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Two weeks. That's all it took.
Two weeks of being in Scar's debt. Two weeks of being stuck on a desert with a madman. Two weeks of the sweltering heat and an insufferable man.
That's how long it takes Grian to fall in love.
Alright, fine, maybe not love. Love is a strong word, and it's pretty much impossible to love someone under the... circumstances they were in.
It was pretty damn close to it, though.
Grian can't quite believe it. The fact that he's actually gone and pretty much fallen in love with the one person on the server who's most likely to die first.
When he looks at Scar, however, it's a little more understandable.
How could he not fall in love with that dazzling smile? Those eyes, twinkling with nothing but mischief and trouble. And that laugh. You can't hear that laugh and not fall in love.
He had no chance from the start, really. As soon as he pledged his allegiance, his first life, he was already done for.
Scar, for his part, is oblivious. He goes along cheerfully, practically skipping in the sand, scamming people out of their armour and swords.
He doesn't notice Grian standing a ways away, watching him with a faint smile playing on his lips and, surely, a stupid lovestruck expression glued on his face.
Grian doesn't do anything other than watch. What else is he meant to do? Confess? Kiss him? No thanks. There can only be one survivor in this game, and if he had to turn on Scar after all that... he wouldn't be able to do it. He'd sooner throw himself off the edge of a cliff.
So he doesn't do anything — which takes a lot of restraint, thank you very much. Scar's incessant teasing and walking around shirtless does not make it easy on him.
But he can handle it. He does handle it. He keeps his distance and doesn't react to the flirting and ignores his pounding heart.
It's not until Scar turns red that things change.
They're walking back to Monopoly Mountain when Scar dies. It's so unexpected, Grian can't even react in time. One second, Scar's singing this stupid song and Grian's rolling his eyes fondly, and the next, he's falling down a ravine and his body is disappearing in a cloud of smoke.
Grian freezes. People in the chat are freaking out — of course they are. Scar's the first red. Scar's the first red.
Grian doesn't know what exactly to expect when he returns to Monopoly Mountain. Really, he has no idea. He knows Scar will be there, because that's where he last set his spawn, and he knows Scar will be waiting for him, because, well, he knows Scar.
He opens the door hesitantly. No one is there. He walks in and looks around, but it's silent as a mouse.
He's starting to think Maybe I don't know Scar as well as I thought I did when he turns around and sees him standing there.
His breath catches.
Scar's skin is grayer than it used to be. His hands are shaking almost unnoticeably. And he's holding two drooping, dying flowers, reaching towards him.
That's not what gets Grian. No, what really gets him is what Scar says next.
"Can we still be friends?" he asks, and his voice cracks a little, and he's got this nervous look in his eye that Grian's never seen before.
That look is what ruins it. Ruins everything. Because Scar is looking at him like he might say no. As if he could ever say no to him.
That's when Grian realizes that maybe keeping his distance isn't the right thing to do. Because if Scar doesn't know, if he really doesn't know...
In that split second, he sees a million ways that this can go. All of them depending on him.
A different version of himself in a different world smiles at Scar. Doesn't take the flowers but still nods, says Of course. Helps Scar all the way until the end of the line. Until he can't anymore.
Another, wiser, version frowns at Scar. Doesn't take the flowers and says no. Leaves and spends the rest of the game trying to forget the unforgettable weeks spent in the desert.
He wonders whether any of those versions win the game.
He decides he doesn't care.
Grian, the real, foolish version of himself, grabs Scar's shirt and kisses him. Hard.
Things... escalate from there.
In the morning, they don't talk about it. They don't really need to. Things have changed between them. And Grian... well, he's certainly not complaining about the way Scar looks at him now. Not complaining at all.
He doesn't keep his distance anymore. What's the point? He's already done the damage. Might as well enjoy it.
He moves his bed to the other side of the room, next to Scar's. Scar gives him this bright smile that his heart aches to look at. They watch the stars and share their secrets and pretend that this can last.
Grian doesn't think about the end of the game, the inevitable, unavoidable end to whatever this between him and Scar is. He just closes his eyes and lets Scar press kisses to his neck and make him forget that there's anything else in the world other than the two of them intertwined.
The end approaches despite it all. Despite Grian's futile, pointless wishing. Despite Scar murmuring against his neck, We'll be fine. Despite their bodies twisted around each other, a red life and a green life, an act of rebellion within itself. The end approaches, despite, despite, despite.
The morning the world ends, he awakes in Scar's arms. There is something different in the air. Anticipation for the destruction of the life they'd made.
Jimmy is the first to fall. Everything goes haywire from then on.
It's all a blur of bleeding and slashing and fighting and quickly recovering. He doesn't quite know what's going on. People die, by his sword and by others. Every time he hears the lightning strike the ground, panic seizes his heart and he can't really relax until Scar is next to him again.
The day the world ends, he fights well. His kill count racks up, one by one by one. Scar is by his side the entire time.
Scar is by his side the entire time, until he's not.
There's four of them left. Scar, Bdubs, BigB, Grian. This is when it sinks in. The game is almost over. For real.
Bdubs tries to kill BigB in a lake and fails miserably. When they all make it to land again, BigB starts swinging. And swinging. And swinging. At him. At Grian.
He's down almost to half health before someone intervenes. And that someone is not Scar. No, it's Bdubs, shooting BigB with an arrow until he dies. Scar just watches the whole thing passively, occasionally chiming in with an Ouch or a That must hurt.
He just watches.
Grian doesn't think much of it. Not at first. He was just shocked, he tells himself. He didn't have time to react. Neither did I.
It's not until he's looking back, weeks later, that he realizes that was the moment he should've known. He should've known something was off.
When it's just the three of them left, Grian thinks he knows how it would go. Him and Scar, they would kill Bdubs together. It would be easy and it would be over with. After that... well, they'd cross that bridge when it came to it. The first step was to get rid of Bdubs.
He turns to Scar expectantly. Scar's not even looking at him. He bristles a little. He can practically see the gears turning in Scar's mind. He wants to shake him by the shoulders, ask What are you thinking? Let me in. Let me in, for once.
Scar slowly turns to Bdubs. "I didn't realize Grian was only on his second life."
What?
"So?" Bdubs asks.
"He's being awfully quiet over there."
What.
"You gave me the clock, you want me to do it? You want me to kill him?" Bdubs asks eagerly, pulling out a sword.
Grian's ears are ringing. Scar wouldn't say yes. Surely, Scar wouldn't say yes.
Scar deliberates for a moment. Grian can't believe it. He can't believe Scar's considering it.
"I've got an idea," Scar says suddenly.
"Yeah?" Bdubs asks immediately. Grian wants to throttle him.
Scar directs them to a clearing in the forest. Grian doesn't know why he's following along. He doesn't know why he listens when Scar tells him where to stand. He doesn't know why he doesn't pull out his sword and just kill them both right then.
That's a lie. He does know why. He just doesn't want to acknowledge it. He doesn't want to acknowledge that he's—
"Whoever gets the no kill pass, I don't kill," Scar says suddenly.
Oh god.
He's moving before he's even processing the words. He's running, making a grab for the paper, the flimsy piece of paper that will determine the end of this game, determine his fate.
Bdubs is quicker. He's got it in his inventory before Grian can wrestle it out of his grip.
His head snaps up to Scar's face, a silent plea in his eyes. It's me, Scar. Me. You can't kill me. I would never kill you.
And that, oh, isn't that a dangerous thought to have in a death game? I wouldn't kill you. They're the last three left and Grian would never kill Scar. He would never feel his blood on his hands. He would never see his eyes unblinking. He'd sooner die.
That thought is not reciprocated, clearly, because with two slashes of Scar's sword that he helped him get, he's dead on the floor.
Dead on the floor, Scar's sword lodged in his chest like Cupid's arrow straight through his heart.
The night the world ends, he's standing in an empty bunker, liquid fire running through his veins, seeing nothing but red.
I am going to kill him.
I am going to kill him and he is going to regret ever laying a finger on me.
(Behind the rage there is hurt so potent he can't even begin to explain.)
He has barely anything to his name anymore. A blown up home. Two measly potatoes. Less than half a stack of slow-falling arrows. He is running on spite and anger alone.
The way back is longer than he remembers. It feels longer alone, he supposes, without Scar's never-ending chatter to keep him company.
He can't stop staring at the tab list. Why have they not killed each other yet?
...Are they teaming up against me?
That thought is almost worse than the kill. He could understand that, at least. It didn't make it better. It didn't soothe the rage brimming in his heart. But he understood it. He was on yellow, they were both on red. Now it was fair.
But teaming up? With someone else? After all they'd been through? After all Grian's stayed by his side through? Why? Why?
He hears their voices as he approaches. He holds his breath. He's got the high ground, the element of surprise. He just needs to take advantage of it before Scar can convince him otherwise, with that lovely voice of his that Grian can't help but listen to, always listen to.
He's swinging before he can think better of it. Before he can realize that Scar's not talking to Bdubs like an ally at all. Before he can see the message on his communicator, Scar saying I have a plan.
If he had, it wouldn't have really mattered anyways. It would've ended the same. The two of them in that damned cactus ring.
But he's getting ahead of himself here. They don't get to the cactus ring before the death of Bdubs. Or before Scar kneels and bows his head and says those cursed words that Grian never wanted to hear — You can kill me. For everything you did to keep me alive this long, you may slay me and take the enchanter.
As if he ever cared about the enchanter. As if he ever cared about anything in this wretched game of his but Scar.
They walk home not-quite-alone, the eyes of the Others on them, watching with bated breath.
Grian's not angry anymore. Not really. How can he be? Scar is beside him again. Scar is his again. Holding his hand and pressing a kiss on his bloody knuckles and for a moment they can ignore what lies at the end of the path.
Scar's tone is bright the whole way home, like they're not walking to their deaths. Like this is not the last time things will ever be like this between them. Like this is still how it used to be.
Grian lets him pretend.
They reach Monopoly Mountain far too fast. He's not ready for it. His breath catches in his throat, looking at the tower he built with his own two hands turned to rubble.
The ring of cacti is waiting for them. All Grian wants to do is grab Scar's hand, bolt to the forest, away from the Ghosts and the Eyes and Those That Watch.
He does not do that. Neither of them do that. Instead they take their places for this final sick dance.
When the world ends, the only two people alive are him and Scar. Scar and him. The two of them, forever. Forever and never again.
This is not how it was supposed to end.
(It wasn't supposed to end at all.)
They do not fight, not really. Each punch is half-hearted. Tears are mixing with the blood on his face. He can't see clearly. He doesn't know if it's because the blood loss or the fact that he's beating Scar to death with his bare hands.
His bare hands. There is nothing to separate himself from Scar's blood. He can't hide behind gloves or a sword or armour. It's just skin and blood. Skin and blood and bones.
He can't look at the body. Scar's body. Laying in the sand like just another corpse. Just a single glimpse is enough to make him feel violently ill.
He staggers backwards, hands glued to his sides. He can't look at them. If he saw the blood on his hands, Scar's blood all over his hands, he'd be sick, and, god, wouldn't that be just humiliating? Insult to injury.
He's won the game. He hadn't wanted to. Since the first time he saw Scar's face, he hadn't wanted to.
What do you do when you've killed all your friends? The one person you wanted to live for? When you've won the game?
He knows the answer.
As he walks off the cliff, he wonders whether there's an afterlife. Whether he'll finally get to be with Scar there. Whether things will be how they should've been here.
He hopes so.