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hrmng-hermitcraft · 3 years ago

Text

I can smell the smoke of hell in every stitch and seam

@mayathebea: Scar standing on the cactus on purpose to be funny, but Grian can only see the ring of cactus and blood on his hands.

apparently i just take y'all's ideas and completely run away with them now gfkgjhk so take 2.4k words of Grian experiencing Feelings <3 ty again to my awesome brother @goodtimeswithscarian for beta reading !!

also on ao3

Even in a game of life or death, Grian could never pass up playing a prank or two. Even if the prank was played on his soulmate. Grian had never meant to harm Scar with the prank. Not when they shared souls and Scar’s death meant his own.

So when he woke Scar from his nap with dripstone poised above him, he thought nothing of it. Then he sliced it down as Scar started to leave his dirt hole. He got ready to laugh at Scar’s shock, maybe Scar would even prank him back, then that would be that.

What he didn’t expect was the sharp, phantom pain in his own head, making him drop his shovel and shout in pain. He fell to the floor, gripping his head. Somehow, dripstone managed to drop the pair to three hearts.

“Oh, Void that hurt!” Grian hisses, shaking from the adrenaline of panic. He hears Scar groan and looks up to see Scar rubbing his head as well.

“Yeah, tell me about it!” he exclaims. There’s blood dripping down from the wound and Grian’s breath hitches. He’s always hated seeing Scar bleed. He doesn't like seeing him hurt in general really, but seeing him bleed brought a strange level of urgency to the injuries that would quickly heal.

Grian shakes off the sudden anxiety, pushing himself up off the ground with shaky hands. “Well.. now we know dripstone causes a lot of damage close range.” He hurries into his little cave, throwing some mutton on the furnace.

“Why in the world was there dripstone over me?!” Scar asks. The hurt in his voice makes Grian look over in time to see Scar get up. His eyebrows are pinched together and he’s pouting, one hand still nursing his hurt head.

“It was a prank!” Grian insists, trying to laugh it off. He turns back to the furnace, grabbing the mutton and eating it quickly. “I didn’t mean to get us that low on hearts.” He finishes the mutton, watching their health go back up to normal.

“See?” Grian says. “All better, no harm done.”

Scar scoffs, wiping the blood off his forehead. “Why am I the one always getting hurt from your pranks?”

Grian knows exactly what the other’s referring to. A creeper that was never meant to go off, a promise of loyalty that ended in bloodshed. He pushes the thoughts away, crossing his arms.

“I’m sorry, I really am!” Scar won’t even look at him, and that brings an ache to his chest that he doesn’t want to think about.

Then Scar gets that mischievous glint in his eyes that can only bring trouble. “Scar….”

They both get the same idea, looking at the cactus beside Scar. Grian’s eyes widen, but before he can say anything more, Scar has already thrown himself against the cactus.

The feeling of cactus spines that aren’t there doesn't hurt terribly, barely bringing Grian down a heart, but he still gasps. This isn’t the first time Scar’s pulled something like this, using a cactus or powdered snow to hurt himself and Grian. But seeing it is so different than feeling it.

“Scar, stop,” Grian says, trying to push away the memories that start flooding back to him. Scar is persistent though, staring Grian down with a grin as he pushes farther into the cactus.

“Scar, stop it,” he hisses, watching their hearts go down quicker. He knows there’s only one cactus, but he sees a ring of them. A ring of cacti surrounded them, forcing Grian to confront a fate he had tried so hard to change.

“No, please Scar.” Tears are welling up in his eyes. It’s so clear now that Grian can practically see the sand of the desert they were in. Their desert, where promises were made and blood was shed. Where Scar stood before him, their last moments together.

“Scar, stop!” He’s begging now, panicking. He remembers the echoes of his fallen friends, chanting for blood. The countdown. The first punches being thrown and the blood of the other on his hands.

He drops to the floor with a sob, clutching his side in pain. The phantom pricks of pain hurt, but the thoughts in his own head are so much worse.

The pain in his side suddenly ceases, leaving a dull ache, but he’s too far gone for it to matter. He’s not sure what's real anymore. He can’t tell if the ground underneath him is dirt or sand.

He can hear Scar’s apologies. His last words had been apologies, despite Grian being the one beating him to death. He was seeing red, he had to do what was necessary to win. Then all he could see was red. There was so much blood, on his hands, on the sand, on Scar.

Hands on his shoulders bring him back a bit. Scar’s in front of him, but that’s not right. Scar was dead, dead by his own hands, killed by a fate they never should have followed.

Grian screams, shoving him away and throwing himself back against the dirt. No, the sand. It was sand that his partner was killed on. It had to be. He distinctly remembers falling to his hands and knees in the sand when he came to and realized what he’s done. He remembers pulling Scar off the sand, checking for a pulse. He remembers the moment when he couldn’t find one, the exact moment that the desert went from their home to their graves.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to kill you, I had to, I’m sorry!” Memories bleed into reality and Grian doesn’t know where he is anymore. He’s shaking, tears streaming down his face. His hands are tight in his hair, no doubt getting Scar’s blood in it. Red on yellow, blood on blond, blood on the sand, blood on his partner, his soulmate, his Scar. He’s dead, and Grian killed him. It’s all his fault.

“Grian, I’m okay!” He looks up to see Scar right in front of him, kneeling on the ground. His hands are up as if surrendering. But he didn’t surrender, he let Grian kill him. Grian should have backed down, they could have found a different way out of 3rd Life. They should have found a way to make it out alive, together. But he charged, he beat Scar until he was bloody and bruised. He shuts his eyes tight and looks away.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but I need you to breathe.” Breathe, is he breathing? Is Scar breathing? Void, he’s not breathing. The ghosts of his dead friends are cheering and the love of his life isn’t breathing. He remembers gathering Scar into his arms, holding him close as if that could save him.

“Grian, look at me.” No, no he can’t look. He can’t look and see what he already knows. He can feel the lifeless body in his arms, smell the copper of spilled blood. He doesn’t want to see what he did, he can’t. Grian can’t live without Scar.

His soulmate’s voice is closer now, “Look,” it commands. It’s not real, it can’t be. Scar is dead in his arms. This is some trick from the spectators, the Watchers, the universe, something, someone playing a sick joke on him. But he vowed to be loyal, to listen and obey Scar. He can’t deny him that, even in death.

With a sob, Grian forces himself to look up. Not into Scar’s eyes, he can’t look at the glossed-over eyes, once so full of life. But he still sees Scar. Not the one in his head, but one with tanned skin from days in the sun, calloused hands reaching out to him, a worried smile that calms him down ever so lightly. His eyes search frantically, but there’s not a trace of blood, no bruises.

“Scar?” he whispers, as if speaking too loud will make his soulmate disappear. He swears the weight of the body is still in his arms, the blood is still on his hands, but he sees nothing.

“Hi,” Scar whispers back, his smile widening a little. Despite his soulmate being close enough to touch, Grian doesn’t trust it. He still searches for a purple aura around the other, an eye above his head, the Watchers taunting him.

“You’re dead,” Grian chokes out, still lost in his head. “I-I killed you, I watched you die.” Tears are streaming down his face and blurring his vision, but he still jumps as a hand extends towards him slowly.

“I’m right here, G,” Scar assures him. His tone is sweet and warm, assuring, like when he’s selling something and he needs to convince his customer they really want what he has. But Grian’s still not sure what’s real, he doesn’t know if he trusts his eyes or his mind. It’s too much, it’s so much.

“Please, just let me die,” Grian sobs. “I can’t do it, I can’t live without you! Stop torturing me and just let me die!” He knows his role, he knows what comes next. He ends the game. He takes the last red life and jumps.

“Grian, neither of us is dead,” Scar insists. “Neither of us are going to die. We’re both on green and we are both alive.” Grian looks over him again. He looks alive. He really, really does. And Grian wants to believe it, he wants to believe that he didn’t kill Scar.

Grian’s eyes shift to the still extended hand. Slowly, he reaches out, but hesitates. He doesn’t want to be right, he doesn’t want to feel cold dead skin.

Yet, he has to know. Grian grabs Scar’s hand with care. Warmth. Scar’s hands are always so warm.

“See?” Scar says. He takes Grian’s hand, slow enough that he could easily pull away, and brings it to his chest. Grian’s hand presses to it and he can feel the thumping of a heartbeat. “I’m here, I’m alive.”

There wasn’t a pulse last time. He feels like all the weight is lifted off his shoulders. He can breathe again. The ground is dirt again.

“You’re alive,” Grian sighs, leaning forward to rest his head on Scar’s shoulder. Tears still stream down his face, but his soulmate is alive. That’s all that matters.

Scar wraps his arms around Grian, pulling him closer. “And so are you,” he whispers. Grian tenses up, but he’s too tired to complain about the affection. He hugs Scar, pressing his ear to his chest to listen to the grounding pulse.

“This isn’t the desert?” Grian asks quietly. The ground is dirt, Scar is alive, but he can’t help but feel like something is still looming over them, like this is still some trick.

“The…? Oh.” Scar’s breath hitches. “Oh, Grian.” Scar wraps his arms around the other again, pulling him as close as possible. “No, no this isn’t the desert. I’m alive, you- You didn’t hurt me, I’m okay.” Grian buries his head back into Scar’s shoulder.

“Promise?” Grian whispers. His hands are gripping Scar’s shirt like letting go will make Scar disappear. He doesn’t want Scar to disappear, he needs him now more than ever.

“I promise, I swear,” Scar assures, tucking his head into the junction of Grian’s shoulder and neck. “I forgave you for that the moment it happened. You know that, right?”

“But–.”

“You’re still my angel.” He says it so softly, so full of love, that Grian sobs. Scar presses a kiss to his shoulder. “My soulmate, my other half, my world, and my everything.” He gives Grian a little squeeze, sighing. “There’s nothing you could do that I wouldn’t forgive you for.”

Grian doesn’t know what to say to that. He wants to tell Scar he’s sorry, that he loves him. He wants to apologize for killing Scar and for cheating on him. For being a bad friend, and a bad partner, and a bad soulmate. Grian doesn’t know how to do that though.

So he hugs Scar, trying to put all his words, all his feelings, into it. He unfolds his wings from where they’ve been pulled tight behind him and stretches them over the pair. He makes a shield from his precious wings as if to promise he will never let Scar die again.

Scar’s breath hitches again. A hand leaves Grian’s back, but promptly returns. He knows better than to touch Grian’s wings without permission.

“They’re lovely,” he says instead. He presses a kiss to Grian’s head, a hand coming up to stroke his hair.

As the tears slow, Grian sighs. He wants to stay with Scar forever. He wants to be held, to feel loved, to know he is safe. But his mind has cleared and he’s back in Double Life. Back where people want to kill them.

Against all instincts, he releases Scar, pulling his wings back. Scar allows it, letting Grian pull away and sit back on his feet.

“I’m…,” Grian trails off, wiping his tear-stained face. He’s sorry, sorry for so, so much. But it’s hard to admit he’s wrong. He looks into Scar’s eyes, and they look back at him like he’s everything.

“I know,” Scar says with a sad smile. “You’re okay.”

Grian smiles back at his soulmate. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve Scar. To deserve someone who is so kind, so loving and understanding, even to someone like Grian.

Scar gets up, holding out a hand to the other. Grian takes it, pulling himself onto his feet. He doesn’t let go of Scar’s hand, and Scar intertwines their fingers.

“We need to get ready,” Grian sighs, looking at their hands. He gives Scar’s hand a squeeze before pulling away. “The red lives will be after us.”

“You found a good hiding spot,” Scar reassures. “We won’t be found for now. You need to rest after that.”

Grian really wants to. He’s practically swaying on his feet from exhaustion. But he can’t leave Scar alone.

Scar sees the hesitation and sighs. “Just lay down for a bit?” he asks. “For me, angel?”

Grian can feel his face go red and he looks away. He’s not going to get away with saying no, he’s sure.

“Just for a few minutes.” He looks up to see Scar grin, and he can’t help but smile.

“Thank you,” Scar says, sounding relieved.

Grian just nods, turning to the cave and heading to the bed. He lays down, looking back at Scar who is still outside. He looks… Lost. Sad.

But they meet eyes and Scar smiles, waving. Scar turns around and leaves, and part of Grian wants to beg him to stay. He wants his soulmate to lay with him, to hold him again.

He stays silent though. And as Grian drifts to sleep, his heart aches with pain, with heartbreak that is not his own.

#op that is not fair i am Crying #i am sobbing crying screaming how could you #slash pos

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