 

He trails over every single one of them, now a bit lost in how to pick one that ‘calls to him the most’, when suddenly he stops.

His breath latches as he looks at one of the watches sitting innocently in the sea of many. 

It's a classic looking digital watch. It's one of those convenient ones that tells you the time, date, and steps you're taking, with this one in particular seemingly stuck at 14.20 PM last year, going just above five-thousand steps. Considering the time of day, it would seem like whoever owned the watch before it stopped was doing some sort of exercise. 

Strangely enough, it reminds him of something familiar. Of laughter and jokes, and snow hitting his face as he tumbles down to the ground. 

Subconsciously, Grian reaches for it, driven by some kind of siren song. It feels unnaturally cold to the touch, like holding a handful of snow.

It feels like winter. 

“What a fantastic pick!” Scar marvels, breaking Grian from his trance. “I can already tell how a–may–zing of a good time that one is!” he giggles. 

Grian gapes at him, still miserably confused, but oddly satisfied with his choice. Somehow, he feels every single cell of his body wriggling in anticipation of what's about to happen—even if he's not sure what's coming, or if it even leads anywhere in the first place. 

“Come now, I cannot wait to see what this is all about!” Scar reaches an open palm towards him, a silent request for the watch. 

Grian passes the watch over to him, their hands touching for a brief moment, sharing the cool sensation of the clock within their grasp, mixing with the natural warmth of their hands in a weird, yet pleasant sensation. 

When Grian pulls his hand away, he can still feel the chill lingering quietly in his fingertips. 

“Here we go!” 

As Scar held on to the watch, Grian could hear a faint ticking sound coming from it. 

So it really wasn't broken, it's right where it needs to be. 

He could feel his eyes closing at the thought. 

The last thing he sees is Scar's undoubtedly green eyes staring at him warmly.

Green had never been his favourite color, but if one day he suddenly contracted a disease where he could only see the world in shades of black and white, and the only actual color he could see was that specific shade of green—he probably wouldn't mind at all. 

-

He's so cold.

He can feel his body trembling.

He can’t think, he's so cold.

He needs warmth. 

His body weakly flails, searching blindly for a source of comfort. 

“Brrrrr—It's s–s–so cold in here!” A voice chatters near him. 

He didn't get to respond when suddenly warmth engulfs him, making his previously tense body relax. He leans to the source, finding out quite pleasantly that the more he gets closer to it, huddling himself in, the more warm and nice he feels. 

“Oh Grian, you feel so warm and nice!” The voice, now sounding so close to him, echoes his exact thoughts, making Grian hum in agreement. 

Wait. 

Grian blinks. 

What's going on? 

Grian swiftly takes a look around him, finding out quite ridiculously, that he and Scar are currently cuddling each other, leeching off each other's body heat as they stand, stranded, in the middle of a snowy mountain. 

“Scar?!” Grian screeches, pulling himself away from the man's embrace. “What the heck is happening?” 

Scar's face contorts into one of discomfort, reaching his hands out weakly as if to get Grian in his arms again. 

“Grian…” He whines. “I would explain b–but—”

Scar sneezes, his face going red and plump as snot trails down his nose. 

“—I–I really can't stand the cold!” 

Grian gapes his mouth open in shock, a thousand questions running like a river in his head. 

Why is he in the middle of a snowy mountain? How did he get here? Why is he kinda mourning the loss of Scar’s body against his? Now that he thinks about it, he could kinda feel Scar’s abdomen to be quite toned. Does he have abs? 

“What am I doing?” Grian whispers to himself in horror. 

He looks around once more to see a faint silhouette of a cabin in the distance, overshadowed by some trees. 

Without hesitation, Grian quickly wraps his hand around Scar’s wrist, dragging him along the snow to the direction of the cabin. 

Scar sluggishly follows after him as they run towards shelter, rapidly sneezing and fully relying on Grian to guide him when his vision is obstructed by the motion of his hand wiping the snot out his face. 

Finally, they reached the cabin. Grian pulls Scar inside with him, before closing the door shut, sighing in relief as the warmth of the heater immediately penetrates his skin. 

The cabin is quite small with minimal lighting, only a single, weak light bulb shining above them. The room in itself is messy, with many different items scattered around it. Skis, winter coats, helmets, and boots are all put in what once might be an organized system, but is now just stacked in places convenient enough to reach. 

Grian takes a good look at the coats, flicking through them before pulling on two that look to be in good enough shape and size.  

He gives the bigger one to Scar, who takes it appreciatively, wrapping it around himself as he seems to be too tired to put it on just yet. 

“Now would you please tell me what’s going on?” Grian questions, both hands on his hips.

Scar mulls over his answer, closing his eyes in contemplation, before finally speaking. 

“This is a good time,” Scar starts cryptically. “It’s what you think is a good time in your life.” 

Grian raises an eyebrow.

“Meaning?” 

“Meaning… the watch you chose took us to one of your happy memories.” 

Happy memories?

“Wait, hold on,” Grian could feel his chest thumping at the connotation. “You’re saying… We went back in time?” 

Scar looks up at the ceiling, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation, before shrugging. “I guess so? Well, not really. There’s no complicated time nonsense where we can change the future or anything crazy like that. We’re simply just looking at your memories.” 

Suddenly, Scar snaps his fingers together. “It’s like VR!”

“VR?” 

He nods enthusiastically at his own comparison. “Yeah, yeah, exactly like those VR with the goggles where you look at those simulations and stuff. Imagine that, but it’s your memories, and there’s no heavy goggles, and it’s not a simulation, and you can feel everything!” 

Grian frowns.

So not at all like VR, he decides. 

“Okay, then how do we get out?” 

Scar pats his pant pockets, frowning when he couldn’t feel anything. He starts patting his backside, before going back to pat his front, before patting all over his body, and finally relaxing when he pulls out the watch from his shirt pocket.

He gives Grian the watch, and Grian could see the lean clock hand slowly ticking forward, finally working as it should. 

“We go back when the hands stop again,” Scar simply explains. 

That makes sense. So, after they’re done watching the ‘good time’, they go out of this… delusion… and return to reality. 

“Are you a hypnosis artist or something?” Grian stares at Scar suspiciously. Although he has no idea how it actually works, he knows about the existence of those hypnosis scam artists, where they hold out a pocket watch and swing it side to side to make people do their bidding. Is Scar about to make Grian give him his credit card and social security number? That’s pretty scary. 

Scar sighs.

“Unfortunately not, even though I would love to be.” 

The man finally stands up, earning back his energy as he slips into the coat. “I’m not hypnotizing you, this is all real.” Scar pauses, holding a pointer finger to his chin. “Well, however real it can be.” 

“But how?” Grian couldn’t help but question further. This is all super exciting, he needs to know more about the absurd situation and the absurd man before him. 

Scar holds the door open, giving him a lopsided grin as he politely gestures for Grian to step outside. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” he says with a wink.

Once the two of them are out in the snow again, Grian catches on to the sound of distant laughter. He glances over to Scar, who smiles widely. 

“Ah, that seems to be our destination! Let us go then, Grian.”

They walk towards the voice, ending up in a clearing, just behind a wall of trees. Scar takes a peek from one of the branches, before giggling at the sight he’s seeing.

“Oh hoho, now isn’t that a good time!” He laughs, waving Grian over. “Take a look, Gri!” 

Grian obeys him, peeking over the trees at a scene so heavily familiar. 

It's him and Gem. 

He’s only a few months younger than he is now, laughing hard as Gem tries to chase after him, not succeeding very well due to the fact that her feet are currently strapped on long skis, making it very awkward to walk. 

“You’re not better than I am!” Gem complains, trying to reach Grian to whack him with her pole. 

“I am 100% better!” Memory–Grian retorts, using his own pole to try and throw some of the snow on the ground in Gem’s direction. 

Present–Grian’s eyes go wide open in awe. It’s such a surreal experience, seeing his own memories in 3rd person, and so vividly as well. 

“Do you remember this memory, Grian?” Scar asks from beside him, smiling widely. 

Still stuck in amazement, Grian nods slowly. The tips of his mouth pulling up in a grin. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I definitely remember.” 

It's funny how memories work. Sometimes you don’t think of anything substantial, but then you see a photograph, or a stray thing that reminds you of an experience you’ve had and suddenly, those memories play in your head like an old, scratched–up film reel being shown again in a theater. 

Grian remembers this memory, of course. He remembers it quite well. But sometimes he’s not thinking of it, and when he’s not thinking of it, it could get difficult to realize it has existed, and still exists within him. It’s especially hard to do so when he’s sad.

But now that everything is replaying in his very eyes, with every minor detail and the chilling cold striking his face—it’s so easy to remember all the different feelings bubbling up in his chest. 

“You seem like you’re having fun,” Scar notes, grinning in amusement as Gem finally gives up, taking off the skis from her boots to chase Grian down and steals his hat away. 

“Yeah…” he gasps through an awestruck smile. “It was very, very fun.” 

Scar leans his head to the side. “Would you tell me about it?”

Grian thinks for a bit, wondering how he should start the story. 

“Her name is Gem. We met in college under the same major, we both studied biology.” 

Grian remembers that time too. The two of them were just awkward young adults, intimidated but ultimately excited to start another phase of their lives.

“We became close buds real quickly. I can be a lot sometimes, but she never walks away from a challenge.”

He chuckles fondly. Gem truly was the best. He’s sure he had driven her crazy so many times, but she doesn't ever leave him.

“She said she never went skiing, so last year the two of us went together. Honestly, she was getting the hang of it better than I was—who went skiing a lot when I was younger, so I think I might've gotten a bit jealous,”

Scar laughs. “Is that why you're currently egging her?” 

“Yeah,” Grian grins in embarrassment at the pathetic confession. “It's clearly not fair. I was supposed to be the one showing off, but she just went and did these incredible tricks first try! How can I not be jealous?” 

Grian playfully rolls his eyes as Scar continues to laugh at him and his pettiness. It's so easy to tell Scar about everything, opening up his more vulnerable side.

“So what did you do?”

“Well, I got pretty annoyed, so I…” 

Grian pauses, remembering what comes after. 

“Oh no…” 

Dread overtakes his entire body as his present–day knowledge fills him in on what's about to happen. 

“Oh no?” Scar echoes, confused. “What do you mean ‘oh no’?” 

Grian swiftly grabs on to Scar's shoulders with both of his hands, forcing the man to lower his stature so he and Grian can look eye to eye. 

Grian stares at him with a very grim and serious expression. 

“We need to go back.” 

Scar blinks at him.

“What do you mean go back? The watch is still—”

“We need to go back right now!”

“What—?! But–but we can't go back now!”

Grian grows even more distressed.

“What do you mean we can't go back now?”

“I–I–I don't know dude, I can't stop the clock. We gotta wait until the good time ends naturally!” 

Grian bites the inside of his cheeks, letting Scar go to put a hand on his forehead. 

“This is bad…” 

“What? What's bad? What's gonna happen?” Scar asks in a panic, before grabbing on to his wrist. 

“Grian, what's gonna happen?” 

Grian gapes his mouth open at Scar's concerned gaze. 

“You—”

“If you're better than me, then prove it!” 

Gem yells from a distance, pulling both Scar and present–Grian's attention over to her.

“Fine!” Memory–Grian shouts stubbornly. “I–I'll do a backflip!” 

Gem and Scar fall quiet, both stunned in silence, shocked. 

Scar slowly turns back to present–Grian, whose face is now all red. 

“...you can do a backflip?” Scar asks, a bit amazed. Grian didn't strike him as someone who is able to backflip while skiing. 

Grian opens his mouth, before closing it again, slowly shaking his head. His face became even more red. 

“You can't? But then…” 

“Can you really do a backflip?” Gem asks in the distance, mirroring Scar's question, to which memory–Grian scoffs at her.

“Oh, just watch, Gem. Just watch!” He grins coolly, readying his goggles as he goes into position. 

Scar frowns. Okay, so those are two very conflicting answers between the two Grians, which means…

“No, this is terrible!” present–Grian wails, pulling on his hair. “Scar, look away!”

With a push of his poles, memory–Grian slides down the mountain track, gaining accelerating speed as he goes lower and lower.

Despite present–Grian's insistence for him to close his eyes or turn around, Scar couldn't take his eyes off his form, facing the slope with determination as he steadily got closer and closer to the ramp. 

Memory–Grian swings his arms back, trying to get himself some momentum, before throwing himself off the ledge, pushing his body off to the sky. 

At that moment, Grian looked like a free bird, flying away without any chains holding him back. The sun shines brightly behind him, casting his silhouette in a shadow as an ethereal outline surrounds his form, contrasting him against the blue sky. 

Scar and Gem watch in awe at the sight, their jaws wide open in astonishment at the unexpectedly beautiful and inspiring vision.

At that brief moment, Grian seemed to have wings. 

His body rolls into itself, backflipping. But before the backflip could finish flipping, Grian yells, crashing right into the snow, bouncing from the speed like an awkwardly shaped ball before tumbling down in the wrong direction and hitting his body against a tree. 

Both Scar and Gem gasp. 

“Grian!” Gem panics, swiftly skiing down the slope herself before stopping at where Grian was, toppled over against the bark with his legs up, definitely with a concussion. 

“Grian, are you okay?!” Gem shrieks, pulling him up right. 

Memory–Grian now has a bruised eye, along with minor scratches around his body, and blond hair that looks like the aftershocks of an electrocution. His eyes are faraway and dazed, definitely an indication that he has hit his head pretty badly.

After confirming that nothing is broken, Gem sighs in frustration. 

“Oh my god, what is wrong with you?!” 

It is all in good–faith though, as not even a second later, Gem starts laughing, not quite believing what had just happened. 

Memory–Grian, who is concussed, starts laughing along with her, even though he's not sure what they're currently laughing about. 

Scar brings a hand over his mouth to muffle his snickering, not wanting to offend present–Grian who is currently pouting beside him, embarrassed by the ridiculous display of himself. 

“W–why—” Scar wheezes. “—Why did you think that was a good idea?” 

Grian groans, looking up in exasperation. 

“I don't know, okay? Impulsive decision!” 

Scar tries and fails to hide his snort at the answer, making Grian's pout longer. 

“Hey, it's okay. You know what, for a second, you actually looked pretty cool,” Scar tries to console him, wrapping an arm around Grian's shoulder. “You looked like a bird, flying away into the horizon…” Scar narrates dramatically, reaching towards the sky.

“Stop this,” Grian cringes. “You're making me even more embarrassed.” 

“Awww,” Scar chuckles. “I'm just saying, you'd be a really good bird, or a pretty sweet angel.” 

Grian rolls his eyes, about to answer with another witty remark, when he could feel the ticking of the watch growing fainter by the second. 

He takes the watch out of his pocket where, as expected, the hand seems to gradually slow down, a clear indicator that the good time is about to end soon. 

“Aww, already?” Scar mourns. “I'm gonna miss this!”

“Well, I won't!” Grian lies. “I wish I never have to remember that again!”

“Come on now, mister,” Scar teases him, bumping their shoulders together. “You were smiling the entire time you saw that memory, weren't you? You've missed this for a while!” 

Grian sighs.

It's true, he hadn't seen Gem in a while. 

He'd been busy with work, so he hadn't been reaching out to her. 

He misses Gem.

“Hey, go and take her out somewhere to hang out after this, okay?” Scar gives him a smile, having seen right through him. “I'm sure she missed you too.” 

Grian smiles back at him, gaining a sudden outburst of motivation. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.”

“Good!” Scar nods, patting his head. “Let's go back now, shall we?” 

And with that, Grian closes his eyes, feeling the cold winter air gently hugging him goodbye as it gets slowly replaced by the warm ocean breeze.

-

It's been a couple of days since that encounter. 

He had kept the watch. 

It's sort of useless now, already having spent the magic it came with. It's like the equivalent of very fancy packaging. Worth absolutely nothing, but too good to be thrown away.

Well. Perhaps it's not entirely useless. Every time he looks at it, he gets reminded again, both of that memory as it originally was, and his second try of it, looking at it again with Scar. 

That must've counted for something.

He had followed Scar's advice, inviting Gem to hang out with him.

He was kind of surprised by how easy it was, to show someone that you miss them, that you care, and that you want to be with them. The two of them met up a day later in a trampoline park, where Grian learned how to actually do a backflip in a much safer environment. Gem clapped her hands with a fond roll of her eyes as Grian flips over and over again, throwing himself into the foam pit until his feet become wobbly. 

He went home happy that day, dragged by Gem as his head continued flipping. It was all thanks to Scar. Thanks to him and his watches and the strange magic they possess. 

He thought he was ready to let it go. Let that encounter with the bizarre man and the bizarre experience be just another memory—a sweet illusion or a fever dream; he'll never be quite sure if it actually happened or not. 

But as he soon discovers, after taking a shot of courage from the minimarket’s canned ice tea and running down the ocean trail, he wasn’t able to let it all go just yet. He’s still grasping at that magic, still curious, still wanting to know more. About the good times, about The Swaggon, about him. 

So here he is now, for the second time, standing in front of The Swaggon, located right where it was a few days ago near the beach. Unchanging. 

Scar is sitting at the front of The Swaggon, throwing crumbs of bread to the seagulls, seemingly having made peace with them. 

Grian’s breath gets caught in his throat, suddenly feeling shy.

A strange fear engulfs him, telling him that he was too small for his world. A world of wonder and magic, of clocks that takes you to another time. 

Could someone as insignificant as him be allowed to even see that world?

Disheartened by his own thoughts, he turns the other way. 

“Mrowww.”

Jellie is in the middle of sitting on the fence right next to him, giving him an unimpressed stare, as if disappointed by his lack of drive. 

Grian blinks at the cat, somehow ashamed. 

“Grian?” Scar calls out in surprise, smiling widely when he notices his presence. “Well, hello there! I haven’t seen you in days!”

Jellie hops down from the fence, trotting to Scar and rubbing herself between his legs, not at all bothered by Grian’s growing panic. 

“Hey Scar,” he finally says, a bit breathless.

“How have you been, Grian? Did you hang out with Gem?” 

“Oh yeah,” Grian nods. “I actually know how to backflip now.” 

Scar laughs. “Hey, good for you, man! Great to hear that you won’t be crashing into another tree anytime soon.” 

It’s easy talking with Scar. He has this patient, inviting, yet shocking aura around him that just lowers people’s guards. Everything is suddenly so simple when you’re in a conversation with him, like the world is on pause, and you can enjoy just this one moment without anything else weighing you down. 

Scar doesn’t ask him why he’s there. He continues to welcome him like Grian was meant to be there all along, like you don’t need to owe or need something to initiate a conversation. Just existing together is enough. 

“Actually, I was wondering if… maybe I could buy one of your… good times.” Grian says hesitantly, wondering why he’s afraid of voicing his request when Scar’s literal goal was selling them. 

Scar’s face brightens up. 

“You want to buy a good time? Why, of course, of course! Please, right this way!” Scar ushers him to The Swaggon, presenting the same assortment of various watches for Grian to skim over. 

Grian starts his hunt for the one watch calling out to him, excitement bubbling inside his chest at the idea of recreating the magic he experienced a few days ago, when his face fell in realization. 

“Scar, you never told me how much you charge for these.”

That’s right. The last time, Scar had generously given Grian a good time for free, as a thank you for saving him from the rabid seagull attack. But now, Grian actually needs to pay for it. And knowing what a single watch was able to provide, Grian is struck by the acknowledgment that… good times probably sell for a lot. 

“Hm? Oh!” Scar claps his hands together, also seemingly forgotten that Grian was supposed to pay for a good time. “Well, okay then, let me think of a good price…” Scar mulls, rubbing his chin in thought before smiling again when he thought of something.

“I want your sweater!” 

Grian does a double take.

“My what?” 

“Your sweater!” Scar points to it, as if Grian doesn’t know what a sweater is. 

Grian looks down.

It’s a nice sweater. Made with wool and perhaps plastic. It’s mostly black, depicting a cute little scenery of a house sitting alone in a winter landscape.

He got it last Christmas. 

“You want my sweater?” Grian confirms skeptically. 

Scar repeatedly nods his head. “Mhmm!”

“And you want nothing else but my sweater?” 

Scar nods again. 

Grian sighs.

“Okay fine, you can have my sweater.”

Honestly, it didn’t really need much consideration from him. He’s not that particularly attached to this one sweater, having much more preferred his red ones, which are all currently in the laundry right now, hence the different fashion style. 

And although Grian isn’t quite sure why Scar wanted his worn sweater over what little cash he can give, he isn’t going to make an effort to question him further, finding it quite convenient for his pockets, while also appreciating the oddness.  

He slips the sweater off him, handing it to Scar, who accepts it gratefully. 

“Well, since payment is settled,” Scar puts the sweater away in a chest, folding it nearly and carefully. “You, Mr. Grian, may now choose your pick of a good time!” 

It didn't take long for Grian to find it, now knowing what to expect. 

He only hesitates for a second, before grabbing on to his chosen watch. 

This time it’s an analog watch, with a sleek black color on its case and strap. 

The unique part about it is the fact that the numbers are incomplete, with some of them having fallen off to the center of the clock face, seemingly disassembled by the cat, printed right in the middle. 

It is a very cute design, with the hour-hand acting as the cat’s paw, toppling over the numbers on the watch and making a mess of it, as cats normally do. 

“Awwww!” Scar muses at Grian’s pick. “How cute! Cats are just the most precious little creatures in the world, isn’t that right, Jellie?” 

Jellie, who is now lounging on the roof, flicks her tail lazily from side to side. She yawns, licking her paws, showing no care at all for Scar’s question. 

Of course, Scar doesn't mind. The queen has her own agenda to attend to. She is far too busy to answer every question in the world! 

Scar holds his hand over to Grian. 

“Well then, whenever you’re ready!” 

Grian gives him the watch. The familiar sensation of being engulfed by haziness starts to seep in when their hands make contact. Fuzzy feelings scatter inside his chest as a tingling sensation pops at the skin of his palm. The magic of the watch and the warmth of Scar’s hand bring an unexpected happiness he doesn’t know how to describe. 

He looks up, feeling a bit grateful for the fact that, once again, Scar’s green eyes are the last thing he sees before it all goes away. 

-

When Grian gains his consciousness, he is greeted by the sound of a heavy rain absolutely destroying his eardrums. 

Droplets of water hit his head, leaking from a balcony above him.  

He takes a step backward, trying to find better shelter, when he unceremoniously bumps into Scar. 

“Whoa, Grian! Careful!” Scar puts both hands on his shoulders, carefully pushing him back so he's able to stand correctly again. 

Grian nudges him with his elbow. “Move a little bit, I'm getting rained on!” 

The two of them awkwardly shift in place, trying to find enough shelter from the rain in the tiny space available. 

They settle quietly, quickly finding out that they're in an alleyway somewhere and now wondering how they're supposed to leave their little safe area. 

“Do you uh… remember this?” Scar hesitantly asks, trying to see if Grian knows what they're currently trying to find. 

“Um… I don't know, I've been in plenty of rain so...” Grian shrugs. 

“Okay then, let's see…” Scar looks around. 

He crouches down, grabs a trash can lid and knocks on it, showing it off to Grian with a questioning smile. 

A few minutes later, the two of them exit the alleyway. A trash can lid on top of Grian's head and a thick piece of cardboard paper on top of Scar's. 

The limited vision from their hats and the rain renders their abilities to navigate a bit weaker, making them scuffle around as they try to search for a better place to be. 

Grian stops, trying to see where they are. He relaxes slightly when he recognizes the place to be near his apartment. 

“The minimarket is just a few steps away, we can dry off there!” Grian shouts to Scar, making sure his voice is heard in the downpour. 

Scar shouts back an affirmative, before grabbing on to Grian's shirt. His floppy cardboard made him unable to see clearly, so he had to once again rely on Grian to lead him the way. 

The walk to the minimarket didn't take long at all.

The bright, cool light, and the massive sign act like a beacon in the dark. 

Grian sighs in relief, about to head to his favourite seat, before pausing when he realizes that it's been occupied. 

Occupied by himself.

By memory–Grian. 

It's Grian from a few years ago. He could tell because his hair was shorter, and he was still wearing his old pair of glasses. 

Memory–Grian is sitting by himself, waiting for something.

On the table beside him is his phone and a can of iced tea, and enveloped in his hand is a creamy cat treat, still full of snacks. 

“Oh…” Present–Grian slowly smiles as he realizes what memory this is. “I remember this.” 

His chest hurt. In the way that you're so happy about something, your heart grows too big for your body. 

He loves this memory a lot. 

Honestly, he doesn't know what to do now, having gotten the chance to see this moment happen again. Who was he supposed to thank? God or Scar?

“What are you doing?” Scar asks, frowning at the sight of memory-Grian sitting quietly in front of a minimarket, frozen like a statue. 

“Shhhh!” 

Grian puts an index finger over his mouth.  

“Don't make me miss this!”

“But—”

“Just watch!” 

Scar shuts up after that, annoyed. What could possibly be happening for Grian to rudely—

Suddenly, any confusion or irritation still lounging inside Scar dissipates immediately when he sees what memory–Grian was waiting for:

Coming out of the bushes, are two little baby kittens, meowing cautiously. 

Their bodies are gangly and scrawny, patches of fur wet and damp from the rain. Their ears are much too big for their faces, and the way they wriggle and move is clumsy. 

“Awww!” Scar melts, looking at the precious little kitties, shaking from the cold and probably itchy from fleas. “Poor babies!” 

Present–Grian's face is starting to hurt from smiling too wide. Never in his life, did he think he could see their stupid little baby forms again. He forgot they used to look like that, pathetic and sad, yowling insistently for food. 

The two cats are clearly eyeing the snack that memory–Grian is holding, but are both too scared to approach him, meowing loudly to see if he's going to do anything about it, preparing to run away at any sudden movement. 

Memory–Grian is trying his best to act aloof and nonchalant of the situation, looking away and pretending he doesn't care about the two kitties and the food he currently has in his hands. He tries to steal a couple of glances, but the cats always seem to lean back whenever he does, so he forces himself to look at his canned ice tea and nothing else. 

After another minute of suspicious staring, the cat in the front, the one with the bronze coat, finally concludes that the big, scary, human isn't going to do anything. He slowly and warily walks closer to Grian, sharp, jade-like eyes still wide open in caution, before stopping right in front of the snack packet. 

The cat sniffs at it, looking back at Grian again to make sure everything is still okay.

Grian makes the mistake of trying to look, scaring the cat as he flinches, taking a step back. 

Learning from his wrongs, Grian looks the other way, trying badly to not surprise the little kitty anymore. 

He stares at a lightbulb, watching the winged termites fly uselessly around the artificial shine for what feels like an eternity. When finally, the kitten takes an experimental lick at the snack packet. 

The realization is imminent, as the kitten, now with full confidence, starts properly eating the snack, greedily biting the packet whenever Grian takes too long to push its contents out. 

Reassured by seeing her brother, the smaller white cat finally gains enough courage to join him, trotting to the snack and also taking a couple licks, fighting with her brother for food. 

Memory–Grian's eyes are fully locked on the cats now, smiling contently at the two kitties decimating the snack packet. 

He pulls a second one from his pocket, opening it with his teeth before carefully nudging it in the white cat's direction. 

The white cat seems hesitant at first, sniffing gingerly, but relaxes when she recognizes it to be the same thing. 

Soon enough, the bronze cat empties his meal. He bites the packet, trying to make more food come out to no avail, so he moves over to his sister's side, trying to steal her share. 

“Hey, no! You've had yours already!” Memory–Grian laughs, gently blocking the bronze cat with his hand so he isn't able to take his sister's food. 

The cat yowls angrily at him, flopping down with his belly up as he tries to attack Grian's hand with his paws, making Grian laugh harder. 

“Your meows are so cute,” he remarks, as the cat continues to loudly declare the emptiness of his belly to the world. “What if I call you Maui?”

Maui pauses, staring at Grian with those wide eyes, before continuing to wiggle his body in a tantrum, latching on to Grian's fingers with a screaming protest. 

His sister on the other hand, licks her share politely, pawing the bit of food that accidentally landed on her scrawny head clean. 

“And you're so sweet and lovely,” Grian muses. “You’re like… like a little Pearl.” 

Pearl’s kind eyes shimmer in the dark. She closes it, letting out a much smaller, much shorter meow compared to her brother’s.  

“Awwwwwww!”

Both present–Grian and Scar squeal at the same time, holding on to each other's hands, shoulder–to–shoulder. 

“Please tell me you kept them!” Scar desperately asks with a pout. “They're so cute, and they look like they love you so much already!” 

"Obviously I kept them,” Grian scoffs. “Those are my babies.”

And he’s so, so grateful he kept them. He's the luckiest person on earth to have even met them. Pearl and Maui and their massive personality, non-ending appetite, and disastrous chaos has carved their rightful place in his soul ever since the day he met them. 

In the still ongoing scenario, Pearl finishes her meal. Just like her brother, her small kitten belly is still unsatisfied, so she stretches her body, reaching up to Grian's legs and meowing softly to try and ask him for more. A much more polite approach compared to her brother, who is still trying to attack the hand that gives. 

“Maui is a troublemaker… that guy has so many little quirks that I'm not even sure how to list,” Present–Grian chuckles, introducing them to Scar. “Pearl is more elegant, she's prim and proper, except when you hang a toy in front of her face.” 

Memory–Grian slowly brings a gentle hand on the top of Pearl's head, scratching her on the cheeks, to which the cat instinctively leans her head in to get more. Maui, jealous of the attention, springs back up, not wanting to be left out, making Grian use his other hand to be able to pet both cats at the same time. 

“Before this, I've been seeing them around the minimarket a lot. They're only little, so they still didn't really know what to do. I don't know why but, one day, I just decided that I wanted them to come home with me… and this was that day.” 

As if on cue, memory–Grian picks up both kittens on his lap, murmuring gentle praises as he continues petting them. He finishes the last of his iced tea in one big gulp, before carrying the cats with him as he stands up to grab his umbrella at the stand next to the door. 

Scar and present–Grian watches as he walks into the rain, clumsily carrying the cats in his arms. He hugs them close to his chest, trying his best to keep them warm, walking home under the pouring night sky with two new, precious little friends in his embrace. 

“What a heartwarming story!” Scar wipes the imaginary tears from his eyes. “Cats are truly the best! I remember when my Jellie was small… She used to be so cute and playful. Now that she’s an older lady, she’s much more reserved, but she’s still so cute!” 

Grian couldn’t agree more. Cats are the best. Pearl and Maui are always there for him, and Grian loves them so much. He loves the way they cuddle when it's cold, he loves the way they chase after his mop, he loves their warmth on his lap, the way they yawn so big, and how they climb up his walls and make a mess out of everything. He loves them when they rub their faces on him when he's sad, and he loves them tremendously even when they puke on his bed or pee in his plants. 

Scar gives Grian his lopsided grin. 

“It has only been a couple of minutes, but man, do I miss Jellie!” 

Grian couldn’t help but agree with him. Seeing Pearl and Maui when they were still kittens made him miss his cats an awful lot. He should buy them something nice… perhaps another one of those cat cupcakes. They seemed to really like those the last time he got it. 

“Good thing we get to see them soon,” Grian nods, pointing to the watch in Scar’s pocket that is slowly coming to a stop. 

It’s time for them to return. 

“Oh yes, I’m going to give queen Jellie one very big hug!” Scar cheers, hugging himself and swaying from side to side to mimic what he’s going to eventually do to his cat. Jellie is going to get one big surprise in the form of a very sappy Scar after this! 

Grian shakes his head, chuckling, as his vision gradually fades to black. 

-

The next time Grian visited The Swaggon, it didn't really come as a surprise. 

Scar waves his hands enthusiastically, excited to see him again. 

Grian easily waves back. 

“Well hello there, G!” Scar greets. He’s wearing the sweater Grian gave to him the other day. It fits on his body quite snugly. The tips of Grian’s ears redden at the sight. For some reason, Scar wearing his sweater is making him feel a bit ridiculous. 

“I got you something,” Grian says, catching Scar’s intrigue. 

“You got something for me?” The man points to himself in disbelief.

Grian nods. “Yep. Here,” 

He hands a paper bag over to him, to which Scar gladly accepts. 

“Oh my gosh!” Scar gasps in delight as he pulls the contents out. 

It’s a cupcake with frosting resembling Jellie’s face, complete with her grumpy little eyes. 

“It’s a little something for Jellie,” Grian explains. “I got some for Pearl and Maui yesterday, and I thought the queen would appreciate one too.” 

“Oh, Grian,” Scar marvels, still looking at the cupcake in his hands with wonder, turning it around to see it from its many angles. “This is a–may–zing! Thank you so much!” 

Scar smiles gratefully at him, creasing the corners of his eyes. 

Grian could only nod in silence, looking away. 

“Jellie, come here please! Look at what Mister Grian got you!”

Jellie pokes her little head out of the sides of the roof, looking down in interest at the present. She gracefully leaps down, before sniffing at the cupcake resembling her face. 

Scar awes.

Tentatively, she bats it with her paw, before leaning down to give it an experimental lick.

Luckily, it seems like Queen Jellie approves of the taste, going in fully now to eat it properly. 

“She likes it! Oh, this is just so wonderful.” Scar giggles, turning over to Grian. “You, mister, have just reached maximum friendship points!”

“Friendship points?” 

He'd not been previously informed of this system. 

“Mhmm, friendship points! And since you’re on 100% friendship, you get a…” Scar trails off, thinking hard. “A… uh—a free good time!”  

Grian snorts.

“Again?!”

Honestly, how terrible of a business is Scar running? Not only is he going to give two good times for free, but the one time Grian actually did pay him something, he asked for his sweater. How is he supposed to get a profit like this? 

“You don’t have to give me anything in return, Scar.” Grian waves it off. Although he knows it isn’t true, it still feels like he's doing daylight robbery on poor Scar with the amount of good times he’s taking for absolutely nothing, especially since he knows how incredibly precious one is. 

It’s strange. If only more people knew about his good times, rich people fighting for it would probably cause a market crash or two. 

And yet, here Scar is. With his homemade Swaggon and an assortment of good times he gives away like they have the same values of leaves that have fallen from a tree. 

“No, no, I insist. You have made Queen Jellie very happy. It’s only fair that I repay that happiness.” 

Grian shakes his head. “No, I can't—”

“—Bla bla bla, yadda yadda yadda—” Scar cuts him off, mimicking a duck's mouth opening and closing with his hand, making Grian frown in offense. “—Nonsense! Go on and pick one already!” 

He pushes Grian forward to The Swaggon, keeping his hand steady at Grian’s back to prevent him from backing away, basically forcing him to pick one of the good times.  

“Scar!” Grian huffs in annoyance, wanting to be mad but lets it go once he turns his head back to the assortment of watches.

No matter how many times he does it, he can’t help that overwhelming drive pulling him into a trance. An enchantment spell put all over him, ebbing with the tides. 

He reaches a hand out. 

“Oh?” Scar remarks, filled with interest. “What a curious pick!” 

On his hand is another digital watch. 

It's similar to the first one he got, but without the addition of the date and steps. Simply telling the hour and minute in large, bold, stocky–looking numbers. 

When Grian looks at it, he can faintly hear an annoying beeping sound echoing inside his head. 

His eye twitches. 

He desperately wants to turn it off, but there isn’t any sound in the first place. It’s merely just the idea, the dread—knowing it's going to beep at the most unconventional moment.

“It’s like an alarm clock,” Grian mutters, irritated.

Scar raises an eyebrow. 

“An alarm clock?” 

“Yeah, alarm clock. Like the one I used to have. It rings at 7 am every day. And If I ignored it, my sister would push me off the bed.” 

“You have a sister?” Scar leans forward, intrigued.

“Mhmm, and a brother. Both are younger than me, and I don't ever let them forget about that.” He grins conspiratorially. 

“Well, do you think we get to enter your childhood then?” Scar guesses. 

Grian shrugs. 

“Don’t know,”

He hands the watch over to Scar. 

“Let’s find out.”

Scar touches the watch with a chuckle, letting his hand stay on top of Grian’s as they stared into each other's eyes. The familiar darkness casts the two of them away into another time. 

-

They get transported inside a closet.

A dark closet, filled with brooms and tools.

A very tiny closet.

Grian blinks, staring at Scar, who also blinks at him, bewildered. 

The sides of their knees are touching, not having anywhere else to go, slotted in alternatively like puzzle pieces. 

Scar coughs.

“Uh… well, hello there, Grian!”

Grian's head is suddenly very dizzy.

“Hi Scar.” 

They stare at each other in silence for another minute, before Grian finally makes the move to tap his hands repeatedly on the wall, feeling for an exit. He lands on a handle, pushing it down and opening the door. 

“... Shall we go?” 

Scar blinks again.

“Oh, yes. Let's!”

The two of them awkwardly shuffle outside, trying to detangle their limbs from each other.

A broom handle falls straight on to Grian's head, eliciting an embarrassing yelp out of him as Scar frantically scrambles to put it away. 

Eventually, after much more effort than necessary, the two of them exit the closet, with clouds of dust on their hair and cobwebs on their clothes. 

Scar shuts the closet close before things decide to topple over and fall. 

Once he makes sure that the closet is firmly closed and no other evils can escape. He sighs in relief. 

“Always nice to come out of the closet… again.” He mutters the last part to himself with a giggle. “Where do you think we are, G?”

Hearing no reply, Scar turns to look at him. 

“...G?”

Grian doesn't respond to him, enraptured by the space they're currently in. 

It's a living room. 

The ceiling is a bit low, and one of the lights is broken. The wallpaper is soft pink with floral patterns, and there's a cupboard in the corner of the room with various decorative ceramic plates and teacups displayed neatly on every shelf, collecting dust.

The little wooden coffee table in the middle of the room would've looked more classy if it weren't for the fact that it was littered with children's drawings covering every surface, and there's a mixed–matched set of little chairs and sofas surrounding it.

“It's my childhood home…” Grian notes quietly.

It's so strange to see his childhood house from years ago. One part is because he hasn't been here in a long time, and the other part is because the last time he was here, it was majorly different.

The wallpaper is faded and ripped in some places, the lights have been replaced by much stronger, modern ones. The carpet was changed, and so did the table. There are many things missing, replaced, or added, changing to fit what was needed at the time.

Encountering the house from exactly what he vaguely remembers from his childhood churns a complicated, yearning, sad, but happy feeling inside his chest. 

Like many others, he misses this too. 

“This place is lovely, Grian.” Scar smiles, looking at the various stickers plastered on one of the cabinet sides. 

“Yeah, it is…”

Grian tries to copy the surrounding scenery in his brain, trying to make sure he memorizes it so he can still cherish it later when he gets back. 

“Griannnn!” 

The two men lifted their heads up at the muffled whine, looking at each other in recognition.

“It’s in the backyard,” Grian states, walking down the halls as he leads Scar to the memory. 

The two of them arrive in the dining room, where they’re able to peek outside the backyard through an open window. 

The yard isn’t too big or too small, just enough for a bunch of kids to play in and have fun. There’s a broken trampoline in one corner, and a swing made of a large tire hanging on a big tree. The grass is green and short, not neat enough to be worthy of a suburban lawn, but not messy enough to make your ankles itchy. 

In the middle of the yard are three kids, playing with a jump rope.

A young boy with messy light blond hair and a girl with red long-sleeved pajamas are holding both ends of the rope, counting every jump. The young boy looks absolutely bored out of his mind, putting no energy into his swings and pouting. 

The last boy, jumping in the middle, is undoubtedly Grian. 

“Awwwww, it’s little Grian!” Scar squeaks, his expression full of adoration. 

Little Grian is much chubbier than adult Grian. His cheeks are round and red, and his blond hair is lighter. He’s wearing a Batman–themed pajama with the pants rolled up so they won't get dirty from the ground while he jumps. 

“Grian, you used to be so adorable!” Scar expresses emotionally with both hands on his cheeks. “Um… not saying you’re not adorable now, of course. You’re still adorable, just maybe a little less adorable.” He backtracks, trying to correct his completely okay statement. “I meant that in the way that now that you’re older it’s different, you know? Um, let’s see... You’re much more han—”

“It’s okay, Scar. I get it.” Grian cut him off before he could say anything more dangerous, gripping the side of the sink with white knuckles.

“Grian, when is it my turn?” The younger boy whines again, not at all enjoying his job of swinging the rope. The complete opposite of the girl, who's still counting out loud diligently. 

Currently, it’s at three hundred and thirty–seven. 

“Quit whining, Timmy. You know the rules,” Little Grian says matter-of-factly, not even sparing him a glance as he continues jumping. “My turn ends when I lose, and right now I’m not losing.” 

“Three hundred and seventy–eight, three hundred and seventy–nine—”

“But I don't wanna swing the rope anymore, it's so boring!” 

“Be patient, Timmy. Patience is a virtue.” 

“Three hundred and eighty, three hundred and eighty–one—”

“My hand is about to fall off!” 

“And my feet are perfectly fine.” 

“Three hundred and eighty–two—”

“Pearl looks like she’s getting tired.”

“Eh, not really.” Pearl shrugs, before resuming her counting. 

Timmy groans in frustration, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else as he reluctantly swings the rope for the three hundred and eighty–third time. 

From the other side of the window, Scar covers his mouth with his hand as he tries to hold in his laughter. 

Grian is also smiling. Arguing with Jimmy has always been a staple in his life. He can’t help it. Jimmy has one of those faces—a face that is so vulnerable and trusting, that it turns absolutely hilarious when you mess with him. 

Eventually, after a few more jumps, little Grian gets a foot caught on the rope, ending his turn. 

“Aww, I lost.” He turns to Jimmy with a disappointed expression. “Looks like it’s your turn now, Tim.” 

Hearing the news, Jimmy immediately brightens up, gasping. His previously grumpy face switches into that of a full-blown smile. His dark eyes now glimmering with hope. 

“Oh my god. Finally, it’s my turn!” He cheers, not quite believing it. 

“Yep, all yours,” Grian pats his shoulder, taking the handle away from him as he pushes him towards the middle. “Give it all you got!” 

“Yeah, you got this, Jimmy!” Pearl cheers, making the boy even more confident. 

To an outsider, this may seem like a heartfelt scenario where an older brother kindly gives his younger brother a chance at trying the jump rope. But to someone like Scar and present–Grian, watching from the dining room, who is already quite familiar with Grian’s tendency to always have a punchline, with him as the last man laughing, this was just the set-up. The quiet before the storm. 

Little Grian’s smile was too polite, his encouragement too flat, his sadness too artificial. 

His ‘misstep’ too perfect. 

Jimmy puts himself in position. His body facing Grian because that was the strat—it makes it so that you can see the turn of the rope better. 

“Ready?” Pearl asks. 

“Ready!”

“Okay, go!” 

The two older kids swing the rope, looping it around Jimmy’s body. 

Jimmy, seeing that the rope is about to come, crouches slightly, preparing himself to jump over it. He waits for it to land from the corner of his eyes, concentrating so he won’t miss the timing.

He jumps.

… And steps on top of the rope, ultimately ending his turn.

“Awww, that’s too bad. Welp, it’s Pearl’s turn now. Come on, Pearl,” Grian says flatly, ushering for Pearl and Jimmy to switch. 

“What?! No, that doesn’t count!” Jimmy screams, refusing to move away from his spot. “That one doesn’t count! I wasn't prepared!” 

Grian looks at him blankly.

“So?” 

“So I get to do it again!” The boy cries, trying to justify himself to get another turn on the jump ropes. 

“But Timmy,” Grian starts with a patronizing smile. “You know the rules. Your turn ends when you lose, and you just lost.” 

“But—” Jimmy whimpers, his face turning red from frustration. 

“You saw how you got impatient when it was my turn. Pearl must be feeling impatient too right now, waiting for your turn. Right, Pearl?” 

Pearl hangs her mouth open, not knowing whether to defend Jimmy or to join Grian in taunting him. On one hand, letting Jimmy get a second try would be the right thing to do, but on the other hand, saying yes to Grian would be so incredibly funny.

Luckily for Pearl, she didn’t have to stay in that dilemma for long, as Grian quickly made the choice for her.

“Right, exactly. She looks so happy now that she gets to be able to play.” Grian nods, representing Pearl in her answer. “Alright then, go ahead and take the handles now, won’t you, Tim?” 

Jimmy is shaking. 

He is absolutely fuming. 

“I… am not… holding the handle again!”  Jimmy screams, taking the ropes before throwing it away in anger.

The rope flies, making Pearl gasp and little Grian smile maniacally, before landing high up on a tree branch—stuck. 

Jimmy only took a second to realize what he had done. His little face goes pale as he stares at the hanging jump rope in horror. 

“Ooooh, Timmy. You better get that back before mum finds out…” Grian taunts again, barely concealing the triumphant happiness in his voice. 

Pearl bites her bottom lip. Walking forward towards the tree. 

“Hey, I don't know, maybe I should—” 

Jimmy holds a hand out, shaking his head. 

“No, I can do it.”

Pearl didn't get to say anything else as Jimmy put a foot on one of the higher roots of the tree. He pushes himself up, grabbing on to a branch to help him maneuver his body. 

Pearl puts a hand on her forehead, gritting her teeth in stress as she watches Jimmy struggle trying to climb the tree.

Jimmy loses one of his footings on a smaller branch, almost making him slip. His breath hitches, hugging his body on to the tree bark. 

“Careful there, Tim!” Little Grian calls out. A smug grin on his face. 

The boy continues scaling up the tree carefully, going higher and higher, until eventually, he reaches the branch where the rope got stuck. 

He carefully scoots himself on the branch, leaning his body until he successfully grabs the rope. 

“I got it!” Jimmy cheers, raising his hands high up, waving the rope around to show his siblings, who are both looking at him from down on the ground.

“Great job, mate!” Pearl shouts, curling her hand over her mouth to make her voice louder. 

“Well done!” Grian yells. 

Jimmy smiles widely, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He actually did it. He managed to climb the tree, retrieving the jump ropes. Even despite his small body and short limbs, he still managed to reach it. 

He feels pride swell inside his chest. Proud of himself, the way he didn't give up even against all odds. 

“Alright Jimmy, you can come down now!” Pearl shouts again. 

Jimmy pauses. 

Come down?

Dread pools in his belly.

He doesn't know how to come down. 

His panic must be very visible, as immediately after that, little Grian starts laughing hysterically. Folding down and holding his belly to continue to laugh at Jimmy's misery.

“Grian!” Pearl scolds him, lightly hitting his shoulder. 

“What?! He did it himself!” Grian defends himself between laughter. “I didn't do anything!” 

Technically true. Which makes Jimmy even more distressed, finally pushing him over the brink and letting the dam burst. 

Jimmy starts crying. 

Hearing the little boy's loud wailing as he sits there, stuck on top of a tree, only adds fuel to Grian's fire, making him laugh even harder than before. 

Scar stares at the crime being committed in both absolute shock and amusement. He didn't think Grian could get worse. Turns out, he's lucky to have met a more diluted, mature Grian, because his pure, child self might get the devil to repent. 

“You enjoy this?” Scar points to the distressed, crying child on the tree. 

Present–Grian shrugs. “It was funny at the time.”

Well. Scar thinks. It is pretty funny. 

Little Grian wheezes out the last of his laughter, before taking a deep breath.

“Okay, okay, I'll get you down, Timmy.”

With that, he walks toward the tree, carefully climbing it before stopping when he is just under the branch that Jimmy is stuck on. 

He patiently guides Jimmy's footing, manually moving his legs for him so he can step into a safe place. He holds Jimmy's back on the particularly harder steps so he won't fall, giving him encouragement until the two of them safely reach the ground. 

Pearl meets them on the ground with a slow shake of her head.

“I won't tell mum if you let me take your computer time.” She bargains, looking at Grian with an eyebrow up.

“Wha—but Pearl—!”

“Yes or no, Grian?”

Little Grian rolls his eyes, sighing. 

“Fineeee.” 

“Awwww,” Scar giggles as the three kids continue playing with the jump ropes. Jimmy gets himself a second chance and manages two whole jumps before failing. 

Little Grian lets him go again.

Scar smiles. “So you really do love them!” 

Present–Grian rolls his eyes, not dissimilar to how little Grian did. 

"Of course I do, they're my siblings.”  

Ever since he moved for college, and now work, he hasn't been talking with them quite as much as he'd like.  

It's harder now as well, with Pearl all the way over in Australia, making their overlapping awake time even more scarce. 

He realizes painfully that he should probably call them. Tell them all about the absurd scenario he had just experienced the last few days. They haven't heard about Scar yet, which sounds a bit crazy. Scar had quickly wormed his way into his life, and before he knew it, the man was already becoming an integral part of it. Grian is not quite sure how he had spent the majority of his life without knowing of Scar's existence. It feels like he has been a part of his story since forever. 

His siblings need to know about that. They need to know everything going on in his life, like he needs to know theirs. 

The watch slowly comes to a stop in Grian's pockets, kindly realizing his now suddenly very tight agenda of calling his siblings and talking with them for hours until midnight. 

“I'm gonna miss baby Grian,” Scar laments as the three children's synchronized counting fades into the crashing sounds of distant waves. “You gotta give me baby pictures after this.”

Grian laughs.

“You can ask my siblings for that.”

-

Things have been looking up for Grian. 

Ever since he met Scar and the strange sort of magic he possesses, he hadn't been thinking of dying once. 

In fact, now that he's here, imagining that possible scenario of dying from a sudden arrhythmia attack, he finds that… Actually, he probably would mind. A lot. 

He wants to continue living. 

All of those good times had given him a massive reality check. He realized that he had so much to live for. 

Even if he's not experiencing any good times right now, the ones in the past don't just automatically fade away. They're still there, obscured by the clouds of the present. 

He smiles to himself. 

Now that he knows that fact for sure, it's hard to think he would go back to being fully sad ever again. So many people had got his back, so many good times telling him everything was worth it. Surely, he can get himself out of any slump if he had those good times driving him forward, right?

He couldn't be more wrong. 

The last few days had felt like a dream, like a door finally opening for him after being stuck in one room for a while. 

With how happy and relaxed he felt, playing around with a man he just met, doing nonsensical things like magic and memories, hanging out with Gem, and playing with his cats, calling his siblings. All of those things combined have made him forget what was on the line. 

He got fired the next day. 

Honestly, he should've seen it coming.

He had totally been slacking off. The thought of it completely passed his mind at the moment, obscured by the dumb magic he had experienced. 

Grian knew that happiness was something you had to pay for, a reward for suffering. Investing himself in things that made him happy all the time was unrealistic. 

He can't have every moment in his life be a good time. 

It's funny. He knows that losing a job isn't the end of the world. That he could just search for a new job, maybe finally move out of his loud neighborhood. That everything would probably be okay. 

But for the life of him, he couldn’t seem to grasp that fact concretely in his brain.

His job wasn't the best, but it pays well. It took so much effort for him to enter the company, and for him to lose years of that hard work over a couple of days of fooling around with some guy? 

This is his own fault. 

If only he'd been more serious.

If only he'd been more diligent.  

If only he hadn't been desperate. 

That one little push, that one drawback, was enough to render the overwhelming joy of the experience he had been feeling to turn incredibly sour. 

He shouldn't have gone to The Swaggon again that day. 

He shouldn't have gone back to Scar.

And yet, as he takes one step, followed by another, dragging his body without knowing clearly what he is trying to search for, he finds himself yet again, in that place at the side of the beach. The scent of salt water hitting his nose and the breeze making his hair sticky. The Swaggon stands proudly, right where it should be.

Scar is lounging at the front of The Swaggon, one leg folded, and the other one hanging loosely. Jellie slotted right in the middle of his lap, keeping herself warm and nice with Scar's body heat.

He's in the middle of fixing something, holding a tweezer in one hand as he brings the item close to his eyes to see better, fully lost in concentration.

Grian blinks tiredly.

Why did he come here again? 

Just a second ago, he felt like he never should've come here in the first place, but now here he is. Somehow, the only place that feels right. 

He stands, watching Scar in silence, not knowing what to do or what to say. 

Eventually, Scar looks up, noticing him.

His face breaks into a smile, putting the things he was holding down. 

“Grian!”

Jellie stares at Grian with a knowing glint in her eyes, seemingly noticing his sadness far earlier than Scar had. She slowly blinks at him, before leaping out of Scar's lap and disappearing to the back.

Scar approaches him with a grin, only for his previously joyful expression to drop when he notices Grian's silence.

“Grian? What's wrong?” 

Before Grian could think of what to answer, tears started falling out of his eyes.

Scar watches in shock as he starts sobbing, clutching the hems of his sweater and hanging his head low. The droplets of his tears staining the cobbled path below him. 

“Oh, Grian…” 

Scar wraps a hand around his shoulders. The warmth of it makes Grian cry harder. 

He leads him to The Swaggon, sitting him down and rubbing a comforting hand on his back.

Jellie meows from somewhere up the rafters, pushing something with her little paw. 

It drops right next to Scar. 

A dusty tissue packet. 

“Huh, I forgot I had this.” Scar mumbles to himself before taking the first few dirty tissues out and disposing of them, giving Grian some clean tissues to wipe his tears with.

Grian accepts it gratefully, blowing his nose into them and shoving the snot–covered tissues to Scar, who tries not to wince as he brings it over to the trash can. 

Once Grian calms down a bit, sniffing the last of his sobs away, Scar asks him again.

“What happened, G?”

Grian's head hurt in embarrassment. He knows how absolutely ridiculous he is for bawling his eyes out over some job. He almost doesn't wanna tell Scar about it, afraid he'll see him as some sort of loser. 

That mindset doesn't last long, however, when Grian realizes he'd be even more of a loser if he tried to hide it like some emotionally constipated child. So he takes a deep breath. 

“I got fired from my job.” Simple and straightforward.

“It's dumb because it's just one job that I don't even like. But also, it was such a huge part of my life that now that I’ve lost it, I just… don't really know what to do anymore.”

Scar listens to him patiently, letting him try and make sense of the turmoil inside him. 

“I just feel so stupid,” Grian sighs. “I was so confident that I finally had it all figured out, but now this dumb thing happens and suddenly my worldview is just ruined, and I'm back to feeling like absolute doodoo.” 

He leans back.

“I feel like I wasted all those good times.”

“Wasted?” Scar says for the first time since he started talking.

“Right, I mean… I thought… If only I kept those good times close to me, I could face anything, knowing that everything is worth it. But, right now, those good times are just that. Things that happened in the past. Whatever I felt then doesn't matter now that I have newer, stronger feelings.”

He shuts his eyes, stinging hot from his previous tears.

“I can't help but feel like I've wasted your kindness.”

“Nonsense!” Scar interrupts. “I love spending the good times with you, Grian. I didn't just do it out of the kindness of my heart!”

“But I just feel so… stuck right now,” Grian protests. “Like what happened doesn't even matter.”

“But it does matter,” Scar smiles comfortingly. “It's okay, Grian. Not every time has to be a good time, and not every good time has to last forever.” 

Grian frowns at him, confused. 

“It's okay to forget about a good time, it's okay to not let it be good anymore, it's okay to not cherish it all the time. We're humans—we live in the present. We don't always have a good time, but every time we've ever lived is good. So every one of those good times, even if you forget them, matters.” 

Scar grabs the thing he was fiddling with earlier. “And besides…” he gently grabs on to Grian's wrist, holding it out, putting the item in his palm. “The past isn't the only thing pushing us forward.”

Grian stares at the item in his hands with bewilderment, utterly confused, but awed all the same. 

It's a watch.

Not a good times watch.

An actual, normal watch.

It's red and simple. A fusion of both analog and digital. The second hand moves rhythmically across the face, producing a soft, almost unnoticeable tick, fighting with its every being to stay in the present. 

“Even if you don't remember the good times, we can always make new ones.” 

Grian is stunned into silence. 

He turns it around, the remaining sunlight making the golden color of the case shine brightly. 

It's sleek, well crafted. And on the back, a single “G” is engraved.

The watch is made for him.

“Come with me, Grian.”

Grian looks up in disbelief, his mouth hanging open.

Scar seems like he wanted to turn away so badly, but forces himself to bravely look straight into Grian's eyes instead. 

“I'm going to leave soon for the next town over. You should come with me… if you want to.” 

He's blanking.

“It might not be comfortable, living on wheels… and we'd have to introduce Jellie to Pearl and Maui… and you also have to prepare to run from the cops because… I don't actually have any permits,” 

Grian can't help but laugh unexpectedly. Of course he didn't have any permits, what did he expect? 

“But I'll make sure you'll never go hungry, Grian! I'll let you know that I can make some really good tortillas—”

Grian does like a good tortilla.  

“—I'm very good at identifying trees, you'll never have to confuse an oak tree with a spruce tree ever again!”

That's pretty convenient. 

“And…”

Scar drags, eyes trailing up as if he's stuck in an exam and the answers to the questions are written on the roof.

“... I actually can't really think of any other benefits.”

Grian laughs again, shaking his head. 

“Well, at least you're honest, buddy.” 

“Yes, yes, naturally! I am a man who values honesty above all!” He nods, putting an arm across his chest, before looking at Grian again with his best attempt at puppy dog eyes. “So is that a yes?” He squeaks.

Grian smiles hesitantly. 

“I don't know, Scar… you seem to be doing everything by yourself just fine. I mean, what am I even supposed to do? I don't wanna just be a burden.”

“Dude, are you kidding me?” Scar gives him a bewildered expression. “Grian, did you see how bad I was at knowing where everything was while we were at those good times? You had to basically drag me everywhere!”

Well, now that he mentions it, it is kinda true. But then again…

“But it was my memories—I was already familiar with them. I can't say the same about a stranger!”

“Please. We got teleported to places out of the range of your memories, like, twice, and you still managed just fine.” Scar waves a hand of dismissal. “Grian, I can't even tell my left from my right! My previous customers weren't as good as you with dragging me along. We had to search for the actual good time for like five whole minutes—it was so awkward!”  

Scar takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

“My point is… I need you.” 

Even if it was for such a ridiculous reason, that is, being a glorified tour guide for happy memories. It was nice to feel needed. 

Scar clears his throat, offering him a hand. “ So what do you say? I sell the good times, and you watch over the memories?”

While he tries to show a confident, business–like appearance, Grian can see the way his hand trembles a bit. He's nervous, but hopeful. Did he really want Grian to join him so badly?

Grian chuckles at his actually pretty cute expression, totally ignoring his outstretched hand and going straight to hugging him, circling his arms on his back and resting his head on his neck. 

“I'd love to, Scar.” 

Scar stays frozen in place. A bright red color quickly overcame his complexion.

He hugs Grian back, holding him tightly. 

Grian is going to have to pack after this, while also thinking of a way to tell Gem, Jimmy, and Pearl without making him sound like some sort of crazy person blinded by love… which he isn't. 

Scar is going to have to reorganize his living space for Grian, adjust his plans and schedules, and somehow tell Grian that he’s wanted in thirty–seven countries and banned in five. 

They’re going to fight, argue, and worst of all, figure out finances. 

But they’re going to work it out. 

And it’s all going to be good.