Chapter Text
The sun hovered overhead like a pale, yellow orb, distorted by the layers of mist hanging over the city like a thick blanket, concealing them, suffocating them. Silence echoed off each wall— a sad reminder of the sad, sad truth. Noise required life. And life was what the city lacked the most, what the world lacked the most.
Grian walked hand-in-hand with Scar, stepping over the shattered glass spread like powder over the road, sparkling under what little sunlight reached the shards. He couldn’t bring himself to look down, at the crimson splotches of blood that stained the road. He wondered if the blood he stepped on belonged to their friends, or some other presumably innocent soul.
They had adopted stealth. To be quiet was to live. At least when they were out in the open. Maybe when they had taken refuge in about as safe as a building they could find, then they could speak. But for now they couldn’t afford to.
Scar tapped his shoulder, earning his attention. He looked up and arched a brow. He pointed and Grian followed the direction he was gesturing to. It was a flower shop and Grian rolled his eyes affectionately. Of course that’s what Scar was looking out for. After all today was their anniversary, and they had planned to treat themselves and each other.
In the end, Grian nodded and they crossed over to the flower shop, steps featherlight and faint, going unheard by the monsters that lurked by. Scar gestured vaguely towards the bell dangling over the door and mouthed something like, “That’ll make noise.”
“Window?” He mouthed back and Scar nodded, red eyes, the same colour as his own, glinting, excited at the aspect of breaking and entering. To be fair, laws were nonexistent now, with no one to enforce them and no one but them to obey. It was just the painful reality. Only they lived amongst a world of monsters. One by one, everyone they ever loved dropped dead. Jimmy, Lizzie, Skizz, Mumbo, Joel, Pearl, all of them— dead.
The first death was a shock for everyone, an eye-opener as they were reminded of the true danger and everything at stake. But as time passed, more and more of their friends died, till there were no tears left to shed, his heart ached and strained to the point it went numb. Nothing felt real anymore, except for his lovely husband. Scar was all he had and he was all Scar had.
Shaking away his thoughts, he walked over to the large window to the right, displaying withered and dried up flowers, dull in colour, all the life sucked out of them. They won’t be able to open that window without smashing it, and that would create a lot of noise. He turned a corner, a small square window resting on that wall with a visible lock on the exterior. Huh, they could unlock it. He tugged Scar’s arm and he understood the signal, hand diving into the satchel slung over his shoulder and pulling out the tools needed to carry out the task.
After a brief moment of barely heard clinks, the lock sprung open and he pushed the window open. The two slid in and shut the window behind them, instantly letting out a sigh of relief.
“Oh god,” Grian clutched his chest, where his heart was, trying to trap it with his fingers, “That was kind of scary.” He should be used to it. But he couldn’t be.
“It was, especially because we didn’t run into any of them. Wonder if they’re secretly scheming against us,” Scar walked through the aisles, all the actual flowers dried up, “Wonder if they have their own wanted posters with our faces on it,” he attempted at a joke, trying to lighten the mood during these dark days that never seemed to end, the light at the end of the tunnel never got any closer no matter how much they tired reaching for it.
He offered Scar a small chuckle. “Looks like all the flowers are dead. We’d have to make do with the artificial ones,” he remarked, fiddling with the strap of his own satchel, “The pink and red ones are pretty.”
Scar picked the artificial flowers Grian was referring to, “They are. They’ll look nice as a decoration,” he tucked the flowers in his satchel, the petals sticking out even as he tried patting them in, “Flowers checked, candles checked, all we need is food, right?”
“Mhm, if we find anything fresh in the supermarket,” Grian pulled open the window once again, staring at the grim view outside. Every single time, the world seemed to descend further into madness, as they descended from green to yellow to red. Grian didn’t know what was after red. No one did. Heck, no one even noticed the changes. It pained him.
It pained him to watch all of them die, wake up and then move on as if nothing ever happened. Especially to witness all this happen to Scar. Maybe it would’ve been better if they never got close. After all you can’t grieve for someone you never got to love. But living without Scar was too horrible of an idea to even consider. So instead Grian let himself fall in love, and grieve, and then fall in love once again. It’s better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all.
After green, there was only more pain and death. After yellow, there was only more pain and death. Would red bring the same misery? Or would there finally be peace awaiting him? Or would there be nothing on the other side?
“The supermarket’s just across the road, let’s go there?” Scar leaned next to him, voice dipping into a whisper. He tugged Grian close to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He always did before they ventured out. In case one of them didn’t…
“Mhm,” Grian hummed, the first to break apart and heave himself through the window, landing silently. Scar followed. They left the window open. What was the point of closing it? What was the point of anything frankly?
They crossed the road, once again in eerie silence and the lack of monsters chasing after them. The supermarket was open and fortunately lacked a bell, enabling them to walk in silently.
“Get anything fresh, prepared or not expired,” Grian instructed Scar before they split up. They couldn’t be too picky with what they could eat. They didn’t have a choice. Maybe they never did.
Grian’s eyes scanned over the packaged foods, settling on canned soup. He picked it and looked at its expiry date. Two months to go. He shoved it in his satchel, and continued his search, picking up whatever good bit of food he could find. He crossed aisle over aisle until he bumped into something solid.
His heart immediately leaped into his throat, his first thought going to danger. His breath froze.
“Oof!” Scar turned around, “Ah my back,” he winced, rubbing his spine.
He relaxed. No danger. Just Scar. “Oops, sorry,” he smiled nervously, “Have you gotten everything?” He peeked at Scar’s satchel that was stuffed to the brim. It was a miracle it could still hold on, stay intact, despite all the burden weighing it down.
“Think so,” he patted the satchel, producing a loud thud.
“Okay…” he nodded, grabbing Scar’s calloused hand in his own, the one with the ring that mirrored the one he was wearing, clutching it tight. “Now, we leave.” They took the path they had came, stained with blood and shattered glass and the evidence of all the suffering the city had dealt with, they had dealt with.
Once more, silence. Unusual silence save for the occasional scuffing without any source. The kind of silence that caused goosebumps, made you paranoid, tense. The tension carried with them as they retreated into a small cave carved into a hillside, the entrance barely big enough to enable them to slip in, and certainly not big enough for the monsters— a safe haven, a sanctuary. It was home. The only shelter in a raging storm.
The cave was full of memoirs of their friends, the trinkets evoking bittersweet feelings from both of them. Pearl’s painting leaned against the curved wall. Joel’s pottery rested in a straight line near the back. Lizzie’s rug with patterns of the sea laid on the floor. Every single thing here belonged to their friends.
The two sat down on the cerulean-blue rug, facing one another as they dumped the contents of their bags. Scar collected all the candles and set them on the stony floor, pulling out the lighter and setting them ablaze carefully, the warm flames crackling and creating dancing shadows on the wall. Grian set the pink and red flowers between them, smoothening their petals.
The two of them had gathered a decent amount of food. Grian stood up, walking over to a cardboard box and pulling out two plates, two glasses, and utensils. He resumed his previous spot.
Scar opened the bottle of orange juice and poured an equal amount for both of them, one or two drops spilling on the rug and staining it.
“Well then,” Grian raised his glass, clinking it with Scar’s before downing the sweet juice. The food was split between them evenly, with a portion saved for the future. They always had to look ahead. They could never live in the present.
And that was the mistake they made tonight— focusing only on the present.
They had finished eating together— sharing tales of the past, soft laughter, silly jokes, and now they were huddled together, Scar’s arms around him, holding him.
“I’m not ready to lose you yet, Gri,” Scar mumbled against his neck, warm breath ghosting over his skin, “I love you.”
“Me neither, I lo—” he paused. He heard something. He pulled himself free of Scar’s hold and sat upright, eyes widening. It sounded like a hiss, just barely there. He would’ve missed it had he not been constantly alert.
Scar followed suit and his voice dipped into a whisper, “Someone’s out there.”
“Something’s out there,” Grian corrected, standing up, his foot knocking a candle and extinguishing it. He walked over to the gap and peeked out. Only the blurred moon in the distance was staring at him. His gaze flickered left and right. Nothing. Nothing at all. He glanced over his shoulder at Scar and subtly shook his head.
Scar visibly relaxed.
Maybe he should look out one more time. Grian peered out the gap once more. Nothing. His heart calmed down. He just overreac—
And then he heard it. Footsteps. His heart raced again. And then he saw it. A pair of ghostly white eyes staring at him. He couldn’t scream. Instead he backed up, pressing himself against Scar’s chest. “Weapons.” He whispered, only barely audible. Scar was already ahead of him for he handed Grian his dagger. Grian clutched the dagger tightly, knuckles whitening around the hilt, hands shaking.
More footsteps. Nails scratching against the rocks. Growls. Roars. Screeches. Behind him Scar tensed, too.
“We’ll have to run if they get in,” Grian said, voice faint. “Oh void.”
“Y-yeah.”
Cracks started to spread like spider webs across the rocks, gap widening until it was big enough to enable the beasts to crawl in… and for the two of them to escape.
One glance was all they shared before they broke into a run, jumping through the gap. Scar was faster. Grian slower. A cool hand wrapped around his ankle, nails digging into his skin enough to draw blood. He stifled a scream as he fell to his knees, the rocks cutting into his palms. The dagger fell in front of him, landing with a clink.
He was going to die.
“Get off him!” Scar ran back for him, stabbing one of the creatures with his blade and elbowing the other. The hand around his ankle loosened and he stood up, picking up the dagger. He lunged for one of the zombie-like monsters that had thrown itself on Scar and was attacking him, claws tearing through him. He plunged the knife in its skin. It roared and let go of Scar. Grian grabbed Scar instead, holding onto him as if he was the last droplet of water in a burning hot desert. And they ran. Or more accurately, Grian did, dragging Scar behind him.
He couldn’t stop to check up on Scar, being actively chased. Stopping would be like throwing themselves into the arms of the beasts that followed them, intent on bringing every sort of pain possible— physical, mental, psychological. He ran and ran, until his legs were aching and ready to give up on him. He ran until breathing took too much of an effort than it should have.
He looked over his shoulder. They were gone. The beasts were gone. He was so far out. On the sandy plain just outside the perimeter of the city. He was temporarily safe, at least he wanted to believe.
He let go of Scar and turned to look at him. Scar’s eyes were lidded, the red dimming by each passing second. Blood oozed out of where the nails had torn into him. “Gri…an.” He collapsed onto the sand.
“Scar…?” He landed on his knees, arms wrapping around Scar and helping him up, “Hey buddy. Stay with me.”
“I can’t,” he croaked out, the life sucked out of his voice. Grian pressed a hand to one of his wounds, trying to stop the crimson blood from seeping out.
“Don’t c-close your eyes. I’ll save you,” Grian pleaded, voice breaking. Scar’s hand rested on his own, pulling it away. His palm was red. Stained with Scar’s blood. That didn’t deter Scar from resting Grian’s hand on his cheek, finding comfort in the touch.
“You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me,” Scar whispered, voice dying out.
“I love you, too,” Grian completed what he intended to say earlier, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Scar smiled one last time before his body went limp, eyes foggy and unfocused. Scar died. For the third time in Grian’s arms. Yet each time hurt just as much.
He didn’t cry immediately.
At first he just sat there, holding Scar, his heart numb, his thoughts too loud. At first he didn’t want to believe it. But as the sun begun to rise, his thoughts fell silent, the truth sunk into him.
And the first tear rolled down his cheek.