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Wind whistled through Scar's ears, the loose straps of his helmet thumping against his chest with every rocket he fired. Islands of light from stray torches dotted the grass beneath him, mirroring the stars in the night sky above. A gust of wind slipped beneath his elytra and threatened to throw him off course, but he leaned into it, ignoring the chill that seeped through his jacket even in the early summer weather.
Finally, he spotted his target—a bright red sweater and brighter, colorful plumage.
Grian was perched on top of his observatory. It was too late for anyone to be working on their builds, mobs prowling the land below, but it was the perfect time for stargazing. Despite the large telescope affixed to his observatory, he was peering through a spyglass up at the sky.
Scar pitched his elytra to the side, swooping behind Grian. Aiming his sights at the domed roof of the observatory, he pulled in silently for a landing. The roof rushed up to meet him, the purple glow of the charged respawn anchors growing closer.
He flared his elytra wide and proceeded to barrel straight into Grian.
Grian shrieked, throwing his arms out for balance. Scar yelped in response. Wooden beams and woolen-clothed limbs alike jutted into him as he clung to Grian for dear life, skidding across the observatory roof.
Thankfully, Grian had chosen a relatively flat and respawn-anchor-free area of the roof to stand on, because he neither rolled off the edge nor exploded. Instead, they came to a stop after only a few blocks.
He lifted his head from where it was jammed against Grian's wing, spitting out a now damp feather. "Well, hello there, G."
"Scar! You can't go toppling people over like that. You nearly gave me a heart attack," Grian said. He twisted around in Scar's grasp, wings fluffing out once, then pulling tight to his back.
Scar gingerly leaned back and stowed his elytra in his inventory with a thought. "If it's any consolation, I think I gave myself a heart attack too. Didn't mean to come in that hot." A pause. "Though, if you think about it, in a way, I'm always coming in hot." He winked at Grian.
His boyfriend managed to hold a straight face for two seconds. Then, he cracked, groaning through a laugh. "That's one of your worst ones in ages."
"Thank you! I try."
Grian stood and walked further down the curved roof of the observatory to retrieve his fallen spyglass. The golden metal looked magical, each pulse of purple light rippling over it like an enchantment. He tucked the spyglass into his belt. "So, what brings you here this late at night?"
"I'm here to…" Scar trailed off as Grian turned back to him, deep black eyes sparking with curiosity. Suddenly, the confidence that had brought him here evaporated. "I'm here to see the stars."
"Uh-huh?" Grian drifted closer, plopping down beside Scar. "Didn't need to come all the way to my base to do that."
"Well, you've got an observatory, so it felt proper! Great views of my planet as well, which, might I add, would look even better if you turned your telescope towards it?"
Grian furrowed his eyebrows. "Scar, you're changing the subject."
"Subject? What subject?" Scar averted his gaze, looking up at the stars above. They really were quite lovely, a thousand pinpricks of light in a moonless sky. Maybe Grian would also look up and forget to continue grilling him.
Unfortunately, Grian was not that distractible. "Why are you here?" he pressed.
"Can a man not want to bask in the glory of the universe at his amazingly talented boyfriend's most wondrous, spectacular observatory of—of spectacles and wonders and—"
"No. Why are you really here?"
Scar sighed. So long, pride. Feeling Grian's stare boring into the side of his face, he mumbled, "I wanna see the eye thing again."
He wasn't sure what his somewhat sleep-deprived brain expected. Maybe teasing for how clingy he was being. Maybe annoyance at bothering Grian for such a trivial thing. Rejection. Light-hearted rejection that would sit heavy later that night.
And that's what he seemed to be getting. Grian said nothing at first. Scar couldn't bring himself to look, his limbs locked in the easy but not quite natural lean his body had settled into.
Then, Grian said, quiet as an owl in the night, "Really?"
"Yes?" Scar forced himself to look away from the comforting emptiness of space above. The stiffness of his own posture was mirrored in Grian's, an oddly blank expression on his face. "Or, wait, no? Should I be saying no?"
"I thought you said the 'eye thing' was creepy."
"Okay, well, maybe it's a little creepy, but it's also beautiful. A starry field of wonders and enchantments! Two things can be true."
Grian huffed out a laugh. "I'm sorry, a starry field of what?"
"I'm complimenting you, G. You don't need to be such a contri—contrateri—"
"Contrarian?"
"Yes. That."
One of the respawn anchors beside Grian crackled, purple sparks flitting through the air. He paid them no mind, soft smile hardening to something more thoughtful. He wasn't quite meeting Scar's eyes.
Grian said, "You know, that's what my eyes actually look like. These"—he gestured to his eyes, the ones Scar had gotten lost in countless times before—"are only an illusion. People tend not to enjoy feeling like they're falling into the void every time they make eye contact."
"Well, I think that's thrilling. Like a rollercoaster." At the roll of Grian's still frustratingly normal eyes, Scar leaned forward, frowning. He took off his helmet and held it to his chest. "C'mon, Grian, please? I promise I won't freak out or anything. I barely got to see them before."
"Okay, okay, sheesh." Grian ducked his head. In the otherworldly lighting of the respawn anchors, it was difficult to be certain, but Scar could've sworn he was blushing. "Just for a little bit, though. Looking into the void for too long makes the effects more intense."
Scar was already sitting up straighter. "What, will I be mesmerized? Hopelessly entranced?"
"More like you'll puke in my lap." Wings shifting behind him, Grian turned to face Scar head-on, his crossed legs almost bumping Scar's. He reached for Scar's hands, disentangling his fingers from his helmet and setting it aside.
Scar let his hands be taken and held in the space between them, Grian's colder fingers slipping between his own. "Well, this is very intimate."
"Physical contact should help keep you grounded," Grian explained, not rising to the bait.
"Wait, how do you know this?" Scar narrowed his eyes. "Have you been sneaking off at night to show other people your cool starry eyes, mister?"
"It's something I figured out a long time ago. Back when I first… yeah." His hands occupied, Grian stretched a wing out in a vague gesture encompassing the time before he joined Hermitcraft. "I assure you, I'm not having romantic staring contests with anyone else."
"Not even Mumbo?"
"Especially not Mumbo, since he's not around," Grian grumbled.
Scar snickered. "Good, good."
Any further comments died on his lips as Grian took a deliberate breath. Scar found himself matching his own breathing to Grian's, calming his racing pulse.
After a moment, Grian asked, "You ready?" At Scar's nod, he closed his eyes, mouth twitching in a mischievous smile. The night darkened around them, the stars throwing their light on Grian and weaving filaments of silver through his dirty blond hair. Scar shivered as a wave of heat ran through his body, less the casting of a spell and more the breaking of it. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on Grian's hands and received a reassuring squeeze in return.
Grian drew his wings out wide behind himself, stretching them until they towered over Scar. With a dramatic cadence to his voice, he said, "Beware, Scar. This is what happens when you gaze up at the stars for too long.
"The stars stare back."
He threw open his eyes.
Behind his eyelids was nothing. Pure void, a color darker than darkness itself, occupied the space where his eyes should be. The holes in Grian's face—because that's what they were, Scar's gut told him with a helpful lurch, holes to nothingness—were objectively small. Still, they had a mass to them like a black hole, dragging him in ever closer. If he somehow fell in, he wasn't sure he'd ever get out.
On an instinctual level, his body recoiled from the thought. His lungs squeezed themselves tight in his ribcage, air going out, out, out, but never in. A thumb rubbed over his hand, and it was only then that he realized his hands were practically crushing Grian's. He tried to order them to relax. They refused.
Maybe his body knew best, because if his heart had its way, he'd gladly stare into the darkness until it swallowed him whole. The longer he looked into Grian's eyes, unblinking, the more they consumed his field of view. The void wasn't complete darkness, after all. There were specks of light there, the suggestions of a thousand stars to be wished upon, a thousand potential futures for them to explore.
He took in a shaky breath. His head spun—whether from vertigo or lack of oxygen, he didn't know. A small price to pay. Blurry in his peripheral vision, Grian smiled at him. Hands tugged at his, and Grian's voice asked him something. The words came to him fuzzy, as if underwater.
Whatever the question was, the answer was that he wanted to keep going. He shook his head, then nodded. One of those must have been correct, because Grian laughed, the stars in his eyes seeming to twinkle only brighter, and his grip tightened on Scar's hands.
The stars danced all around him, now, the void wrapping him in its embrace. This wasn't a new experience, necessarily. He'd fallen to his death in the End more than his fair share of times, not to mention his many journeys to the bottom of the Boatem hole. But the void had never felt this welcoming before, like something that wished to cushion his falls rather than tear his code apart.
If it weren't for Grian's hands in his, he would have gotten lost in the sensation completely. As it was, he felt a tugging on his mind in time with a squeeze on his hands. Helpless, he followed it through the stars.
He'd heard Grian joke about being able to see everything before. He'd always assumed that was all it was—a joke about him being more observant than the average person. (Or, at least more observant than Scar). That joke appeared to have been more literal than he'd thought.
As the stars rushed past his vision, he was able to make out finer details previously washed out by their light. Up close, the pinpricks of light weren't just uniform white dots, but entire worlds, green fields and great cerulean oceans spread over their surfaces. Some, he noted, even seemed to contain structures. If he got even closer, could he see the players that lived there, too?
Before he had a chance, he was yanked away, the stars whirling around him and sparking pain behind his eyes. There was a blindingly brilliant flash of purple, and then it was all over. He was back on the roof of Grian's observatory, watching the light of the respawn anchors play over Grian's face.
Except Grian's hair was longer than that.
And, unless something had changed in the past few minutes, he wasn't wearing Scar's clothes.
Scar fought down another wave of nausea as he watched confusion pass over his own face. He was sitting across from himself, hands (Grian's hands?) outstretched and interlaced with his own. Grian brushed a thumb over his wrist, and the sensation was mirrored on his disconnected body. He watched himself shudder.
Without his bidding, his gaze dragged over his face, lingering on the scar nicked into his chin, the mop of hair mussed from wearing his helmet all day. Something to the left of him was struck by the urge to smooth the strands back into place. Or, the not-him seemed to decide, to mess them up even further. His bedhead had always looked cute.
Scar had less than a second to feel confused before he saw himself sway unsteadily. Something wet trailed down his face, and the taste of metal bloomed on his lips. His body's own panic collided with the not-him's concern, and then he was falling forward.
The vision burst like a firework in the night sky.
His body, previously a distant concern, became all too present. His skin lit up with as many pins and needles as there were stars in Grian's eyes, lungs working overtime to bring in air. Pain thundered through his head. Blood dripped from his nose, soaking into the knit fabric inexplicably pressed against his face. Grian was making noises at him, but his ears were too busy being stuffed with cotton to listen to any of it. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the wave to pass.
Eventually, his body calmed down enough to let him open his eyes. He had to squint against even the darkness of the night sky, but he was able to make out the red of Grian's sweater pressed up against his cheek. An arm, draped over his back, traced soothing circles.
"Wow," Scar said. He was surprised to find his voice wasn't hoarse. "That was… wow."
"Yeah?" Grian prompted.
"I wanna do it again, but I get the sense you won't let me."
Grian chuckled, the vibrations rumbling in Scar's chest where their bodies pressed against each other. "Maybe another night. You see why I don't run around with those eyes out all the time."
"Everyone'd be too busy looking at them to get any work done?"
"…Sure."
Scar's back was beginning to protest at his current position. He was slumped against Grian's shoulder, arms awkwardly pinned between them. All the energy in his body seemed to have abandoned him, though, so all he could do was twist to see Grian's face.
His eyes were back to normal, ink-black pupils reflecting the purple light around them. His smile was warm, like the void had been around Scar. It was enough to turn his already uncooperative limbs further into goo. One of Grian's hands reached into Scar's hair, combing it out of his eyes before twisting a strand around one finger.
Which reminded him…
"G, are you by any chance telepathic?"
"Hm?" Grian's hand didn't still in his hair, fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp.
"Would this even count as telepathy?" Scar mused to himself. "Telepathy is mind reading, and this was the opposite, 'cause I was hearing your thoughts. What would you call that? Mind… writing?"
Grian scrunched up his nose in amusement. "Scar, what are you talking about?"
"Towards the end there, I could see myself, right? But from the outside. I think it was from your perspective. And I thought some things that seemed like my thoughts, but not quite." At the frown Grian gave him, he rushed to clarify. "It wasn't anything weird! Just, normally I don't see my messy hair and think about how cute it looks."
"Ah," Grian said. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to get any actual words out, cheeks growing steadily redder. "That was—I was trying to keep your thoughts tethered to me so I could guide your vision a little bit. Must've done too good a job." He dropped his gaze. "Welp. That's not embarrassing at all."
"No, it's sweet!" Scar used his remaining energy to sit upright, tugging at Grian's sweater weakly. Grian let out a wordless whine, but allowed Scar to drag him close enough to press a kiss to his cheek. "And anyways, I got to experience authentic spooky eye magic, so I'm satisfied. I'd rate this experience a nine out of ten."
"Only a nine?" Grian grumbled, still not looking Scar in the eye.
"Because I didn't get to go for a second round." Scar couldn't fight the yawn that overtook him at the end of the sentence. He let his head drop back onto Grian's shoulder, snuggling into the warmth of his now slightly bloodstained sweater.
With Grian's wings as a blanket on his back, he could have fallen asleep right there. Luckily for his joints the next morning, Grian said, "We really ought to go to bed. You feel well enough to fly back to my base?"
Scar chuckled. "Oh, Grian. I'd be surprised if I can stand."
The song and dance of Grian picking him up was familiar, never the same circumstances but always a similar tune. Grian grabbed Scar's aviator cap and shoved it onto his own head, the goggles threatening to cover Grian's eyes with how big it was on him. Then Grian was taking Scar into his arms. After initially stumbling dangerously close to a respawn anchor, Grian flared his wings out for balance, and soon they were gliding off the observatory.
Normally, Grian delighted in pulling Scar into loops and dives, forcing him to cling impossibly closer. Today, though, he was gentle. If Scar ignored the cool breeze rushing past his face and let his eyes drift closed, it was easy to believe he wasn't flying at all, each flap of Grian's wings rocking him like waves on a boat.
By the time they made it to Grian's bedroom, Scar was barely managing to stay awake. He cracked his eyes open as he was laid on the bed. Grian's form above him was dark, and as he removed Scar's helmet, the lantern above haloed his head, dyeing the edges of his hair golden.
Scar's boots were eased off his feet. Then Grian returned to his field of view, the mattress dipping as he stepped up to fuss with the lantern. A moment later, the room was plunged into darkness, the lingering scent of smoke wrapping around them.
Arms, then wings, draped over Scar, guiding him under the blankets and pulling him closer. In the darkness of the bedroom, Scar finally nodded off to sleep, dreams bathed in the lights behind Grian's eyes.