Chapter Text
— ☆ —
Grian woke slowly, sunlight beaming in through the uncurtained windows
Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he sat up and was immediately set on high alert… This wasn’t his home?
Head on a swivel, he scanned the room until his eyes landed on many, many, many tattered boxes scattered around the small place, each one labelled in scrawly handwriting and black marker.
Right. He moved.
Waking up in a new place is often one of the most disconcerting experiences one can deal with. It’s even worse when you’re Grian, someone who is already constantly on the edge of a state of confusion.
Groaning, he fell backwards onto his mattress, the old material hard and stiff against his sore back. It was far too early to deal with this.
Despite the early time of day, the world outside his small studio apartment seemed bustling with life. Cars honked endlessly in traffic, children called to each other, busy people with busy jobs spoke on phones – the atmosphere was filled with a cacophony of noises, blocked into a soft murmur by the walls of the apartment.
Blearily blinking his eyes back open, Grian resigned himself to his fate. There was no world in which he was going to be able to fall back asleep so he might as well get a move on.
Climbing out of bed (quite slowly, given that he had to untangle himself from the mess of sheets and blanket he had made), he made his way to the bathroom.
The shock of ice cold water hitting his face was strong enough to wake up the parts of himself that had mentally stayed in his warm bed. It was freezing.
Twisting the handle of the tap left, he cautiously poked his finger into the stream. Still glacial.
He turned it all the way to the right and waited, warily guiding his finger towards the pouring water. As soon as his skin made contact, he jumped away. Still stupidly cold.
“What on earth…” he muttered, gritting his teeth to bear the cold as he continued with his morning routine.
At least his shower wouldn’t feel straight from the Arctic...
Outside, birds flew off a nearby telephone pole as a sandy-haired young man yelled in frustration, a jet of sub-zero water hitting him face first.
— ☆ —
Despite the rather unpleasant start to his morning, Grian was determined to have a good first day in the new city.
Pulling on the first presentable piece of clothing he found in the boxes, stuffing his laptop into a bag and leaving the apartment with an untamed bedhead, Grian set off to find a nice cafe where he could acquire some breakfast and a much needed coffee.
After breaking out of the building and making it to the street, he paused, taking in the sights before him.
He gripped his laptop bag tightly, knowing that the script within it is the whole reason he was in this new place to begin with. He had moved to the city in the hopes that the new environment would give him some inspiration and hopefully get him one step closer to having his story picked up by a production company.
It was weird, being in a foreign area. Everything was unfamiliar. He had been born and raised in the same town, gone to the local university and never left, even after graduation. He had known the cracks in the pavement like he knew the lines on his palms, the flowers of each season and the best place to buy bread on Saturdays. Life was simple, ritualistic in the sense that each day was exactly the same. He was comfortable in his routine and never sought anything more... – that’s a lie, Grian was always looking for more, seeking something bigger than himself which resulted in a drastic, out-of-nowhere move to the opposite side of the country in the hopes of a big breakthrough.
As much as he tried to trick himself, Grian knew he hated that town. Everyone knew everyone and everyday was the same — boring, mundane, monotonous. It wasn’t a life worth living. He yearned for something more, for something exciting, for something—
– The rumbling of his stomach interrupted his soliloquy. Right. Food. This was no time for embodying main character energy, he needed caffeine urgently.
Taking a deep breath (though it was mostly filled with the exhaust fumes due to the uncanny amount of traffic), Grian set off to find some breakfast.
The city was filled to the brim with life. Grian found himself dodging and weaving between people dressed in pressed suits, shoes shined enough to mimic mirrors, walking at a brisk pace and paying no mind to the people around them. The stream of cars moving through the streets was endless, as if the entire population of the world decided to hop in a vehicle and pass through this road. The world was bustling and loud and Grian couldn’t be any more in love with it.
Eventually, the weaving between people did start to weigh on him, hunger pangs forewarning him of a headache.
His reprieve came in the form of a quaint coffee shop on the corner of a street; a few tables littered outside, each one adorned with a small vase and a flower, an ‘open’ sign hanging on the window and some fairy lights hung from the overhang. Despite the busy streets, the cafe only had a few people sitting outside, seemingly separated from the bustling streets of New York in its own peaceful bubble.
A chalkboard sign out front promised free coffee if you were able to solve the barista's riddle. Grian grinned, excited by the enticing atmosphere of the cafe and the idea of not having to spend a couple bucks on a coffee.
He pushed the door open, a soft bell announcing his arrival.
The inside matched the outside almost perfectly. It was quiet but not suffocatingly so, a decent amount of people sitting around tables and in booths, working or chatting with associates and friends over a hot beverage and pastry.
“Hello, welcome to the Bean Bonanza!” called out a voice, drawing Grian’s attention to the back of the cafe.
His steps halted.
Behind the counter stood a rather tall man with brown hair that curled near the nape, wearing a beige shirt and an olive green apron.
But apart from the clothing factor of this man’s appearance, he was beautiful. The type of handsome you’d only ever see on the front page of a magazine.
The green of the apron matched his eyes, an emerald green that sparkled with mischievous delight. He had broad shoulders and his cuffs had been rolled up, revealing built, tanned arms that filled the sleeves completely and were littered with pale scars. His uniform brought attention to all the right places.
“Uh, hello?”
A smooth voice snapped him out of his stupor. Grian felt his face heat up as he realised he had been staring at the man for longer than what would be deemed socially acceptable. He might as well have been slack-jawed. If he had a tail it would've been waggling or something ridiculous like that.
Shaking his head to steel himself, he stepped up to the counter.
The man grinned as he approached, obviously pleased with himself which immediately ticked Grian off.
“Welcome back to Earth! I know, I know, I am astonishingly handsome, no need to be embarrassed about your reaction, it’s a daily occurrence.” he said gleefully, clearly amused by Grian’s actions.
Grian raised an eyebrow in response. “Oh sorry, I think there might be a misunderstanding. My reaction when coming in was out of shock that someone who had their name tag upside down would be allowed behind the counter.”
A pause. The barista quickly looked up and down between his name tag and Grian, face flushing.
“Aha!” he replied, words stumbling out of his mouth in a hurry, “You’ve solved today’s riddle. Your drink is on the house!”
Grian choked back a laugh, “C’mon, you don’t expect me to believe that do you?”
“Believe what? Are you questioning the integrity of my fine establishment?” The barista quipped, embodying mock hurt.
“I would never do such a thing…” Grian peered at the name tag that was now the right way around, “...Scar. That’s quite on the nose, don’t you think?”
The barista, Scar , beamed at him in response. “Yeah! That’s what makes it funny!” He leaned forward, resting his scarred arms on the counter, “So what’ll you be getting?”
Grian peered up at the menu, taking a moment to look it over thoroughly. “A flat white and a plain croissant please.” He glanced back at Scar, offering him a smile, “Is the croissant also on the house or do I actually need to pay for that?”
“Tell you what, it’s on the house! First-time customers at Brewtopia get special treatment!”
“Brewtopia? Earlier you called this place Bean Bonanza which also isn’t correct. Do you not know the name of the cafe you work at?” Grian smirked.
Scar shrugged, turning away to start preparing Grian’s order, “The name is whatever I want it to be, smart guy.” He turned his head to face the other man, still smiling brightly, “New rule, newbies don’t get to question me!”
Grian hummed, looking at the decor around the rest of the cafe. “How do you know it’s my first time here anyway?”
Scar turned back around, sliding a tray with a flat white and croissant perched on top. “I know everyone who has ever been in here”, he winked, “it’s part of my Scar magic.”
Grian stared blankly at him.
“Aaand you just have the look of someone who is very lost and definitely very curious about their new environment. You can spot it from a mile away.”
Grian flushed, grabbing his tray and walking away sheepishly to find a place to sit.
He chose a table by one of the large windows encompassing the cafe, taking out his laptop but choosing not to power it on yet, content to sip his coffee and people-watch for the time being.
There was such a stark difference between the atmosphere of the city and of the town from where he came. Here, the stream of people walking by never seemed to stop, the sounds of life constant, but back there it was always quiet, most times suffocatingly so. This was nothing like that. Every person that walked by was different in some way, each with their own stories and paths, goals and desires. They were all unique in every way possible, each striving towards their own ambitions.
On that note, Grian powered on his laptop and opened up the document for his script.
Time passed by in a blur as he worked, spending hours writing notes on napkins, typing endless nonsense on his laptop and occasionally glancing over at Scar, watching the way he flowed through his work easily.
He had just deleted and rewritten the same sentence four times when a cup of coffee was placed on his table, forcing him out of his craze.
Looking up at the hand attached to the coffee, his eyes met Scar, no longer donning the apron, smiling down at him.
“Here, you’ve been here for hours. You clearly need it”. He nudged the cup towards Grian, sliding into the chair across from him and propping his head up with his arm.
Grian took hold of the cup, grateful for the warmth that spread through his hands at the contact.
“Thanks,” he murmured graciously, taking a sip. Flat white. Perfect.
Scar watched him for a few more moments, bright green eyes buzzing with amusement as Grian continued to sip the drink. The silence that had fallen over them and the cafe was comforting, the low buzz of traffic outside a background noise against the tranquil bubble they found themselves in.
Stretching, he interrupted the silence, “So, what do you even do? I’ve seen you scribble on about a hundred napkins during your time here.”
Startled, Grian glanced around at his table, scrunched up napkins littered the entire surface, a clear sign of his frustrations.
“Well, I’m a scriptwriter and film maker. I’ve been working on this script to send off to some production companies soon.”
Scar hummed, “Is that why you moved out here? Hoping for a big break of some sorts?”
“Moved? I thought you said I was only new to the cafe?” Grian quirked an eyebrow, amusement clear on his face.
“No, I could see you from the windows before you entered. You’ve got all the telltale signs of someone new to the city.” He shrugged.
“Ah well, yeah. It kind of sucked being a broke scriptwriter in a small town, I was never going to gain any kind of acknowledgement there. I needed a change”. He glanced at Scar, “Speaking of changes, where’d your apron go?”
“Oh that? We closed about 20 minutes ago.”
Grian stared at him.
“What?! I’m so sorry I didn’t notice–” He scrambled to gather his stuff, sweeping the ocean of scrunched napkins into his bag, “--You could’ve said something! How much do I owe you for the coffee?”
A hand latched onto his arm, pausing his movements. “Calm down. I own the cafe, it’s fine. I let you stay past closing.” Scar smirked, “And for the coffee? Well, your name would be payment enough”
Grian paused, mouth agape.
“Uh–” He swallowed, throat dry, “what?”
Scar leaned in closer, his hand still on Grian’s arm, olive green eyes twinkling with delight. Grian felt himself heating up yet he still didn’t move.
“Your name? I know I’m the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen but you’re quite pretty yourself.”
God this was ridiculous. Grian was sure he looked like a tomato by now. Unacceptable.
He wrenched his arm out of Scar’s grip, focusing on patting off invisible dust to avoid his eyes.
“Grian. My name is Grian.”
An awkward silence settled upon them; Grian still standing, one hand in his bag and the other limp against his side, Scar sitting, staring up at him.
“Well, Grian,” Scar said, breaking the silence as he stood up, chair scraping against the polished flooring of the cafe, “It’s getting quite late and, honestly, I’m hungry. Care to join me? I can show you where to get the best food here without having to pay an arm and a leg!”
Grian hesitated.
On one hand, this was a complete stranger and he was in a new city, nobody would know to check on him if this guy turned out to be a serial killer and he went missing… on the other hand, he was in a new city, he didn’t really know anyone yet and it couldn’t hurt to do some socialising.
That, and the thought of his empty apartment made shivers run down his spine.
“Okay, I’m in.”
Scar beamed at him, the sheer joy on his face was shocking. “Perfect! Finish packing up your stuff and we’ll get going.”
Grian smiled back, continuing to shove napkins vandalised with notes into his laptop bag, Scar making meaningless conversation the entire time.
As they left the cafe, Grian looked up at the sky while Scar locked up behind him. The moon seemed extra bright tonight and there were no clouds in the sky. A slight breeze ruffled his hair, not yet cold enough to mark the start of winter.
Despite that, there was still a slight chill in the air, quickly negated as a warm body came and stood beside him.
“Ready to go?” Scar asked, voice quieter in the presence of the peaceful sky.
“Yeah” Grian smiled, “Ready.”
Together they set off to wherever Scar had deemed appropriate for a first hangout, chatter filling the space between them as they walked side by side.
This is nice. Grian thought he could definitely get used to this.
— ☆ —
They ended up in a small courtyard off the side of a park, benches and tables covering the area and food trucks of different varieties parked around. Fairy lights had been strung up between lamp posts, cascading a soft glow on the rest of the space.
The aroma of food wafted in the air, deliciously enticing, and the sound of friends and families sitting and eating filled the space.
As they ventured further into the courtyard, Scar picked up his pace to stand in front of Grian.
Beaming at the sandy-haired man, arms spread out, he exclaimed “Grian, welcome to The Haven!”
“The Haven? Is that actually what this place is called?” Grian smiled, amused by Scar’s antics.
“Well, not exactly but it’s what I like to call it.” He grinned sheepishly, “Follow me, I’ll show you to the best food truck you’re ever going to eat from!”
As Scar hurried forward, Grian trailed behind him in less of a rush, more enticed by observing the area and its residents.
It was honestly quite pretty, he could understand the reason behind naming it The Haven.
Looking back at Scar, he noticed the brunette was now much further ahead of him chatting with a guy leaning out of a mostly yellow truck with some black accents.
Jogging to catch up, he noticed that the man seemed to be of average height with short brown hair the colour of chestnuts and a friendly smile. The truck had large bold letters in white spelling out “IMP WINGS”.
As he approached, Scar turned slightly to face him, waving him over. “Grian! Welcome to Imp Wings, the best fried chicken truck you’ll ever meet!”
The man in the window smiled at him, “Hiya, my name’s Impulse. I hear you’re a friend of Scar’s?” He extended his arm towards him.
Grian shook his hand, “Hi, name’s Grian.” He stepped back a bit, “I wouldn’t exactly call us friends. We met today at his cafe.”
“Aw what! We aren’t friends, Grian?” Scar pouted, like actually pouted, at him.
Grian lightly whacked his arm, “Knock that off, you look like a fly.”
He turned back to Impulse, leaving Scar to mope. “So what makes this place so good? Scar’s been raving about it since we left.”
Shrugging, Impulse replied, “It’s a secret. You’ve got to try some food to find out.”
He sighed, “alright, can I have a menu?”
Taking the paper offered to him, Grian scanned the list of food, tuning out the sound of Scar and Impulse chatting. There was a large variety of different kinds of food, mostly chicken but they had some other bits and pieces.
Tuning back into the conversation, he handed the menu back to Impulse who set it aside, picking up a small notepad.
Clicking his pen, he asked, “Ready to order?”
“Almost.” Grian hummed, “Scar, what are you getting?”
Impulse let out a sigh, murmuring something that Grian couldn’t quite catch, a defeated expression covering his face.
Scar, however, looked the opposite of defeated, beaming at Grian with a mischievous glint in his eye. Clearly, he was the cause of Impulse’s sudden apprehension.
“My meal isn’t actually on the menu,” he started, nudging Impulse with his shoulder, “privilege of being the truck guy’s friend.”
Grian looked back and forth between them, confusion overtaking his features.
“Impulse I would like two maple chicken sandwiches please!” He turned to Grian, winking, “My treat.”
Grian flushed, avoiding his eyes. “Sure I guess.”
Anything to not have to spend his hard-earned money on food.
Thanking Impulse, the two left to find a place to sit.
Looking around, Grian noticed that the courtyard was bigger than he had initially thought. Scattered around the area were many groups of a large range of people; office workers in search of a breather away from the stuffy cubicles, young adults enjoying a quiet evening with friends, parents relishing in a date night without kids. It was awfully nice, seeing all of these people finding comfort in the same area.
They settled in a little corner with a picnic table, flowers dotted around the grass surrounding it.
Nervously, Grian drummed his fingers on the table. Up until this moment, the conversation had flowed naturally. What was he meant to do now? Does he say something? Scar hasn’t attempted to start a conversation, maybe he wants to sit in silence?
“I can practically hear the cogs in your head turning.”
Startled, Grian looked up at Scar who looked awfully smug.
The brunette continued, “I mean, it’s only reasonable to be flustered when on a date with someone like me.”
Now that got Grian talking.
“Date?! This isn’t a date, we just met!”
Scar sighed dramatically, “Oh Grian, must you wound me like this?” He imitated a damsel in distress, hand swept across his forehead.
Grian shook his head, “God, you’re ridiculous.” Though even he couldn’t deny his amusement at Scar’s playfulness, ducking his head to hide his grin.
They lapsed into comfortable silence, observing the people around them until a waitress with bright orange hair and freckles came over with their food.
Poking at his food to test the temperature, Grian decided this time he would start the conversation.
“So Scar, how did you manage to get your own special meal on the menu?” He queried.
“Me and Impulse went to high school together, we used to be quite close but didn’t really see each other after graduating, so when I moved here and stumbled upon this place, he immediately decided he’d make any meal I asked for.” Scar paused, smiling at his sandwich, “It was a kind gesture, I was extremely broke and definitely couldn’t have afforded to come eat here often but he always gave me food on the house, even after I got the cafe and a stable source of income.”
That was… a surprisingly sweet answer. More sincere than anything he had expected to get out of Scar, the guy seemed like a total tease.
“Oh yeah, speaking of the cafe! You mentioned you owned it? You seem quite young how did–” He was interrupted by Scar waggling his finger in his face, shushing him.
“Now, now Grian, I answered your question so you have to answer mine!” He grinned.
“That– Okay? I guess that makes sense” Grian shrugged. Better than him having to keep the conversation flowing.
Scar’s smile dropped momentarily. “Wait I haven’t actually come up with a question, you’ve put me on the spot.”
Grian let out a small laugh, shaking his head at the absurdity that was the man sitting across from him.
Scar made a show out of thinking, stroking an imaginary beard as he pondered.
“Why come to New York? Pretty sure California is more popular with scriptwriters like yourself.”
“That’s exactly the problem with the place. It’s too oversaturated, my scripts would be swamped out.” Grian punctuated his sentence with grand hand gestures. “Also, I have a friend here. He’s currently out of state but it’s better than being stuck here with absolutely nobody.”
Scar made no move to cut him off so he continued, “Plus, if you turn out to be some kind of creepy serial killer, at least someone will notice I’m gone.” He joked.
“Oh come on! You truly believe I’d be a serial killer?”
“That is exactly what a serial killer would say!”
“Okay okay fine, you’ve got me there.” Scar sighed, defeated, “It’s your turn to ask.”
“Hm okay. How did you gain ownership of a cafe? I doubt you started a whole business from scratch while broke in a new city.”
Immediately, it was like a switch had flipped. Scar’s face, which had previously been split in a blinding smile, mirth etched across his features, dimmed exponentially. All the spark had left his eyes, leaving a dull green in its wake. Then, as if nothing ever happened, the sparkle returned and Scar waved his arm dismissively.
“That’s a boring question. Ask something else!”
Grian opened his mouth to push back but immediately closed it again, sensing this is something he probably shouldn’t push on.
“Okay, do you have any pets?”
Scar lit up instantly, beaming at Grian as he exclaimed, “Yeah! I have a cat, her name is Jellie and she is the most precious princess ever!” He dug his phone out of his pocket, opening it up to pictures of her and turning the screen to Grian. “You have to meet her some day, she’d love you.”
“Aww, she’s adorable. I’d love to meet her!” Grian replied, not missing the silent promise of another hang out in the near future.
The conversation flowed naturally from there, continuing well after they had finished their food and even gotten dessert.
Grian walked back to his apartment near midnight, the streets still bustling despite the late time. Stomach full, heart light, and with a new contact saved in his phone, Grian couldn’t be any happier.