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When he thought about it, it really was a pretty night outside.
The moon reflected off the ripples in the water, creating an opalescent haze that seemed to blanket the evening air, only briefly interrupted by a cool breeze that danced across the glittering sky. Cattails leaned over the muddy bank and peered downward into the depths of the river. The water was impenetrable and yet inviting, like if you fell in you would simply be swallowed up without so much as a splash.
Grian didn’t think that was necessarily a bad thing, though. People often talked about drowning as if it was a horrific way to die, but Grian didn’t view it that way. In his imagination, the liquid was enveloping, inundating the furthest reaches of his lungs as he just sort of existed, floating languidly in the gentle embrace of a numb weightlessness as the river rocked him to an eternal sleep.
Macabre fantasies aside, Grian wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the tranquility of his environment would lead one to assume. His legs had long gone numb against the wood of his fishing dock, and his feet just barely grazed the surface of the river whenever he shifted, trying to loosen some of the tightness in his muscles. The wind was not especially strong, but it was sharp, biting through the threads of his sweater like a lioness sinking teeth into her prey. Grian thought it was awfully unfair that the seemingly inviting scene was so unwelcoming to visitors. Still, he wrapped his wings around himself in a futile attempt to find warmth and cast his fishing line out once again.
After a few minutes of waiting, his hands dipped at the soft jerk of a fish getting caught. His many hours of fishing had taught him the difference between the erratic spasms of a desperate fish and the leaden weight of a book that sent a numinous shiver through his body. Sure enough, when he reeled in his catch, all he found was a slender cod, wriggling at the hook. The disappointment was almost imperceptible at this point, but there was still a stab of dismay as Grian tossed the fish into a nearby barrel.
I don’t know why I expected anything different, he thought bitterly.
Suddenly, a noise rang out through the air, shattering the ambient stillness.
“Hey there, Grian! Mind if I join you in your fishing endeavors?”
Grian jumped, his wings instinctively flaring out before falling limp behind him as he heard the insouciant voice at his back. He turned around to find Scar, his crooked grin illuminated by the moonlight reflected off his eyes. He met Grian’s eyes, waiting for his consent to sit down.
Grian initially hesitated, tongue hovering at the roof of his mouth with lips slightly parted, cracked and sere from disuse as he considered Scar’s offer. He knew that if he truly wanted Scar to go away, Scar would respect his wishes, and a more sinister side of himself susurrated crowding notions of aversion at the prospect. Something about Scar intruding on Grian’s fishing dock, regardless of his solicitude, seemed as if it would break the bubble of consistency that both maintained Grian’s lifeline while slowly suffocating him, eroding him down until he was raw and vulnerable.
He felt a pang of longing for the times when he and Scar would laugh and talk for hours without a care, but they seemed to have been put on hold as the transition between seasons accompanied by Grian’s new obsession has taken over most of his free time. It was stupid, he knew, and realistically, the only thing holding him back was his own desperate drive to finally fish up a mending book. But now, the thought of letting someone in, of breaking his solitude, felt overwhelming.
What would Scar do if he just sat there and ignored him?
Honestly, he would probably take that as an invitation to come sit with me, Grian admitted to himself. He might as well choose the more polite route. Plus… it was Scar. If it was any other hermit, Grian would have turned down their offer, but out of everyone on this server, he missed Scar the most. The longer he stood there, waiting, the more Grian felt the urge to give in.
There wasn’t a real reason to refuse his offer, beyond the desire to remain alone which probably extended beyond the point of well-being.
Reluctantly, but not begrudgingly, Grian turned towards Scar and offered a fragile smile in response.
Scar didn’t hesitate to plop next to Grian on the dock, legs crossed and back hovering in a position between straight and slouched as he gazed up at the sky. Turning towards Grian, still with a wry look on his face, he asked,
“So, how does your quest for a mending book go?”
Grian emitted a low, exasperated grumble from the back of his throat.
“The ocean doesn't seem to be feeling particularly generous lately,” he said, perhaps exaggerating his frustration, but a slight note of truth still sounded clear through his curt tone. Scar shifted his eyes to Grian’s, his expression shifting to one of playful teasing.
“But I thought you were saying that the ocean provides!” Scar raised his eyebrows expectantly.
Grian replied dryly.
“I’m starting to think the ocean doesn’t like me very much.”
“Ehh, me and the ocean don’t get along very well either.” Scar shrugged.
“Mhm?” Grian hummed.
“Yeah, no, I heard it gossiping with the glow squids about my big nose,” Scar said with a tone of mock offense.
“Now that’s unforgivable.”
“I know, that’s what I thought! So now I’m thinking I’m going to boycott this whole ocean business, in protest of its, to be frank, truly heinous acts.”
“I’m about one Bane of Arthropods book from throwing my rod out into the sea,” Grian complained.
“I am done with all of this ocean trickery. I think there's some fishy business going on here,” Scar declared.
Grian huffed out an amused breath that condensed in the chilly air before being whisked away by the wind.
“‘Fishy’ is definitely one way to describe it.”
“Fair point…”
Scar trailed off as he considered Grian’s words. Grian cast his fishing line out again. A lone cricket called out to the wind, its song weighing on Grian’s eyelids and seeping into his bones as it grew harder to blink the blurriness away. His wings were heavy weights attached to his back, all but hanging limp; previously vibrant feathers were overlooked and dull. Formerly, Grian thought they were admirable, even majestic, but now they had lost their luster, blending into the darkness of the night.
To distract himself from his ever-increasing exhaustion, Grian scooted a little closer to the water so he could form gentle ripples in the water with his toes. His boots rested slightly behind him; the bracing water was a shock to his bare feet.
Scar shifted ever so slightly closer to Grian’s side, sending goosebumps up the length of Grian’s arm at the gap between them that was slowly shrinking.
“We should start a mutiny, overthrow the ocean’s tyrannical rule.”
“I don’t think even you could overthrow a literal body of water, Scar.”
“Hey! I think that you underestimate the sheer power I wield when I’m determined.”
Grian tried to force a chuckle, but it came out sounding more like the dying croak of a drowning rat.
After a short pause, Scar asked, “Do you have any extra fishing poles?”
On another night, Grian might have made a small quip about the absurd amount of old rods he had managed to dredge from the abandoned depths of the river, but instead he nodded wordlessly and pointed towards a barrel a few paces behind him. Scar stood up with a simple grace, one you wouldn’t guess he was capable of if you observed him during more civilized hours of the day. He walked over the barrel before choosing the rod that looked the least likely to fall apart after a single use.
As he returned, Grian heard his footsteps growing closer and felt his eyes on the back of his head. He could imagine Scar’s expression- calm, controlled, with an edge of worry just sharp enough to look like genuine concern. That was the way Scar worked.
He presented himself as a lighthearted, naive guy, and while it wasn’t exactly a facade, Scar had always been good at warping others' perceptions of him. It was what made him so likable.
It was what made Grian notice him, once upon a time.
Grian thought they knew each other well, but right now, his mind was too hazy to distinguish the nuances in Scar’s face that provided insight into his thoughts. Nor could Grian manage to decipher the subtleties hidden behind Scar’s insouciant grin.
Some part of his brain whispered to him:
Does he think you're pathetic? Is he here only because he feels bad for you?
Grian had learned a long time ago that sometimes it was just best to ignore these thoughts, but it didn’t stop them from festering in his mind.
“You know,” Scar brought up after settling into place once again, “It may be just because the server has been so busy lately, with the start of the new world and stuff.” Scar’s voice was gentle, casual, yet there was a subtle weight to his words that hinted at sincerity.
”But I guess I just haven’t seen you around much lately,” Scar finished.
“Well, that's what hours of fishing will do to a guy.”
Grian wasn't an absolute fool; not being able to read Scar as well as he usually could, did not mean that he couldn’t figure out why he was here. Admittedly, he didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would. He had warmed up to Scar's presence, having previously forgotten its magnetic allure. Grian trusted Scar, more than he would like to admit. And, he thought at least, the feeling was mutual.
Scar took a breath and looked down at the fishing pole resting in his lap.
“I… I’ve missed you, Grian.”
Something about the way he said it made Grian’s stomach drop, hollow, and heavy as a boulder. He couldn’t think of any possible reply to that except I’ve missed you too, which was too true of a statement to ever pass through Grian’s lips. Instead, he concentrated on the movement of his bobber when he felt Scar’s gaze fall on him.
The atmosphere thickened, like a rubber band stretched between Grian and Scar’s hearts, threatening to break in half and snap back at any moment.
Finally, Scar looked away. He threw his fishing line out, his own bobber landing just to the left of Grian’s. It danced up and down at a slightly quicker tempo, just fast enough so the two weren’t in sync.
Still, the silence dragged on, leaving Grian with a sour taste in the back of his mouth. Scar didn’t deserve to be ignored like that and it was taking every bit of Grian’s willpower to stay silent.
A particularly harsh wind swept through their pitiful attempt at repartee, making Grian shiver within his sweater.
“Cold?” Scar asked.
Grian glanced up and was surprised to see a quirked grin on his lips, a sort of suave charm Grian so often saw him emanate. Scar reached out his hand tentatively, offering, giving Grian the choice to close the gap. It was an offer as if he was unsure of himself, whether because he thought Grian would turn him down or because it was too soon into this otherwise superficial conversation, Grian didn’t know.
Something initially told him to lean back, to not let Scar get so close. That he didn't deserve this, and Scar didn’t deserve this, and it was too much all at once. But another, stronger force inside of him practically keeled at the thought of physical contact and his constant desire to be close to Scar won. In the end, it wasn’t much of a choice at all.
He melted into the familiar presence; Scar's touch was steady, reassuring, encompassing but not overwhelming. Grian turned his head into Scar’s shoulder and breathed in the scent. It was dirt and grease and a flowery, lilac undertone that somehow tied the whole thing together. Scar’s hand had wrapped around Grian’s body and hovered near his hair, lightly tangled in the dirty locks.
“You need a haircut,” Scar murmured, producing a warm vibration against Grian's cheek that rumbled through his chest. He laughed and scooted closer, pressing their sides more firmly against each other’s. Grian stretched out his left wing and wrapped it around Scar’s body, sharing every bit of warmth he could draw from his own. Small water droplets littered the front of Scar’s shirt, and his hair managed to stick up in five directions at the same time. Grian closed his eyes and felt the steady thrum of Scar’s heartbeat, the tension from his body lifting. It felt as if there were too many sensations to take in at once, but Grian wanted to savor every bit of it.
He missed this.
He could recall days dipped in the warmth of the sun with bouts of nostalgia when he and Scar would hold each other with no thought of tomorrow.
Somehow, those days became few and far between, until Grian could hardly remember the last time that happened.
There are better times than now to get lost in the past, Grian thought, right now I’d rather be focused on the present.
So Grian took another breath of the lilac aroma, reached his hand over to Scar’s free one, and intertwined their fingers.
The comfort of Scar’s grasp was relaxing. Grian’s blinks became slower and heavy, weighted by the newfound solace found in the intimacy that lulled him to the sleep he now recognized he desperately craved.
When Scar finally spoke, his voice was gentle and strong, settling on Grian’s shoulders like a weighted blanket.
“I really like stargazing,” Scar started, hands draped over Grian’s, clinging with passionate force.
Grian opened his eyes, the sound of Scar's voice enough to overcome the siren's desperate call of sleep. He lifted his head to Scar’s face, noticing the moonlight reflected off his eyes and lips that gave him an almost ethereal glow.
“Why's that?” Grian asked, turning his head to look at the display of lights above.
“The stars are just so far away, and there's just so many of them,” Scar began, eyes pointed at the sky, “And I guess it just reminds me of how in- incontinental-”
“Inconsequential,” Grian butted in, not unkindly, with a spark of amusement to his tone.
“Right, that.” Scar had a smile on his face. “Anyway, I think it's just nice to know that in the grand scheme of things, your screw-ups don’t really matter.”
“Huh.”
Grian tapped his fingers absently on his legs. These sorts of deep thoughts were not unfamiliar to Grian, in fact, they seemed to dominate his mind nowadays, but they were usually more along the lines of the insignificance of life in comparison to the entire universe. Scar’s perspective was… kinder, Grian supposed, but it also seemed to imply that no accomplishment was a matter worthy of note.
Grian wasn’t sure which idea was more depressing.
“What about my successes?” Grian questioned, “Don’t they mean anything?”
There was a pause before Scar replied. Not a hesitation, but a moment to gather his thoughts in order to fill his next words with a sense of certainty.
“They mean something to me,” he said, with a strong sort of confidence woven through those words that made Grian believe him.
Grian soaked in the meaning behind his words, allowing himself to settle just a bit more at ease between the rigid planks of wood.
"Scar?" Grian began, glancing up at his eyes before letting them fall onto their entwined hands.
"I just wanted to let you know, I've missed you too."
This time the words didn't drop like an anchor with nothing to support it. Instead, they rose, expanded, clearing a fog that had dampened the air between them.
"You should come and visit my train sometime," Scar said, "I've been slowly adding more cars to it."
"That sounds fun, Grian confessed, "I could probably use a break from all this fishing."
"I've always said- too much fish is never good for a man. It'll mess you right up in the head."
"Aww, Scar, don't say that, you'll hurt the fish's feelings," Grian chastised.
Scar laughed, a melodic tone that cut through the air with surprising clarity, making Grian jump a little when he first heard it.
That's a nice sound, he decided as the playful laughter reached his ear, and after a second, he joined in.
"We should do this more often," Scar said with a content look on his face after they had calmed down.
"Yeah, Grian agreed, "Thanks for, uh, joining me.”
Scar replied, "Thank you for inviting me"
"I really probably should get out more," Grian admitted with a rueful grin.
"Yeah you probably should," Scar agreed.
Grian twisted his whole body to look Scar in his eyes.
"Hey, what?" Scar said, offended, "I was agreeing with you! That's something a good friend would do!"
"Oh, so I'm just your friend now? I see how it is." Grian crossed his arms and turned away.
"Nooo! I'm sorry Grian, I love you.” Scar looked at Grian with puppy dog eyes.
Grian's heart skipped a beat at the I love you. It wasn't the first time he had heard it, but something about the words gave him goosebumps in the best possible way. The puppy dog eyes weren't doing him any favors, either.
"Hmmm... I don't know if I can forgive you." Grian folded his arms and leaned forward out of Scar's hold, close enough to the water so he could reach out and touch it.
"Please?" Scar leaned down to meet Grian's eyes, his own still looking comically round and pitiful, pleading for forgiveness. Grian met his eyes while a mischievous smile grew on his face. He lowered his hand to the surface of the water, gaining the attention of Scar, but by the time he had looked, it was too late.
Grian jerked his arm upwards and water droplets went flying into Scar's face with an audible splash.
Scar sputtered, water in his eyes and mouth, and this time, it was Grian's laugh that rang, clear and unfiltered, through the warming air.
"Hey there, mister, that's not nice! I'm calling foul play!" Scar reached down as soon as he regained sight and Grian tensed in anticipation of a splash, but Scar stopped before his hand could reach the water, head facing the sky.
Grian looked up.
The sun was slowly climbing up the horizon, washing the sky in its celestial orange and pink glow. Streaks of color stretched across the sky, painting over the fading light of the stars with its omnipresent light, brightening the surrounding land. The sunbeams fell onto the river and reflected off the ripples in the water, glittering as if diamonds were glistening on its surface.
“It’s beautiful,” Grian murmured. Scar turned his head away for a moment to glance at Grian’s face.
“Reminds me of you,” Scar said with an easy smile on his lips.
Grian blushed, laughed, and let his body fall backwards onto the fishing dock while spreading his wings wide enough to let the soft heat of the sun engulf them.
“This feels good,” Grian whispered, staring in awe at the display of beauty encompassing him.
“Yeah,” Scar agreed, joining Grian in his recumbent position. He wrapped both his arms around Grian’s shoulders and Grian slotted his own just below until their bodies were interlocked, and their hearts beat in unison as one hopeful rhythm that marched on towards the horizon of the future.
And for Grian, that was enough.