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Grian stares out the car window, pensive.
It’s a long drive back from the airport, and his mom seems to have run out of questions about his first semester, so now he’s got nothing to entertain him but his thoughts and the stark mid-December scenery around him. It snowed a couple days ago, his mom informed him, but today it’s just not-freezing enough that the snow has ebbed away in pockets around leaves and twigs. The trees are bare stick-like figures, a miserable dark gray in the drizzling suggestion of rain.
There’s a twist in his gut, homesickness and apprehension mixed, as the signs along the highway grow more and more familiar.
The streets of his hometown, bleak and edged with slush, feel like an old shoe - one he wore to pieces before he outgrew. He feels like a whole different person, and this old town hasn’t changed a bit.
His room is still the same, too. His dad had threatened to turn it into a library, or a den, or any number of things - all empty threats, of course. Jimmy’d kept saying he’d move into Grian’s room, saying it had a better view of the woods out back, but evidently Grian’s protests (and thinly veiled threats) had staved him off for now.
Grian’s suitcase thunks onto the carpet, landing on its back near the foot of the bed. It’ll probably stay there until January, he thinks, looking around the room.
It’s a microcosm of years he doesn’t know how to feel about now. Posters from movies he was excited about in his early years of high school; lyrics from his favorite songs scrawled onto corners of the wall; a dresser full of all the clothes he hadn’t liked enough to take with him to college. All the ones that felt too childish; not the grown-up version of himself he wants to be. The walls are the color he’d asked for when he was eleven.
He sleeps well, at least. And in the morning, he’s glad to be able to make breakfast at his own pace, in a kitchen that’s familiar to him.
Midway through his scrambled eggs, he gets a text from Scar. He can’t help smiling to himself as he pulls it up.
scar: hi grian :D
scar: are you home yet
grian: yuppers
grian: got home last night
scar: sweet
scar: how tired are you
scar: would you be up for a walk
grian: oh hell yeah
scar: :D
grian: when are we thinking
Scar doesn’t reply to that, so Grian shrugs it off, figuring he’ll hear back eventually. He finishes off his breakfast, puts the dishes in the sink, and heads back upstairs.
He’s missed his walks with Scar. Scar lives a handful of houses away, and he used to always come around after school let out. They’d go tramping through the woods, splash around in the creek, make grand plans for the tree fort they never ended up building.
Grian didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. There was Mumbo, who he’d met through their co-op, and there was Scar. Sometimes he wonders why Scar hung out with him - he’s always gotten the impression that Scar was well-liked at school, and probably had plenty of people he could be hanging out with rather than the homeschooled oddball who lived down the street. But he tries not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He loves hanging out with Scar, and it’s probably best not to question it too much.
A commotion in the branches outside his window interrupts Grian’s thoughts. When he looks over, he sees a figure in a brown puffer jacket trying valiantly to haul himself up into the branches.
Grian opens the window. “Scar, what are you doing?”
Scar, bent halfway over a lower branch, looks up with a blinding grin.
“Comin’ up to tap on your window!”
Grian laughs in astonishment.
“Don’t hurt yourself!”
“Yeah, this is - oof - not very Scar-safe -”
“I’ll be down in a minute!” Grian calls out, and scrambles to figure out where he’d packed his warm socks.
“Hey,” Scar says, as soon as Grian’s out the back door, and then he sweeps him up in a massive hug.
Grian’s reminded of the last time he saw Scar, the day before he’d left for college. It was a week or so before Scar’s orientation week started, so he’d been there to see Grian off. They’d wandered all over their old haunts, tramping around the neighborhood just like they’d done for years.
Late in the evening, when they’d finally circled back around to Grian’s house, they’d stood there talking for nearly an hour longer. Then Scar had hugged him for a long time; something almost apologetic on his face when he’d drawn back with a sheepish “well, see ya.”
Grian had held on to the memory of that hug all semester.
It wasn’t like they hadn’t talked since then, of course. No, they’d texted nearly every day; silly banter or deeper conversations, sometimes lasting well into inadvisable hours of the night. Phone calls too, occasionally, usually when Grian needed something to keep his mind off the tedium of laundry or some such mindless task - any excuse to hear Scar’s voice for a while.
It’s nothing to being here with Scar in person; warm strong arms holding him tight, and that fresh woodsy scent washing over Grian like a wave of homesickness. He clutches the back of Scar’s coat and stifles an embarrassingly shaky breath.
When he pulls back, Scar claps him on the shoulder and gives him that lightning-quick sideways grin. “Good to see ya, G!” he says lightly.
“Yeah,” Grian nods quickly. He hopes his voice doesn’t betray how breathless he feels.
Because that’s the problem, in all of this. Grian likes Scar. He’s got a massive, embarrassing crush on his best friend, and every day he hopes it doesn’t drive him to fuck everything up. Scar was his friend first, and Grian’s determined not to lose sight of that, regardless of how much he wants to kiss those cold-pinked lips right now.
It’s not worth risking their friendship over. Nothing is.
“So. Whatcha thinkin’?” Grian asks, shoving his gloved hands in his pockets so he’s not tempted to interlace his fingers with Scar’s. “Woods today?”
(This summer, when they’d gone to the fair together, Scar had taken his hand to keep them from getting separated in the crowd. Grian had savored every second of it, and ever since then he’d been desperately fighting against the temptation to feel Scar’s hand entwined with his again.)
“Yeah!” Scar says. “I’ve been wanting to see the creek again.”
“It’s gonna be miserable this time of year,” Grian warns, but he’s already started walking that direction as he says it.
“Oh, I know.” Scar falls into step beside him. “It’s about the idea, you know?”
The creek isn’t miserable, actually; as it turns out, it’s sort of picturesque, in a stark wintry kind of way. It’s not frozen over, of course, and likely won’t be until the middle of January, when it gets cold enough for long enough. All the vegetation around it is reduced to damp charcoal-gray twigs and trunks. Soggy snow overhangs the banks of the creek and lays in patches on the boulder they always sit on.
Scar brushes the top of the boulder off with the sleeve of his coat, then sits down with just enough space for Grian to sit next to him. Grian tucks himself into that spot, his shoulder pressed lightly against Scar’s.
“My butt’s gonna freeze off,” he grumbles, already feeling the cold seeping through his jeans.
Scar presses back against him, warmth somehow bleeding through the layers of fabric between them. “We won’t stay too long,” he says.
Grian learned pretty early on that Scar’s a lot more at ease with touch than he is. Grian’s always felt on edge when he’s touched, like there’s a startled prey animal jittering around inside his skin.
It’s different with Scar, though, since even before Grian liked him. Scar makes him feel easy inside. And when Scar slings an arm over his shoulders, or sits pressed against him like this, it’s… comforting, in a way Grian has yet to find elsewhere.
Besides, it’s mutually beneficial, right? Grian knows how Scar craves friendly physical affection. “It’s not fair that it isn’t normal for guys to cuddle and stuff the way girls do,” he’s complained in the past. So when it’s just the two of them, Grian reaches out more.
Like now, resting his head on Scar’s shoulder while they watch the creek go by.
Sometimes Grian feels a little guilty, that he enjoys it in a way that Scar maybe doesn’t. For Scar, it’s just friendly affection; but for Grian, it’s all tangled up with his crush on Scar. Sometimes he’s not sure what the ethics of that are. Most of the time, though, he tries not to worry about it too much.
“How’d your statistics final go?” Scar murmurs. His voice is a low rumble in Grian’s skull. “You were pretty stressed about that one.”
“It was fine,” Grian grumbles. “I think I did okay. I do wish I hadn’t tested out of the early math classes… would’ve been nicer to have something easier my first term.”
“Yeah.” Scar’s arm has crept around Grian’s shoulders, and he squeezes lightly.
“How was your final project for speech class?” Grian asks. “I don’t think I got around to asking you about that one.”
Scar chuckles. “It went off great, actually! The tutor was a big help - she had me practice a bunch and pointed out words I kept tripping over so I could figure out different ways to say things. So then I was way more smooth in my final speech than in that first one. The teacher said I should get something for ‘most improved.’”
Grian snorts. “I… guess that’s a compliment?”
“Hey, you know what a disaster my first speech was!” Scar laughs.
“Yeah,” Grian giggles. “I do.” They’d sort of taken turns having crises during this first semester, and Grian still remembers talking Scar through the spiral he’d had after the first speech of the class.
“No - no, you’re not hopeless at this, Scar, I won’t hear a word of that. Plenty of people have trouble with their words, and they’ve probably got loads of pointers on how to deal with it. Wasn’t there, like, a whole movie about a famous guy with a stammer?”
“Yeah, I bet he didn’t accidentally say a penis-word in front of a bunch of his future friends and a professor older than his grandma,” Scar had grumbled into the phone. But afterwards he’d looked up tips, and he’d asked for help, and it sounds like it really made a difference.
Grian had had his fair share of freak-outs, and many of them Scar had talked him through in turn.
“Start of the semester feels so long ago,” Grian muses. “Crazy. Feels like it’s been ages but it went by so fast.”
Scar hums. “I know what you mean.”
It’s been an absolute whirlwind of new experiences; being pushed to grow and adapt at a pace unlike anything he’d dealt with before. That’s part of what’s felt so weird about coming home, he thinks: for everyone else it’s just been a normal four months.
At least Scar’s been along for the ride.
It’s late in the afternoon by the time they start walking home - nearly evening, and Grian figures he should probably be around when his parents get back from work. Jimmy will be home from school by now, and Grian grudgingly admits he should spend some time with his brother too. And his sister, when she gets back in a few days; her classes wrap up a bit later than Grian’s.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Grian says, “but I’ve actually kind of missed Tim.”
Scar whips around, agape. “Whaaat? Have you been replaced by an alien, or something?”
Grian huffs a laugh as Scar pretends to check his forehead for a fever.
“Did they take you up in their big whirly spaceship? Did they suck out your brains and send you back down to take over the world? Can I help?”
“Yes, yes, you can help,” Grian laughs. “When I start my grand plans of world domination, you’ll be my right-hand guy.”
All too soon, they’re back at Grian’s back door.
“My family’s gonna be traveling for Christmas,” Scar says, scratching the back of his neck, “and my mom’s got plans for the next few days, so I don’t know if I’ll see you again until after. But you’ll come to the New Year’s party, right?”
“Of course,” Grian grins. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Grian’s family is also traveling for Christmas, as they usually do. Grian stays up way too late texting Scar from one of the guest bedrooms of his grandma’s house. There’s some stacks of magazines on one of the dressers, dating back to before even his parents were born, and Grian wishes Scar was here so they could page through them together. He imagines how they’d laugh together at the old ads and articles.
He sends Scar a picture or two, but the magazines aren’t really the point, anyways. It’s how he wants to share even the small, pointless things with Scar. It’s an ache in his chest that keeps him painfully aware of his yearning.
Silly, to imagine what they’d talk about here, if Scar were at his grandmother’s house with him. As if that were a situation that might happen someday.
Grian lies awake, staring at the ceiling.
He tries not to think about it too much, usually, but… he’s thinking about it tonight.
There’s no way Scar would want to be with him.
Scar’s outgoing, sociable, good at making friends. He’s got an earnest, positive disposition that draws people to him. In high school, he had a well-rounded circle of friends, and Grian has no doubt the same will be true of his social life in college.
Sometimes, Grian wonders if Scar hangs out with him because he feels bad for him.
Regardless. The point stands; Scar could have his pick of anyone he wants to date. He’s undeniably attractive, with an easy charm that Grian’s sure will be devastatingly effective as Scar grows more confident. And he’s at a good-sized university, with a wide range of people to meet and connect with…
There’s no reason for someone like that to settle for an anxious homebody like Grian.
So it stays a private, secret indulgence; these feelings Grian holds, like a little glowing ember in his chest. A little light, that keeps him warm - and sometimes it aches and burns, like tonight; but it’s worth it to him.
Christmas comes and goes in a blur. Visiting with relatives; answering questions and realizing that no one seems to be interested in everything he wants to say in response; playing old card games and following a hundred family traditions. Some of his cousins have started to have kids of their own, so there’s a new generation of little ones running around underfoot.
Then, finally, the trip home. Grian can’t help being excited to get more than a couple days of rest on his break.
And soon, the New Year’s party at Scar’s place.
It’s become something of a tradition the past few years: Scar’s family lets him have his friends over for New Year’s Eve. It includes Grian and his siblings, and Scar’s friends from high school, many of whom Grian’s come to be friends with.
Scar greets him with a quick hug at the door and a private smile that makes Grian’s heart skip a beat. There’s already hubbub inside; handfuls of their friends talking excitedly over plates of snacks.
Joel’s brought a girlfriend home; a bubbly pink-haired girl who seems all sweetness until Monopoly gets heated and she oh-so-casually makes a horribly gruesome threat. When the victim of her threat stutters in shock, she blinks innocently and makes her next play as if nothing happened. Joel, sitting beside her, looks completely enamored.
The insecure twist in Grian’s heart wants to wallow in the way Joel looks at Lizzie - or the way she looks at him, when he’s distracted by his own turn - and how he wonders if anyone would ever look at him like that. But the gentle pressure of Scar’s knee resting against his reminds him: if nothing else, he’s still got good friends.
Between party games and excited chatter and catching up, the evening flies by. Before too long, they’re all filing into the living room as it gets closer and closer to midnight. The TV plays the feed from Times Square, where the announcers are currently discussing New Year’s traditions.
Grian’s off in the back corner, tucked into an oversized armchair. He can see the TV from here, in a sidelong sort of way, but it doesn’t matter that much to him anyway.
Five minutes to midnight, and suddenly Scar is there, trying to balance on the arm of the armchair. Grian laughs at him, then scoots to the side and pats the space next to him.
With a grin, Scar slides onto the seat.
There’s barely enough space for both of them, and their shoulders are pressed tight together. Scar doesn’t seem to mind, though, and Grian definitely doesn’t.
“Hey,” Grian says with a laugh, meeting Scar’s eyes.
“Hi,” Scar replies - and oh god, he’s so close. Grian can see the wisps of hair that’ve escaped Scar’s little ponytail; the tiny freckles he has that have never been as noticeable as Grian’s. If there were more light, Grian’s sure he’s close enough that he’d be able to see the hazel in Scar’s eyes - that delicate ring of golden-greenish-brown around the center of his iris.
Three minutes to midnight, and the announcers on the TV are talking about finding someone to kiss when the ball drops.
Grian laughs a little. “How many people actually do that, I wonder,” he says under his breath.
“I don’t know,” Scar muses. “I never have, at least.”
“Same.” Grian’s hand, resting on his own thigh, accidentally brushes against the fabric of Scar’s jeans. After a moment’s pause, he asks, “Think you’d want to?”
Grian meant it as a general question, but when Scar’s eyes flick down for a moment and he says “Maybe,” Grian wonders if that’s what Scar heard.
His heart races.
He glances around the room, just for a second. No one’s looking their way. Everyone’s watching the TV - well, except Lizzie and Joel, who are in their own little world.
One minute to midnight.
He could do this, Grian realizes. He could really, actually do this.
He looks back to Scar, whose eyes haven’t left him. There’s something tentative in his face; some trepidation in the way his breath barely leaves his lips.
Thirty seconds to midnight.
Grian hesitantly reaches out, resting a hand on Scar’s arm. Scar glances at the hand, then back at him; still with that cautious question in his eyes, Grian thinks.
“Ten!” the room cheers. “Nine!”
Grian’s heart absolutely hammers behind his ribs. Oh my god, he thinks. I’m actually going to do this.
Five!
Four!
Three!
Two!
And as the countdown reaches midnight, Grian surges forward, pressing his lips to Scar’s.
The room erupts in cheers for the new year. Scar’s fingers thread into Grian’s hair, and his lips move gently, slowly. Every fiber in Grian’s body feels alive.
As the cheering dies down, Grian pulls back reluctantly. If Pearl sees them, she’ll wolf-whistle for sure, and Grian doesn’t think he can deal with that right now.
He also can’t handle looking at Scar, apparently, so instead he buries his head on Scar’s shoulder.
Scar chuckles. “Wanna get out of here?” he whispers against Grian’s ear.
Grian nods.
Scar takes his hand and stealthily pulls him to the stairs, and together they slip up to Scar’s room. Grian can’t stop smiling.
Scar closes the door behind them, then plops down on a beanbag chair with a conspiratorial grin. Grian takes the other one, giggling.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he says, absolutely giddy.
“Mm-hm,” Scar nods enthusiastically.
“I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
Scar grins. He leans in close, enough that Grian can feel his breath brush his ear again.
“Well,” he murmurs, “I’m honored to have been your first.”
Grian chokes out something between a laugh and a groan, and socks Scar in the arm while simultaneously burying his face against it.
“God, why are you so -”
Scar just laughs and covers Grian’s hand with his own.
“Do you want to try some more?” he whispers after a moment.
“Yes,” Grian says immediately, lifting his head so his face is no longer hidden.
Scar gives a surprised chuckle, but Grian doesn’t let him get much further than that. He leans in close and kisses Scar again - a little longer this time, a little deeper.
Scar kisses him back, slow and careful. A cautious hand cups Grian’s jawline, trembling slightly.
Grian has to remind himself that he’s allowed to touch - to trace along the curve of Scar’s cheekbone, feel the soft warmth of Scar’s skin under his fingertips. His fingers wander down to the nape of Scar’s neck, and Scar shudders, his lips parting in a soft gasp.
Craning across the beanbag chairs proves to be more effort than it’s worth. As best he can without breaking the kiss, Grian moves to snuggle in next to Scar on a single beanbag. He’s rewarded with Scar’s arms winding around him in a close embrace, broad hands wandering across his back, tracing searing warm patterns through the fabric of his sweater.
This. This, now, he’s home.
Warmth blooms inside of him. Scar, his best friend, is still kissing him and it feels like comfort and excitement and love.
Grian tips his head to deepen the kiss, turning it into something open-mouthed and messy and still only a fraction of the yearning he feels. This, this, forever.
His hand moves to Scar’s hair, fingers trying to tangle in. The ponytail holder catches against his fingers and he tugs it out, letting Scar’s hair fall loose. Oh, Scar makes the most delicious noise when he does that. He wraps a hand in Scar’s hair and grips, tight, and Scar honest-to-god whines against his lips.
With his free hand, Grian starts to cautiously explore a little, down the front of Scar’s shoulder to rest over his heart. Scar’s been proud of his chest for a while, and for good reason - it’s impressively well-muscled for their age. Grian squeezes teasingly, and Scar laughs against his lips, murmuring, “Never thought you’d be this eager.”
All Grian can do is kiss him deeper.
“-iaaaannnn!”
Grian breaks away, breathless, at the sound of his name being called. He looks wide-eyed at Scar, who’s trying valiantly to repress a giggle.
“Griiiiiaaaaan!”
Pearl’s voice is getting closer, coming up the stairs.
“What?!” Grian calls back, hoping he doesn’t sound out of breath.
Oh, god - Scar starts kissing his neck, just under his jawline.
“We’re about to play Clue!” Pearl says from outside Scar’s door. “Hurry up if you wanna join!”
Scar sucks lightly at a spot just under Grian’s ear, and his mind goes spinning. Is that enough to leave a hickey? How fast do - fuck, god, I don’t wanna stop -
“Fiiine,” he answers, trying to sound normal. To Scar, he whispers, “We should… probably get down there, yeah?”
Scar chuckles, mouthing at his throat.
“I’ll be there in a minute!” Grian calls back. He’s panting.
“Get your butt down here soon or I’m taking Miss Scarlett!” Pearl threatens, and then her footsteps retreat down the stairs.
Grian sighs heavily, and reluctantly detaches Scar’s lips from his neck.
Scar pouts.
“Look, we probably shouldn’t spend all night up here,” Grian says, “much as I’d like to…”
“Yeah,” Scar sighs. “It’d probably look suspicious.”
Grian quickly musses Scar’s hair back into place, and makes a passing attempt at his own, while Scar straightens out his shirt. At the door, Scar looks back at him with a heart-skipping grin, and Grian impulsively stretches up on tiptoe for one last giddy kiss.
Then he’s charging down the stairs, shouting at Pearl about how she’d better not have claimed Scarlett already, she knows Scarlett’s his favorite and she always hogs her!
Scar follows behind, laughing.
These New Year’s parties at Scar’s always last well into the wee hours of the morning. Grian lives it up, playing games and laughing and catching up with people he hasn’t talked to since their high school graduation. Someone brought one of those new, complicated board games that takes nearly an hour to explain, and playing it takes them another couple hours.
But the whole time, Scar’s knee is pressing against Grian’s under the table, and this time it feels like an exciting little secret shared between them. Grian keeps sneaking glances at Scar, reveling in the private flashes of smiles he gets in response.
Around half past three, the party starts to wind down. The guests that remain start filtering out, with hugs and good-to-see-yous for all.
“You’re staying over, right, G?” Scar says in a quiet aside.
“Yeah,” Grian says.
When everyone else has gone - Pearl with a truly embarrassing eyebrow-waggle at Grian as she hauls a very sleepy Jimmy out the door - Grian follows Scar back up to his room. He goes to change into his pajamas and brush his teeth while Scar inflates the air mattress Grian always sleeps on.
“I think it’s good now,” Scar says when Grian comes back from changing. “It fought me a lot more than usual this time.” He gestures to the air mattress, which sits guilelessly in its usual place on the floor.
“Poor you,” Grian teases, poking Scar’s side. “Archnemeses with a mattress.”
“Hey, hey, I’m in good company!” Scar protests. “I’m just like that lady with the peanut!”
It takes Grian a moment, and then he nearly howls with laughter before remembering it’s four in the morning and smothering it. “You mean The Princess and the Pea, Scar?” he says when he can finally speak again.
“Of course, of course! That’s what I said!”
Scar’s standing there laughing in his flannel pajama set, hair tousled and down around his shoulders, lit only by the soft orange glow of the lamp on his desk. A wave of overwhelming fondness surges over Grian, and he stretches up on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to Scar’s lips.
Scar kisses him back, one hand gripping Grian’s waist just for a moment, before pulling back.
“Time for bed,” Scar murmurs.
Reluctantly, Grian steps away and tucks himself in on the air mattress.
“Night, Scar,” he says quietly.
“Night, G.” Behind him, he can hear the sounds of Scar settling into bed.
Grian wakes up at nine in the morning with a pit in his stomach.
There’s a click of the door closing as he’s coming into consciousness, and then the shower running in the upstairs bathroom. Next to him, the bed is empty.
The air mattress under him is halfway deflated, and his shoulder digs into the floor.
Last night filters back into his mind a little at a time. Scar, breaking away - time for bed, G. The giddy haze Grian had been in all night, that Scar had let him kiss him, had even seemed to enjoy it.
The fact that Grian had initiated every single one.
Never thought you’d be this eager.
Grian stands up, his body aching in a million places, muscles stiff from the awkward position he’d wound up sleeping in. His head swims.
He feels like an idiot.
Cold morning light casts a harsher color over all his assumptions. The fairytale world he’d been living in, where last night was exactly what he’d been dreaming of for years…
Maybe Scar was just going with the flow, didn’t mind it enough to push Grian away. Maybe he went along with it last night, but now that he’s got time to think about it, without Grian jumping him anytime he’s away from the crowd, he’ll regret it.
Maybe Scar just likes kissing.
Grian paces back and forth across the carpeted floor, chewing on his fingernails. His stomach twists.
Maybe Scar thinks Grian is cute, and had fun last night, and would be down for some sort of friends-with-benefits situation, but he’s just not thinking about it nearly as much as Grian is, because it’s not as big a deal to him. Maybe it was a one-time fluke, and he’d rather put it behind them and never talk about it again, but Grian will forever feel the awkwardness of knowing what Scar’s lips feel like and knowing he’ll always be restless until he gets another taste.
Maybe Scar didn’t really want any of this.
Grian has to find some way to fix this. He can’t lose Scar. He can’t.
This can’t be what breaks their friendship.
Grian’s so deep in his spiraling thoughts that he almost doesn’t hear Scar come back in.
“Whew, I thought the water would never heat up - whoa, hey, are you okay?”
Scar’s at his side in an instant, towel-dried hair falling over his eyes, t-shirt clinging to still-damp skin.
Grian averts his eyes.
“Gri, you don’t look so good, are you -”
“I’m sorry,” Grian blurts out, turning fretfully to face Scar.
“What for?” Scar says after a moment. There’s something forced in the way he shrugs.
“Look, I think - I think things might have gotten out of hand?” Grian stammers. “Unless they didn’t - but - augh -”
Scar’s face looks drawn now, like he also doesn’t really want to have this conversation. Maybe Grian should’ve just left it alone, figure it out by what Scar did next. But there’s no backing out now.
Grian takes a deep breath. He tries to steady the shake in his voice.
“Scar, your friendship is so important to me. I don’t - I don’t know how you feel about it, but I just - I really don’t want anything to get in the way of that. So if anything I did was - I mean -”
Scar sits down heavily on the bed.
“You’re breaking up with me,” he whispers.
Grian only barely catches it. It snags on the outside of his train of thought, not filtering in far enough to interrupt what he’s trying to say.
“Look, Scar,” Grian continues, “I’m not trying to push - I mean, I’m sure you don’t want to date me, right, so -”
“Grian...”
The stricken tone in Scar’s voice stops Grian. He glances over at Scar - his face is devastated.
Grian steps closer, the gears in his mind ground to a halt. He can’t figure out why it’s gone this way.
There are tears on Scar’s cheeks.
Scar reaches out, takes both of Grian’s wrists in his hands. He looks up at Grian with damp, pleading eyes.
“...Have I done anything these past few months to make you feel like I haven’t loved dating you?”
Grian tips his head to the side, stunned.
“What?”
“I mean, I know the distance has been hard, but - but if there’s anything I could do differently,” Scar stammers, choking on tears, “anything that would make you more comfortable - Grian, I really -”
“No, wait. Since when were we dating?”
Grian realizes how that sounded right as Scar makes a small wounded noise and looks to the ground.
“Alright,” Scar says numbly.
“No, no, no,” Grian cries, suddenly taking Scar’s face in his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that - I’m sorry -” He tries to brush Scar’s hair out of his face, tries to caress away the tears that are now flowing rapidly. “Scar, look at me - I was actually asking, I didn’t know - Scar - we were dating?”
Scar nods tearily. He sniffs back a sob.
“Yeah - I mean, I thought -”
“How long?” Grian asks. He wraps an arm around Scar’s shoulders, pulls Scar’s head to rest against his midsection.
“Since the fair,” Scar says. He takes a shaky breath, and his arms loop around Grian’s waist. “That was our first date, I thought. At the start I said I wanted to be together, and I thought - I thought you said yes, right? And we held hands and all that?”
Grian’s fingers weave into Scar’s hair. He wants to laugh and cry at the same time.
“Do you know how much I think about that day?” he murmurs. “Scar, I… I don’t remember exactly what you said, but I thought - I thought you were talking about sticking together, like, staying together while we were at the fair, and that’s why you wanted to hold hands…”
Scar heaves a shuddering sob into the front of Grian’s pajama shirt.
“So it didn’t mean anything?” Scar says miserably, muffled into Grian’s stomach.
Grian’s heart aches. “Scar…” He bites back the urge to call him something corny, sweetheart or baby or darling or something like that. “I wouldn’t say that,” he says, gently carding through Scar’s hair. “What I was trying to say earlier, I think - god, I went about it all wrong, didn’t I - is that I’ve had an absolutely massive crush on you for the longest time, and I was so scared I’d messed it all up by pushing you into - well.”
Scar’s arms around Grian’s waist tighten, hugging him closer.
“You actually like me like that?” Grian whispers.
Scar nods. He looks up at Grian with big damp eyes.
“I do - I like you so much, Grian.”
Grian’s stomach does a flip. He leans down to press kisses to Scar’s tear-stained cheeks; the angle is a little awkward, though, so he ends up sliding onto Scar’s lap as he does so.
Scar buries his head in the crook of Grian’s neck and holds him tight.
“You really couldn’t tell?” Scar’s voice is rough and a little shaky, but it sounds like he’s stopped crying, at least.
“Well…”
Grian thinks back. Okay, so maybe there were signs, but he’d always thought -
“I just didn’t think… someone like you would actually want to be with someone like me…”
Scar pulls back suddenly and stares at Grian, eyebrows furrowed in a puzzled look.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Scar…” Grian sighs. “You’re, like, completely out of my league - you know that, right?”
Scar just stares harder.
“This cannot be news to you,” Grian says, almost exasperated. “Anywhere you go, people like you. It’s so easy for you to make friends. You were well-liked in school - and you know how that went for me, I told you what it was like before my parents pulled me out.”
Grian sighs heavily. “Besides, you’re… Well.”
Scar’s stupidly gorgeous hazel-green eyes blink innocently at him out of that stupidly handsome face framed by his stupidly flattering hair, that even now Grian can’t stop thinking about wrapping a fist in again and pulling just to hear the noise that would come out of those stupidly perfect lips -
“You could have anyone you want; let’s just put it that way. And I’m nothing special.”
Scar laughs, astonished.
“Wait, so. All this time, you just assumed I couldn’t possibly like you because I’m… a catch?”
Grian flushes and nods.
“Man, I knew you had self-esteem issues, but I didn’t know it was this bad!” Scar laughs again, cupping Grian’s face in his hands. “All my best flirtations, wasted! Grian, I sent you kissyface emojis!”
“Nooo, those were flirty?” Grian whines. “I thought you were being cutesy!”
Scar kisses Grian on both cheeks, then on the tip of his nose. “I even told you I liked you! At the top of the Ferris wheel! And you said it back!”
Grian groans, trying to hide his face in his hands, but Scar won’t stop kissing him long enough for him to manage. “I figured you meant, like - you liked me a lot as a person! I mean, I daydreamed a lot about what if you meant it the same way I did - but I thought -”
“Oh, you’re impossible!” Scar laughs, shaking Grian lightly. Then Scar’s lips are on his, and Grian melts into it, savoring the kiss now that he knows what it means.
“For the record,” Scar murmurs once he pulls back, “I am absolutely head-over-heels for you, romantically, and I think you’re just amazing.”
Grian takes in the way Scar is looking at him, eyes soft and full of adoration - and it’s the same way Scar has always looked at him, so full of wonder and fondness and love.
Grian kisses him again, greedy and deep, just because now he’s allowed to. He savors the feeling of Scar’s soft noises humming into his mouth; revels in the knowledge that Scar wants him like this.
“If this is what actually dating you is gonna be like,” Scar laughs when they pause for breath, “I’m really looking forward to it.”
“Well, I’m happy to know I haven’t been just - taking advantage of your need for - friendly platonic affection,” Grian murmurs, punctuating it with a kiss or two to various bits of Scar's face.
Scar laughs out loud and hugs him tight. “Not in the slightest!”
After a moment, Grian asks, “Come to think of it… if you thought we were dating, why did you never do anything, like, really obvious? Like try to kiss me, or call me your boyfriend, or a pet name, or something?”
“Okay, so, first, I definitely object to you saying I wasn’t obvious,” Scar teases. “But also… I don’t know, I didn’t want to come on too strong. Like with physical touch, I know you’re -”
Scar visibly reassesses the rest of that sentence as he glances at Grian perched on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, legs cinched around his waist, lips reddened from making out.
“Well, I thought you didn’t like it in general - but I take it that’s… contextual?”
“Must be,” Grian shrugs. “I like it when it’s you.”
“Lucky me,” Scar giggles. He kisses Grian on the lips, just briefly. “It seems silly now, but I was worried I would scare you off. With how much I like you, and all that.”
Grian turns beet red. “Not possible,” he mumbles.
“Yeah, see, and this is why I didn’t do pet names after the first time,” Scar laughs, poking Grian’s flushed cheeks. “You got so embarrassed by it, I thought you didn’t like them.”
Grian flushes harder, hiding his face against Scar’s shoulder. “Well, you see how it feels when you’ve been crushing hard for ages and then your crush randomly calls you babe! I thought I was gonna die!”
Scar laughs again, hearty and weightless. “Man. All this time I was worried you weren’t really all that into being with me -”
“Noooo, Scar, I’m obsessed with you!” Grian blurts out. “I mean. Um. I like you a normal and regular amount that is also a lot.”
“Of course,” Scar giggles. “Me too.”
For a little while, Grian just savors the moment. Scar’s arms around him; the steady rhythm of his breathing; the gentle kisses they share now and then. Exhaustion threatens to creep in; a sleepy haze at the edges of his train of thought. But it’s pleasant, just being here with Scar.
“It’s so funny,” Grian muses after a while. “Just thinking about all those nights we were texting late, and I was, like, yearning so hard it hurt…”
Scar chuckles. “Meanwhile, I was keeping my roommate awake ‘cause I couldn’t stop giggling to myself, I was just so happy to be talking to my beautiful amazing boyfriend!”
Grian flushes so hard he can feel his ears turning pink. Fortunately, he’s distracted by a massive yawn splitting his face.
“Think your beautiful amazing boyfriend needs some sleep,” he mutters.
“Ooh, yes!” Scar cheers. “Come, come, sleep with me!”
“Scar!” Grian protests. “Phrasing!”
“Whaaaat? No, I didn’t mean it like that!” Scar flops backwards onto the bed. “Come join me for a perfectly innocent nap!”
Grian tries to ignore the position this leaves him in, straddling Scar’s hips while Scar lays back on the bed. He quickly opts to flop down next to Scar and snuggle into his side.
Eventually, they shift around to a more comfortable spot under the blankets, snuggled up together in an attempt to catch up on some of the sleep they missed last night. It doesn’t end up working particularly well, as there’s far too much giggling and kissing going on for it to be called a nap - but Grian’s not going to complain. He feels more at rest than ever.