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Grian knew he wasn't doing well.
Normal players don't grow wings suddenly. They aren't forced to dress as their dead friend-with-benefits and certainly don't have plastic shoved down their throat by their friend a psycho. They aren't abandoned in an unknown country by their parents and are later kidnapped by beings stronger than a god.
But Grian wasn’t a player. Not anymore.
Not when he was taken and altered into one of them. The beings that forced the wings on his back into existence and tried to make him their little plaything. Something to entertain themselves and experiment on. Pushing the limits of his capabilities until he unraveled completely, a mess of a being that no longer had a purpose. An anomaly.
The same beings that took him and his friends into a death game for their own entertainment. The puppets and the puppeteer. He knew from the traces of their magic littering the server when he awoke that they had been involved.
The game started fine, but like all good things, it didn't last. Everything went downhill so quickly, like a bird head diving into the vast ocean, that it was a miracle Grian could keep up.
It had to have been a few hours since Grian jumped and found himself staring at the ceiling of his base, but he wouldn't know. He couldn't find the physical or mental capacity to think or move, let alone check the time. He would have believed he had a very elaborate dream had everything not been so vivid.
He could still feel the itchiness of the sand that clumped in his wings and clung to his clothes, the smell of the desert, the dry air that provided little solace from the blazing sun, and the wet feeling of blood as it sluggishly oozed from his injuries and coated his fists as he beat hispartnertodeath-
Grian shuddered.
He couldn't cope with the idea of taking his partner’s life, holding him while he took his final breath before his chest shuddered to a stop and the life fizzed out in his eyes as he did what he did best.
Watch.
The memories looped in his mind like a non-stop film that had no intention of stopping.
Icarus got too close to the sun and burned.
It left him scrambling to take in air as he collapsed against the nearest wall before curling up into a ball and sobbing like a child. It was pathetic, honestly. Yet, only one thought ran through his mind in his blind panic.
He was all alone.
He didn't know when, but at some point, his tears dried up, and all he could do was lie on the ground as he trembled and hiccuped uncontrollably. His room was quiet, only the sound of his harsh breaths breaking the uncomfortable silence. He felt numb, remembering how his bones snapped as he landed against the sand, the pain he felt as he lay under the blazing sun, slowly bleeding to death.
Knock knock.
Grian jumped, his wings and aural feathers puffing up in his fright. No one was supposed to be coming by, at least from what Grian knew. He was too tired to even get up, let alone talk to another person. He was fully content to simply lie on the ground and hope the person left soon.
“Grian?” A voice called out. “Are you home?”
Oh.
Nevermind.
He’d recognize that voice anywhere and with a new refound energy, he forced himself up and darted for the door. Had it been any other moment, he would have been embarrassed by the struggle it took to get to the door without knocking every surrounding object. The door was flung open and there stood Scar. His partner. The sight of the elf was enough to bring back the tears as they pricked his eyes yet he tried his best to take in the man in front of him.
His skin was full of color and no longer a sickly grey color. He seemed so full of life. His eyes were also a bright green, sparkling like emeralds. No more were his eyes red like fire, sparking and just a few steps away from becoming an all-consuming blaze, promising violence and bloodshed.
“Grian!” Scar shouted, just barely managing to catch him from crashing against the ground as his knees buckled beneath him. Warm arms encircled his waist, the hold comforting yet firm, as he attempted to stabilize himself against the other’s chest, his palms pressing against his body.
Grian felt too overwhelmed. Everything was too loud, too bright, too much, yet at the same time, so dull, too quiet, and passing by in the blink of an eye. His breath was ragged, his lungs refusing to take in the necessary oxygen. It’s funny. How easy it was to turn one’s own body against them. It almost made him laugh.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
He froze.
A startled laugh left his lips as the cascade of tears finally began to subside. He could only stare at his trembling hand as the rhythmic beating of the other’s heart gradually quelled the panic and fear that had sunk its claws in his gut. His breathing became more measured and profound as each exhale eased the tension in his body. With each breath, his mind began to clear up, the fog that blinded him subsiding. The world around him became clearer and the blurred edges began to sharpen.
“Grian?” A soft voice called, warm like the sun.
He tilted his head up and was met with worried eyes and furrowed brows. Scar examined his face, most likely noticing his red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked face, his lips pulled down into a frown.
Multicolored aural feathers twitched under his gaze as Grian’s eyes flicked to the side. Only now, under Scar’s intense gaze, did he notice the warmth that the other radiated. The arms around his midriff gave off an intense heat that seeped into his skin and oh void.
He was warm.
Scar was no longer cold and lifeless as he bled out in his arms.
He was alive.
Alive and breathing as his chest rose and fell (and oh void, wasn't that something?) with a strong heartbeat that Grian could feel while the warmth of his body wrapped around him in a comforting embrace.
He was alive.
Scar was alive and in front of him.
Impossibly, Grian could feel the pinpricks of tears build up once more, and suddenly he couldn't bear the idea of not looking at him. He forced his eyes to look and a small smile spread on his face.
“Oh Grian… Are you okay?” Scar asked, concerned and mildly confused.
The smile that had begun to grow abruptly dropped, a pain growing in his chest.
Scar seemed to have no recollection of everything that happened and void, did that hurt.
Grian wanted to lie, to deflect, anything that would get him away from this moment, but it felt wrong. Wrong to lie to someone who only wanted to help him.
So he didn’t.
“No, but… I will be…”
After all, so long as Scar was safe, Grian would be alright.
(Little did he know that his attempts to protect his lover partner friend would only end up hurting Scar.
The watchers thoroughly enjoyed the anguish they both felt.
Though they didn't enjoy the reconciliation.)