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Grian tapped his finger slowly, in a constant rhythm of seconds passing by, on the wood of his cheap desk, staring at the screen of his laptop. That screen was the only source of light in his room, having pulled the curtains shut once and never bothered to open them again, and it was around 2 am.
The apartment was quiet, the noises of the city outside buzzed constantly, and he only tapped his index finger on the pad of the finger.
In front of him was a document he had gotten months ago about the current price of rent. He paid it each month, he wasn’t confused by any means, but there was a catch this time.
He was low on money. Even if he made sure to spend less on basics, he still had to pay a few extras here and there for Scar, and also his studies during the month.
Which was not good. If he got behind on rent, Scar would notice and probably think he wasn’t worthy of staying or something. He couldn’t disappoint Scar, because they were great friends, but especially because he still wanted to hold onto that same dumb hope that they could be more one day.
Who would want a nobody who struggled that badly with money?
And he knew, as he stared at that number he kept staring at in case it changed, what he had to do. Though it didn’t mean he enjoyed it or didn’t loathe the idea of what was going to come after that. The lying, the hiding, the hurt…
But when he finally gave up and went to his bed, laptop still displaying that paper, his heart had chosen what he was going to do already.
He woke up the next day with his alarm, groaning as he got up from bed, putting some clean clothes on and going out the door into the living room, already grabbing breakfast things from the cupboard to put them on the table.
“Rough night?” Scar asked, just coming out of his room.
“Why are you asking?” asked Grian, yawning.
“Your eyebags are showing and you put on your shirt the wrong way.”
Grian looked down at himself, cursing before turning away from Scar and fixing his shirt.
They both drank coffee, Scar eating overnight oats and Grian grabbing whatever was there on the table, and in this case, stale bread with cheap jam.
Scar watched him bite into the crunch bread, inexpressive.
“Hey, don’t forget we have to pay rent in three days, yeah? If you forget like that other time, the landlord isn’t going to like you very much.”
Grian chuckled. “He can’t kick us out, he loves you.”
“Well I’ll convince him not to but he keeps saying he wished I changed roommates and it’s super rude.”
Grian stared at his depression toast before finishing it, knowing that not a lot of people cared about him. That’s what made him take an interest in Scar pretty early on, the man too pure not to see the best in everyone else.
Grian finished putting the dishes back and cleaning the table while Scar was on his phone checking something. Grian put both their bags on one of his shoulders and gestured for Scar to go first, following him to the front door and opening it for him.
They quietly went down the corridor and slipped into the creaking elevator to go two floors down, exiting and walking down into the street, in the direction of their campus.
Grian listened to Scar ramble about something related to amusement parks, which he listened to but didn’t really understand anything.
When they crossed the gate of the campus, Grian gently laid Scar’s bag on his lap and bowed to bid him farewell, a little habit he picked up when they used to joke about Grian being a butler.
They both went to their classes, Grian studying hard, wanting to do his best and get a nice job after. One that didn’t need him to work extra hours.
At lunch break, they reunited, them and other friends, laughing and telling about their day. Grian didn’t expect to eat anything, as he hadn’t brought anything, but Scar handed him a lunchbox filled with leftovers.
His heart clenched for a moment. Scar really did notice everything about him.
He mouthed a “thank you” and ate half of it while listening to Cub rant about how learning about astrophysics was throwing rocks at a person.
Scar did eye him up and down as he noticed Grian not finishing his food, but this was planned.
He needed more food after school for energy.
Grian studied some more in his afternoon classes, his leg nervously bouncing, wondering if he still got it. If he hadn’t lost all his abilities.
No matter, he needed the money.
He messaged Scar that he would go out with some friends after school and to text him if anything was really wrong, as he went to a park and finished his lunch there.
He sent a message to an old acquaintance. He received the same message as ever. An address, and a time.
He warmed up in that park, not risking just going in cold. He was in good health lately, maybe that was going to his advantage.
He found himself at the address a little less than an hour before, easily finding his way through an intoxicated crowd to the woman he knew.
She always looked deeply disappointed in anyone fighting, bored out her mind like she never wanted to be there in the place. Yet anyone respected her deeply, not risking to go against her judgement. And she was clever. Very. Enough to know Grian always found his way back to her.
Grian gulped.
“Pearl.”
She slowly turned to him, smiling.
“Ah. You’re here.”
Grian looked away. It was never something he prided himself on when he would resort back to this.
“I need money.”
“I gathered that much, yes.”
“Do you have something I can do to get some?” He insisted, knowing she usually drove into his head how weak his resolve was.
She slowly nodded, eyeing him up and down.
“I have a spot, yes. Go get dressed. It's probably going to be a newbie.”
He narrowed his eyes and walked away, in the direction of an empty spot, pulling out crusty hand wraps from his backpack, and changing from his jeans to sweatpants. He used a bike lock to secure his bag to a pole. He hadn’t a lot of value on him but he only needed to learn his lesson once.
He wrapped his hand while staring at the other fights, people going at each other ferociously, screaming and kicking, like they forgot they were human to begin with.
He was going against a newbie, a courtesy of Pearl who didn’t send him to die right away, which was only a moral dilemma. Was he going to go easy on someone who was just starting out? Or was that newbie a pro in the making?
Adrenaline pumped into his veins as the time passed by. Pearl and him exchanged a couple of glances, and they both knew. They didn’t want to be there, doing this.
But they had to.
The crowd laughed when the new guy walked into the ring, he really looked out of place, like a teenager finding his markings.
He looked thin, almost fragile, but with the usual testosterone anger inside of him. He almost looked like a kid, standing in a circle of people hungry for blood.
Grian placed himself and took his stance. So this new guy was just beginning, with hope that he could earn some bucks.
An easy fight.
But Grian needed more money.
As soon as the bell rang, he hit him with an uppercut and knocked him out in one go.
Pearl sighed.
A couple of fights later, after a busted lip, bruised eye and ribs, and a rolled ankle, Grian snatched his payroll of the night from Pearl’s hand.
“I thought you’d be rustier than this. Welcome back.”
He was. He definitely was. His whole body was strained with effort, his muscles ached and his head pounded, but it was fine.
Because he had something else to fight for than survival. Someone.
He unlocked the bike lock and left the bustling building with his bag on his shoulder, limping.
It was around 11pm. A fast-paced night.
He counted his money when far enough. He had just enough for rent now.
Relieved, he went back to the apartment, pocketing his prize.
He unwrapped his hands before reaching the building, and wiped at his face when checking himself in the elevator mirror.
He quietly went to the apartment’s door, trying to not make a noise, expecting Scar to be asleep.
Which, he was, but not where Grian expected. Instead of finding the living room dark and Scar’s room closed, the light was turned on, and Scar was asleep, arms crossed and face down on the table.
For a moment Grian worried Scar was waiting for Grian to grab something for him, but he remembered that Scar told him time and time again that he could manage by himself.
Maybe Scar was worried?
He closed the door, toeing his shoes off, tiptoeing to his room to set his bag down, and pulled his hood over his head to hide himself as he went back to Scar, gently nudging him to push him back into his chair.
He wheeled him back to his room, careful not to knock anything off, as Scar liked to store complicated lego builds on unstable places.
He unbuckled him and carefully lifted him up, noticing Scar had already changed into pajamas. How long had he been waiting for? Had something happened?
Scar stirred when he was lifted.
“G’ian…?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Go back to sleep, you have classes in the morning,” he ushered, setting down Scar under the covers, pulling the blankets over him.
“… what time is it…?”
“Late. Just sleep, okay?”
Scar reached a hand out to him, and he couldn’t help but hold it, leaving a small kiss on the back of his hand.
“Sleep tight, Scar. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
“… bed bugs…?”
Grian chuckled, shushing him, petting his forehead, before standing up and leaving, closing the door behind him.
He went to the bathroom, pulling of his hoodie with a hiss before cleaning the dirt and dried blood in the mirror, the water dripping down his elbows.
He bit his tongue hard not to make a noise as he used disinfectant to clean his cuts, the product burning deep beneath the skin.
He stared at the cuts and when he accepted that he wouldn’t be able to hide them, he just settled for a small piece of gauze taped to his brow arcade and quickly washed in the shower.
He went to bed hungry and tired, throbbing with pain but at least he wasn’t cold.
The morning after, Grian woke up groaning as he shut off his alarm, putting on clean clothes and getting out of his room.
He grabbed the essentials for breakfast when he noticed Scar, at the table like always, was staring at him wide-eyed.
Ah, the bruises and cuts on his face. Right.
Well, as long as Scar didn’t ask, he wouldn’t say anything.
He handed Scar his overnight oats and grabbed an old packet of biscuits from the back of the shelf.
He ate silently, staring at the table while Scar didn’t touch his bowl.
He drank a lot of water, grabbing a water bottle knowing at least that wouldn’t cost him anything.
He couldn’t spend a single penny for now until rent was paid.
He waited for Scar to come to the front door, who had to rush because of his dumbstruck staring session, and they went to the campus together again, in silence.
Scar didn’t seem to have anything to say. Or ask,
They separated at the gate again, Grian going to class alone, sitting in the back and working hard. Studying good. He still had to get that job.
His whole flank ached, but ignoring it was almost second nature.
At lunch break, he hesitated on going with his friends. He had nothing to eat and of course they’d ask about it. And he doesn't want to imagine how awkward and embarrassing it would be.
But of course, as he hesitated, Jimmy wrapped an around his shoulders and pulled him along.
“Awh you’re never going to guess what happened this morning! So there was—“
Grian lowered his head, letting himself be pulled along to the campus’ lunch tables.
Everyone in their friend group stopped talking and stared at him as he arrived. He just sighed and sat down at his usual spot, burying his face in his arms, resting on the table.
Now everyone knew he had something bad going on. Saying he was a sleepwalker and often bumped himself could only take him so far…
He was hungry too, he had skipped dinner, and it was only a matter of time before his stomach would growl.
He gripped onto his own shoulders, trying to think of anything else but his issues right now.
He felt a nudge at his hand, and if he ignored it the first time, he had to check and look up the second time.
Scar pushed his lunch box towards him. Grian shook his head no, but Scar gestured that he wasn’t hungry anymore. Which was a lie, because the box’s contents were perfectly halved.
He was sharing his lunch.
He was giving half of his lunch away so Grian wouldn’t skip a meal. Or, skip one more meal.
If he didn’t like taking away from Scar, it was overpowered by his hunger.
The lunch was just half a sandwich and raw vegetables, but to him it was one of the most important meals of his life.
Which settled within him the idea that he couldn’t show up with no food anymore.
He had to go back and fight again that night to get some lunch money. As stupid as it may have sounded.
That evening, after class, he just adjusted his bag over his shoulder and sent some lame excuse to Scar’s number before walking his way to the park.
He warmed up as usual, as the common jogging people passed by.
He sent a message to Pearl and she gave him another address, same time.
Upon arriving there, the mood was hysteric. There were more people in the public than usual.
He was wrapping his hands already when he reached Pearl, still stoic, staring at the fight.
“What is it tonight?” Grian asked above the scream crowd.
“Two days in a row? That’s unusual.” She taunted.
Grian knew better than to respond.
“Who?” He insisted.
She turned to him.
“I only got one fight for you, but it’s 200.”
He nodded at her, wanting details. She pointed at someone who was getting ready.
“That guy.”
He was broader, definitely more muscular than him. Of course he’d be worth 200, because when looking at them both, no one would bet on Grian. Except Pearl.
Grian took a good look at him. It was going to hurt, it was going to be super annoying and lame, but it was 200. Just one fight for the night.
For Scar.
“I’ll take it.”
Pearl raised a brow at him.
“Must be really deep in debt, huh?”
Grian shrugged.
“Alright, at my signal then.”
Grian struggled to find a spot to put his bag in, and settled on a weird metal beam sticking out of the wall, high enough to discourage most thieves.
He changed his pants to sweats again in the middle of the crowd, all too busy to see the fighting to pay attention to him.
The adrenaline crept into his veins at the anticipation of a fight, especially since that opponent scared him a little. If that guy knew a bit about boxing, Grian was probably screwed. He decided last minute he’d take off his shirt too, no point in staining it with blood.
When Pearl motioned for him to step in the circle, his body was fully expecting that fight. His heart was attuned, his muscles responsive.
He didn’t hear the fed people who laughed at seeing the two different opponents. He didn’t hear what the announcer was saying. He only heard his heartbeat, reminding himself with every breath that he was doing this for Scar.
When the bell rang, there was a bit of a stalemate, both staring at each other, his opponent probably wondering why he was facing Grian.
Grian taunted him by slapping the guy’s fist, and the effect was immediate.
The man lunged at him, screaming, throwing a haymaker at his face which he dodged to land an uppercut to the chin.
The guy was barely phased as he threw another haymaker with his other hand. Grian had just enough time to react to put his shoulder in front of it, taking the whole force of the hit but protecting his head.
He lifted his arms up and used them to protect his head some more, narrowly blocking the few hits that followed. But he received a really powerful blow to the ribs, which broke his guard, and was hit square in the jaw.
His ears rang. He wasn’t sure where he was. But he had to win the fight. He knew.
He went back at his opponent, going for the head, landing a few good hits, though getting his nose broken as payback.
He stumbled back, his eyes watering.
He had to win the fight.
No mercy.
As he panted on the edge of the circle, the guy charged another haymaker, Grian waited for it to be in motion to duck under and land a mean liver shot.
The guy dropped limp, curling up on the floor.
Grian couldn’t hear the booing crowd, the screaming or the announcer. Just his heart pounding and his heavy breathing.
He was hurting all over.
He just wanted to go home.
He turned back to Pearl, seeing her take the bets. That fight must have earned her some pretty bucks.
He slowly walked back, seeing people being angry at him, but he still couldn’t hear a thing. Maybe it was his ears ringing. Maybe two hits in the head didn’t help.
He went to his stuff, putting his shirt back on and pulling on his hoodie, wincing, throwing his bag over his shoulder.
He returned to Pearl, who handed him the money.
And, Grian hadn’t often seen 200 in bills in his hand, but it looked like it was much more.
He lifted his head towards her, a question expression on his face, and she just smiled and pointed at the crowd.
Grian turned back.
There was a very familiar wheelchair, where she pointed at. And someone curled inside it.
The was some random girl kneeling beside it but Grian didn’t care. He shoved the money in his pockets, rushing to them, cursing himself and Scar.
Because of course Scar managed to get there, it’s just the easiest place to reach for a wheelchair, right?
He grabbed Scar by the shoulder to force him to look at Grian.
“WHY ARE YOU HERE?!” He shouted over the crowd.
Scar raised his hands in front of his face, leaning back, and Grian realized that the adrenaline in his veins may be too much for Scar to handle.
No matter what happened, Grian had to get Scar out of here.
He slipped behind him and grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, pushing him through the crowd.
Thankfully the crowd parted to let them pass, not daring to provoke Grian now, and also being respectful about handicaps.
He pushed Scar until the screaming of the crowd was reduced to a muffled noise, and they stopped under the light of a street lamppost.
“What were you thinking, Scar? You could’ve gotten hurt. Those crowds are not made of good people.”
Scar looked less in shock and more aware.
“What was I thinking?! What were you thinking?! I followed you because I was worried and this is what you’ve been doing?!”
“You followed me?!”
“I was worried for your safety! And I was right to be worried!”
“Scar you don’t just follow me like you have any decision in what I do!”
“I do when your life is in danger!”
“No, you don’t!”
Grian turned away, rubbing at his temples, the only spot he could rub without smearing blood all over his face.
He promised himself he wouldn’t make Scar scared of him before, now wasn’t the time to break promises.
He took a deep breath, turning back around.
“Okay. This is unfortunate. Let’s go home and fix this at home. I’m tired and hungry.”
Those last words seemed to make Scar soften.
“Okay. Back home, then.”
Grian wheeled Scar in the direction of their building, both accepting the silence for the other.
They needed time. Grian used one hand to check on the amount given to him, it was 400. Business was good.
Pearl might have earned more than anticipated with this fight, but something tells Grian she added some more money because she saw Scar. Either to buy him a gift to be forgiven or buying a taxi to let him go.
Grian felt himself sway a little and knew he had to sit really soon, or he’d topple over. Still, he pushed through and brought them both home, to the elevator and to their door, which Scar unlocked and Grian pushed the door open.
Grian dropped his bag in the entrance, unwrapping his wrists from those dirty, crusty bands caked in blood, noticing Scar had gone to the bathroom.
He came back with the first aid kit on his lap.
“I can handle myself, you know,” Grian chuckled.
“Quiet,” Scar mumbled, pointing at the couch, where he wanted Grian to sit.
And if he wasn’t sure about Scar’s commanding tone, he at least knew he deserved some kind of cold shoulder. He had known for a long time that Scar loathed violence, and being forced into this situation couldn’t be comfortable.
So, he quieted down while Scar prepared supplies, preparing gauze and soaking cotton rounds in disinfectant.
He was dipping other cotton rounds into warm water when Grian noticed his shaking, and looked up to see the silent tears in his roommate’s eyes.
Grian scooted to the edge of couch, reaching out a hand, only to get it slapped away.
“Don’t,” warned Scar, with a wobbly tone.
“Don’t what?”
Scar bit his lip, turning away.
“Scar?”
Scar didn’t reply. Grian wiped his palms on his pants. Those were also speckled with blood.
“Scar, I— I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean—“
“Oh so you’re sorry?”
Scar’s tone was irritated. Grian never felt like he was walking on eggshells so hard before.
“… I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have seen this…”
“Oh, I think I should have.”
Scar turned back to Grian, and Grian was speechless.
“I think I should have known a long, long time ago! How long has this been going on?! Why do you do this?”
Grian stared into Scar’s eyes. If before, he would have been wondering how could they be the color of emeralds, now he just wondered why he was the one to put tears into them.
“Scar, I—“
“Answer me!”
His answer was simple. For love. Always has been.
The first time he ever tried to participate, was because he thought it would impress Scar, and he really needed something for his confidence.
Streetfighting seemed like his best option at the time because he could show that he could defend Scar, with the thrill of something illegal.
Then months and months later, when he started to get good, he learned that Scar hated any kind of real violence, though he loved to joke about it, and didn’t see an interest in breaking the rules.
His plans went out the window.
He kept at it for a while because he wondered if it really was all in vain, then because he had to vent his frustration of his unrequited feelings, then because he needed money.
He tried to quit, for Scar’s sake. Scar didn’t need a friend who behaved like a rabid dog every once in awhile. But something always brought him back.
And now, if Scar was disgusted by him, he’d have to go back to earn enough to survive on his own, and because he’d have nothing left once Scar would go.
Pearl would surely laugh.
Scar stared at him, waiting for an answer, and Grian could only plead with his eyes. Plead not to be left alone. Plead to be forgiven.
He felt like he was going to cry. He couldn’t. Not in front of Scar, or he’d think he was even more pathetic.
He looked down at the wooden flooring.
“Grian? Is there someone forcing you to do this?” Scar asked.
And if it wasn’t the best option right now. To lie, say he was trapped and it wasn’t his fault. Bury everything and lie, lie his way out. Lie until Scar wanted to stay.
But Grian shook his head.
“… so why do you go there?”
Grian’s grip tightened on his sweatpants. He didn’t want to talk.
“… I had to pay rent,” he tried to explain poorly.
Scar scoffed.
“Really? Oh Grian, we— when people are low on rent, they get an actual job, not—“
Grian looked up at him, Scar quietened down.
“… sorry, didn’t mean it like that. Uhm… just… yeah, it’s… look if you’re low on rent you can just count on me to fill in the difference. I can lend you money.”
Grian snorted, shaking his head.
“We’re not doing that.”
“Why not? I have money, I don’t mind—“
Grian cut him short.
“Scar, I’m enough of an issue as it is.”
Scar was taken aback.
“… what are you on about? You’re not an issue, Gri—“
“Don’t start.”
“Start what? Grian, you— you’re the furthest away from being an issue!”
“Then why are we here?” That was a low blow, but Grian did want to dismiss this conversation as quickly as possible.
Scar frowned. Grian saw the crinkles in between his eyebrows, creases formed in soft skin.
“You’re not an issue, Grian. I don’t know what you tell yourself at night, but you’re my best friend. I care about you, and you spend so much time here just making sure I’m okay and don’t need anything. You— I really don’t mind paying some part of your rent because you don’t cost me anything and you’re already doing the job of a caretaker I would have had to hire. And it— it hurts to know that you’re going out and risking your life just to have a roof, of which I’m also under.”
Grian didn’t want to cry, but his eyes watered. He turned away.
“And I know the usual stupid stuff you say to justify yourself but— I care! I care, okay? I can’t just— you can’t go back there. I’m not letting you. And even if I have to pay for everything for the rest of my life I don’t care!”
Grian tried really hard not to cry, but tears were already rolling down his cheeks, his fist clenched on his sweatpants, saline water dripping on the couch.
“Please… you can’t go willingly to get hurt for a few bucks. It’s just not right… you matter, to me, to our friends, it’s… I know you think I’m making a huge deal out of it, but we really… just…” he paused, thinking.
“It’s rent, Scar. I can’t just stop—“
“You’re not listening to me!” Scar shouted, and Grian knew that would earn them a noise complaint. “I said, I’ll pay. Is that clear enough? You stop fighting, I’ll pay.”
Grian shook his head slowly. “You’re not going—“
“I will. But that’s the deal. No more fighting, I will cover the rent.”
Grian gritted his teeth. “What point do I have in staying here if I can’t even afford the rent?”
“We knew, Grian. We chose an apartment instead of a dorm, we wanted the extra privacy and the comfort, but we knew it was going to cost more. I was more surprised you kept offering me stuff…”
Grian looked at his hands. He did gift things to Scar. Didn’t think it would turn into this.
He didn’t mind getting some bruises to give gifts, but apparently Scar minded the bruises.
Scar held onto his hands to make Grian look at him.
“Promise me. Promise me you’ll never do that again. That no matter how dire the situation is, we’ll find some other way. Okay?”
Grian snorted when Scar lifted his pinky up.
“Really? A pinky promise?”
“Are you going to keep it otherwise?”
Grian stared at Scar’s hand for a moment, taking in what he was willing to go through. He was going to quit either way, but… lacking money never felt good.
He wondered about the possibilities if he said yes, what kind of job he could take, the logistics…
Scar interrupted him.
“Just say yes, I need to clean your face.”
Oh well. For Scar.
Grian rolled his eyes as he linked his pinky together with Scar’s, the feeling strange on his skin.
Scar wheeled himself closer and used the now cold water cotton rounds to clean at the dried blood of his broken nose that had dripped down to his neck.
Grian stared at Scar’s face as he was focused on fixing him up, those deep green eyes staring at him. Well, his damaged face.
He waited for Scar to turn away to change cotton rounds, to set his nose back into the right shape, letting out a small grunt.
Scar turned back, worried.
“Grian what— What did you—?!”
“Calm down, it’s fine. I did it before…”
“Not my point!”
Grian smiled, leaning a bit forward so Scar wouldn't have to fully extend his arms to clean his face.
“I’m okay, Scar. Honestly.”
“It’s not. You… I know you’re hurting and yet you just stopped caring.”
When Scar finished cleaning the dried blood, he disinfected the cuts, making Grian hiss from the burn.
“Sorry…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine.”
Scar took extra care in applying healing cream to the cut and covering each one in gauze, most of them not needing it to recover correctly.
But Grian let him. Scar seemed to be soothed the more he patched his face.
His brain buffered when Scar cupped his cheeks to check on his work. And when Scar spoke.
“Take off your shirt.”
“Whuh…?”
Scar leaned back. “Take off your shirt, I have cream for bruises.”
Grian hesitated once, three times, five times before slowly pulling the hoodie off, then his shirt which he still held to his stomach, out of nervousness but also to hide the small amount of fat there. He was far from his abs goal he wanted to have for Scar.
Scar, as he said, grabbed some salve and rubbed it into Grian’s forming bruises.
The touch obviously set his heart ablaze, as he was never a tactile person, but he wanted Scar’s hands under his skin, touching his heart directly. He need more, so much more.
He needed rosy lips and tanned skin, he needed…
His heart was racing when nothing was truly happening.
“… it was kinda hot if I’m being honest,” mumbled Scar absentmindedly, still working on Grian’s bruises.
Grian’s mouth felt dry. “… what was?”
“Not the… certainly not the fighting part, though that might be someone’s yum, but… I don’t know. I must be crazy but seeing you roughed up, it… I don’t know.”
“Well someone is enjoying playing nurse…”
“Yeah, kind of. Who doesn’t like being useful? Am I a sexy nurse?”
‘The sexiest’ thought Grian, watching Scar wriggling his eyebrows.
“You… certainly have your charms,” he blurted out, too high on Scar’s touch and remaining adrenaline to think about consequences so soon.
Scar stopped moving.
Grian just let himself be lost in those confused eyes. How beautiful they were.
The detail of his irises and the deep black of his pupils were a wonderful painting he could never get tired of.
And he stared, until he noticed Scar closed his eyes and leaned in, kissing him.
Kissing him?
Grian jolted in surprise, and Scar almost pulled back but Grian was quick to grab him by the shoulders to kiss him back.
It was all he dreamed of and more.
Scar’s soft lips, his smell, the feeling of his hair on his fingers, the faintest brush of his breathing against Grian’s face…
Grian let out a little whine, like a needy puppy, blushing in embarrassment but not willing to let Scar go. The adrenaline still gathered in him did enough to have him shake and grip at Scar nervously.
Then, Grian felt his heart drop before realizing what was happening as Scar got off his wheelchair to climb onto Grian’s lap.
Poor Grian with his fried brain panicked, as it had been a long time since he ever saw Scar stand up, him being the main reason why Scar never had to stand up on his own.
He let out a half-moaned noise of surprise, feeling Scar push him down on the couch to make him lay down.
Grian’s hands froze, caught like a deer in headlight as Scar kept kissing him, straddling him, moving his scorching hot lips down to his neck.
Scar pulled back, both panting as they looked at each other. Grian could see Scar’s flushed cheeks and blown pupils, his shoulders moving with erratic breathing.
“N-no more fighting,” Scar panted, his hands gripping at Grian’s chest, like he was afraid of falling.
Grian’s hands raised to hold him by the hips, just in case.
He murmured his answer.
“… o-okay...”