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Stars blinked starkly against the dark background of the night sky.
Grian had always preferred the dark. It had a certain way to it, as if the world had suddenly been draped over with a blanket.
All the noises of daytime gone leaving nothing more than the quiet peace of the night.
Darkness was good.
There was a certain bliss to be found in the way the dimmed lighting hindered one's ability to see.
Yes, Grian would always prefer the dark.
There was a creaking noise, loud against the quiet backdrop of night time. Grian turned toward it, wings twitching slightly from where they were splayed out behind him.
“Man, someone's gotta get some oil on those hinges,” Skizz spoke, and Grian saw his head poke out through the trap door, an easy smile gracing his face.
He pushed himself out until he was sitting criss-cross applesauce on the roof, another loud creaking noise could be heard as he pushed the trapdoor shut. Grian’s wings twitched again, and he scooted a little further from the trapdoor, turning away.
If the noise bothered Skizz he didn’t show it
“Okay, actually dude, oil’s gotta become one of our top priorities.” Skizz huffed, and Grian heard footsteps approaching him before Skizz appeared in his peripheral, sitting down at his side on the edge of the roof.
He felt a wing, softer than his, with slightly wider feathers, brush against his own.
Grian’s lip quirked slightly, “you mean one of your top priorities.”
“No, I mean our priority,” Skizz asserted, bumping Grian’s shoulder lightly, “I’m not gonna let you weasel your way out of yet another responsibility.”
Grian smiled properly this time, showing teeth. He turned his head ever so slightly so that Skizz was just barely in his sightline, not just his peripheral, “is that a challenge?”
Skizz narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, “no, it's a statement, a true statement. I’m not letting you get anything past me G, you are not getting out of this one.”
Grian hummed, turning to look back out at the sky again, “I dunno Skizz,” he sing-songed, “sounds like a challenge to me.”
He glanced back at the man, a smirk tugging slightly at his lips as he watched the other battle himself.
Grian knew full well that Skizz could be just as competitive as he was, that the man had a real hard time backing down from a challenge.
He was banking on that.
“Fine, maybe it is a challenge,” Skizz relented, and Grian couldn’t help the triumphant smile that crossed his face. “But it's a challenge I’m winning.”
“Sure Skizz, whatever you say.” Grian agreed, putting on a tone that suggested indifference “whatever you say.”
He saw Skizz narrow his eyes slightly, and he brought his arms up to cross them against his chest in a show of faux sternness, but Grian saw the way he couldn’t quite hide his smile.
“I don’t appreciate your tone, mister.”
Grian just offered him an innocent smile, “what do you mean, Skizzy, all I did was agree with you.” he put on a frown, feigning slight confusion, “would you prefer if I didn’t agree with you?”
“I—you—ugh, you and your stupid mindgames G, you’re twisting my words, man, I know you are, you’re not gonna get away with it.” Skizz huffed, and Grian delighted in the confusion that flitted across his face.
“Oh I’m twisting your words, am I?” he asked, “well then what is it that you’re trying to say?”
“What I’m trying to say is—” Skizz stopped short, and Grian saw his expression flash with something akin to recognition, or maybe realization.
“Oh you little rascal.” Skizz accused, and his tone was light enough that Grian knew he didn’t actually mean it, but there was some weight there, something that suggested it would be difficult to make him drop his train of thought.
Grian bit his lip, glancing away again, taloned fingers scratching against the roof. “Me? A rascal?” Grian huffed, trying to sound offended. He couldn’t quite get the tone, his voice pitching just high enough to ebb on nervous.
“Yeah, you,” Skizz stated, “you and your little mind games trying to distract me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Grian insisted, not quite able to make it sound convincing.
“Smartass,” Skizz huffed affectionately, “deflecting before I even had the chance to ask you anything, baiting me with the thrill of a challenge.” He bumped his shoulder again, and Grian felt the wing brushing against his stretch out a bit more to wrap around his back. He couldn’t help the way his own wings subconsciously curled in to make space for it, to lean into it more.
“I gotta hand it to you G,” Skizz hummed, voice softening in that way it did when Skizz thought Grian was feeling fragile, “it almost worked,”
“Almost,” Grian muttered, “but not quite.”
“No,” Skizz agreed, tone somewhere between apologetic and maybe relieved, “wanna tell me what’s going on, bud?”
Grian brought his knees up to his chest, resting his chin against them. His wings folded in properly against his back, eyes staring firmly out at the sky above and not at the person next to him.
He didn’t respond.
“No?” Skizz said softly, “that’s okay, I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
And Grian saw him shift a little closer, and he felt the wing wrap properly around him until he was pulled in close enough to lean against Skizz’s shoulder.
“And until then I’ll sit right here next to you, for as long as you need.”
Grian forced his eyes shut, feeling the tears form, a single one escaped and rolled down his cheek, landing against his leg, leaving a small, slightly darkened spot.
He couldn’t bring himself to speak, not yet, not today.
But he could sit here, with Skizz, wrapped in his wing and leaning against his shoulder.
And maybe someday he would be ready to talk.