Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If Scar had to mark one more paper, he was going to quit teaching altogether and pick up a new life as a grifter.

Which may have been an unfair exaggeration, but Scar was nothing if not a little dramatic. It wasn't that he didn't love his job or his students; it was just that sometimes this part of the process got a little too repetitive. It didn’t help that he was on a tight timeline. Finals were coming up, and his students needed these grades back to know how anxious they should be before presenting their final case studies in a couple of weeks.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to focus them on the digital clock on his desk. Eleven-thirty-something, from the looks of it. Scar sighed audibly, glancing over at the stack of papers he had hoped to get through before his 9 a.m. lecture.

He was halfway through a paper titled “The Role of Architectural Symmetry and Asymmetry in the Eiffel Tower: A Critical Evaluation of Design Philosophy and Cohesion in Urban Environments.” It was clear this student was trying desperately to hit their word count, and Scar wished they hadn’t bothered.

Deciding he was going to need a coffee if he had any hope of meeting his deadline, he debated his options. He could roll over to the staff room and get the coffee maker going, but it would likely be quicker to head down to the campus café and grab something. The added bonus of finding a cookie or some other late-night snack finally swayed him as he set the paper down and unlocked his chair.

As he moved down the halls of the upper floors, the lights slowly came on with each pass, clear evidence that no one had been by in a long while. The building was a ghost town at this time of night, and Scar generally didn’t mind working late, given how quiet and peaceful it could be.

The café was fairly new, and Scar hadn’t had much opportunity to swing by yet, but his coworkers all raved about the place. It was well-suited to the Architectural School building, with its modern and eco-friendly design. It was cozy, designed with raw wood and exposed brick, but also had some more contemporary elements like a sleek stainless steel bar counter, modern lighting, and (most striking of all in Scar’s opinion) a living green wall.

Several students were camped out in various booths and tables, looking worse for wear. With finals fast approaching, it was clear many were also putting in overtime to finish major capstones and prepare for exams.

He recognized one of his students, who stood out due to his light blue hair. The student was sleeping in the back over a closed laptop, head resting in the cradle of his arms. Scar felt a twinge of guilt, wondering how much of that weariness was his fault. What was his name again?

“Hello,” Scar looked over to the counter to see the barista leaning against the bar. “Haven’t seen you around here before. Burning some midnight oil?”

Scar’s first thought was something along the lines of oh no followed quickly by he’s cute. He quickly assessed the man, noting that he couldn’t be much younger than Scar himself, which was a bit of a relief when accidentally checking someone out at a campus coffee shop.

The man was small—smaller than Scar, at least—which might have incited worry that he was a student. He had floppy blonde hair that curled slightly at the ends and hung over his brow in a fringe above dark eyes. He wore a loose red band t-shirt that looked soft and well-worn, cinched at the waist by the green apron he wore. His gaze was piercing, aware and locked in, but friendly. Topped off with that British accent- Scar was a goner.

Scar slapped on a big grin and rolled his chair up to the counter. “Finals always run us down a bit. Just doing some late-night grading and needing some fuel.”

The blonde behind the counter smirked with a bit of mischief. “Looks like you could use a bed more.”

Was… this man flirting with him? Scar couldn’t be sure. Part of him really hoped he was, but he quickly tamped down his expectations. This guy looked like he had no problem finding eligible partners, and being friendly to customers was literally part of his job description.

“Fuel I’ve got though. What’s your poison?”

Scar squinted at the menu. “Just a small coffee, please. Three cream and three sugar.”

The man made a bit of a face, and Scar wondered if he was dealing with one of those baristas who was about to tear him a new one for putting cream in his coffee. Instead, the barista sounded genuinely apologetic. “I’m afraid we don’t do drip coffee after 7 p.m., not enough people buying it to keep it fresh. I can do anything espresso-based though—maybe an americano?”

Scar rarely ever drank coffee, to be honest. His limited experience came from the drive-thru on his way to work after the occasional late night, and he usually had to use copious amounts of cream and sugar to mask the taste. “What would you recommend? To be honest, I’m not really sure what I’m ordering here.”

The barista grinned like he’d just been handed a prize. “I’m actually really good at making personalized drinks for people. Joel, the owner, calls me a drink-psychic. Let me ask you a few questions, and I’ll whip up something you’ll love, guaranteed or on me.”

Scar was a bit skeptical but nodded, smiling at how quickly this conversation was becoming a bit ridiculous.

“Alright, what’s your name?”

“Scar.”

“Any allergies?”

“Just penicillin, but I’d hope you aren’t putting that in.”

The blonde grinned with a hint of mischief, “You never know. Are you on campus often?”

Scar chuckled a bit. “I practically live here, especially this time of year.”

The barista's grin didn’t dim, but it did carry a hint of sympathy. “I bet. Do you have any pets?”

“Oh! Yes! I have a cat, Jellie. She’s the sweetest thing in the world.”

His eyes widened a bit in excitement as he leaned closer on the counter. “I love cats. Do you have a photo?”

Scar sighed a bit regretfully, hardly believing he had an opportunity to show off cat photos but no phone within reach. “Sadly, I left my phone on my desk.”

The barista nodded in consolation. “Ah, too bad. Well then, last question: What’s your number?”

Scar suddenly blushed furiously. “M-my number? Is this part of your psychic routine?”

“Yes,” the barista said with full confidence, then added a bit bashfully, “And also so you can send me a photo of Jellie later, if you want.”

Oh, of course. For a second, Scar thought that, just maybe, the blonde was flirting with him. Which was ridiculous. It was too bad, but not a total downer. He’d be happy to chat more with this man, and equally happy to show off photos of Jellie.

Scar rattled off his number while the barista put it into his phone. When he finished, he looked up and smiled. “Alright then, Scar. Just a moment.”

Scar smiled as the barista disappeared behind the espresso machine. He looked around some more as the hissing and gurgling of the machine filled the space, suddenly catching the eye of his student who had been sleeping near the back. Scott—that was his name.

Scott had a sly smile on his face, watching Scar. He gave the student a bit of a wave, and the boy waved back, clearly finding something amusing—likely Scar being here so late.

“All done! One Scar-special,” the blonde suddenly exclaimed from the other side of the counter. He slid over a paper cup with a sleeve. The coffee looked well-made and even had one of those hearts Scar had seen on social media. There was also something crumbled on the top.

Scar grinned and took the cup. It was warm but didn’t burn his hand. “Thank you, how much do I owe you?”

“On the house.” Scar immediately started to protest, but the blonde held up a hand. “You’re my guinea pig with this one. All I ask is that you send me a detailed review after.”

Scar smiled sincerely. “Thanks, I really appreciate it. I’ll do that.”

“Please do,” the man smiled back wider.

Scar began to leave before remembering something crucial. “Oh, my goodness, I completely forgot to ask your name.”

The blonde grinned widely. “Grian.”

---

Later, over a nearly completed stack of papers, Scar tipped back the rest of his drink. It was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

His phone pinged, and Scar’s heart did a little twirl as he saw the messages:

412-576-8472: hey this is grian!
412-576-8472: hope you liked the latte
412-576-8472: don’t forget my photo of Jellie

Scar smiled, then quickly snapped a picture of his empty cup, sending it off before selecting one of his best Jellie photos (the one where she was sleeping pressed up against his chin) and sent that off as well.

With a contented sigh, Scar realized that maybe grading papers at midnight wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Not if it led to late-night lattes and meeting someone like Grian who seemed genuinely interested in his cat—and maybe even a little interested in being his friend too.

Chapter Text

Scar was not a stalker. He'd balk at the faintest suggestion. And really, was it so bad to try and pop into a coffee shop while his favorite barista was working?

The problem was that Grian never seemed to be there when he showed up during his regular hours at the university. Scar had seen him exactly two more times in the late evening during finals week, but now that those were (thankfully, blessedly) over, he had little excuse to stick around on campus until the early morning. So, he found himself popping in at odd times throughout the day, hoping to catch a glimpse of blonde hair.

Every interaction he'd had with Grian had been as amazing as the first- full of playful banter and wicked grins. Grian was also kind, sneaking Scar extra cookies saying they were just going to be tossed at the end of the night anyway. And, well, if there was one way to Scar's heart it was probably cookies, and handed over with some casual flirtation? Hook, line, and sinker.

But Scar knew he couldn’t be that guy who popped in just to ask when Grian’s next shift was. That would be creepy. He knew that was where the line was, and he had no plans to cross it.

But stopping by periodically to see when Grian happened to be working? Completely sane. Totally normal. Besides, it wasn’t like he was going out of his way- he was already on campus, after all.

He considered asking Grian directly over text, but their chat had been completely silent since that first night and he didn’t want to seem like he was coming on too strong. Grian probably got plenty of that already from customers, and Scar didn’t want to add to it. He just liked their conversations, that was all. And maybe he liked the way Grian’s smile brightened when he walked into the café, but that was neither here nor there.

So Scar was a tad disappointed when everytime he seemed to show up there was a different blonde behind the counter.

It also didn’t help that nearly everytime he popped in, his student Scott was there again, either alone or with friends who'd smile and whisper when they saw him. It didn't seem mean, but the blue haired boy seemed to look at him like a cat who had caught the canary everytime he spotted Scar poke his head in, throwing him a knowing glance as Scar blushed and retreated out of the café.

So it almost felt inevitable that one day, after one of his Environmental Design seminars, the blue-haired boy approached him. He felt a bit cornered as Scott confidently walked up to the podium, and he prayed his student just had a question about adaptive reuse in architecture, and that his knowing glances at the café were just a part of his imagination.

Scott smiled kindly though, “Great lecture today, Professor. I really enjoyed the bit about structural aesthetics. Got me thinking about a few projects of my own.”

He instantly felt relieved and his body relaxed into his chair. This was a conversation he could handle, a script he knew, and it was also a bit of a balm on his post-lecture nerves. He often worried that his lectures weren’t as impactful or inspiring as he hoped they would be, and hearing positive feedback from his students always brightened his day. “Thanks, Scott! That means a lot. Always good to hear when someone’s thinking outside the box. What can I do for you? Did you have any questions?"

“Well, it's a bit off topic, but I was actually wondering… have you been stopping by Hermit Café more often lately?”

All the relief Scar had felt quickly died. Even though he had seen this comment coming he was still caught off guard, left trying to find some justification for his strange behaviour. “Uh, yeah, you could say that. The drinks are good, and the atmosphere helps me unwind after grading. Why do you ask?” Scar internally praised himself for his quick thinking and solid excuse.

Scott didn't bite though, and his friendly smile turned a little sly. “Oh, no reason. Just noticed you popping in at some interesting times, and not staying long.”

Scar let out a nervous chuckle, realizing that his internal praise was a premature. “Is that so? I guess I’ve been trying to find the quiet times. You know how crowded it can get.”

Scott gave a thoughtful nod. “Yeah, it does get pretty busy. Poor Jimmy gets stuck with all the crazy shifts. Grian either really lucked out or bribed Joel into getting the 6 p.m. shift. Come to think of it, Sunday morning isn’t too busy, and Grian works then too- lucky guy. Maybe you should try stopping by during those times?”

Scar wished he could cover his face to hide his blush and hoped it wasn’t too obvious. “Huh, I didn’t realize that. I’ll keep that in mind… for when I need a quiet place to work that isn’t my office.”

Scott smirked, but at least looked a bit friendly when he did. “Of course, just thought you’d like to know. The café always feels a bit more… cozy when Grian’s around. Might make those Sunday mornings a bit more enjoyable.”

Scar briefly wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment. He wanted to evaporate, to move to another country and change his name and get a new social security number, but in the back of his mind he also couldnt help but feel a bit of genuine gratitude. “Thanks, Scott. I appreciate the tip.”

“Anytime, Professor. See you at Hermit Café—maybe a bit later next time.” Scott walked away with a casual wave, meeting a friend at the door who seemed very eager to hear the details of his conversation. Whether they expected further details on the lecture or speculation on Scar's love life, he couldnt be entirely sure, but he had a strong suspicion.

Scar sighed and hung his head, wondering if he should give up going to Hermit Café altogether in fear of running into Scott’s knowing smile.

---

Sunday morning came, and Scar only battled with himself for five minutes before giving in and heading to campus. It was a short walk, so really, it was a practical place to work on his project. Convenient and easy. He wasn’t really changing his routine at all.

Especially not for a cute blonde barista whose smile lit him up like a Christmas tree. Nope.

On weekends, he generally went without his chair, giving his legs a bit of a workout on his less stressful days, so he grabbed his cane and bag, loaded in his laptop, and headed out.

He arrived at 9 a.m. precisely but didn’t want to seem too eager, so he walked around the campus building twice before heading in at exactly 9:12.

The café was warm compared to the early autumn air outside, and Scar couldn’t help but notice again how well the space had been designed. It was clearly a space designed for the school of architecture. The exposed brickwork and the artfully mismatched furniture always put him at ease—a testament to the careful planning that had gone into the café’s design and he's spent more than a few moments lingering in the door to take in the atmosphere over the last few weeks. Today though, Scar’s eyes immediately go to the counter, and he feels something jump in his chest when they land on Grian.

The blonde looks tired, his hair a bit messy and eyes half-lidded as he lazily loads the display case with scones. He wears a baggy, well-loved red sweater—his signature color it seemed. The sleeves are too long on him, and the hem is frayed, suggesting years of affection. The whole look was really quite endearing.

Before Scar can scoop up his thoughts from the puddle they'd become, Grian belatedly looks up at the sound of the bell. When his eyes catch Scar’s, his face transforms into a wide smile.

Scar can't help but grin back, feeling the warmth of the café settle into his bones as he makes his way to the counter.

Chapter Text

Going to the café quickly became a part of Scar's routine. Although it had initially started because of his interest in chatting more with Grian, there were a number of other advantages that made it a habit worth keeping.

The café was cozy, and Scar had quickly found a favorite spot where he could huddle down and work on his laptop. The drinks were exceptionally good—whatever Grian had made him that first time had become a staple and they both still jokingly referred to it as the "Scar Special." He had once asked Grian what it was actually called, but Grian refused to say, claiming it kept Scar coming back. "And I don’t want some other barista in town taking my place," Grian grinned with a smile that looked a bit dangerous.

He wanted to say no one could ever take your place but instead he said "you better watch out, lots of barista's out there looking to scoop me up". He thought he heard Scott groan at the table behind him, but Grian laughed, which made it a worthy response in Scar's opinion.

Despite the distracting blonde behind the counter, the atmosphere was also very conducive to getting work done. He had made more progress on his personal project in the last two weeks than he had in months, and he had to admit that spending time working on something he loved had reignited his drive and passion for architecture and he'd been putting that positive attitude into his lectures.

It helped that the other staff were entertaining as well. Jimmy, the weekday crossover barista, occasionally overlapped with Grian's evening shifts. Those days, it was harder to get work done—Scar found himself constantly biting back laughter as he overheard their banter. Jimmy was easy to rile up, and as it turns out, Grian was a bit of a menace about it.

Yesterday, Grian had hidden all the spoons until Jimmy nearly lost his head trying to find them. Grian had calmly asked if Jimmy had checked the drawer, then snuck the spoons back in while the other barista wasn't looking. He slowly repeated the process over the course of two hours as Jimmy's frustration mounted. How Grian managed to keep a straight face as Jimmy finally exploded in his usual overdramatic way, Scar would never know. But when Grian looked up and caught Scar’s eye, they shared a grin that made Scar feel like they were partners in crime.

Scar almost felt bad for the other barista, and under different circumstances might have defended him, but it was clear how much Jimmy enjoyed the bit. Besides, Grian got it served back to him by Joel, the owner, who seemed to relish delivering dry and sarcastic ribbing. The trio had a familiar and casual air around them that almost made Scar feel a bit left out, but Grian was always quick to include him in a joke or laugh.

“Scar, tell them that’s utterly stupid.”

Joel tossed a wet rag at him. “Come on, Grian. It’s a great name.”

Grian looked mildly offended as he plucked the damp rag off his shoulder. “It’s a latte art competition, not a grade school club. There’s no way I’m standing there as the announcer declares us ‘The Bad Boys’ to every barista in the city.”

“But Grian!” Jimmy whined. “We’ve got the outfits picked out and everything. You’re not going to leave Joel and me standing up there alone in our costumes, are you? We’d look silly. You wouldn’t do that to your good friends, would you?”

“Yeah, tell him he can’t do that to his boys, Scar. I’ll give you this last piece of Lizzie’s banana bread—I was saving it for my break.”

Grian looked at him with big, pleading eyes, and as much as Scar wanted to give in, he could be a bit of a menace himself. “Well, who could say no to a deal like that? I think you’ll look great in that costume, Grian. Besides, you can’t leave them hanging.”

Jimmy and Joel immediately grinned in triumph, while Grian shot Scar a look of pure betrayal, though it didn’t carry any real heat. “Betrayed for a piece of banana bread. I can’t believe this.”

Scar gave him a sympathetic look. “Don’t be put out—it’s very good banana bread.” Grian huffed, but his smile betrayed him.

“Traitor. Alright, alright, you got me. But no to the embroidery. I like that jacket—I’m not ruining it with ‘BAD BOYS’ stitched across the back.”

Joel smirked at Jimmy as if sharing an inside joke and the conversation continued into the logistics of getting to the event. Scar fell back into his own project, unable to wipe the small smile off his face, not even bothering.

Later, Grian disappeared into the back to get a head start on some chores, and Scar was in the process of packing up. After reaching under the table for his cable and popping back up, he suddenly found himself looking up at Joel.

Joel was smiling and holding a brown paper bag with the café’s logo stamped on it. “Your banana bread, as promised.”

Scar chuckled, grabbing the treat to place it in his bag along with his charger. “Pleasure doing business with you, good sir.”

Joel’s smile widened into a grin. “No, no, the pleasure is all mine. Sometimes Grian needs a bit of a nudge to have some fun, if you know what I mean. I appreciate the assist.”

Scar thought about Grian’s playful banter, his pranks on Jimmy, his mischievous grin, and thought that couldn’t be true. Fun seemed effortless for Grian, tied to his very character. Scar laughed a bit. “When is Grian not having fun? He seems like he swims in the stuff, it's infectious.”

He expected Joel to laugh and agree, but instead, his expression softened as he considers Scar. “He’s getting better at it, for sure. Still, we appreciate it.” He patted Scar on the shoulder and then moved to disappear behind the counter.

Scar continued to pack up, mulling over what Joel had said. A comment like that could mean a lot of things, but most likely that Grian was coming off a rough period. Even if the version of Grian he got to see was full of life and jokes and smiles that didn't mean he was like that all of the time. Scar didn’t know much about Grian’s life at all, and nothing about his history, so he couldn't really guess.

He wouldn’t dig, obviously, but it did make him feel good knowing that things were getting better for him.

---

When Scar came in on Sunday, just a few days after the competition, Grian smiled and waved him over, already starting on his drink. As Grian worked, Scar noticed a newly framed photo behind the bar.

The photo featured Joel and Jimmy, with Grian squished between them in a tight hug. They were all dressed in leather jackets and dark shades, sporting huge grins and holding gold medals. Scar’s eyes lingered on Grian’s smile, which outshined even the slight blush on his cheeks.

Chapter Text

“So, whatcha working on there?”

Scar practically jumped out of his chair as Grian leaned over his shoulder to inspect his screen. Instinctively, he slammed the laptop closed.

He looked up, feeling his face burn when he realized how close Grian was. He could see his reflection in Grian’s pupils—hell, he could even smell the lingering scent of espresso beans on Grian’s clothes. It was more than a bit overwhelming, having Grian this close. Usually they had the safe buffer of the counter between them maintaining distance, with the occassional exception of Grian bringing over his drink. Having the blonde leaning over his should? Almost touching? Too much and not enough, amazing.

Grian looked a bit surprised at Scar's reaction, then suddenly his expression turned sly. “Oh, it must be good to have you blushing like that.”

Scar stuttered, trying to regain some composure and have a thought that wasn’t Grian, Grian, Grian. “O-oh, uh, well, it’s just a personal project. Nothing embarrassing, I promise.”

Now it was Grian’s turn to look a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry into your business. Or, well, I guess I kinda did. But I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh!” Scar quickly cut him off. “No, no, not at all. It’s not that kind of personal. Just something I’ve been designing in my free time.”

Grian looked relieved. “An architectural project?”

Scar finally managed a smile. “Yeah, just something for fun. Keeps me sharp to have a project on the go.”

“Can I see?”

Scar was overwhelmed by a flood of emotions. Embarrassment, because the project felt a bit juvenile. Fear, because he wanted so badly to impress Grian, and he had far more polished and impressive projects he could have shown. But what stood out the most were the feelings of joy and excitement. Joy, because this kind and fascinating man was genuinely interested in his life. And excitement, because this project was Scar’s passion—and who wouldn’t want to share their passion with someone as captivating as Grian? “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

Grian pulled over a chair from a neighboring table and sat closely beside Scar, but refrained from leaning over him again. He had his bag with him, meaning that he must be done his shift for the day. Scar had been more caught up in his design than he thought.

He opened his laptop, and the structural design he’d been working on immediately popped up which likely werent all that much to look at to an untrained eye, so he backed out of the window to the project folder to pull up the 3D images he had rendered in Blender.

Grian’s eyes widened. “Is that a rollercoaster?”

He said it in a way that reminded Scar of a kid asking if they could eat an entire birthday cake—full of excitement and genuine awe. Scar’s smile widened. “Yeah, well, this one is. The project is several rides, really, an area of an amusement park. The rollercoasters are just concept art, its more than a bit outside of my wheelhouse to design a full functioning mechanical ride like that.”

Grian grinned with all his teeth. “This is amazing, Scar. Do you have more?”

Scar was pretty sure nothing could beat the feeling of sharing his excitement with Grian. He backed out further to show more of the 3D renders, which included more rides, some shops, and general landscaping and decorative features. He pointed out some of his favorite details and explained how they might work, the philosophy behind them, and where he got the inspiration. Grian was locked onto him the entire time, barely giving Scar a chance to catch his breath before asking another question. His enthusiasm was contagious and Scar couldnt keep the smile off his face.

He eventually chuckled after a lengthy description of his idea for an elven village. “I had no idea you loved theme parks so much.”

Grian laughed a bit himself. “I’ve actually never been to one, but this looks so cool. There’s so much thought put into every piece of it.”

“Wait- never?” Scar asked, incredulous. “You’ve never been to an amusement park?”

Grian shook his head with a casual shrug, a playful glint in his eye. “Nope, never had the chance. There wasn’t one near where I grew up, and when I finally could travel, I guess I just never got around to it. But seeing these mockups…” He leaned in a little closer, a hint of mischief in his smile. “I’m starting to think I’ve been missing out. This place looks amazing—maybe I should finally check one out.” Grian looked up at Scar, eyes sparkling.

Scar’s heart did a little flip. “Well,” he began, a little more confident now, “there’s definitely something special about experiencing it in person. You should try and get out to one, if these mockups get you excited imagine the fun you'd have in an actual amusement park!"

Scar let himself indulge in a fantasy of taking Grian on his first rollercoaster ride. He seemed like the type of person who would love them. He even had the wild idea to suggest they go together, but Grian hadn't brought it up, and it did feel a bit forward for a budding friendship.

Grian looked away, his smile dropping just a little, “Maybe you're right. Tell me about this one?” He said pointing to one of the images on Scar's screen and effectively changing the topic.

The image was one of Scar’s favorites, featuring a tower that would be the focal point of the area. The idea came from a whimsical sketch he made in grad school—the tower featured various platforms that sprawled out from the main structure in an asymmetrical way, giving the appearance of mushrooms clinging to a tree stump. “That building is a bit of an impossible project, to be honest. More of an inspiration piece than anything.”

“How come? It looks doable. I’ve definitely seen buildings weirder than this.” Grian leaned forward, squinting to get a better look.

“The mushroom platforms might work if they were just aesthetic, but they’re supposed to be able to carry weight. I suppose they could just be there to look good, but that’s not really what I was going for. I want the whole area to feel immersive, for people to be able to walk out and see the park below.”

“No, this is definitely doable. You can just use internal steel supports, right?”

Scar’s brow furrowed. “I already tried the math for that. The platforms come out too far for a steel beam to support them. I’d have to add a visible crossbar, and having visible supports would ruin the whole effect.”

Grian looked over, excited. “Not if you use a steel truss system inside the tower itself for counterweight.”

Scar paused. That was a brilliant solution—one he hadn’t thought of. He found himself getting a bit excited as well and laughed, pulling up his notepad to jot it down. “That’s brilliant, Grian. It could distribute the load evenly, and you wouldn’t see any of the supports from outside!”

He suddenly paused, realizing something. “Wait.” Scar turned toward Grian, who was smiling broadly now. “How do you know that? Are you a student here?”

Grian shook his head with a fond smile. “Took three years of structural engineering, actually, back in England. Didn’t finish, though, so don’t sue me if you take my idea and the building collapses.”

Scar was a bit shocked to hear that, and more than a little relieved to hear Grian wasn’t one of his future students. There were never any signs that Grian had a background in engineering- though he had never brought it up, it was amazing to think Grian was educated in a discipline so close to his own.

He thought about how this small detail opened the door to a million other things he and Grian could talk about and bond over. He pictured evenings at the café bent over blueprints, and walks through the park debating aesthetics and structure. He wanted to jump into a conversation about modern architecture and how it's pushing the boundaries of structural engineering, he wanted to invite Grian out with him to the Architectural Museum a few cities over. Instead, what came out of his mouth was, “Why did you drop out?”

Grian’s face fell, clearly not expecting Scar to latch onto that, because no person with a hint of social aptitude would have. “Ah, well, to be honest, life just got in the way. At the time, finishing my degree… well, it wasn’t high on my priority list.”

Scar felt his stomach drop, immediately guilty for having brought up this obviously sensitive topic. With rapidly growing guilt he reached out and gently touched Grian’s arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that—it’s really none of my business.”

Grian stared at where Scar’s hand touched his arm and blushed. Scar felt a bit worse for having embarrassed him as well and pulled his hand back. “No, no—it just caught me off guard. I’m going to go back, that’s part of why I came here. I’d like to finish up my final year and maybe get a master’s degree at the school of engineering in town. Joel offered me the job to help out in the meantime—while I try to study and brush up before getting back into classes.” Grian suddenly pushed his chair back to stand up. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be bothering you with this.”

“Hey, hey, you wait right there, mister.” Grian froze. “First, I’m the one who asked and put you in this position in the first place, so no stealing my apologies. Second, you never bother me.” He tried to put as much reassurance into his voice as possible, and it seemed to work because Grian shot back a hesitant smile. “Third, I think it’s amazing that you’re working toward a goal like that. And, well, fourth, I guess—I think I can help.”

Grian’s smile got that mischievous and flirtatious tilt to it, and Scar knew he was going to be okay. “Are you offering to tutor me privately, Professor?”

Scar laughed outright at that, if only to conceal how much the thought of quiet study sessions with Grian warmed him. “No, no. But I’m actually good friends with one of the professors who teaches the structural engineering component for the architecture programs. I could connect you? He might be able to pass along some of the coursework and readings to help you brush up on the fundamentals.”

Grian looked a bit stunned but managed a nod. “That would actually be extremely helpful. I used to have my old course outlines, but I had to leave them in England.”

“You’ll love Mumbo, I think. He’s a bit of a genius. He loves going on about this stuff, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. I’ll chat with him tomorrow. Would it be okay if I gave him your number?” Grian’s mouth was parted, and he looked at Scar with a strange expression before suddenly leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Scar’s shoulders in a tight hug.

Scar’s heart skipped a beat as Grian’s arms closed around him. For a split second, he was too surprised to react, but he quickly caught himself and wrapped his arms around Grian in return. The hug was close and firm, and it felt surprisingly natural—so much so that Scar couldn’t help but smile. He savored the moment, even if it made him feel a little flustered. The warmth of Grian’s embrace was comforting, and Scar found himself fighting to keep his excitement in check.

Scar had a rule about never pulling away from hugs first when someone else initiated. He didn’t have to wait long though—Grian was pulling back with a huge grin. “Maybe there are some ways I can pay you back.”

Scar chuckled, just in case Grian meant that as a jesting innuendo. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, show me the blueprint for that pirate ship ride again. You said you wanted it to rock? I think I can help with that.”

This was… a dream come true. Impossibly perfect. Scar looked at the clock on his laptop and decided he could stay at the café a little later tonight.

They spent the next hour huddled together, tweaking the design and discussing how to implement Grian’s ideas. The more they talked, the more Scar realized how much he enjoyed Grian’s company—his creativity, his insight, and the easy way they could bounce ideas off each other.

By the time they finished, the café was nearly empty, and the sun had long since set. Scar saved the updated designs with a satisfied sigh, glancing at Grian with a grin. “This has been one of the most productive—and fun—nights I’ve had in a long time.”

Grian returned the smile, his eyes warm and full of something that made Scar’s heart skip a beat. “Me too. I’m really glad I got to help. I can’t wait to see how this turns out.”

Scar’s hand hovered over the mouse, not quite ready to close the laptop and end the evening. “Maybe… we could do this again sometime? I’ve got plenty more projects I could use some help with.”

Scar winked and Grian’s grin widened, and he gave a playful salute. “I’m at your service, Professor.”

Scar laughed, the sound light. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As they finally packed up to leave, Scar couldn’t help but let his thoughts linger on Grian. He was struck by how effortlessly Grian had jumped into the project, offering ideas that were both practical and creative. It wasn’t just his intelligence that impressed Scar—it was his warmth, his humor, and the way he made everything seem a little more fun, a little more vibrant.

Grian seemed like the perfect friend—the kind of person you could talk to for hours without getting bored, someone who could challenge you and make you laugh all at once. Scar thought about the way Grian’s eyes sparkled when he talked about the amusement park.

Scar found himself wondering if Grian had someone special in his life- some lucky person who got to experience that infectious enthusiasm up close. Someone who might take him on his first rollercoaster ride, holding his hand through every twist and turn. The thought made Scar’s heart ache, the possibility of Grian belonging to someone else suddenly feeling more real.

But for now, Scar smiled to himself, content to have Grian’s friendship. Whatever the future held, he knew one thing: Grian had a way of making the world feel a little brighter, and Scar felt lucky to have a piece of it.

Chapter Text

Leaves crunched under Scar’s wheels as he made his way toward Hermit Café. The weather was getting cooler now, and it wouldn't be long before the first frost hit. October was one of Scar's favorite months, for one very important reason: Halloween.

Scar was delighted when he rolled into the café and saw the decorations. The ceiling was nearly covered in cobwebs, and cheesy jack-o-lantern string lights lit up the main bar. The windows had peel-and-stick bloody handprints, and there was even a skeleton wearing a “Hermit Café” t-shirt leaning rather comically against the espresso machine.

As usual, Grian was standing behind the espresso machine, waving at Scar while preparing his drink. Whether Grian had a sixth sense for Scar's arrival or had just picked up on the nuances of his routine, Scar couldn't say, but it warmed him regardless.

His afternoon lecture on Urban Planning had dragged on—students clearly excited for a weekend of dressing up and partying. Scar had given up on trying to be productive halfway through and instead surfed the internet with his students, suggesting their favorite city parks to look up images for and critique. Scar still saw the value in time spent like that; applying their critical theory to real-world examples was something they’d need to do in their future careers. So, he really didn’t mind the more relaxed session.

Jimmy popped up from behind the counter where he had been stocking pastries. “Heya, prof! How were classes?”

Scar smiled. “Getting students to focus on Friday afternoons is hard enough. The weekend before Halloween? Impossible.” Jimmy nodded sympathetically.

Grian wandered over with Scar’s drink in hand to join them. “Gotta say, I’m surprised their eyes weren’t glued to you in that costume, Mr. Mayor.”

Scar blushed. His go-to Halloween costume for school was practical and thematic when discussing city planning, but it wasn’t his most flattering outfit. Still, the students generally appreciated that he could have fun with them. However, as Grian looked him up and down with a smile, Scar suddenly wished he were in one of his better outfits.

Grian wasn’t wearing a costume, but the oversized grey tee with the words “Paranormal Detective” across the front seemed thematic enough. Scar couldn’t deny it looked good on him. Seeing Grian in oversized clothes always made him feel a bit fuzzy, and it left him wondering if his own shirts would fit Grian just as loosely. He quickly pushed those thoughts out of his head.

“Speaking of which, whatcha doing tomorrow night, Scar?” Jimmy had a grin that looked just a little too innocent.

Scar had to think about it. “Cub and I are going to catch a Halloween drag show in town, but I’m not really sure what we’ll be doing after that. Usually, it turns into a bit of a party at the bar.” Grian looked away, seemingly distracted by straightening out a few stacks of cups that were slightly out of place.

“Oh, well that’s kind of perfect! Joel and Lizzie are throwing a party at their place downtown- you two should come by after. They go all out- and you know Lizzie has probably baked enough to feed an army.” He paused as if considering, then added, “No students will be there, I promise. A few faculty for sure though- I know Joel's good friends with Etho, who's definitely bringing Bdubs, and Bdubs will, in turn, bring everybody.”

Now that Jimmy mentioned it, Scar did remember Bdubs going on about some party in the break room today. “Honestly, that sounds great! It’s been a while since I’ve been to a good old-fashioned Halloween party. I’ll see what Cub thinks.”

Jimmy grinned widely. “Great! Grian can text you the address, right, Grian?”

Grian suddenly looked up at the sound of his name, and for a second, Scar worried something was bothering him. But then Grian smiled. “Yeah- yeah, definitely. It would be great to have you.”

It sounded so genuine that Scar immediately smiled back.

---

The next afternoon, Scar sat digging through his costume box for about 45 minutes. He was probably overthinking it- most of his costumes were pretty spectacular- it was just a matter of how safe he wanted to play it.

Scar was proud of his body. He worked out and did archery twice a week, and because of that he had well-defined muscles. Halloween was a great opportunity to show them off, and he shamelessly basked in the attention he received. He figured he was allowed one night a year for that, if he did say so himself.

For some reason, though, he felt a bit more hesitant this year. Probably because he was going to a new party with new people. People he saw at work, even. And, well, maybe he cared a bit about what a certain barista thought too.

He decided he was being silly and overthinking it, choosing his ‘Hot Guy’ costume that didn't show any nipple but did show off some of his abs. It was a good compromise in his opinion.

Just as he was lacing up his boots, his phone buzzed, letting him know Cub was in the driveway. He debated between his chair and cane for a moment before deciding on both. He'd want his chair if he decided to drink.

He heard a honk from the visitor parking below his balcony and quickly locked up before heading to meet his friend.

---

Cub wore the same costume every year. Scar wasn’t really sure if he was supposed to be a crazy scientist or specifically Doc Brown from Back to the Future—but every year, when he asked, Cub just shrugged in his increasingly worn white lab coat. He assumed the other man just swiped it from work.

They had a great time at the drag show, with Scar getting plenty of attention from men and women alike. He laughed it all off, but as the evening went on, Cub seemed to grow suspicious.

They were crowded against the bar, shouting a bit over the noise, when Cub finally said, “Alright. Who is it, Scar?”

“That’s Hot Guy to you tonight, Cub,” Scar grinned.

“I’m serious. You’re usually not so quick to push people away—especially when you’re wearing that costume. So, who’s it for?”

Scar paused. Cub had unmatched observation skills and had known Scar longer than anyone, but Scar honestly had no new paramore to report on. “I really have no idea what you mean. It’s not like I’m ever trying to pick someone up in this. Besides, we’ve got a party to go to later.”

Cub still looked skeptical but let it drop.

---

They could hear the music before they even saw the house. When they drove up, Scar was reminded of his early university days—people were hanging out on the porch, trying to get some air, and all the windows were illuminated with different colored lights.

It looked busy, but not so cramped that he’d have trouble moving around. He spotted Lizzie chatting with a shorter blonde woman and waved as they approached. Cub kindly brought his foldable chair and placed it in a corner on the balcony where it would be out of the way.

“Glad you could make it, Scar! You’ll find Joel in the living room—the boys have been fighting over the speaker connection for the last hour.” Lizzie smiled kindly, and Scar thanked her, gesturing for Cub to follow him in.

They moved through the crowded house, people commenting on Scar’s outfit with a good-natured “Hey, Hot Guy!” Scar leaned into the part with a grin and a playful “Evening, citizen.”

They eventually found the living room where the music was loudest and the crowd was thickest, people chatting loudly over red plastic cups and cans of beer. Despite the dense crowd Scar immediately recognized Joel’s hair and pushed his way through to him, Cub following closely behind like the good sport he (usually) is.

Joel seemed to be dressed up like some kind of Greek soldier or God, wearing a toga and gladiator sandals, his streak of green hair complimented by a wreath of green laurels on his head. Jimmy sat beside him, dressed up in an old west cowboy-like costume with a gold sheriff's badge, Scar thought it suited him.

They were indeed arguing over music choices, clearly insulting each other’s taste as they messed with their phones. Scar grinned, waiting for an opportunity to join the conversation, when Joel huffed and looked up—staring directly at Scar.

Joel’s eyes widened as he took in Scar’s costume, which quickly turned into a devious grin as he elbowed Jimmy hard in the side. When Jimmy looked up and saw Scar his face went through a similar transformation, until they were both wearing cheeky grins.

“This is too perfect,” Joel said at the same time Jimmy said, “Please tell me he doesn’t know.” Scar was baffled by their reaction until their eyes darted behind him, and their grins widened.

Scar turned, and there stood Grian, holding two cups and a shocked expression, his gaze scanning Scar from the bottom up until he met his eyes with a bewildered expression.

Grian was dressed in white boots, pink shorts, large white wings, a pink visor, and a tight black halter top with a logo on the front—the same logo on Scar’s chestplate, because it was Hot Guy's logo.

Grian had come as Hot Guy's sidekick, and importantly, Hot Guy's main love interest.

From his side, Scar heard Cub exhale a soft, “Oh.”

Scar blinked a few times, trying to process the sight. He looked… adorable, actually. The white wings strapped to his back oddly suited him perfectly, and Scar felt a little flustered just thinking about how well they matched. Realizing he was gaping he quickly shut his mouth and put a smile on his face.

From the corner of his eye, Scar noticed Joel and Jimmy watching them intently, looking like they were about to burst with excitement. Joel nudged Jimmy with his elbow again, and they both exchanged a grin, clearly enjoying the situation. Cub, meanwhile, stood a little off to the side, arms crossed, a curious and analytical expression on his face—like he was studying an interesting experiment and waiting to see how it would play out.

Grian was the first to speak, breaking the tension with a sheepish grin. “So… looks like we had the same idea, huh?”

Scar chuckled, trying to brush off the overwhelming feeling seeing Grian dressed up as his teenaged fantasy caused. “Yeah, great minds think alike, I guess. I have to say, you make a pretty great Cute Guy.”

Grian’s cheeks flushed, but he managed a laugh. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if anyone would even know who I was supposed to be, but… I guess I picked the right party for it.” He glanced at Scar’s costume again, and, if Scar wasnt mistaken, lingered on his chest. Grian’s smile softened. “You make a pretty convincing Hot Guy yourself.”

Scar felt his face heat up at the compliment, but he pushed on. “Well, I’ve been a fan since I was a teenager. I actually had a poster of Cute Guy on my wall when I was younger. I just… I really loved the comics.”

Grian’s eyes lit up with excitement. “No way! I had no idea you were into the comics too. I thought I was the only one who still read them. Most people just know the movies.”

Scar felt a wave of relief—Grian wasn’t embarrassed; he was just as into it as he was. “Oh, totally! The movies are great, but they don’t capture the depth of the comics. Like, Hot Guy’s backstory with his family, and the way they explore his relationships—so much more there than the films show.”

Grian nodded eagerly, stepping a little closer. “Exactly! And Cute Guy- people think he’s just there to play off Hot Guy, but he’s actually one of the most complex characters. I mean, his arc with the betrayal in Volume 45? I had to put the book down and walk around my apartment for a bit after that.”

Scar laughed, feeling himself relax. He glanced at Joel and Jimmy, who were now leaning forward, almost comically invested, and caught Cub giving a knowing smile, as if he’d already predicted how this might go. “Right? That one gutted me. I think I reread it a dozen times just to make sure I got every little detail. It’s such an underrated series.”

Grian seemed to glow at this, his earlier awkwardness melting away. “I never meet people who actually know that! Most people just see the costumes and think it’s some cheesy superhero thing, but it’s so much more. I’m glad you get it.”

He grinned, feeling a bit brave. “Hey, maybe we could swap some comics sometime. I’ve got a pretty decent collection, and it sounds like you do too.”

Grian’s smile widened, his eyes bright. “I’d like that. Sounds like a plan.”

Before either of them could say anything else, Joel clapped his hands together loudly, catching everyone’s attention. “Okay, okay, this is too good,” he said, pulling out his phone with a grin. “We need a picture of you two in these costumes! You know, for the café. I mean, come on, you’re the star attractions!”

Jimmy nodded eagerly, laughing as he started clearing a little space for them. “Yeah, come on, you guys look great! It’s not every day we get Hot Guy and Cute Guy in the same room.”

Scar felt a mix of nerves and amusement but saw the sparkle in Grian’s eyes and found himself nodding. “Alright, alright, one picture,” he laughed. “For posterity.”

Joel positioned them side by side, but then Jimmy, still chuckling, added, “Oh, come on, do a superhero pose or something! You’ve gotta make it fun.”

Grian snorted a little but seemed game. “Like this?” he asked, stepping a little closer and giving Scar a playful look. Scar's heart skipped a beat and goosebumps ran up his arms when he felt the feathers of Grian's wings brush against him.

He grinned through the feeling and daringly threw an arm around Grian’s shoulders, striking a mock superhero stance. “Yeah, something like this,” he said, puffing out his chest dramatically.

Joel laughed from behind the camera. “Perfect! Now, Grian, you’ve gotta play along. Look like you’re ready for action!”

Grian rolled his eyes good-naturedly but then smiled, leaning slightly into Scar and giving his best Cute Guy inspired sly smirk, holding up one of his pistols.

Scar couldn’t help but laugh, their eyes meeting in a shared moment of amusement. He felt a warm flush in his cheeks, half embarrassed, half delighted by how naturally they worked together.

Jimmy snapped the picture just as they burst into laughter, and Joel lowered his phone, grinning. “Got it! You guys nailed it.”

Scar regretfully pulled away and glanced at Grian, who was still smiling, a playful glint in his eye. “All good?” Scar said softly.

Grian nodded, still grinning. “All good.”

Scar was reluctant to put space between them, instantly missing the warmth of Grian at his side. But as they moved away from the impromptu photo session, Scar felt a lightness in his chest, knowing him and Grian had yet another thing in common they could bond over, and genuinely happy he had found someone he could gush about his favourite franchise with.

Meanwhile, Joel and Jimmy shared a knowing look, but Scar just assumed they found the whole thing funny, never suspecting they were secretly pleased with how things were turning out.

Chapter Text

Scar was having a terrible day. And Scar, being a generally fortunate person, wasn’t used to those. It didn’t make it any easier that Jellie was sick.

She had thrown up a few times through the night, and Scar stayed up with her, petting her gently, his heart twisting every time she seized up to empty what little was in her stomach. He reminded himself that it was hairball season and that this wasn’t entirely outside the norm for cats, but still, he booked an appointment for her as soon as the animal hospital opened.

Fortunately, they had a spot that afternoon. Scar just had to make it until then. He sat on the couch beside her as she slept, trying to keep his eyes from slipping closed as he stared at the clock. Any attempt to distract himself only made him more anxious, so he stayed put, waiting, feeling helpless.

He had called Cub as early as it was reasonable, but it went straight to voicemail. Not unusual—Cub often spent strange and long hours in the lab without his phone. Scar considered calling Cub’s company directly but felt bad about pulling him away from work just because he didn't want to take Jellie in a cab.

He sighed and leaned over to give Jellie a few more gentle pets. She purred and turned toward him even in her sleep. At least she wasn’t in pain from what he could tell.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he immediately reached for it, hoping it was Cub.

It wasn’t, and though he’d been hoping for Cub, he felt a flutter of excitement seeing Grian’s name on his lock screen instead.

Grian: Sleeping in today?

Scar hadn’t heard from Grian over text since the night they met. He’d opened their chat an embarrassing number of times, wanting to send a photo of something he was working on, a thought about the Hot Guy comic he’d just read, or even just to see how Grian was doing. But it felt like a boundary—one that couldn’t be uncrossed once stepped over. They were definitely friendly, but were they friends?

Today, Grian had leapt over that line. Scar always hit Hermit Café early on Sundays and hadn’t missed a day since the first time. He glanced at the clock—a little after eleven. Was this Grian’s way of checking on him?

Scar: hey!!! Yeah gonna miss today- got a sick lady to take care of :(

Scar: was up with her all night, she's not happy, finally sleeping now

He took a quick photo of Jellie sleeping pressed against his leg and sent it off.

Grian: Oh no- poor Jellie :(

Grian: Do you guys need anything?

Scar: naw, taking her to the vet in an hour. Gonna call a cab soon.

The typing bubble appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again. There was a long pause, then:

Grian: I can give you a lift. Send me your address?

Scar’s heart tugged with a mix of surprise and warmth. He wanted to say yes immediately, but he knew Grian was working. Even if the offer was genuine, he couldn’t ask him to take off just so Scar didn’t have to take a cab.

Scar: that's so nice of you!! We'll be okay though. You've got work.

Grian: It’s so slow here, Joel and I are bored out of our minds. You’d be helping me out, I swear.

Scar hesitated but eventually agreed with more than a few thanks as he sent off his address. Grian liked the message, saying he’d be there in twenty minutes. Scar wanted to hug him.

---

Scar was sitting out front of his apartment building with Jellie, safely tucked in her soft pink cat carrier on his lap, when Grian pulled up. He immediately got out and came around to greet him, looking a little flustered like he had rushed but was trying to play it cool.

“Hey, how's she doing?” If Grian ever tried to win his heart, Scar thought, this was how he'd do it. Grian's genuine concern was evident, and it made Scar realize this was exactly what he needed today—someone who cared about Jellie and could empathize.

"She's doing okay. Mostly very sleepy and throwing up once in a while." Jellie let out a soft meow from within the carrier; she did not sound happy. "She might not look at me again for a week after I forced her into this carrier, though." Both of them laughed, and Grian leaned in to poke a finger through the caged door, gently stroking her fur.

"Well, hello, beautiful. I'm sorry we're not meeting under better circumstances.” Scar watched, entranced by Grian’s ease with Jellie. Grian had once told him he was an animal person, and there was no mistaking it now, seeing how he cooed and fussed over her, practically kneeling at Scar's side to get a better look. “Let’s get her to the vet, may I…?” Grian gestured to the carrier, and Scar nodded gratefully.

Once Jellie was situated in the back seat and Scar had maneuvered himself into the front, Grian handed Scar a takeout cup. “Oh, and I brought you this. Thought you could use it.” Scar’s eyes widened as he recognized his usual order from Hermit Café, the steam still curling out from the lid.

Scar chuckled, a little taken aback. “You... Wow. Yes, I could definitely use this. Thanks, Grian, really.” He felt something warm in his chest, deeper than just gratitude.

Grian just shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Figured you’d appreciate it. Joel didn’t mind me sneaking it out.”

Scar took a sip. It was exactly right. “This is my favourite drink in the world, you know,” Scar said, grinning over the cup.

Grian smiled, glancing away as if caught off guard by the compliment. “I know.”

Scar watched as Grian expertly folded his chair, knowing exactly what buttons to press and what straps to use. He loaded it into the trunk and got back into the driver's seat. “I'm honestly impressed; people don’t usually figure out my chair so quickly.” There was a question in his voice, and Grian answered it as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“I watched Cub do it for you the other night. It didn’t seem too hard.” That made sense, Scar supposed. Grian was an engineer—or training to be one at least; he’d probably take an interest in something like that. “Where’s he today, by the way?”

“Oh, working, I think. I texted him earlier, but I don’t think he was available.”

Grian nodded, then continued a bit awkwardly, “He seems like a good guy. I could see he cared about you a lot, at the party...”

Scar smiled, thinking of Cub's steady friendship. “Yeah, he's been my rock through some tough times. He's going to be so upset he missed my call this morning.”

Grian swallowed but smiled. Scar noticed the slight tension, the kind that came with hesitance. Why did this conversation seem to bother him? Maybe it was just the topic. Scar had pieced together that Grian left England pretty suddenly, maybe under some strain. Could he be feeling a bit alone here? Was he a bit jealous Scar had a friend like Cub?

Scar felt his heart ache a little for Grian, wondering what his life was like after he left the café each night. “You know you have people you can rely on too, right? They might not be Cub, but you’ve got friends here—people who care about you.”

Grian’s eyes widened slightly, and he turned to look at Scar, looking a bit confused, as if caught off guard. Scar felt Grian consider him, then nod slightly, a softer smile appearing. “I know. Thank you, Scar.”

---

Grian stayed with Scar in the small vet office, both of them saying soothing words to Jellie as she meowed unhappily inside the carrier.

When she was taken away to get bloodwork done, Scar’s nerves began to fray. He stared at the door after they left, his hands gripping his thighs. Grian moved closer, and for a second, it looked like Grian was going to take his hand, fingers reaching toward it before pausing and changing course to his shoulder, where he rested it gently. He didn’t say anything, just let his touch say, I’m here. Scar felt something settle in his chest, an anchor amidst his anxiety.

The vet came and went as test results came in, and it turned out that Jellie had an ear infection- a completely treatable ear infection. Scar practically melted in his chair from relief, and the vet gave him a sympathetic smile. “She’ll need ear drops and an oral antibiotic. But she'll be feeling a lot better in a few days and back to normal in a week.”

Scar could have danced.

---

As they headed back to the car, Jellie safe in her carrier and medications in hand, Scar's phone rang. Scar pulled it out of his pocket, seeing the photo he'd taken two years ago of a very unimpressed Cub soaking wet in a suit pop up. He swiped to answer.

“Hey, Cub!”

“Hey, Scar, I'm sorry—I just got your messages. Did you get to the vet alright? I can come pick you up if you're still there.” Cub was generally pretty monotone, but the worry leaked through his voice.

“Oh no, no! Grian came and picked me up. We’re about to head back. Jellie’s alright, just a bit of an ear infection.” Grian looked over at him and gestured, clearly asking if he should give Scar some privacy. Scar shook his head, and Grian nodded, going to open the car door to load the meowing Jellie inside.

“Grian, huh?” He could hear Cub's smirk through the phone; his face heated up. Nothing slipped past Cub.

“Uh, yeah.” Grian looked up, and Scar tried to hide his embarrassed flush. Grian looked away quickly, giving Scar time to recover. He hoped Grian hadn't heard Cub.

“I'm relieved to hear that, and I'm glad Jellie is going to be okay. I'll come over later?”

Scar smiled, warmed by his friend's care and concern. “Yeah, that would be great, actually. I'm going to need a hand giving these ear drops to Jellie.”

“I'll bring some food; does falafel sound okay?”

“I swear you can read my mind sometimes, Cub. That sounds wonderful. Any chance I could convince you to bring your jammies and stay for a movie night too?” Scar said this with a bit of mischief, knowing it was the last thing Cub would want to do.

“Ha Ha. I'm dying over here. Send a doctor.” Cub had a great way of delivering dry, sarcastic lines like that. Scar laughed. “I'll just be bringing food. But the offer is appreciated.”

Scar chuckled. “Sounds like a plan. I'll see you soon. Thanks for calling to check in.”

“See you soon, Scar.”

When Scar hung up, Grian was waiting for him, leaning against the car with a blank expression, likely zoned out. Scar felt a little guilty for making him wait. “Sorry about that, Cub was just checking in.”

Grian shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, then smiled, looking a bit tired. “I’m glad he did. It's really great that you don’t have to take care of Jellie alone.”

Scar smiled back warmly, suddenly aching with gratitude for friends like Cub and Grian. “Yeah, I'm a lucky guy.”

Grian smiled, but his eyes darted away as he went to open the passenger door. Scar got the feeling all of a sudden that, despite being one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen, Grian hadn't received a lot of compliments.

They drove home mostly in a peaceful silence, listening to the radio. Scar was still basking in the relief that Jellie was going to be okay, and Grian seemed caught up in his own thoughts. Scar let himself stare at the way Grian’s soft blonde hair fell across his forehead, and how slender his fingers looked gripping the steering wheel. He had the sudden urge to reach out and touch him, but he didn’t.

Maybe he could invite Grian over tonight to share some food with him and Cub. That was a normal thing to do, right? He could treat him as a thank you for skipping work and taking him and Jellie to the vet. Maybe he'd even stay for a movie, and they could sprawl out on Scar's couch and share funny commentary on bad acting and even worse CGI.

The thought made something bubble in his chest, and before Scar could chicken out, he asked, “So what are your plans after this? Anything going on tonight?”

Grian looked a bit caught off guard by the question. “Oh, uh, well I have to get the car back to Joel. Then work for a few more hours.” He furrowed his brow, as if trying to remember something. “Oh—and Mumbo sent over some assignments I want to try and tackle. He’s using it to gauge where I am and what supplemental materials he can send over. I promised to get it back to him ASAP, so I should really get to work on that.”

Scar noticed a flicker of something in Grian's expression, maybe hesitation or regret. “Oh, yeah. That makes sense.” Scar was honestly disappointed, but he successfully kept his tone light. “Wait—this is Joel's car?”

“Yeah, he lent it to me as soon as he heard you might need a ride. Practically shoved me out the door with nothing but a ‘good luck’ and his keys, told me not to worry about lost wages either, that it was for a good cause.” Grian smiled despite the eyeroll. “Joel’s a bit enthusiastic like that. I would have found a way to help regardless, but he really likes you, and I think this was his way of helping too.”

Scar smiled widely, thinking of the eccentric café owner. “I'll be sure to thank him, and—oh!” Scar suddenly remembered something important. “Thank you! I haven't even said it yet, but thank you so much, Grian.” He looked over at him, hoping his sincerity came through.

Grian gave a bit of an awkward smile. “It was really nothing, Scar. No need to thank me.”

Scar leaned forward a bit, his voice softer. “It was everything. I’ve been thinking all day how lucky I am to know people like you. Today would have been infinitely worse without you around. I’m really grateful—grateful for the drive, yeah, but more for having you here.”

Grian looked over again with those wide, dark eyes. They looked a little damp, but Grian smiled—a small, genuine thing. Scar thought he looked beautiful. “For you? Anytime.”

As Grian pulled into Scar's apartment building, Scar lingered for a moment, not quite ready to say goodbye. He thought again about inviting Grian to join him and Cub for dinner, but he hesitated. Grian clearly said he had plans, and Scar wasn’t going to push him away from studying for school.

They maneuvered Jellie and his chair out of the car, exchanging a few pleasantries before Grian got back in, waiting to make sure Scar got safely inside the building. It was an unnecessary gesture, but it warmed him all the same.

As Grian drove away, Scar felt a sharp ache in his chest—an unexpected longing. He didn’t want him to go.

And while his heart thudded away in his chest watching the car turn the corner out of sight, the thought struck him clearly, undeniable:

Oh no. This is more than I thought.

Chapter Text

The air outside had that early winter chill, cold enough that it could probably snow, with a layer of frost on the ground. Scar bundled up in a warm knit sweater, jacket, and scarf. His gloves were essential for a day like today, so he pulled those on too before giving Jellie a treat, promising to be back in the afternoon, and heading out toward campus.

He loved the campus during reading week. Everything was quiet, and it felt extra magical this time of year, with the frost sparkling in the early morning sun. He wondered if the café would be quiet enough for Grian to come over and pester him about what he was working on.

Unfortunately, he probably wouldn’t have time to work on much of his personal project today. He still had midterms to grade before his students came back next week. Still, he looked forward to a day of no classes, huddled at his table in the café with a warm drink, listening to Jimmy and Grian argue over the playlist rights.

The café wasn’t open in the evenings during reading week, and Joel had taken off on vacation with Lizzie. Scar was happy for them—they deserved it after a hard year of getting the café up and running. It also meant that Grian was on the daytime shift with Jimmy, and with the café being dead except for the occasional sleepy faculty member, Scar was taking full advantage of working there instead of his office.

It had been a great week. Seeing Grian eight hours a day was such an unexpected treat.

After taking Jellie to the vet, the two had definitely crossed the line into friendship territory. They texted each other now, almost daily. Grian would ask an architecture-related question about one of the assignments he got from Mumbo, or Scar would send him a photo of a new design he had for one of the shops in what they had affectionately started to call ‘Scarland.’ The final trailer for the new Hot Guy film had dropped, and they had stayed up until midnight dissecting it over text—Scar buried under the covers of his bed in the dark, grinning widely and chuckling at Grian's sarcastic and sometimes over-the-top criticisms.

Scar was aware he had a deep crush at this point. He had confessed it to Cub the night after Jellie went to the vet. Cub had nodded sagely—because of course, he already knew—and asked him, “So what are you going to do about it?”

That was a hard question. Scar liked to flirt—don’t get him wrong; that part came pretty naturally to him. But he and Grian already did that, had always done that.

Which really left Scar with the option of asking Grian out. The truth was, though, Scar loved this new friendship with Grian and his new routine of visiting the café, and he didn’t know if it was strong enough to withstand the awkwardness of a rejection yet. He also, despite the flirting, had no idea where he stood with the barista.

Since the vet visit, Grian seemed a bit more reserved with him, and Scar might have been concerned if it didn’t also come with an increase in texting and chatting. It was like Grian had actively tried to tone down any flirtatious undertone to their banter. Scar didn’t really know what to think of that. Maybe now that they were getting closer Grian didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. Or perhaps the flirtations were more a feature of Grian’s customer service persona, and now that they were friends, he was shedding those falsities.

This was piled onto the fact that Scar had no idea if Grian was even into men. Sure, he was an avid fan of the Hot Guy comics, which were an obvious pillar of queer culture, featuring a queer romance and a gender non-conforming main character- who Grian had even dressed up as. But all of that could simply mean Grian had good taste in comic books. He never mentioned being attracted to any man, woman, or person in particular. So Scar was left with a bit of a gamble on that front.

Lying in bed last night, he decided he’d flirt with Grian today to feel out whether any advances would be welcome before taking the plunge and asking him out. He was admittedly a bit nervous but also excited. Conversation with Grian was fun, effortless, and he expected this would be the same. Even if Grian didnt feel the same way, he would be kind and casual about it, he knew it.

He wheeled through the main entrance of the architecture building, planning to grab his papers from his office and then immediately camp out in the café until close. It was hard to keep the smile off his face.

As the doors closed behind him, he stopped to assess how wet his wheels were from the frost but paused when he saw a man standing awkwardly in the main foyer.

The man was tall and built, with a classically handsome face that held a frustrated expression. He wore a slightly wrinkled jacket, and though it looked like an attempt had been made to straighten out his dark hair, it remained ruffled. He held a bouquet of supermarket roses, staring up at the building’s directional signs, obviously lost and needing a helpful hand.

Scar took pity on the guy and wheeled over, slapping on a ready smile. “Why hello! You look a bit lost—can I give you some directions? These signs can be downright confusing.”

The man looked over, assessing Scar a bit too thoroughly, in a way that suggested he didn’t know how to talk to someone in a wheelchair like they were a normal person. Scar tried to be patient with people like that and give them a chance, but he did slightly regret offering to help.

“Sure I guess, I'm looking for my fiancé. He works at a café here. I’d text him, but…” the man smirked a bit and shrugged, “I wanted to surprise him. I flew over from England last night.”

Scar's heart momentarily stopped in his chest before painfully continuing with a sinking dread. He knew a brit who had recently moved here and worked in a café, and it was the one person on the planet he didnt want to have a secret fiancé. “Oh, yeah, there are a few cafés around here. Do you know which one?”

“I forgot. I’m not a bad fiancé," he said in immediate offense, even though Scar threw no accusations. "Those names just all sound the same to me.” The man laughed like it was a common occurrence, and Scar bitterly thought that, if he was the one with a fiancé, he wouldn't have forgotten. “I’m looking for Grian, though. Do you happen to know him?”

And with that, Scar’s heart sank into the mud. He thought, only for a moment, about lying. His good nature won in the end though, “Oh… oh yeah, he works at Hermit Café, just down that left corridor. You’re a bit early, though; the café is on reduced hours, so it doesn't open for another twenty minutes.”

The man grinned with a hint of triumph that gave Scar a sudden and rare urge to punch him. He immediately headed toward the corridor with a muffled thanks, not sparing Scar a second glance.

Scar watched him go, his mind spiraling. Grian has a fiancé? And not just any fiancé—one who would fly across the world for him. Someone who, it seemed, had been in his life for a long time.

He tried hard not to feel betrayal that Grian never mentioned him. He failed.

Scar miserably continued on his way to his office, his earlier excitement fading into something more hollow. His plans to flirt seemed laughable now.

---

He moped in his office for exactly 52 minutes. He knew the precise length of time because he had spent most of it staring at the clock, debating whether he should go down to the café at all or just finish his grading up here and go home early.

He tried to reason with himself. Grian was his friend; he wanted him to be happy. He should be happy that Grian had a fiancé who would fly all the way from England to surprise him with flowers at work. But no matter how much he wanted to see Grian happy, he didn’t want to see it that way- didn’t want to see the surprise on Grian’s face, his wide, excited smile, and watch them embrace, probably even kiss. The thought made him ill.

Scar sulked, thinking bitterly that at least he knew Grian’s type now: tall, mean-looking men built like quarterbacks. It seemed strange Grian had never mentioned this guy, but what did he really know about Grian besides the fact that he liked comic books and cats? He had no reason to talk to Scar about his apparently very active love life.

Scar stopped himself at that harsh thought, feeling guilty for directing his anger at Grian. He didn't owe Scar anything, espescially when he had no idea how Scar was starting to feel for him.

His gaze drifted to his phone more than once, considering sending a text—a quick excuse about how he couldn’t make it to the café today. But that felt cowardly, and Scar didn’t want to be the kind of friend who let jealousy keep him away. Besides, Grian would probably text back, all concerned, and Scar didn’t want to explain why he was avoiding him. That would be even worse.

But, Grian was his friend. A friend who would worry about him if he missed grabbing his drink, at least. And Scar adored him. He wasn’t going to give Grian the cold shoulder just because his affections lay elsewhere. It would be hard at first, but maybe in a few weeks, it would feel normal, and he’d still have Grian. But to get to that point, Scar would need to carry on as usual.

He heaved a sigh, leaving his papers behind so he’d have an excuse to step out if he needed it, and headed down to the café.

---

The first thing Scar noticed were the police officers.

The glass door to the café was closed. Inside, a police officer was talking with Jimmy, who was seated on one of the café chairs, facing away from the window. Scar couldn't see his expression. Another officer stood talking with one of Scar's coworkers, Impulse, who had a serious and concerned look on his face.

The café was a mess. It looked like everything had been thrown off the front counter; the remains were scattered across the floor. The pastry display’s front window lay in shards of broken glass, the tablet they used for taking orders was facedown under a chair, the tip jar had been smashed, and change was scattered across the hardwood floor. Joel’s fancy espresso machine, which he had bragged about on multiple occasions, had a severe dent in the front, like someone had punched it.

Something must have been thrown behind the counter, too—several glass bottles used for making flavored syrups lay in a broken, sticky mess.

Amongst the rubble lay a crushed bouquet of red roses.

Scar’s panic rose immediately, pulling himself closer to the glass door to try and see if he could spot Grian in the chaos. His heart felt like it had dropped into his stomach when he didnt immediately spot him.

Was this a robbery? Did it happen before they came in? It didn’t look like anything was stolen. Even the ten-dollar bill Cleo had slipped into the tip jar earlier this week was laying unclaimed by the front door.

Scar’s thoughts immediately flashed to the strange man he’d seen this morning, the rose petals a dark omen on the floor.

The police officer talking to Jimmy noticed him and said something to the barista causing the blonde to turn towards him, and Scar’s worry increased tenfold.

Jimmy’s left eye was swollen nearly shut, and there was a dark bloom of blood across his cheekbone. He waved awkwardly at Scar.

Scar knew this wasn’t his business and that he’d probably just get in the way, but he needed to make sure his friends were alright. He couldn't just go back to work not knowing if Grian was safe, so he knocked on the door.

Jimmy nodded and said something to the officer near the door, who nodded back and let him in.

Scar immediately went over to Jimmy, who was looking at him a bit sadly but managed an awkward smile. "Where's Grian?”

“He's okay. Through the back entrance, talking with a cop outside. That asshole managed to rough him up a bit, but Impulse and I stepped in before anything worse could happen.” Despite the situation, Jimmy looked a bit proud about defending his friend. Scar looked around at the damage to the café, wondering what “worse” could even look like.

Scar got a closer look at Jimmy's face. “Are you okay?”

Jimmy brushed him off. “I'm fine, I'm fine. Go check on Grian for me, would you?”

Scar was eager to do just that, but the police officer talking to Impulse called him over before he could get far. Scar hesitated but went to join the two.

“Morning. Impulse here told me you're a professor here- Scar, right?” Scar nodded. “My name is Officer Skizz. We're just putting together a picture of what happened. Did you notice anything unusual around campus this morning?”

“Yes, actually.” Scar swallowed, suddenly realizing his part in all of this. “When I got here, there was a man holding some flowers in the foyer. He said he was looking for his fiancé, and I gave him directions to the café. Was this… was it that man? He was tall, with dark hair.”

Impulse nodded, looking softly at Scar. “Yeah, that was him. He surprised Grian at work and I guess he wasn't happy with what Grian had to say to him. He smashed some stuff, and tried to drag Grian out of the café but Jimmy came in at just the right moment and got between them. I overheard from the hall and managed to throw him out. We're not sure where he went but the police are looking for him.” He must have noticed Scar's face fall as a crushing sense of guilt enveloped him. He felt Impulse's large hand pat his shoulder. “It wasn't your fault, Scar. You were being helpful.”

Scar still felt like it was his fault.

Skizz nodded. “Even if you hadn't given him directions, he wasn't far from the café—he would have found it eventually.” Scar nodded, if only to get them to stop trying to comfort him. If it had taken him longer to find the café, Jimmy might have already been here, Grian wouldn't have been alone. “Would you mind answering a few more questions? Then you can go check on your boyfriend.”

Scar froze. That must have been what Jimmy said to the police officers to let him in- that he was a concerned boyfriend, not just some random customer. That he had some right to be here to support Grian. Under different circumstances he'd likely flush at the implication.

He wondered if they'd ask him to leave if he corrected them. Fearing that they would, he didn’t. It made his heart race, but also felt like a sick fulfillment of his earlier desires.

Scar told him everything he could about the man he saw: how he had flown in from England, his ruffled appearance, the cheap supermarket roses. Skizz wrote every detail down before thanking him, handing over his card, and giving him leave to go.

Scar rolled through the storeroom and bakery area, toward the back loading door that led outside. It was open; a police officer stood in the parking space, and sitting on the curb was Grian.

He looked like a bit of a mess, arms resting on his knees and head hanging. His hair was messier than Scar had ever seen it, and his arm and wrist were an angry red, but at least they didn’t seem broken. As Scar's wheels clicked over the slight ramp leading out, Grian looked up.

Scar was relieved that Grian seemed relatively okay. His eyes were a bit red, like he had been crying, but his face was dry. He looked surprised and embarrassed, but also relieved to see a friendly face—to see Scar.

The officer exchanged a few words with Grian before nodding and stepping away to make a call. Scar wheeled up to where Grian was sitting and shakily got out of his chair, landing with a bit of a thump beside Grian on the curb. Grian looked like he wanted to protest the whole time but didn’t.

“Hey, G.” He said it softly, like coaxing a bird

Grian’s face did something complicated, scrunching up in a mix of emotions before landing on a sad whimper as he lowered his head again, clearly not wanting Scar to see him cry.

Scar remembered Grian’s warm hand on his back in the vet office and reached over to do the same. Grian shook a bit and leaned into the touch, and Scar went a bit further, rubbing his hand across the smaller man's shoulder blades.

“I dont know what you heard- but he’s not my fiancé.” Grian choked it out like the words were venom. Scar's heart twisted for him.

“I know.”

“He was supposed to stay in England. I texted him while he was working- I was already on the plane. I didn't tell him where I was going; I told him I never wanted to see him again.” Scar didn't know what to say, so he just listened, rubbing his back and letting him know he was there.

Scar tried to swallow his guilt. Despite what Impulse and Skizz had told him, he felt like he had delivered that man to Grian. He had even felt bitter toward the blonde, upset that he hadn't told him, and while he was sulking in his office, the man had been terrorizing Grian, the café, his friends. He burned with shame, trying to find the words.

“This is all my fault.” But the words didn’t come from Scar.

Scar pulled away from Grian a bit to look him in the eye. “No, no, no—we're not going down that road. There is no universe where this psycho’s behavior is your fault.”

Grian didn't look convinced; honestly, he looked a bit angry. “I let my guard down; I didn't even see him walk in. I left the door unlocked for Jimmy! I came in from the back room, and he was just standing there at the front counter.” his voice started to fail into a whimper, so he shut his mouth determined not to let the sound out.

“It's not a crime to feel safe, Grian.”

“The café is a mess, Jimmy's face is a mess! If Impulse hadn't come in, he could have been seriously hurt. I have to tell Joel about his espresso machine…” His voice choked off, and he looked down again to hide his face.

“No one blames you for this, Grian. Insurance is there for a reason, and don't act like Jimmy isn’t going to be flexing that black eye of his. It's unfair that this happened to them, sure, but it's also unfair that it happened to you.”

Grian went silent, seeming to consider Scar's words, calming down a bit. Scar slid his hand to Grian's shoulder and pulled him closer to his side, wrapping a steady arm around the smaller man. “You deserve to feel safe too, G.”

Grian sighed sadly but leaned into Scar’s side.

Time passed with the two of them just sitting there in silence, Scar holding him as he sorted through all the thoughts racing through his head.

Eventually, Jimmy came out the back door and took in the sight, his face immediately lighting up in a smile. He came and sat on Grian’s other side. “So tell me, how badass do I look with a black eye? Think I finally have a reason to rock one of those eyepatches like Snake Plissken in Escape from New York?”

Grian huffed a small, sad laugh, and Scar immediately caught on to what Jimmy was trying to do, happy to jump on some banter to lighten the mood. “You'd probably look more like a pirate dying from scurvy with how tiny you are, not gonna lie.”

“Hey! I take offense to that- I am not tiny- I have three whole inches on Grian.” Grian laughed more sincerely, finally looking up, his expression dropping when he looked at Jimmy's face. Jimmy just flashed him a wide grin and reached over to ruffle his hair. “I'm fine, you pesky bird. Didn't you know I'm tough as nails? The real challenge is going to be breaking the news to Joel that his darling espresso machine has a nasty dent in her." Scar mournfully thought back to the busted machine Joel loved so much. "Lizzie will probably send that guy a fruit basket for the favor, though. I'm sure she's heard enough about that thing.” Grian rolled his eyes, but the genuine smile returned.

The police officer returned. “Alright, boys, paramedics want you checked out at the hospital. You’ll need an x-ray on that arm, and a doctor will definitely want to look at that eye. Skizz will give you three a ride.”

Scar didn't know if he should say that he didn't need to go too, but neither Jimmy nor Grian denied it, so he went along with it, selfishly wanting to be there to make sure Grian was okay.

“I'll go lock up so no one robs our mess.” Jimmy got up with a huff. “Kind of funny, I woke up thinking I didn't feel like working today.” He said it humorously, but Scar picked up on an undercurrent of genuine guilt. It was like everyone involved was trying to find reasons to carry some burden of blame in this.

Jimmy disappeared through the door, and Grian got up, grabbing Scar’s hand with his good arm to help him back into his chair. When Scar sat down, though, Grian didn't let go. Scar stared at their joined hands and noticed the tremor in Grian's grip, like he was holding on to something more than just his hand. “I'm uh- really sorry about this. Kind of a downer on your day and all.”

Grian wasn't very good at being open like this it seemed, but Scar felt a warmth in his chest all the same and squeezed his hand a bit tighter. “I'm just glad you're okay. Nothing to apologize for at all.”

Grian smiled, a mix of tiredness and genuine gratitude, and Scar could see how much this moment meant to him. Reluctantly it seemed, they released their hold.

Jimmy returned, locking up the back door behind him. “Alright, team, let's get moving. Hospital trips are more fun when you have friends, right? Dibs on shotgun though, no way I'm being seen driven around in the back of a cop car.” He flashed a grin, clearly trying to lighten the mood, and Scar appreciated the effort.

Scar noticed Grian's shoulders relax a bit more. The three of them made their way to Skizz’s squad car, and after a stern explanation from Skizz as to why exactly Jimmy could not sit in the front seat, they all piled into the back. Grian ended up in the middle, with Jimmy on one side and Scar on the other, which felt oddly right. The closeness seemed to anchor Grian between them, providing a sense of security after everything.

The ride to the hospital was quiet, aside from Jimmy’s occasional quip about his “pirate aesthetic” and Scar’s chuckles in response. Grian mostly stayed silent, but Scar felt the weight of Grian's head slowly leaning against his shoulder. It wasn't until they pulled up to the hospital entrance that Grian whispered, “Thanks, Scar. For being here.”

Scar turned his head slightly, close enough to see the exhaustion in Grian’s eyes but also a glimmer of something more—trust, maybe, or a fragile sense of safety. He felt his heart swell with a fierce protectiveness. He never wanted to see Grian hurt like this again. He echoed Grian’s words from the vet. “For you? Anytime.”

Chapter Text

The café was more packed than Scar had ever seen it, which was saying something, considering the 8 a.m. finals rush. Every regular seemed to have shown up for reopening day, rallying to help the café recover from the financial hit it had taken. The air buzzed with chatter, and Scar recognized more than a few colleagues and students crammed around tables and pressed up against the bar. It was obvious he wasn’t the only one charmed by the café and its staff. The scene brought a smile to his face.

It had been just over three weeks since Grian’s ex had trashed the café, forcing a closure for repairs. Joel and Lizzie were still on vacation, so the team gave them the time to finish their break while also letting Jimmy and Grian recover.

Scar’s thoughts turned to Grian. He had spent 18 hours in the hospital that night, and Scar had been there for nearly half of them. Grian’s ex had fractured his arm in the scuffle, trying to drag him out of the café. Scar hated that he hadn’t been there sooner to stop it, and the guilt stuck with him, despite Grian recovering his humor quickly. Most of their time at the hospital had been spent waiting for x-rays, getting Grian fitted for a splint, and sharing memes to distract from the stress. Grian, groggy from painkillers, eventually told Scar to head home, saying he’d done enough. Reluctantly, Scar agreed, but his mind stayed with Grian long after he left.

The days that followed were hard for Scar. He couldn’t shake the guilt, feeling like he should’ve seen the signs and prevented the incident. Cub had to snap him out of his moping, reminding Scar that he couldn’t have changed the outcome. The guilt faded, but not completely.

A few days later, Grian sent Scar a photo of his bright blue cast, with a funny drawing from Jimmy. Scar wanted to visit and sign it himself but held back, convincing himself that Grian needed space.

When Grian finally let him know that his ex had been detained and was back in England, Scar breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time since the incident, that knot of tension in his chest began to loosen.

He missed him.

Scar pushed through the crowded café, exchanging pleasantries with colleagues as he made his way to the bar. Impulse stood near the counter, nursing an iced coffee, and gave Scar a knowing nod before making room for him to pull up.

And then, unexpectedly, there was Grian.

Scar’s heart skipped a beat as his gaze landed on the blonde. Grian wore one of his soft, oversized t-shirts, his messy hair falling into his eyes as usual. The bright blue cast on his arm stood out, but it was his smile- soft and full of genuine excitement to see him- that struck Scar the hardest.

A wave of warmth unfurled in his chest, and for just a moment, Scar fantasized about waking up next to him, making pancakes in the kitchen, talking about their plans for the day as the warm morning sun came in through the kitchen window.

He shoved the thought down quickly to deal with later and returned Grian’s smile with enthusiasm.

“Well, well,” Scar teased, throwing in a wink. “If anyone could make drinks with one hand, it’d be you. Back to work already?”

Grian laughed, the sound washing over Scar like a balm. “Not quite. Jimmy’s on barista duty today. I’m just here to charm the customers.”

Jimmy, from across the bar, shot them both a playful glare. “I’ll have you know I’m doing a fantastic job. Best coffee on this side of campus.”

Scar and Grian exchanged a quiet snicker.

“I’m glad to see you back in the apron,” Scar said, though what he really wanted to say was, I’m just glad to see you.

Grian’s eyes sparkled, as if he’d picked up on the sentiment anyway. “Yeah, I’ve missed it. And catching up with all my favorite regulars.” He leaned against the counter, his tone brightening with excitement. “Oh! Speaking of which- did you see the new still from the Hot Guy movie?”

Scar’s grin widened. It was as if a slice of normal had returned to his life. “The one with Cute Guy's white pistols from Issue 23? I knew they’d work that in somehow! They’re iconic to fans of the comics.”

Grian practically lit up. “Right? I can’t believe they’re actually going with that detail. It’s going to be so cool seeing it on the big screen- assuming they get it right, of course.”

Joel wandered over, catching the tail end of their conversation. “You two geeking out about that superhero movie again? The one with the ridiculously good-looking cast?”

Jimmy snorted. “That’s every superhero movie, Joel.”

Joel waved him off. “Whatever. The one you nerds have been talking about forever. It opens next weekend, right? You guys going to see it?”

Scar freezes for a moment. Grian and him had talked about the film dozens of times since Halloween, but had never discussed going to see it together. It was the perfect excuse to ask Grian out, a film they were both excited about, could bond over. He felt giddy at the thought of sharing popcorn, whispering over their mutually favourite franchise in the dark together.

But this wasn't the right time, it wasn't the right space. Not with their friends and colleagues all watching them, and not with a fresh cast on Grian's arm from an ex Grian was still getting over.

There was an awkward pause, which Grian rushed to smooth over. “I'm not sure about Scar, but I haven't made any solid plans yet.”

Joels's careful eyes land on Scar for a breath, as if waiting for Scar to say something. “I hadn't made any solid plans yet either, I was probably going to go see it with Cub this weekend.” Joel strangely seems a bit disappointed by his response.

“Well- how about we all go as a group? Make it a ‘welcome back’ celebration for the café being open again.”

Grian perked up. “That sounds perfect! I’ve been planning to see it opening weekend anyway, might as well make it a thing.”

Scar’s heart leapt at the idea. This was the perfect excuse for a chance to see the movie and spend time with Grian outside the café. He couldn’t think of anything better. “I’m definitely in. When’s good for everyone?”

Joel grinned. “How about this weekend? Opening day. We can grab a drink after.”

Grian’s smile softened. “Sounds great. I can look up showtimes and text you guys with the details.” He paused, just for a second, but Scar caught the briefest flicker of hesitation before Grian added, “Oh, and Scar- you should invite Cub too. Obviously.”

Scar nodded, trying to tamp down his excitement. “Sounds great. Looking forward to it.”

---

The night of the movie, Scar was buzzing with a mix of excitement and nerves he couldn’t quite shake. He kept reminding himself- over and over- that this was just a casual group outing, not a date. Cub would be there, along with the rest of the café crew. Still, every time he thought about seeing Grian outside of the café again, his heart skipped a beat.

He wanted to look good though- not too obvious, but enough that Grian might notice. He pulled on an old, worn-out Hot Guy shirt from high school. It was tight now, hugging his arms and chest in ways it hadn’t before. He’d bulked up a lot since his teenage years, both from physical growth and from working to strengthen his upper body. He liked the fit- and the soft material of it acted as armor, helping him feel more confident.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a good fifteen minutes, messing with his hair and debating whether to wear the Hot Guy visor from his costume. Ultimately, he decided against it. But for just a second, he wondered if Grian would ever want to wear matching costumes to a convention sometime.

Scar squashed the thought quickly. They were getting out of hand.

His phone buzzed with a message from Cub while he was in the cab, bailing on the movie with a flimsy excuse about work. Scar had half-expected it, knowing Cub had no interest in seeing the film. But for a moment, Scar wondered if this was a setup- whether Cub had intentionally left him and Grian to hang out alone. He’d been telling Scar to do something about his crush for weeks after all.

When his cab arrived at the theater, Scar immediately spotted Grian standing out front and bundled up against the November chill. His nose and cheeks were bright red, and he hopped in place to keep warm, his jacket draped awkwardly over one shoulder to accommodate his cast. Scar couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him.

Grian glanced up just as Scar stepped out of the cab, as if he’d sensed his arrival, and immediately broke out in a grin. It was almost an exact parallel to when Scar would walk into the café, only in this situation Grian added a friendly wave and jogged over to meet him.

“Bad news,” Grian said as he approached. “Turns out Joel, Jimmy, and Lizzie all got food poisoning from some sketchy leftover curry last night.”

Scar winced. “That’s awful! Are they okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine now. They just need to rest up. Joel said we should go ahead without them- he sent over our tickets. Just two, though, so we’ll need to grab another for Cub.”

Scar paused. “Oh, actually, Cub bailed too.”

Grian blinked, a series of emotions flashing across his face- surprise, followed quickly by what Scar could only describe as mild panic. Scar’s heart sank a little at the sight. Had Grian not wanted this to be one-on-one? Maybe he felt pressured, uncomfortable at the prospect of spending time together without a buffer. Scar gripped his cane a little tighter, suddenly second-guessing the whole evening.

But before the spiral could get too deep, Grian stepped closer, his expression softening. “That’s fine with me- great, actually,” he said, his voice sincere. “It’s just… are you okay with that? Seeing the movie without Cub here, I mean?”

There was something in Grian’s gaze that made Scar’s nerves ease. He wasn’t panicking because he didn’t want to be alone with Scar- he was just checking in, making sure Cub wouldn't be upset about missing the movie. That lifted Scar’s mood immediately.

“Of course!” Scar said, hoping his eagerness didn’t sound too obvious. He smiled wider, trying to reassure Grian. “To be honest, Cub hates these kinds of movies. I think he was planning to cancel from the start. He usually just humors me, so he won’t mind missing it.”

Grian studied him for a moment, as if weighing his words, before a strange expression crossed his face- something like relief mixed with confusion. But it passed quickly, replaced by that soft smile again. “Okay, as long as you guys won’t feel weird about it.”

Scar chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood further. “Not at all! Besides, I think you’ve got it worse than me right now. You look like a popsicle. Let’s get inside before you freeze solid.”

Grian laughed at that, a bright sound that made Scar’s chest tighten in all the best ways.

They headed toward the theater entrance, their steps matching in an easy rhythm. As they passed the movie poster, Grian paused, nudging Scar with his elbow. “Hey, let’s get a picture,” he said, pointing to the poster with excitement. “It’s a must, right?”

Scar blinked, caught a little off-guard by the suggestion, but quickly recovered. “Absolutely. Let’s do it.”

They snapped a few goofy photos in front of the poster, with Grian making exaggerated superhero poses while Scar couldn’t help but laugh. It felt natural- easy- like the weight of everything that had happened over the past few weeks had momentarily lifted.

Once inside, the warmth of the theater lobby hit them like a welcome blanket, and Grian let out an audible sigh of relief. They exchanged a quick glance- one of those small, unspoken moments of connection that had become so common between them lately- and instinctively moved toward the line for concessions.

As they stood in line, waiting to order, Scar’s thoughts kept wandering back to how comfortable this all felt- how comfortable Grian felt. Despite everything they’d been through recently, despite the lingering shadows of Grian’s past, being with him like this, sharing an ordinary moment, felt… right.

“So,” Grian said, pulling him from his thoughts. “What’s the plan? You going for the jumbo popcorn?”

Scar grinned, leaning into the familiar banter. “Obviously. Can’t watch a superhero movie without an absurd amount of popcorn. I might even be convinced to share.”

Grian chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, count me in then. But you’re holding the popcorn, just so you know. One-handed operation here.”

They placed their orders- Scar going all out with popcorn, candy, and soda, while Grian opted for a slightly more reasonable selection. Once they had everything, they made their way into the theater, finding seats near the middle. The place was filling up quickly, but they managed to snag two seats with an excellent view of the screen, much to Grian’s excitement.

Scar settled in, trying not to think too much about how close they were sitting or how Grian’s knee brushed against his when they shifted to get comfortable. Grian, oblivious to Scar’s inner turmoil, was already eagerly scrolling through his phone, pulling up some details about the movie to share.

“I saw this interview with the director,” Grian said, leaning over slightly to show Scar his screen. “Apparently, they spent half a year just designing Hot Guy’s grappling hook for this film. They even went back to some of the original comic designs for inspiration.”

Scar leaned in to see the article that featured pictures of prototype props, his shoulder just barely touching Grian’s. He could feel the warmth radiating off of Grian, and it was making it harder and harder to focus on anything but the fact that they were here, together, in the dark.

“That’s amazing,” Scar said, his voice a little quieter than he’d intended. “I love that they’re paying attention to those details.”

Grian turned his head slightly, and for a second, their faces were closer than they should have been. Scar’s breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding.

He didn't move away, suspended in a state of anticipation, noticing how soft Grian's skin looked in the light of the screen.

Grian looked a bit dazed as his eyes flickered, just for a moment, down to Scar’s lips before quickly darting back up.

And then, as if realizing what had just happened, Grian pulled back, cheeks flushed, putting space between the two of them. “Yeah,” he said, a little too quickly, “it’s really cool.”

Scar swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. He hadn’t imagined that moment. No- there had been something there. The same idea must have crossed Grian's mind.

But if Grian had the same instinct as him, why did he look so guilty?

Before Scar could get lost in his thoughts, the lights in the theater dimmed, and the previews began to play. He forced himself to focus on the screen, but his mind kept drifting back to Grian, sitting so close beside him.

The movie started, and soon the booming sounds of action scenes and witty dialogue filled the theater. Scar lost himself in the film, cheering along with Grian when Hot Guy made his big entrance, and even louder when Cute Guy came out of the blue to save him later in the scene. Every now and then though, his gaze would flicker over to Grian, who was equally engrossed in the movie, a soft smile playing on his lips, dark eyes eagerly turning to meet him whenever something exciting happened. They laughed at the same jokes, cheered at the same moments, and even shared the popcorn more easily than Scar had expected.

As the credits rolled and the audience began to shuffle out of the theater, Scar glanced over at Grian, who was still sitting in his seat, staring at the screen with a dreamy look on his face.

“So,” Scar said softly, not wanting to break the moment. “What’d you think?”

Grian blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and turned to Scar with a smile that was warm and just a little shy. “I think,” he said slowly, “that was one of the best movie nights I’ve had in a long time.”

Scar’s heart did a little flip, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice just as soft. “Me too.”

They lingered there for a moment longer, neither of them quite ready to leave. But eventually, they stood and made their way out of the theater, the cold November air hitting them as soon as they stepped outside.

Grian shivered slightly, and Scar’s instinct was to wrap him up in his arms, to pull him close and keep him warm. But instead, he smiled and said, “Want to grab a hot drink?”

Grian looked up at him, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “I’d love that.”

Maybe Grian didn't want the night to end either.

---

The café they chose was a simple but cozy refuge from the cold, a perfect place for Scar and Grian to unwind and pick apart the movie. They sat across from each other, still buzzing with excitement as they talked about their favorite moments from the film, Scar trying not to come across as too smitten by Grian's dry humour and charm.

“I still can’t believe they kept the pistols from Issue 23,” Scar said, grinning. “I was sure they’d modernize them, but nope- straight from the comics. I was ready to cheer.”

Grian laughed, his excitement infectious. “Same! As soon as I saw them, I was like, ‘Finally, someone did it right!’ And don’t even get me started on that building-slide with the grapple hooks. Pure perfection.”

Scar chuckled. “They really nailed it. You can tell the director’s a fan- every detail was spot on. He must have quite the comic collection.”

“You should’ve seen my collection back in England,” Grian said with a grin. “I had it all- original posters, replicas, even a Hot Guy grappling gun. Probably would have gone for a small fortune all together, but I scraped it together bit by bit.”

Scar smiled. “You should have it shipped over. You could turn your place into the Hot Guy shrine it's begging to be.”

Grian’s grin faltered slightly, and Scar noticed the shift in his expression. “Actually… it’s probably all gone now, the only thing I could really bring with me from England was my box of comics.”

Scar’s grin softened as he sensed the change in Grian’s mood. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Grian said quietly, his eyes dropping to his tea. “When I left… it was all so sudden. I didn’t take much. But I couldn’t leave my comics behind. It's stupid, I guess. But those comics were the one thing that still felt like mine.”

Scar could feel the weight behind Grian’s words, and his heart ached with sympathy. “It's not stupid at all.”

“They were all I had left when I ran away from Sam,” Grian added softly, his voice filled with quiet sadness. “I imagine he threw the rest out- or burned them more likely, knowing him.”

Scar’s chest tightened. He hadn’t heard the full story about Grian's ex yet, only bits and pieces over the last couple of weeks while the dust was still settling at the café from his unwelcome visit, but hearing Grian say it now- so raw and vulnerable- made him want to reach across the table and hold him close.

Instead, he rested a gentle hand on Grian’s arm. “I’m really glad you got out of that,” Scar said softly. “And I’m glad you had something to hold onto.”

Grian gave him a small, grateful smile, but there was still a sadness lingering in his eyes. “Yeah… me too.”

They sat in the comfortable silence of the café, the warmth of the room wrapping around them while the cold outside continued to frost the windows. Grian’s eyes lingered on the steam rising from his cup, a soft sadness still etched on his face. Scar kept his hand on Grian’s arm, offering silent comfort, hoping that his presence could give Grian even the smallest bit of peace.

After a few more moments, Grian sighed softly and broke the quiet. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever really be able to move past it. It’s not just the leaving- it's everything Sam left behind in my head. The way he made me feel… like I’ll never be good enough for anyone else.”

Scar’s heart squeezed at Grian’s words. He hated the idea that someone could make Grian feel that way- so small, so undeserving. And yet, he knew from the look in Grian’s eyes that this was something deeper than just a bad memory. It was a wound still healing, scar tissue forming over bruised self-worth.

Grian looked up then, eyes searching Scar’s face as if waiting for some kind of reassurance, some answer to the question he couldn’t quite ask out loud.

Scar swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the weight of everything Grian was trusting him with in this moment. He wanted to say something- wanted to tell Grian that whoever couldn’t see how amazing he was didn’t deserve him in the first place. He wanted to tell him that he’d find love again, that he wasn’t broken, that there were people out there who could care for him the way he deserved.

He wanted to tell him that he could care for him. That if Grian just let him in, Scar would make sure he never felt unloved or unworthy again. But Scar held back, knowing this wasn’t the time. Grian needed a friend right now, not someone pushing for more. It wasn’t about Scar’s feelings, no matter how deep they ran.

Instead, Scar offered the gentlest smile he could muster and squeezed Grian’s arm again. “You’ve been through a lot, Grian. But that doesn’t mean you’re broken. You’ve got so much to offer. When you’re ready- when you feel ready- you should give it a try again. Love isn’t off the table for you. Not even close.”

Grian’s eyes softened, his gaze lingering on Scar for just a little longer than usual. There was something in that look- something unreadable but heavy with emotion. Grian bit his lip, as if holding something back, before he gave a small, almost wistful smile.

“Maybe,” Grian said softly, maybe a bit sadly. “Maybe I’ll give it a try… if the opportunity ever comes up.”

“I’ll be cheering you on when you do,” Scar said gently, his own smile tinged with warmth.

Grian nodded, his eyes reflecting both gratitude and something deeper- something a little sad. “Thanks, Scar. I really appreciate that.”

Another silence fell over them, but this time it wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was a calm, shared understanding.

Then, as if sensing the need to lighten the mood again, Scar offered a playful grin. “But seriously,” he said, breaking the quiet with a lighthearted tone, “if Cute Guy were in your shoes, he’d probably just flash that smile of his, charm his way past all the drama, and walk off into the sunset like nothing happened.”

It was a desperate bid to change the topic but Grian chuckled anyways, shaking his head with a smirk. “Yeah, well, it’s easy to get away with stuff when you’re the cute guy, isn’t it?”

Scar felt his heart skip a beat at the way Grian said it, but he kept his tone playful. “I wouldn’t know. Maybe you could teach me sometime?”

Grian rolled his eyes but smiled all the same, the earlier sadness starting to lift. “Sure thing, Scar. I’ll give you some pointers.”

The mood lightened considerably as they slipped back into their easy banter. They returned to talking about the movie, teasing each other about their favorite scenes, debating which characters would appear in the sequel. Scar felt the warmth of the café, the laughter they shared, and for a while, everything felt simple and joyful.

---

Later that night, Scar lay in bed, the glow of his phone illuminating the dark room. He scrolled through the photos they’d taken earlier in front of the movie poster, each one a snapshot of their laughter, their shared joy. Grian’s face, bright with excitement, filled the screen. Scar couldn’t help but smile at the goofy poses they’d struck, the way Grian’s grin had lit up the moment.

He paused on one photo- a selfie Scar had taken of Grian standing next to him, his arm around Scar’s shoulder, pulling him close as they laughed at some private joke, the movie poster barely visible. Scar stared at the picture for a long moment, his thumb hovering over the screen. He felt a warmth bloom in his chest, a feeling so familiar now yet more intense than before.

There was no denying it anymore. As he looked at Grian’s smiling face, as he replayed the night in his mind- the way they’d talked, the way they’d laughed, the way Grian’s eyes had looked staring up at his hero in the dark theatre- Scar felt the truth settle over him like a soft blanket.

He was falling in love.

The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying, but it brought with it a quiet certainty that he couldn’t ignore. His heart had been moving in this direction for a while now, and tonight had only confirmed what he’d been too hesitant to admit before.

With a soft sigh, Scar locked his phone and placed it on the nightstand. He stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, his mind racing with the possibilities of what could be, but also the patience that he would need. Grian wasn’t ready yet- and that was okay. Scar could wait.

And as he closed his eyes, a small smile tugged at his lips. Because for the first time in a long while, he felt hopeful. Whatever the future held, he was willing to see it through.

Because falling in love with Grian? That felt like something worth waiting for.

Chapter Text

Grian was falling in love.

He knew the signs. He'd been in love once before after all, with a meaner man who had a sharper smile. Grian had been young at the time, but he always thought that was a poor excuse. Even toddlers knew not to touch a hot stove.

Here he was again though, laying on his borrowed bed, staring at a ceiling that was not his own, and trying not to hyperventilate.

He didn't remember falling in love feeling so overwhelming the last time. Everytime he thought of Scar his whole body ached. In a good way, in a terrible way. He didnt really know.

He tried to focus on anything but his thoughts. He counted the posts on his bedframe, the slots on the blinds of his window, the books on his nightstand, and eventually, slowly, he started to calm down.

He could hear Jimmy puttering away making breakfast in the kitchen, suspiciously not seeming ill at all despite his poor excuse to back out of the movie last night. He rolled his eyes, having sniffed the setup even before he got the text. Jimmy had been pestering him for weeks to make a move on Scar. Joel as well, both acting like stern parents insisting he take his homework more seriously.

He had assumed they'd back down once they realized Scar was in love with someone else.

It was fine, really. He was genuinely happy Scar had someone, and Cub seemed to truly care for him, poor taste in cinema aside. It was a small mercy at least that Cub had to back out of the movie as well, playing the third wheel to the two of them may have been more than Grian could handle.

Instead, it had just been the two of them- and maybe that was worse.

His first thought when he saw Scar come into the café a few months ago had been something along the lines of Oh no. He had looked so cute, awkwardly hanging by the counter in his slightly rumpled tweed blazer, eyes bloodshot after a long night of grading papers, yet still greeting him with a wide smile. Grian had felt parts of him stir that he didn't think were capable of stiring anymore, and he instantly knew he was doomed.

And then Scar had opened his mouth and it had gotten so much worse, because then he found out how funny and charming and kind the man was. It wasn't long after that when he discovered Scar had a way of lighting him up and making him feel like an entire aurora. Grian was a goner.

He tried a few times to show his interest but each time Scar artfully dodged the opportunity. It was fine, Grian thought, because spending time with Scar was great- even without all the extra stuff that came with a romantic relationship. Maybe Scar wasn't into men, or maybe Grian just wasn't his type- he could respect that. Someone like Scar could have anyone he wanted, and deserved anyone he could want.

Selfishly though, Grian had wished it could be him.

He even deluded himself into thinking he had been making progress- that they were getting closer, but just when he was on the brink of begging the professor out on a date with him he found out about Cub.

He thought he would instantly dislike Cub when they met at the Halloween party but to his surprise it was the complete opposite. He couldnt help but like Cub's dry humour, his sarcastic quips, and most importantly- the care he gave to Scar.

Cub always had an attentive eye on Scar, sensing his needs and movements, and sharing significant looks that spoke of years of shared history. Scar seemed to have an endless fountain of affection for Cub as well- teasing him, sharing private laughter, sticking close to him.

He and Sam had never been like that.

He’d only had a brief moment to talk to Cub one on one at the party when Scar had gone to the washroom. They’d been standing by the bar, and Cub, ever serious, had opened with his usual directness. “You and Scar seem to be getting close,” he’d said, his expression unreadable. Grian had nodded, feeling a bit caught off guard. “Yeah, he’s a great guy,” Grian had replied, thinking it was just small talk.

But then Cub had gone on, listing off all of Scar’s best traits in that no-nonsense tone of his. “Scar’s dependable,” he’d said. “He’s the type who puts others first, even when it’s tough for him. He’s got a lot going for him. A good friend. The kind you don’t want to let down.”

Cub had continued to go on in that flat voice of his, describing exactly why Scar was so wonderful. How Scar strived to make everyone around him happy, how he could charm just about anyone into a deal, how he loved a good prank- so long as no one was hurt in the process, and how he made cookies so good half his coworkers would pay a small fortune for the recipe.

Grian had nodded along with a smile, despite the crushing feeling inside. He was glad Scar was happy, but he probably could have gone without so many details about how he made Cub happy.

When Scar had returned, oblivious to the awkward tension, he’d grinned and asked what they’d been talking about. “Just talking about how great you are,” Cub had said, his tone flat as ever. Scar had laughed it off, seeming a bit flushed.

Grian sighed, knowing he had to get up and start his day. He was supposed to meet up with Mumbo at the campus library before his shift to go over one of the projects he had given Grian to work on. It lifted Grian's mood a bit, he was quickly coming to adore the mustached engineering professor.

He got dressed and stole a slice of Jimmy's toast on his way out, it tasted even better accompanied by Jimmy's squeal of offense. Grian laughed all the way to the door to rub it in, knowing Jimmy didn't really mind.

He got so lucky, having friends like Joel and Jimmy. Jimmy and him had shared a dorm for one semester back in England before the other blonde moved west. They had tried their best to stay in touch but as Sam became more controlling and possessive it was harder. Eventually communication stopped completely.

After almost a year of not speaking to each other Grian had reached out in desperation with his plan to leave the country, hoping for a couch to crash on for a few days while he started his new life. He got so much more than that- Jimmy had immediately given him his spare bedroom and introduced him to Joel, who gave him the job at the café.

He doesn't know how he would have done it without them.

Now here he was; paying rent, working at the café, and well on his way to getting back on track with his education. He had good friends, laughed every day, and often had a little money leftover at the end of the week he could do anything he wanted with. He was more free than he had been in half a decade, maybe even ever.

And yet, he selfishly still wanted Scar.

---

“Wait now, just hear me out, Grian!”

Grian huffed a fond but exasperated laugh as he hauled another massive cardboard box onto one of the café tables, tinsel already spilling out from the top. He finally was able to do some light lifting with his injury which was a relief, but he was still eager to get the cast removed as soon as possible. It itched constantly. “It's not going up, Scar. This is a café, on campus.”

“Mistletoe is a time honored Christmas tradition, G!”

Grian started digging around in the box, searching for the string lights, a slight smirk on his face he tried not to let Scar see. He loved getting Scar riled up like this, loved the banter they so easily fell into, loved how easy everything with Scar was. “Are you implying mistletoe is an essential holiday decoration? Because I hate to break it to you buddy, but it's a C-tier decoration at best. Maybe even D.”

Scar gaped at him, like he had just said something outrageous. “I can't believe you can say that- that's sacrilege! C-tier?! It's S-tier at least, probably even higher.”

Grian let out a small sound of triumph as he fished the lights out of the bottom of the box. “I don't think tiers work like that, what would be above S-tier anyways?”

“Gold, obviously.” The way Scar said it left little room to argue, so Grian just smiled and shook his head fondly.

“Regardless, I don't think it's the right place for it. Do you really want to be caught under there with one of your coworkers?” Grian looked up, eyes wide with mock exaggeration, “Or one of your students?”

Scar's face immediately contorted into something appalled, “I would never. Mistletoe isn't an obligation, it's a suggestion. A gentle nudge at best.” he sighed, pulling some lights out of the box in front of him as well and adding them to the pile Grian had started. “But okay, okay- I see your point. What about above the counter?”

Grian’s face scrunched up, “That’s even worse, do you know how many comments I would get? That would put it right above me.”

Scar's eyes widened and got a weird look to them as he thought it through. “Oh- no yeah you're totally right. Can't have that- nope.” Scar seemed to fumble for something to say, Grian couldn't help but find it endearing. “Well, maybe behind the counter then?”

Grian grinned sharply, pouncing at the opportunity to tease Scar further, “Wanting to watch me and Jimmy go at it then? Or is it Joel? Was that your plan from the start, Scar?”

Scar's face immediately flushed deeply as he sputtered, Grian wanted to bite the red blooming on his cheek. “No, no, no- G- That’s not what I-”

“I imagine the tips would be fantastic at least. Maybe you're onto something here.” Grian plucked the mistletoe from the table with a grin, only for Scar to immediately snatch it back.

“Y-you know, I'm starting to think mistletoe might only be a yellow-tier decoration. It should really just go back in the box.” Grian laughed and grabbed it back before Scar could stuff it underneath all the tinsel.

“We’ll toss it with the stuff going to Joel and Lizzie’s. They can use it at their holiday party. Fair compromise?” Scar huffed a laugh, nodding in agreement, cheeks still a bit flushed from the embarrassment.

Grian briefly entertained the idea of putting the mistletoe up anyways and trying to catch Scar unaware beneath it. But then he felt guilty for wanting to manufacture a situation that would ultimately make Scar uncomfortable.

They worked in companionable silence after that, hanging lights and arranging tinsel. Every so often, Grian would steal a glance at Scar, who was concentrating on untangling one of the cords. His face, still tinged pink from their earlier exchange, made Grian’s heart clench in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

When they finished, the café was glowing warmly from the multiple strings of lights and tinsel. Grian felt a cozy feeling settle in his chest looking at them, soaking in the atmosphere with pride and reverence.

He hadn't had the opportunity to enjoy something like this in years, maybe even a decade. The only thing that could make it better would be to have Joel, Lizzie, and Jimmy here, but that would come eventually.

He turned his grin to Scar, who was already staring at him, looking equally moved by the warm glow of the café.

After finishing up their drinks, Scar packed up his things and gave Grian one of those bright smiles that seemed to light up the whole room. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Grian said, though he felt a strange heaviness in his chest as he watched Scar leave. He stood there for a moment after the door closed, staring at the now empty café. The space suddenly felt much larger- too quiet, too still, the atmosphere a little cooler.

He locked up and put the leftover pastries away, his thoughts beginning to slump back to the malaise he had been feeling that morning.

He tried not to let it get to him. It had been such a fantastic day—laughing with Mumbo over engineering puns until they barely got any work done, then spending the afternoon with Scar, who had generously offered to help decorate the café during the lull. And with Jimmy making mushroom soup all afternoon, he knew there’d be a warm meal waiting when he got home. It was perfect, really. He shouldn't have been feeling this down.

His thoughts wandered back to their conversation after the movie last week. Scar had said something about love and second chances, and Grian hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

Maybe these overwhelming feelings meant he was ready to move on. That is was time to put this energy into building something with someone- not just mourning over something he couldn't have. A sign to give a relationship another chance. It was clear his heart desperately wanted one.

He had a gnawing fear, one that whispered that maybe he wasn’t capable of a healthy relationship anymore. What if he ended up like Sam- cruel, distant, damaging?

But when he thought of Scar, the worry seemed to dissipate, if only for a moment. He couldn’t imagine ever treating Scar with anything other than care and affection. He wanted to be tender with him, to make him laugh every day, to argue playfully over Christmas decorations, and to cuddle up on the couch afterwards.

So maybe Grian did have something to offer after all. And maybe it was time to test the waters.

He just wished it could be with Scar.

Chapter Text

Scar had just finished his final lecture before the winter break, wrapping up a discussion on modern architecture with an enthusiastic group of students. The room buzzed with a familiar energy as everyone packed up their things, talking about their projects, holiday plans, and end-of-semester celebrations. Scar always loved this time of year- there was something about the air turning colder and the promise of a few weeks of rest that made everyone more animated.

As the last few students trickled out, Gem, one of his brightest students, lingered near the front of the room. Scar wasn’t surprised- Gem had a reputation for being thorough, often staying after class to ask more questions or get extra feedback on her work.

"Professor Scar?" she asked, looking up from her notebook. “Could I talk to you about my final project?”

Scar smiled widely and nodded. “Of course, Gem! What’s on your mind?”

She approached his desk, her expression thoughtful as she shuffled her notes. “Well, I’ve been working on this concept, and I think it’s almost there, but I wanted your opinion on the use of open spaces in urban environments. You know, like what we discussed in today’s lecture?”

Scar leaned back in his chair, nodding along as she spoke. “Open spaces are crucial, especially in modern cities where things can feel cramped. They give people room to breathe, to gather, and—”

“And to meet people,” Gem added with a pointed look, the smallest of smirks on her face.

Scar blinked, caught off guard. But staring at her smirk, he realized he knew this game. This wasn’t the first time one of his students had slipped in a not-so-subtle question about his personal life under the guise of discussing architecture.

He blamed Scott for all of it, honestly. Ever since that day Scott spotted him at the café chatting with Grian, he had been far too interested in Scar’s relationship with the barista. He had the audacity to bring it up in class one day, joking about how Scar had “excellent taste in coffee,” and ever since then, the whole class seemed in on the act. Scar was certain Scott was running a secret betting pool on whether Scar would make a fool of himself around Grian.

Gem’s eyes sparkled mischievously as she continued. “Speaking of meeting people… any exciting holiday plans coming up?”

Scar cleared his throat, trying to keep the conversation on professional ground, but he could already feel the heat creeping up his neck. “Uh, nothing too wild. Just the usual- grading, catching up on some reading. The break should be a good chance to relax.”

Gem nodded thoughtfully, her tone innocent but her eyes far too knowing. “You spend a lot of time at that café, right? The one with the barista… Grian, I think? He always remembers my order.”

Scar shifted in his seat, already sensing where this was going. “Yeah, it’s a good place to get some work done. Grian’s a great guy.”

Gem grinned, like she had just struck gold. “Yeah, I’ve noticed! You two seem pretty close. Are you guys, like, doing anything fun over the break? Maybe some holiday plans?”

Scar tried not to visibly squirm. He knew his students had been watching his interactions with Grian—he’d caught them glancing over when he picked up his morning coffee or lingering. Scott, especially, was a menace in this regard. Still, despite knowing their weird investment, it always flustered him when they brought it up.

“Holiday plans?” Scar repeated, fumbling for a casual answer. “Oh, uh, no big plans really. I think Grian's got the café stuff keeping him busy.”

Gem raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. You know, you guys would make a cute couple. Just saying.”

Scar nearly choked on his words, flustered by her boldness. “What? No, I mean—Grian’s just a friend.”

Gem gave him an exaggerated shrug, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Right, just a friend. Got it.” She tucked her notebook under her arm, flashing him a smile as she turned to leave. “Well, thanks for the advice, Professor. See you after the break!”

And with that, she waltzed out of the classroom, leaving Scar sitting there, his face burning. Scar belatedly realized that Gem hadn’t asked about her project at all.

---

Scar trudged into Hermit Café, still feeling the lingering embarrassment from his conversation with Gem. The classroom banter and teasing always left him a bit flustered, and today had been no exception. His shoulders were heavy with the weight of the long lecture and the growing stack of grading waiting for him back at his office.

The café smelled of fresh coffee and warm pastries, instantly making him feel a little more at ease. There was something so comforting about the place. Maybe it was the familiar hum of conversation or the way the last light of the day streamed through the windows just right. Or maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the barista behind the counter.

Scar's eyes found Grian immediately, standing at the espresso machine, his focus sharp as he prepared a drink- cast replaced with a less unwieldy brace now. Grian's usual messy blonde hair fell into his eyes, and he pushed it back with his arm, not noticing that a bit of flour dusted the sleeve of his soft gray sweater. The corner of his mouth twitched as he concentrated, that ever-present glimmer of mischief hidden beneath the surface.

Scar swallowed, his heart beating a little faster as he walked up to the counter. It didn’t matter how many times he saw Grian at work, that same strange warmth always washed over him.

Grian’s face lit up the moment he saw him. “Hey, Scar!” His voice was warm, as though Scar was the person he had been waiting to see all day. “Rough lecture?”

Scar let out a long sigh, leaning against the counter. "Just one of those days. Work always goes into overdrive this time of year."

Grian grinned, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ah, poor Professor Scar, burdened with the heavy weight of shaping young minds.” He leaned in a little, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. "I could offer some sympathy... if you ask nicely."

Scar chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. "Yeah? That’s a pretty big if, isn’t it?”

“Very big,” Grian confirmed, eyes bright. He reached for a cup. “Your usual?”

“Please,” Scar said, nodding gratefully.

As Grian moved to make his drink, Scar took his usual table by the window. From there, he had the perfect view of the counter- and of Grian. He settled into his chair, taking a deep breath and letting himself relax. As he waited, his eyes kept drifting back to Grian, who was busy making drinks, chatting with other customers, and doing it all with the ease that came from loving what he did.

It was impossible not to admire him.

Scar had always thought Grian was good-looking, sure, but lately, it had become something more. Watching him now, it struck Scar how effortlessly pretty Grian was. It wasn’t just his features, though his soft deep-blonde hair and dark eyes were always the first things people noticed. No, it was more than that- it was the way Grian moved, the way his eyes lit up when he talked to someone, the way he leaned on the counter like he had all the time in the world for whoever needed him.

Scar’s gaze lingered as Grian laughed at something Jimmy said, his smile wide and genuine, his eyes crinkling at the corners. That laugh- it always did something to Scar, made him feel lighter, like maybe everything would be okay as long as Grian was around.

He thought about the little things Grian did that made him feel… well, made him feel warm. The way Grian would always sneak him a cookie when Scar had a bad day. How he could tell when Scar needed a quiet moment and would give him space, only to pop by his table later with some small joke or comment that never failed to make him smile.

Scar’s chest tightened, a strange ache settling there. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, still watching Grian as he worked. He was a little messy, flour on his sleeve from restocking the scones, a small streak of chocolate on his cheek from making a drink, but it just made him all the more endearing.

God, he was so... so good.

Scar didn't even notice when his drink was ready, too absorbed in his thoughts. Grian must have noticed because a moment later, Scar heard a soft chuckle.

“You planning to stare all day or actually drink your coffee?” Grian asked, grinning as he placed the cup on the table in front of Scar.

Scar blinked, startled. “What? Oh, sorry—just, uh, thinking.”

“About the upcoming grading you're going to have to do?” Grian teased, though his tone was light. “You’re looking pretty intense over there.”

Scar smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah… something like that.”

Grian gave him a knowing look but didn’t press. “Well, you know where to find me if you need to talk.” He winked, turning back to the counter.

Scar watched him go, that ache in his chest growing. He took a sip of his coffee, grateful for the warmth, but his thoughts were far from his grading or his lecture.

Scar settled back into his chair as the café began to empty for the evening. He had his laptop open, but his attention was still split between his work and sneaking glances at Grian, who was moving around behind the counter.

It wasn’t unusual for Grian to be the center of attention in the café- his friendly nature and bright smile always drew people in- but Scar’s focus today was sharper than usual. Maybe it was the lingering warmth from their earlier banter about mistletoe, or maybe it was just the way Grian looked in that oversized gray sweater, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he worked. Whatever it was, Scar found it difficult to focus on anything but him.

That’s when Scar noticed someone new approach the counter.

BigB was a familiar face around campus, though Scar only knew him in passing. He worked in the administration department, and from what Scar had gathered, he was well-liked- friendly, always charming. Today, though, Scar felt a little uneasy as he watched BigB lean casually on the counter, chatting with Grian.

The tone of their conversation was light, but it wasn’t hard to pick up on the flirtation. BigB’s easy grin, the way he leaned in slightly as he spoke, and the way Grian’s expression shifted- a little reluctant at first, but gradually more engaged.

Scar’s stomach twisted.

He tried to focus on his laptop, but his ears picked up on bits of the conversation anyway.

“So, Grian, what’s it like working in the coolest café on campus?” BigB’s voice was smooth, teasing, and Scar’s eyes darted over in time to see Grian chuckle softly.

“Oh, you know, it has its perks,” Grian replied, though his smile seemed a little stiff at first. His eyes flickered in Scar’s direction, just for a moment, as if checking to see if he was watching.

Scar’s chest tightened. Why was Grian looking at him? Was it just instinct, or was he hoping for some kind of... signal? Scar wasn’t sure, and the uncertainty gnawed at him. He wanted to believe it meant something, but—

“Would one of those perks be the customers?” BigB continued, his tone unmistakably flirtatious.

Grian hesitated, his eyes darting to Scar again before returning to BigB. There was a split-second where Scar thought- hoped- that Grian wouldn’t flirt back, but then it happened.

“Well, I suppose some people are worth the company,” Grian said, a small smirk tugging at his lips. It was almost playful, but Scar could tell Grian wasn’t fully invested in the banter. Still, he flirted back, and Scar’s heart sank.

BigB, on the other hand, looked pleasantly surprised. His grin widened, clearly enjoying the exchange. “Hey, I’ll take that as a compliment. You know, I’ve been meaning to ask- maybe we could grab coffee sometime? You know, when you're not tied up behind the counter.” He pulled out his phone, holding it out. “We could exchange numbers, if you’re interested.”

Scar’s breath caught in his throat. He watched Grian pause, eyes flickering between BigB’s phone and, once again, in Scar’s direction. This time, though, Grian didn’t hold Scar’s gaze for long. After a moment of hesitation, Grian accepted the offer, taking BigB’s phone and typing in his number.

Scar felt something inside him twist painfully.

Jealousy. Of course, that was the first thing that hit him. He should have been the one asking Grian out, the one flirting without hesitation. But he hadn't. And now, watching someone else step into the space he hadn’t dared to occupy, it stung in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

But it wasn’t just jealousy. It was regret- regret for all the moments he hadn’t taken advantage of, for all the times he held back, for thinking that maybe waiting for the right moment would eventually pay off. Now he wasn’t sure there would be a right moment at all.

And then came the anger. Not at Grian, no- he couldn’t be mad at Grian. After all, he had been the one to tell him that he should move on when he was ready, to try dating again. Scar had even reassured him after he had opened up about his ex. He had practically encouraged Grian to find someone. He just hadn’t expected that Grian would choose someone who wasn’t... him.

Scar looked down at his coffee, his fingers clenching around the warm cup. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, but it wasn’t just anger. It was sadness too- this deep, hollow ache that he couldn’t shake.

Because the truth was, he couldn’t be mad. He couldn’t fault Grian for doing exactly what Scar had told him to do. Grian deserved happiness, deserved someone who would treat him right. Scar had wanted to be that person. He still wanted to be that person.

When BigB finally left the café, Grian turned to Scar, offering a tentative smile, but there was a hint of confusion in his eyes, like he wasn’t sure how Scar was feeling or what to say. Scar wasn’t sure how to read Grian’s expression, but he knew he had to say something, anything, to break the awkward silence between them.

“Hey,” Scar started, his voice light, though it took everything he had to keep it steady. “Looks like you’ve got plans lined up.” He forced a small smile, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt.

Grian blinked, his brow furrowing slightly. “Oh... yeah, I guess so. That just kind of happened.”

Scar nodded, swallowing down the lump forming in his throat. “Well, that’s... good! You deserve to go out and have fun.”

Grian's eyes flickered with something Scar couldn't quite place. He seemed about to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, Grian just nodded, though he didn’t look entirely comfortable with the situation either.

There was a pause, the silence between them thick and awkward, and Scar could feel the tension pressing down on him. He needed to get out of there, to give himself some space to process what had just happened.

“I should probably get going,” Scar said suddenly, his voice too quick, too bright. “I’ve got, uh... papers to grade. You know, end-of-term stuff.”
Grian looked up at him, his expression softening. “Oh... okay. I didn’t know you had so much to do. You’ve been in here most of the evening.”

Scar laughed, but it sounded hollow to his own ears. “Yeah, well, can’t procrastinate forever, right?” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his nerves tightening with each passing second. “I’ll catch you later, alright?”

Grian opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something else, but all he managed was a quiet, “Yeah, see you.”

Scar offered one last, forced smile before grabbing his bag and heading toward the door. He kept his steps light, casual, like nothing was wrong—like his chest wasn’t weighed down by the unspoken feelings and missed opportunities between them.

Just before he stepped outside, he glanced back one last time. Grian was still watching him, that same confused, hesitant expression on his face, like he wasn’t sure what had just happened or why Scar had left so suddenly.

Scar didn’t know what else to do. He had told Grian to move on, to find someone else. He couldn’t be mad now that Grian had taken his advice. So why did it hurt so much?

It didn't take him long to answer that question.

Scar let out a shaky breath. He told himself he’d be fine, that this would all blow over eventually. But deep down, he couldn’t help but wonder—if Grian had been ready to date again, why hadn’t he chosen him?

With his thoughts swirling, Scar made his way back to his office, the sound of his own footsteps echoing in his ears, each step a little heavier than the last.

---

Scar sat hunched over his desk, the silence of his office pressing down on him like a weight. The echo of Grian’s hesitant smile as he accepted BigB’s number kept playing in his mind, a loop he couldn’t shut off. Every second of that moment was etched into him—the awkward flirting, the glances Grian had thrown his way, as if asking for something Scar didn’t know how to give. Encouragement probably. And then, that small, telling moment when Grian had taken the number. It felt like a punch to the gut.

Scar’s stomach twisted painfully. He had told Grian to move on. To try again when he was ready. But he hadn’t expected it to be like this. He hadn’t expected Grian to choose someone else.

His hand trembled as he reached for his phone, hovering over Cub’s name in his contacts. There was a lump in his throat, a tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe. He felt foolish—grown men didn’t cry over crushes. But right now, Scar needed his best friend. He needed Cub’s steadiness, his no-nonsense attitude.

The phone rang twice before Cub’s familiar voice crackled through the speaker. "Hey, Scar. What’s going on?"

Scar tried to speak, but his voice cracked. He bit his lip, trying to compose himself, but Cub immediately picked up on the silence.

"Scar? You okay?" Cub’s voice softened a bit, concerned now.

"I... I messed up, Cub." Scar’s voice wavered, the words barely coming out. "I watched him give his number to someone else. I just stood there."

Cub was quiet for a moment, letting Scar’s words sink in. "Wait—Grian gave someone his number? When did this happen?"

"Today. At the café." Scar wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, eyes burning, swallowing hard. "I didn’t know what to say. I just... left." He paused to collect himself, and failed. "I didn't think it would happen this way. I thought I'd be okay. It really hurts."

Cub let out a low whistle, his voice sympathetic. "Scar, you’re not okay with it because you’ve been in love with him for months. You’re just now realizing that you can’t sit on the sidelines anymore."

Scar’s breath hitched at the word. Love. It was still new. "But… maybe he’s better off with someone else. He’s moving on from his ex. And besides, he didn’t pick me."

"Of course he didn’t pick you," Cub replied, his tone sharper, though not unkind. "He doesn’t know he can pick you, Scar. You’ve never told him how you feel. How’s he supposed to know you’re an option?"

There was a pause, and then Cub’s voice lightened. "You had to have noticed the way Grian was staring at you at that Halloween party. That Hot Guy costume you wore? He couldn’t take his eyes off you."

Scar’s face heated instantly, his ears burning. "What? No way. He wasn’t—"

"Oh, yes, he was," Cub continued, fully confident. "You were standing there in your ridiculous spandex, and Grian was looking at you like you were his favorite dessert. You missed it because you’re too dense when it comes to yourself."

Scar’s heart thudded in his chest, his mind racing back to that night. He had joked around with Grian, sure, but he hadn’t thought anything of it. Grian had seemed… normal. Maybe a little more flustered than usual, but Scar had written it off. But now… now it felt like he had missed something crucial.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Scar muttered, half in disbelief. "I thought he was just… being nice."

Cub sighed, exasperated but still patient. "Scar, I’m telling you, Grian is into you. He’s been into you. But he probably thinks you’re not interested because you’ve never made a move- like I've been telling you for weeks. He’s not a mind reader, you know."

Scar sat back in his chair, the weight of Cub’s words sinking in. Could it really be that simple? That Grian had been waiting for Scar to do something, and Scar had been too blind- or too scared- to see it?

He thought back to the looks Grian had shot him in the café while he was talking to BigB.

"But… what if he’s not ready?" Scar’s voice was small, hesitant. "I don’t want to push him too fast. He’s still recovering from everything with ex."

"Scar, give Grian some credit," Cub said, his voice firm but gentle. "He’s a grown man. He knows his own mind. And if he’s taking peoples' numbers, that means he’s probably ready to date again, right?"

Scar nodded, though Cub couldn’t see him. "I told him he should move on when he was ready… but I didn’t think it would be with someone else. I thought maybe…"

"Maybe he’d pick you?" Cub finished for him, his voice softening.

Scar swallowed hard, his heart tightening. "Yeah."

There was a pause, and when Cub spoke again, his voice was tender. "Scar, you’ve been patient. You’ve been there for him. But now it’s time to be honest. Talk to him. Let him know how you feel. I think you’ll be surprised by what happens."

Scar closed his eyes, wiping away another tear. "But what if I ruin everything, Cub? What if he doesn’t feel the same?"

"You won’t ruin it," Cub reassured him, his voice steady. "The only way you’ll ruin it is if you don’t say anything and let him think you don’t care. Trust me, Scar, you’ve got to take the leap."

Scar exhaled shakily, his heart still heavy but somehow lighter after talking to Cub. "Okay… I’ll think about it."

"Good," Cub said, warmth returning to his voice. "And remember, I’m here for you, no matter what."

"Thanks, Cub," Scar whispered, feeling the weight in his chest loosen just a little. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You’d probably still be sitting in your office wallowing," Cub teased lightly, though his tone was affectionate. "Go on, think about what I said. When you’re ready, go talk to him."

"I will," Scar promised, though nerves still gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. "Talk soon, Cub."

"Talk soon, Scar."

Scar packed his things slowly, each movement feeling heavier than usual. The weight of his conversation with Cub clung to him, settling in his chest like a stubborn ache. The snow outside had thickened, its delicate flakes floating down to cover the campus in a quiet blanket. He zipped his coat all the way up, tucking his scarf tightly around his neck as he wheeled himself out of his office.

It was dark and the campus was quiet. Most students had gone home or to study sessions, leaving the usual busy paths peaceful, the soft crunch of snow under his wheels the only sound breaking the stillness. Scar welcomed the silence, letting it wrap around him, though his mind buzzed with everything Cub had said.

You’re too dense when it comes to yourself.

Was he? Maybe. Probably. But it wasn’t that simple. It couldn’t be. What if Cub was wrong? What if confessing his feelings was the worst possible thing he could do?

His mind spiraled as he wheeled through the snowy pathways. He could see it clearly now- the scene playing out like a slow-motion train wreck. He’d tell Grian how he felt, and Grian’s face would fall, maybe soften into that familiar, kind expression he used when he didn’t want to hurt someone. Grian would be gentle about it, Scar knew that. But it wouldn’t make the rejection any easier.

Scar imagined Grian’s awkward apology, the stilted words about not feeling the same way, followed by the tentative suggestion that they could stay friends. Scar would smile, laugh it off, pretend it didn’t hurt. But it would. It would hurt more than anything. And then what? Would he still go to the café, knowing Grian knew? Would they be able to keep talking, keep bantering like they always had, when everything was out in the open?

He didn’t think so.

He slowed his pace, his wheels making soft tracks in the snow as that terrifying reality sank in. The more he thought about it, the more scared he became. He would lose Grian before he even had the chance to have him.

Scar stopped, his hands tightening on the sides of his chair as he looked out over the snow-covered campus. A few bundled-up students wandered by in the distance, their laughter and chatter faint in the crisp air. Scar wondered what Grian was doing right now. Maybe still at the café, maybe already home with Jimmy.

What if it worked out?

The thought came out of nowhere, startling him out of his dark reverie. What if… what if Cub was right? What if Grian did feel the same way? What if all this doubt, all this fear, was just that—fear? Not reality.

Scar’s heart picked up pace, warmth blossoming through the cold. What if, instead of pushing Scar away, Grian leaned in? What if Grian smiled when he confessed, his eyes lighting up the way they did when they were bantering? What if he stepped closer, and they shared a kiss? A real kiss.

Scar could see it now, feel it even—the way Grian’s lips would press against his, soft and tentative at first, but then deepening. The way Grian’s hands would grip his shoulders, pulling him closer. He could feel his heart race, his breath catch, the world narrowing down to just the two of them.

And suddenly, Scar let the fantasy unfurl. He could see it all so clearly now- a future with Grian, a life full of laughter and arguments and comfort. Coming home to Grian, finding him curled up on the couch with a Hot Guy comic in hand, teasing each other about the latest issue. Late nights spent designing their dream home, Scar insisting on adding impractical features while Grian pretended to argue, secretly loving every minute of it.

He thought about dragging Grian to amusement parks, Grian laughing as they raced from ride to ride, their playful banter echoing through the air. And then, at the end of the day, they’d be on the carousel, the lights blurring around them, and Scar would lean in, pressing a kiss to Grian’s lips. It would be perfect.

And then there would be the quieter moments. He thought about waking up to Grian tangled in his sheets, the two of them making pancakes in the morning, the kitchen filled with the sound of Grian’s laugh as Scar tried to flip a pancake and completely missed.

He thought about Grian dancing in the kitchen with him after a long day, the way his body would feel pressed against Scar’s as they swayed together, music playing softly out of one of their phones in the background. They’d be tired, but happy, laughing quietly as they moved together, the day’s stress melting away.

Scar could almost see it: Grian teasing him, nudging his side, then pulling him closer. He’d make some sarcastic comment about Scar’s poor dancing, and Scar would just laugh, twirling Grian around, both of them so at ease with each other that even the simplest moments felt like magic.

This- this was the life Scar wanted. This was the future he could have with Grian.

His heart pounded in his chest, the realization crashing over him like a wave. He wanted that life. He wanted Grian.

But none of that would happen if he didn’t take the first step.

Maybe Grian was waiting for him, just as he had been waiting for Grian.

Scar exhaled, the cold air swirling around him as he made his way through the snowy campus. His decision was made.

He had to tell Grian how he felt.

Chapter Text

Every year Joel procrastinated putting up decorations, and every year he regretted it. Which led him to digging through boxes of tinsel and holly at midnight on a Saturday when he’d rather be sloshed with his mates or cuddled up in bed with Lizzie.

He had asked Jimmy to cover for him at the café in the morning, who had promptly shut him down saying he had plans. Joel had scoffed, citing that the only two people he could possibly have plans with were working at the café so he might as well come in. Jimmy didn't like that very much. He had, however, used Jimmy’s refusal to guilt trip the blonde into coming over to help with the decorating, so at least something came out of it.

Still, he'd probably have to put Grian on customer service duty tomorrow. Although he was unsure if the barista would be much better considering all the pathetic moping he’d been doing lately.

It had to have something to do with Scar, given how Grian would stare at the main entrance and sigh about twenty times a shift- the absolute moron.

He couldn't blame Grian too much though, Scar had been acting downright weird the last week. The professor used to spend at least an hour a day at the café, in his favourite spot directly across from Grian’s usual station, now he seemed to rush in and duck out just as quickly. Mumbling incomplete sentences and barely meeting Grian’s eyes.

Something must have happened between them, but Grian seemed just as confused, if not more so, by Scar’s behavior.

Joel ripped into the next box, Lizzie’s collection of furry gnomes immediately staring blankly up at him as though mocking him.

Those two were going to drive him insane.

It had been going on for months now, this dance between Grian and Scar. He noted it when Scar first started coming to the café- their bantering which could only be interpreted as sickening flirting, the longing stares when the other wasn't looking, the inside jokes they seemed to form way too quickly for new acquaintances. Joel gagged a bit.

He had been forced to bear witness to a ton of small moments between the two that made it so obvious how absolutely smitten they are with each other. There was that day when they were huddled together at the back table, working on one of Scar's projects. Joel watched from behind the counter as they leaned in close, practically whispering, their knees pressed together under the table. They were so animated, talking about building designs, structure, and materials.

He remembered how Grian had casually mentioned that he'd never been to an amusement park, glancing over at the other man with a smile- as if he were slick. Scar's face had lit up with excitement and Joel had held his breath, waiting for Scar to take the obvious hint and invite Grian out. But instead, Scar had just smiled and said something like “You should go sometime, you'd love it!” and the moment passed.

Joel had wanted to reach across the table and strangle him. “Idiots,” he muttered.

Then, of course, there was the Halloween party. Grian and Scar had shown up in matching superhero costumes like some super gay rom-com. Grian dressed in tight white shorts and angel wings, and Scar dressed equally as embarrassing. It was so obvious neither of them had planned it, but the way they stared at each other all night? Joel nearly wanted to hurl. They spent the whole party practically glued to each other’s side making the grossest faces at each other, and yet somehow neither of them had the sense to turn that into a moment.

“Idiots,” Joel had muttered to himself then too, feeling more exasperated than ever. Two perfectly good, incredibly stupid idiots.

And then there was the movie night. That had been Joel’s master plan. The two were falling all over each other talking about their stupid nerd movie, and when it was clear Scar was going to mess up this obvious opportunity too Joel suggested the outing, got everyone on board, and at the last minute, convinced everyone to back out, leaving Grian and Scar alone. It was foolproof—at least, he thought it was.

But when he asked Grian how it went, all he got was, “It was fun! Scar made me laugh so hard I spilled nachos on myself.”

Joel had groaned out loud in frustration after all that. How could they not see it?

Now, things were just awkward. Grian seemed confused, lost, like he didn't know where things stood with Scar anymore. And Scar? Scar had retreated into this flustered mess, hardly able to string together a proper sentence whenever Grian was around.

Joel kicked the now empty box into the corner with the rest, rubbing his temples, trying to piece together what went wrong. They were both so stupidly in love, and yet here they were, both too afraid or too oblivious to make a move.

"They're driving me crazy," Joel muttered. "Idiots."

“What’s that, boss?” Jimmy asked as he came into the room, arms full of garlands and wreaths. He plopped them down on the couch before raising an eyebrow at Joel.

Joel didn’t even bother looking up. “Oh, you know, just thinking about our two favorite morons.”

Jimmy groaned in frustration, flopping onto the couch. “Scar and Grian. Seriously, those two are driving me nuts. Grian came home after decorating the café last week and I swear, I’ve never seen him so melancholic. He spent half the night staring into his soup like it was gonna give him life advice or something. Lovesick as hell.”

Joel sighed, shaking his head as he continued untangling the lights. “I know. They’re both so damn obvious about it, and yet they refuse to do anything. Scar hasn’t been himself lately either- it’s like he’s forgotten how to speak english every time he walks into the café. You should see him; the guy barely gets out a full sentence when he talks to Grian now.”

Jimmy nodded solemnly. “I caught Scar talking to himself out front of the café on Saturday morning- like he was trying to pump himself up before going in. Looked extremely flustered to be caught and just… left. Didn't even go in.” Jimmy's face scrunched up as he inspected a particularly tangled strand of garland, “Came back later though, just to awkwardly say three words to Grian and retreat like he was taking part in a heist that went wrong.”

Joel continued arranging the gnomes around the room sighing in solidarity, “God, that's embarrassing. What is he thinking?”

Jimmy shook his head, “Who knows, honestly my first thought was that maybe he’s trying to work up the courage to ask Grian out himself. Apparently Scar saw a customer give Grian their number and he’s been weird ever since. That's what Scott told me at least.”

Joel smirked, he’d nearly forgotten about that half thought out plan. “Oh good- so BigB came in and made a move?”

“Yeah, I honestly feel bad for the guy- getting in the middle of this mess-” Jimmy suddenly spun around, facing Joel, “Wait- you knew about that?”

Joel shrugged with a grin, “BigB owed me a favour. Figured it might push Scar into action if I put the pressure on.”

“Joel! That's evil!”

“What's evil is that, at the rate this is going, we're going to be watching those two losers stumble over each other for years. Can you really take another 3 months of Grian's pathetic sighs and Scar's puppy eyes? Because I certainly can't.”

Jimmy laughed and shook his head. “It's just sad at this point. But even that didn't work- Scar's just acting downright weird now and Grian thinks it's his fault.” He threw himself down on the coach, bouncing the decorations strewn across it. “Everyone can see they're so gone for each other except themselves.”

“Exactly!” Joel threw his hands up in exasperation. “It’s like, how many more signs do they need? It’s not rocket science! They’re both perfect for each other.”

Jimmy sighed, picking at a strand of garland. “I know. Grian deserves to be happy after everything with Sam, and Scar—well, Scar would do anything to make him happy. You can see it in his eyes.”

Joel nodded, feeling his frustration simmer just beneath the surface. “They’re good for each other. If only they weren’t so damn oblivious.”

Jimmy groaned. “I just want to knock their heads together. It’s been months, Joel. Months.”

Joel smirked, setting down the lights and leaning forward. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.”

Jimmy sat up, curious. “Oh yeah? What are you cooking up this time?”

Joel leaned back with a grin, pulling out a small sprig of mistletoe from the decoration box. “This.”

Jimmy blinked at it. “Mistletoe?”

Joel’s grin widened. “Scar’s definitely coming to the holiday party, and Grian will be there too. We're going to make sure they end up under this together. One kiss, and bam! They’ll finally have to face the fact that they’re disgustingly into each other.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes, “Isn't that a little… childish? Cliché? You really think something that stupid will work?”

Joel nodded confidently. “Childish problems call for childish solutions. They just need one push, and this is it. The nuclear option. They’re already halfway there- this’ll just tip them over the edge.”

Jimmy laughed, shaking his head. “You really are evil, Joel.”

Joel twirled the mistletoe between his fingers, his grin not fading for a second. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. It’s about time they stop being clueless idiots. I’m a genius, trust me, you’ll be singing my praises by boxing day.”

Jimmy chuckled softly. “Don't Suppose you could save it for New Years? I have a good amount of money coming in if they get together on New Years.”

Joel snorted and rolled his eyes. “Oh, trust me, you’re not the only one in Scott's pool. I’ve got my money riding on this mistletoe.”

Jimmy sighed. “Those idiots better thank us when this is all over.”

Joel smirked, twirling the mistletoe again. “Oh, they will, Jimmy. They will.”

---

The next morning, Joel could sense that something was off the moment Grian walked into the café. Grian wasn’t typically a morning person, but today he seemed even worse- hair a mess and dark circles under his eyes. He muttered a “hey” to Joel, not even sparing a sarcastic comment for the electro-funk blaring from the café speakers. Grian hated electro-funk.

"Morning, Grian," Joel greeted, watching Grian shuffle behind the counter. “You good?”

Grian offered a tight smile, "Yeah, just tired, you know? Holidays and all."

Joel wasn't buying it, but he didn’t push right away. He’d known Grian long enough to understand Grian didn’t easily open up about anything personal. Still, Joel couldn’t let this one slide. Grian had been in a funk all week, but today seemed worse.

He grabbed a nearby towel and started wiping down the counter, trying to seem casual as he edged closer to Grian. “You sure? You’ve been looking a bit… off lately.” Joel tossed the towel over his shoulder and leaned against the counter. "And by 'off,' I mean like you slept less than I did last night, and I was up until two in the morning arranging gnomes. What’s going on?"

Grian hesitated, the question hanging between them as he set up the coffee machine. He seemed to consider brushing it off, like he usually did, but then sighed heavily. “I don’t know, Joel… I’ve just—been thinking about a lot of stuff.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Scar?”

Grian didn’t answer right away, but his silence was telling. His eyes flickered with something, a mix of guilt and frustration, and Joel wondered if that meant things with Scar were even more complicated than he thought.

“It’s not just him,” Grian said finally, his voice quieter. "It’s… everything. I’m trying to move on from… well all the stuff that happened a few weeks ago. Still trying to decide whether to press charges. I have to start thinking about my University application and get my transfer papers in order. There's also the holidays which have always just been- weird for me. And then there’s Scar, and I just—"

Grian paused, clearly unsure of how much to say. Joel, for his part, felt slightly awkward; Grian didn’t usually open up like this, and Joel didn’t quite know how to navigate it. Still, he wasn’t about to back down now.

“Look, mate, I know it’s been rough, and I’m not saying it’s easy to just get over stuff like that. But honestly, you’ve come a long way. Since I’ve known you, you’ve grown so much- no joke.”

Grian looked up at Joel, blinking in surprise. “You think so?”

Joel nodded, arms crossed. “Hell yeah. You’ve gone from looking like a guy who barely wanted to be here to someone who’s... well, you’re doing good. You’re actually smiling, cracking jokes, getting involved with the café. You’re way better off than when you started.”

Grian’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at his lips, though it didn’t erase the sadness entirely. "The café's been... a big part of that. Getting out of that relationship, moving on- it’s been hard. But being here, working here... it’s helped."

The hidden thank you was obvious. Joel appreciated the vulnerability in Grian’s words, even if it was uncomfortable for both of them. He wasn’t exactly the emotional type, but seeing Grian like this reminded him of how important it was to check in on his friends, especially when they clearly needed support.

"Well, I'm glad the café's been good for you. Even though you're a pain in my ass most days," Joel said with a teasing grin, lightening the mood.

Grian chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. "Same to you, mate."

Joel smiled, satisfied he was getting through. "Look, Christmas is coming up soon. Gotta get you out of this funk." He threw a playful punch at Grian’s arm. "And hey, if you're not doing anything for Christmas day itself, why don’t you come over? Jimmy’ll be there, and Lizzie’s gonna make way too much food. Better than spending the day alone.”

Grian blinked in surprise at the offer, and for a second, Joel thought he might refuse out of awkwardness. But then Grian gave a small, appreciative nod.

“That… that’d be nice, actually. Thanks, Joel.”

“No worries,” Joel replied, brushing off the moment of sentimentality with a wave of his hand. "Besides, we can’t have you moping around here. It’s bad for business.”

Grian snorted, finally showing some genuine amusement. "Yeah, wouldn't want to bring down the café’s holiday cheer."

Joel grinned. "Exactly."

As they continued to work in the café, Joel was relieved to see Grian lighten up a little, the weight on his shoulders seeming just a bit less heavy. The conversation had been awkward, sure, but Joel knew that sometimes, that’s what friends had to do- push through the discomfort to get to the real stuff.

The day seemed to be on an upward swing, and Joel was feeling very self-satisfied about it, thank you very much.

Until later, when Scar wheeled into the café, wearing that same determined-yet-nervous look Joel had seen for days now.

Grian, behind the counter wiping it down, brightened the second he saw him. But it wasn’t quite the easy smile Joel was used to seeing when Scar came in- it was a little more cautious, like Grian was holding something back.

“Hey, G!" Scar replied, his voice a bit too high-pitched to seem casual. He cleared his throat and leaned on the counter, but instead of the usual smooth conversation, Scar looked flustered. His fingers tapped anxiously on the countertop, eyes darting between Grian and the coffee machines.

Joel smirked behind Grian’s back, immediately noticing how Scar seemed to be working himself up into a frenzy. Maybe Jimmy had been onto something.

Grian waited, expecting some usual quip or joke. Instead, Scar just stood there, fumbling. "Uh... I was thinking—" Scar began but stopped abruptly, his cheeks flushing. He blinked, looking anywhere but at Grian, before quickly adding, “Can I get my usual?”

Joel took no small amount of pride in how he refrained from banging his head against the espresso machine.

“Your usual?” Grian echoed, his smile faltering a little. He shot Joel a quick look, hoping for some silent explanation of Scar’s weird behavior. Joel shrugged.

Scar seemed to sense the awkwardness, but he nodded too quickly. "Y-Yeah. Just the usual." He avoided Grian's eyes, looking almost defeated, like the words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat.

“Yeah, for sure. Of course, buddy.” Grian let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and moved to make the drink, looking like he was desperately trying to maintain his smile as he frothed the milk and prepared the coffee. “Busy day?”

Scar shifted in his seat. “Oh, you know, the usual. Last exam today… just, uh, looking forward to the break.”

“Right,” Grian said, a bit quieter. “Same here.”

It wasn’t the first time Joel had seen this exact dance between them—Scar, trying to build up the courage to say something, and Grian, trying to act like everything was fine, even though he clearly felt the tension. It was like watching a train inch toward a destination but never quite making it there.

“Any fun plans for the break?” Grian asked, handing Scar his drink, his smile a little too forced.

Scar paused, mouth opening and closing like a fish for a few moments before he chuckled nervously. “Oh, uh, no. Same stuff. Nothing special.”

Grian nodded, a bit sadly, and clearly at loss for something to say. “Well… it’s good to see you.”

That seemed to take Scar by surprise, his eyes widening slightly. “Yeah? It’s good to see you too.”

Joel internally groaned. Come on, Scar, you absolute loser.

Grian gave a small smile, but Joel could see the uncertainty behind it. What Jimmy had said last night, about Grian thinking this was his fault, suddenly made sense. He looked like he wasn’t sure if Scar had been avoiding him or if he had done something wrong. “I thought maybe you were avoiding the café lately.”

Scar’s eyes widened even more. “Oh! No, no, I just—uh, I’ve been… busy, but not avoiding the café. Definitely not avoiding you!”

Grian blinked, clearly confused, but he smiled softly anyway. “Good to know.”

There was a long, awkward pause as Scar fidgeted with his cup, glancing down at it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Grian, meanwhile, looked like he wanted to ask more but didn’t want to make things worse.

“Well, uh… I should probably get back to grading. You know how it is,” Scar mumbled, though it was obvious he didn’t really want to leave.

“Yeah, of course,” Grian said, his smile faltering just a little. “See you later, then.”

“Yeah. See you later,” Scar said quickly, nodding far too many times as he wheeled toward the door.

Joel rolled his eyes. Idiots, he thought.
Just as Scar reached the door, Grian’s eyes tracking his retreat, Joel couldn’t take it anymore.

“Scar!” Joel called, stepping forward. “You’re still coming to our Christmas party, right?”

Scar stopped in his tracks, turning around, looking startled. “Christmas party?”

“Yeah,” Joel said casually, trying to keep things light. “At our place. We’ll all be there-” he shot what he hoped was a discrete look to the other barista, “you should definitely be there too.”

Scar’s eyes flicked to Grian, who looked equally surprised. “Oh! Uh, sure! Yeah, I’d love to.”

Joel grinned, satisfied. “Awesome. It’s gonna be fun.”

Scar looked relieved, though still a little flustered. “Thanks for the invite.”

“No problem,” Joel said, waving it off. “See you there.”

As Scar finally wheeled out of the café, Joel turned to Grian, who was staring after Scar, still looking a little lost.

“What just happened?” Grian asked, his brow furrowed.

Joel laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Nothing to worry about, G. Trust me, everything’s going to be fine.”

Grian gave him a look, still clearly confused, but Joel just grinned wider. He had a plan, and come hell or high water, these two were going to stop dancing around each other if it was the last thing he did.

Idiots.

Chapter Text

Scar stared up at his ceiling. It was his new nightly routine: wash the dishes, shower, brush his teeth, fall into bed—only to stare at the faintly cracked paint above and think about blonde hair and dark, captivating eyes. He’d replay their conversations, every shared laugh, every lingering glance. He’d carefully construct the perfect way to ask Grian out, the words dancing through his mind like an unspoken sonnet.

It wasn’t healthy, Scar knew. Especially now, when his focus should be on marking exams and final projects. He hadn’t lied to Grian all those months ago when he’d said finals were a nightmare for professors. They drained him every year, no matter how much he smiled through the stress.

And god, he was tired.

It should be a simple mission: ask his friend out to dinner. Grian had always been easy to talk to. From the moment they’d met, Scar had been overflowing with words for him. Conversations came effortlessly, like they had known each other in another life. But somehow, this felt different. Every time he entered the café now, every time he thought about saying the words, his mouth would dry up and his courage would abandon him.

Scar sighed, rolling onto his side. He could almost reach for his phone, almost send a message just to feel connected to Grian for a moment. But that impulse warred with the fear of saying something wrong, of revealing too much too soon.

It wasn’t simple anymore. Not when Scar had convinced himself that this moment, this opportunity, was fleeting. That he had to act before it slipped away.

He hated the thought of BigB, hated replaying that interaction in his head. It wasn’t fair to Grian, nor was it fair to himself. Scar wasn’t shy. He flirted often, enjoyed it even, but this was different. Grian was different.

A low rumble interrupted his spiraling thoughts, his phone lighting up the dim ceiling. He hesitated, biting back a groan. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, but the thought that it might be Grian—

He rolled over, swiping the screen open.

Grian:
Hey
Did I do something wrong?

Scar’s heart clenched. He’d expected Grian to notice his awkwardness, but seeing the words hit like a punch to the gut. There were seven previous messages from Grian sitting unanswered, each beginning with some version of “I know you’re busy, but—” and followed by memes or videos Scar would normally laugh at and reply to. Now, Grian was lying awake somewhere, blaming himself for Scar’s anxiety and avoidance.

He exhaled sharply, his fingers hovering over the keyboard before finally typing:

Scar:
No, not at all!
I’ve just been stressed lately—sorry if I made things weird.

It was true, but incomplete. He had made things weird. And the worst part was that it wasn’t because of anything Grian had done. Scar was the one tying himself in knots, unable to just be normal.

Grian:
Ah, right, exams—
I thought maybe I said something wrong. The other night at the café, I mean.
I’m glad we’re okay.

Scar winced. Two weeks of awkward, stilted conversations and barely-there interactions had left Grian feeling guilty and insecure. He could’ve fixed this days ago.

Scar:
We are. I promise.
Only one more day of marking, I swear.
Then I’ll be back to normal—right as rain. :D

The emoji felt forced, but Scar hoped it conveyed enough lightness to reassure Grian. He couldn’t let Grian think for one second that any of this was his fault.

There was a pause, and Scar’s stomach twisted with anticipation until the next message came through.

Grian:
Good <3

Scar blinked at the screen, a small smile creeping onto his face despite the exhaustion pulling at his chest. He read the message again. And again. It was just a symbol, simple and casual, but it felt like warmth spreading through him.

He set the phone down, exhaling slowly as the tightness in his chest began to ease. The stress he’d been carrying for weeks felt a little lighter now, though the gnawing thought of asking Grian out lingered in the back of his mind. He turned it over, examining it carefully, for what felt like the hundredth time.

Maybe he was going about this all wrong.

Cornering Grian in the café, with the clatter of cups and the sharp hiss of the espresso machine, wasn’t how he wanted to do this. It felt rushed, clumsy, too much like an obligation. Grian deserved better than Scar blurting it out in a burst of awkward nerves. No, this should be a moment worth remembering.

He rolled onto his side, staring at the warm glow of his phone on the bedside table. Joel’s holiday party. The thought came unbidden but felt perfect. A relaxed setting, a couple of drinks, and no rush. Just two friends spending time together, talking and laughing like they always did.

Scar sighed, this time with relief. He didn’t have to figure it all out tomorrow. He didn’t have to agonize over every interaction or rehearse some over-the-top speech in front of the bathroom mirror. For now, he could just focus on being Grian’s friend, on fixing the weird tension he’d created these past two weeks. That was what mattered most, wasn’t it?

The idea settled over him like a warm blanket, and for the first time in weeks, he found it easy to close his eyes and drift off.

Joel’s party. That would be the moment.

---

Scar pushed the door open, and the familiar chime of the café’s bell greeted him like an old friend. The air was warm, laced with the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee and the faint sweetness of pastries. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel that pang of nervous tension creeping up his neck.

Behind the counter, Grian was busy wrestling with the café’s industrial espresso machine, a stubborn little frown pinching his brow. Scar couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he watched the barista mutter something under his breath and give the machine a decisive slap. It hissed in protest but started working again.

“Classic engineering move,” Scar called out as he wheeled up to the counter. “Did you learn that in school, or is it just raw instinct?”

Grian turned, his face lighting up the second he spotted Scar. “Scar!” he said, dragging out the word like it had been too long since he’d used it. “I was starting to think you’d abandoned me for some other café.”

“Never,” Scar said, placing a hand over his heart. “No other place has you.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, but Grian only grinned, his cheeks tinged the faintest pink. “Good. You’d miss my charm too much.”

Scar laughed, leaning his elbows on the counter. “True. How could I survive without your endless sass?”

Grian rolled his eyes but was clearly fighting a smile. “Let me make you a drink- on the house. Consider it a bribe to keep you coming back.”

“Bribes work,” Scar said, taking a careful sip. “I do hear you make the best drinks in the city.”

“Flatterer,” Grian teased, but his eyes were warm.

The café was quieter than usual, the post-exam lull leaving only a few scattered customers nursing their drinks. Scar picked a table by the window, and to his delight, Grian joined him during a rare lull behind the counter. He slid into the chair across from Scar, holding Scar’s drink and a mug of his own.

They talked easily, slipping back into their usual rhythm like no time had passed, that the rift of awkwardness had never existed at all. Scar told Grian about his marathon grading sessions, exaggerating just enough to make Grian laugh. Grian, in turn, shared a story about a customer who tried to pay with a gift card from a majour coffee chain, complete with a dramatic reenactment.

At one point, while arguing over whether architecture and engineering skills transferred over to holiday baking, Grian leaned forward to show Scar something on his phone. “Look at this,” he said, holding it just close enough for Scar to see. It was a picture of a gingerbread house, though calling it a “house” felt like an understatement. It was a sprawling, intricately designed castle, complete with sugar-spun towers and tiny candy cane soldiers guarding the gates.

“Are you kidding me? Did someone actually make that?” Scar asked, leaning in closer, their shoulders almost brushing.

“Apparently,” Grian said. “I’m about 90% sure it’s held together by magic and sheer determination.”

Scar snorted. “You’d have to be a wizard to pull that off. Or maybe you? You’ve got tiny hands—perfect for intricate details.”

“Wow, rude,” Grian said, grinning. “I think I’ll stick to actual houses, thanks.”

“Fair,” Scar replied, gesturing to the picture. “But if we’re ever recruited onto The Great British Bake Off, I’m counting on you to whip something like that up.”

Grian grinned, “I don’t think I need to worry about that- but Cub did mention once that you make the best cookies known to man.” Scar puffed with pride at that.

Their knees brushed under the table, and Scar didn’t move his leg. Grian didn’t either.

The moment passed when a customer called for Grian, and he jumped up to help, but the warmth lingered. Scar found himself smiling as he watched Grian work, joking with the customer and expertly pouring latte art like it was second nature. Grian glanced back at him once, catching Scar’s eye with a grin that felt like sunshine on a cold day.

As Scar sipped his coffee, he realized just how much he’d missed this—the easy banter, the quiet moments, the way Grian made the world feel just a little brighter. He didn’t need to rush. He could wait for the perfect moment. And until then, he could enjoy this.

---

The next few days carried on in a blissful rhythm. With all his marking finally behind him, Scar found himself free to indulge in the little things that brought him joy: extra time spent spoiling Jellie, lingering mornings with a warm drink, and, most importantly, resuming his favorite routine at the café with Grian.

It was one of those idyllic winter days where fat snowflakes danced lazily past the window, and the café was wrapped in a serene hush, nearly empty in this lull between semesters. Scar had his notebook open, his sketches and ideas sprawled out across the table. He told himself he was deeply focused on his project, though his gaze often strayed to the counter where Grian worked.

Grian, as always, was a bright spot in the room. His teasing remarks and quick wit made Scar laugh, and the occasional tenderness in his dark eyes made Scar’s heart ache in the best way. Yet, beneath the surface, something seemed a little… off.

It was subtle at first—a slight hesitation in his jokes, a flicker of something unspoken behind his grins. But Scar noticed the way Grian would go quiet, staring out the window or into the middle distance, his expression unreadable. He seemed lost in thought, pulled away into something Scar couldn’t quite reach.

Scar’s chest tightened as he watched. He wanted to ask, to nudge gently into whatever was on Grian’s mind, but he hesitated, not wanting to intrude. Instead, he resolved to be an extra steady presence today—offering brighter smiles, more jokes, and his unshakable attention whenever Grian’s gaze finally returned to him.

The jingling of the doorbell announced the arrival of Joel and Jimmy, both bundled in heavy coats and scarves, cheeks pink from the biting cold. Jimmy stomped the snow off his boots as he scanned the room, grinning when he spotted Scar.

“Ah, there he is- our resident coffee addict,” Jimmy teased, unwinding his scarf. He tossed it onto a hook behind the counter and gave Grian a playful shove as he passed. “Alright, Grian, your shift’s over. Go home, get some rest.”

Grian glanced at the clock and stretched, his sweater lifting slightly. “Finally. I’ve been here since eight.”

“Eight? That’s practically a crime,” Joel chimed in, snagging an apron from the back room. “We’ve got it covered. Lizzie sent me with cookies, by the way.”

“Oh, bless her,” Grian said, grabbing his bag from under the counter before snatching his offered box of Christmas cookies. He turned to Scar, who had been watching the exchange with quiet amusement. “You sticking around for another coffee?”

Scar shook his head, already rising. “Actually, I was just heading out. Want some company on the way home?”

Grian blinked, clearly surprised, but his grin came quick and easy. “Sure, if you don’t mind. I’m just a few blocks away.”

“Perfect,” Scar said, trying to sound casual as he slipped on his jacket. He glanced at Joel, who was leaning on the counter with a knowing smirk, and added with a grin, “Don’t work Jimmy too hard while we’re gone.”

Joel raised a hand in mock solemnity. “I’ll do my best. No promises, though.”

Jimmy, from the other side of the counter, called out, “I heard that!”

Grian laughed, and Scar felt something warm unfurl in his chest. The two of them stepped out into the crisp winter air, the cold biting but bearable.

Scar found himself glancing at Grian more often than not, catching the faint pink on his cheeks from the cold and the way his breath puffed in soft clouds. He wanted to say something, to fill the quiet with more than the crunch of snow.

Instead, Grian beat him to it. “So, you’re going to Joel and Lizzie’s Christmas party, right?”

Scar nodded, idly adjusting his gloves. “Wouldn’t miss it. Joel’s been on me about it for weeks.”

“Yeah, he’s been on all of us,” Grian said, his tone amused. “He gets this look, like he’s up to something.”

Scar grinned. “Joel’s always seems like he’s up to something.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” Grian said, shaking his head fondly. “The man loves a good plot. If he’s that excited about the party, it probably means he’s scheming.”

Scar raised an eyebrow. “Should we be worried?”

“Probably,” Grian said, laughing softly. “But hey, it’s never boring.”

Scar chuckled, nudging him gently with his elbow. “Guess we’ll just have to stick together then. Safety in numbers.”

Grian glanced at him, his grin softening into something almost shy. “Yeah. I like that plan.”

They walked through the quiet campus. Holiday lights cast a soft glow on the frosty sidewalks, and the occasional muffled sound of laughter drifted from the sparse groups of students still on campus. The air was cold but still, wrapping them in a shared silence that felt fragile yet comforting.

Scar glanced at Grian, who was staring down at the ground, his breath visible in the crisp air. His shoulders were hunched slightly, his hands jammed into his coat pockets. He was relieved that Grian’s new splint fit easily into the sleeve of his jacket, keeping him warmer than he had been on the night they went to the movie. He had that look though, the one that Scar had seen flicked across his face all morning- and he could tell something was on his mind, but he hesitated to ask.

“How are you really doing?” Scar finally said, his voice gentle.

Grian glanced over, startled, then quickly looked away. They stopped at the edge of a small park, where a snow-dusted bench sat under a dim streetlamp. Grian leaned against the post, his face lit faintly by the warm yellow glow. He exhaled, his breath curling in the air.

“I’m better,” he said, but there was hesitation in his voice. “I mean, most days, I feel like I’m okay. But sometimes…” He trailed off, biting his lip. “Sometimes, it still feels like I’m trapped there. Like there’s no after- no moving on, you know what I mean?”

Scar’s chest tightened. He shifted in his wheelchair to face Grian more fully, his hands gripping the armrests. “From Sam, you mean?”

Grian flinched slightly at the name and hesitated again, but something in Scar’s expression must have encouraged him, because he continued. “From Sam,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the snow. “From everything that happened.”

Scar stayed silent, giving Grian space to speak, though his hands unconsciously tightened on his armrests.

“He wasn’t… I don’t know if I’d call him physically abusive. He never actually hit me or anything like that,” Grian said quickly, as if trying to downplay it. “But he’d get mad over nothing. Sometimes he’d disappear for days, and he’d message me and say he’d found someone worth his time. Someone smarter, or more attractive, someone better.” His voice grew quieter. “There were nights he wouldn’t let me sleep—just kept me awake, yelling or arguing. And he’d break my things, you know? Just to see how I’d react.” He let out a short laugh that may have been an aborted sob. “One time, he didn’t let me leave the apartment for two weeks… and I just let him.”

Scar felt something twist in his chest, a deep, painful ache that made it hard to breathe. He’d always known that Sam wasn’t good to Grian- that much was obvious from the way Grian avoided talking about him, the blue splint still on his arm- but hearing these details was like a punch to the gut. He couldn’t imagine someone as kind, as warm, as full of life as Grian being treated that way.

His thoughts churned. The image of Grian, fragile and exhausted, enduring endless nights of shouting and cruelty, made Scar’s stomach turn. The idea of someone deliberately breaking things that Grian loved- breaking Grian’s spirit- filled him with a quiet, seething anger.

Grian’s voice broke through his thoughts. “I thought that was normal,” he said with a bitter laugh. “I thought it was just… how relationships were. That it was my fault for not being good enough, for not making him happy.” He shook his head, his eyes glistening. “I’m scared, Scar. Scared that I’ll never really know how to be in a healthy relationship. What if I screw it up? What if I hurt someone the way he hurt me? What if I end up back in that place- thinking all of it is just… normal?”

Scar’s voice was steady but full of feeling. “Grian, you’re not him. You could never hurt someone like that.” His hands loosened their grip on his chair, and he reached out instinctively, resting one hand on Grian’s arm. “You’re… you’re thoughtful, and kind, and funny. You’re the kind of person who makes people feel better just by being around them.”

Grian looked at him, his expression vulnerable. “That might not be enough.”

“It’s more than enough,” Scar said firmly. His heart was in his throat, but he pressed on, needing Grian to understand. “You’re more than enough, Grian. You deserve someone who sees how incredible you are. Someone who appreciates how strong you’ve had to be. Someone who…” He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. “Someone who would never, ever let you feel like you’re not good enough.”

Grian gave a small, shaky smile. “You really think so?”

Scar nodded, his heart pounding. “I know so.”

Then Grian glanced down, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “I want that. I want to feel like I’m enough. Like… like I could wake up next to someone in the morning, make coffee together, hold their hand while walking down the street. Laugh over dumb things no one else would understand. I want to love someone and have them love me back.”

Scar felt his chest tighten, his breath catching. Every word Grian said struck him to his core, echoing his own quiet dreams, the ones that kept him awake at night. Grian’s voice had softened into something almost wistful, and Scar’s heart twisted with longing. He could picture it so clearly- waking up beside Grian, their hands brushing as they passed each other in the kitchen, the two of them building something steady and warm together.

“You deserve all of that, Grian,” Scar said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He meant every word, and it took everything he had not to blurt out how much he wanted to be the one to give it to him.

For a moment, they stood in the quiet. Scar’s mind raced with emotions he couldn’t quite name. A mixture of anger at Sam, admiration for Grian’s resilience, and a fierce longing to be the one who could show Grian what he deserved.

Then Grian tilted his head, a hint of his usual humor creeping back. “Alright, my turn. How are you really doing, Professor?”

Scar blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Grian said, his tone soft but insistent. “You’ve been stressed out of your mind lately. You can’t tell me it’s just exams. What’s going on?”

Scar hesitated, then let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “You know me too well.”

“Damn right I do,” Grian said, his grin returning.

Scar smiled, feeling some of the weight lift from his shoulders. “I’ve been… overthinking. A lot. Trying to figure out the best way to do something important.”

“Something important, huh?” Grian raised an eyebrow. “Sounds mysterious.”

Scar chuckled. “Let’s just say… I’ve been driving myself a little crazy about it. But I think I’m finally starting to figure it out.”

Grian’s expression softened. “Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll do great. You always do.”

Scar’s heart swelled. He could feel the warmth in Grian’s words, the quiet encouragement that made him believe in himself just a little more. And as they resumed their walk, Scar couldn’t help but think that maybe- just maybe- he could do this. He could tell Grian how he felt.

Not tonight, though. The moment wasn’t quite right. But Joel and Lizzie’s Christmas party? That would be perfect.

---

Scar stood in front of his mirror, agonizing over what to wear. The warm wool sweater and jeans he’d picked out felt like a good balance between festive and casual, but he couldn’t help but fiddle with the hem and wonder if it was enough. He glanced at his earring, a small silver hoop he hadn’t worn in years, and decided it was staying in. A holiday party was as good an excuse as any to dress up a little, right?

When Cub arrived to pick him up, Scar couldn’t help but notice his friend’s raised eyebrow at the sight of the earring. Cub said nothing about it but smirked, which somehow made Scar feel both self-conscious and reassured.

“You’ve got that look,” Cub said as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“What look?” Scar asked, feigning ignorance.

“That look you get when you’re about to do something dumb and you know it.”

Scar groaned. “It’s not dumb. I’m just—planning on talking to someone tonight. That’s it.”

Cub’s stoic face didn’t change, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone. “Right. Just talking.”

Scar shot him a glare. “It’s a big deal, okay?”

“Sure it is,” Cub replied. “But you’ve got this. Just be yourself. People like you, Scar. One person in particular, if I’m reading this right.”

Scar couldn’t decide if the comment made him feel better or worse, so he settled for a mumbled, “Thanks,” and focused on the snowy streets as they drove.

As they pulled into the driveway, Scar spotted Bdubs and Etho just ahead. Bdubs, as always, was gesturing wildly as he ranted about something, while Etho trailed behind with his usual unflappable calm. When Bdubs caught sight of them, his expression lit up.

“Scar!” Bdubs called out, bounding over. “You’re here! You won’t believe the absolute disaster they’re rolling out at the university next semester. New software. Completely unusable. Why do they always mess with stuff that’s working?”

Etho smirked and helping Cub retrieve Scar’s chair from the trunk, wheeling it over. “He’s been on about this since we left the house,” Etho said dryly. “You might want to brace yourself.”

Scar chuckled, already feeling some of his nerves easing in their company. “Good to see you two, too. Bdubs, don’t you ever take a night off from complaining?”

“Never!” Bdubs declared proudly, holding the door open for them. “It’s a public service.”

Scar laughed, the familiar banter lifting his spirits. Inside, the party was warm and inviting, the faint scent of pine mingling with the aroma of freshly baked cookies. Strings of lights twinkled along the walls, and soft Christmas music played under the hum of chatter and laughter. It wasn’t as packed as the Halloween party had been, but it felt cozier, more intimate. Scar immediately spotted several familiar faces.

They shuffled out of their winter gear, trying not to trip over the pile of shoes near the door. As soon as they entered, they were greeted with cheers and waves. Ren enveloped Scar in a bear hug that nearly sent his drink flying, only to be saved by a quick-handed Martyn. Cleo scolded Ren with her trademark sharp wit, which immediately escalated into fiery banter.

Scar glanced around, catching Lizzie’s eye as she waved from the dining room. Joel was beside her, setting out appetizers and grinning at something Tango had just said. The warmth of the scene settled something in Scar’s chest.

Still, his eyes searched for one person in particular. A distinct laugh caught his attention, drawing his gaze to the kitchen. He couldn’t see Grian, but the sound of Jimmy’s exaggerated whining quickly followed, making Scar grin.

Bdubs clapped him on the shoulder, breaking his train of thought. “All right, you’re in good hands now. Etho and I are grabbing drinks. Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”

Scar snorted. “That’s not a very high bar.”

Bdubs laughed and wandered off with Etho, leaving Scar alone to navigate the room. He felt a flicker of nerves but pushed it aside as he made his way toward the kitchen, drawn by the sound of Grian’s laugh.

Scar maneuvered his way through the lively party, smiling and chatting with familiar faces. The warmth of the decorations, the hum of Christmas music, and the scent of mulled wine should have put him at ease. But no matter how many conversations he got pulled into, his focus kept wandering back to Grian.

He spotted him by the fireplace at one point, his blonde hair catching the light, but before Scar could make his way over, Grian turned sharply and disappeared into the crowd. Later, near the snack table, Grian was laughing at something Jimmy said, and Scar’s heart leapt at the sound—only for Grian to glance his way and immediately look down, fidgeting with his drink.

It felt… off. Normally, Grian would have been by his side within moments of Scar arriving, teasing him or dragging him into some inside joke. Tonight, though, it felt like Grian was actively avoiding him, and Scar couldn’t shake the feeling that it had something to do with Cub.

Every time Grian’s eyes flicked toward him, they didn’t linger on Scar—they landed on Cub instead. Scar’s stomach twisted at the thought. He’d noticed a strange tension between Grian and Cub before, but he had chalked it up to Grian being shy or Cub’s dry, often blunt sense of humor. Now, though, it felt different—almost heavier.

Not that Cub was making things easier. Scar glanced across the room, where his friend was currently locked in what appeared to be an intense debate with Joe, their voices barely audible over the party’s cheerful buzz. Cub looked completely absorbed, gesturing animatedly with his drink in hand as Joe nodded solemnly, occasionally interjecting with his own points. Whatever they were discussing- philosophy, science, or something entirely nonsensical- it was clear Cub wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

Scar sighed. Maybe bringing Cub to the party had been a mistake. He’d thought the extra moral support would help, but now he couldn’t help but wonder if it was backfiring. Was Grian upset that Scar hadn’t come alone? The thought made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

Scar tried to shake off the unease as he finished an endless conversation with Cleo about holiday garlands, but the lingering ache of Grian’s absence made it hard to concentrate. He barely had time to take a breath before Jimmy materialized at his side, looking suspiciously eager.

“There you are!” Jimmy said, his voice overly chipper. “You’ve gotta see this thing in the dining room. It’s, uh… super cool. Very festive. Definitely worth checking out.”

Scar raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a grin. “Jimmy, does this ‘super cool thing’ happen to involve the mistletoe Joel just moved in there? The one you’re trying very hard not to look at?”

Jimmy froze, his grin locking into place like a malfunctioning robot. “Mistletoe? What mistletoe? I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re imagining things. It’s completely unrelated.”

Across the room, Joel slapped a hand over his face. “Jimmy, for the love of—subtlety, man!”

Before Scar could respond, a familiar voice chimed in from behind. “What’s this about mistletoe?”

Scar turned, his heart giving a little flip as Grian approached. He looked simultaneously exasperated and amused, the soft golden light catching in his messy blonde hair. Relief washed over Scar—finally.

“Oh, you know,” Scar said, his grin widening. “Joel and Jimmy are up to something shady again. Apparently, there’s something very important I need to see in the dining room.”

Grian’s eyes narrowed playfully, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Something important, huh? Let me guess: mistletoe.”

Jimmy stammered, “I mean—no! It’s—it’s… okay, yes. But it’s for Christmas spirit!”

“Christmas spirit,” Grian echoed, deadpan. “Right.”

Joel threw his hands in the air from across the room. “Jimmy, you’re ruining everything! Stick to the plan!”

Grian turned to Scar, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What do you think? Should we let them play matchmaker, or should we make them regret it?”

Scar chuckled, a weight lifting from his chest. “Oh, I’m definitely voting for regret.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened in alarm. “Whoa, whoa, hang on—don’t team up! That’s illegal!”

“Too late,” Grian said, his smirk growing sharper. “Consider yourselves foiled.”

Joel groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You two are the worst.”

“Correction,” Scar said, grinning as he nudged Grian. “We’re the best.”

Grian laughed, and for the first time that evening, Scar felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

The next couple hours became a game of cat and mouse, with Joel laying increasingly desperate mistletoe traps, only for Scar and Grian to outsmart him at every turn. Grian, who seemed to thrive in the chaos, whispered plans to Scar, their heads close together as they plotted. Scar couldn’t help but feel a thrill at the shared conspiratorial energy. Every time their shoulders brushed or Grian leaned in, Scar’s heart raced.

Finally, they spotted Joel setting up his latest mistletoe ambush in the hallway while Grian and Scar had been helping Lizzie in the kitchen. He stood on a stool, delicately hanging the sprig in just the right spot. Scar and Grian exchanged a look, and without a word, they both moved in.

“Oh, Joel,” Grian called out, feigning an innocent tone. “Need some help there?”

Joel looked over his shoulder, already suspicious. “You two better not—”

Scar came closer, cutting him off. “What’s that? You’re under the mistletoe!”

“Actually…” Grian pointed behind Joel with a smirk. “Looks like Etho’s joining you.”

Before Joel could jump down, Etho, carrying a tray of drinks, walked right under the mistletoe. He froze, looking up, then back at Joel, who was awkwardly perched on the stool.

“Oh, for the love of—” Etho started, but it was too late, as several curious faces peered into the hallway.

“Rules are rules!” Bdubs bellowed from across the room, his voice carrying above the din. “Kiss him, Etho!”

The room erupted into laughter as Joel groaned dramatically. Etho, utterly unamused but clearly used to Bdubs’ antics, leaned in and gave Joel the quickest, most begrudging peck on the mouth.

“Happy now?” Etho muttered, his ears pink.

“Christ, could you be any more obsessed with me Etho? It’s kind if disgusting.” Joel deadpanned, glaring at Scar and Grian, who were practically doubled over with laughter.

“You brought this on yourself,” Grian managed between laughs.

Joel muttered something about “traitors” and stalked off, leaving Etho to glare at Bdubs, who was still hooting and hollering. Scar couldn’t stop smiling, his sides aching from the laughter. He glanced at Grian, who looked positively radiant, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

---

At some point, Scar snuck off into the kitchen, letting the warmth and noise of the party fade behind him. The kitchen was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant murmur of holiday music from the living room. He sighed and collapsed into a stray chair, feeling the tension in his shoulders release just a fraction. The night had been incredible so far- full of laughter, good food, and the joy of being surrounded by friends- but it was also exhausting.

For weeks, he’d been rehearsing this moment in his head, building up his courage to finally ask Grian out. Yet here he was, at the party he’d imagined as the perfect opportunity, and he couldn’t do it.

He’d spent the whole evening with Grian, and it had been amazing. Their banter, the little touches, the way Grian's face lit up when they’d teamed up against Joel—it was perfect. Too perfect. Scar didn’t want to risk losing it.

He shook his head, biting back the lump in his throat. What if he said no? Scar could handle rejection, but he didn’t think he could handle the awkwardness that might follow. What if he ruined their friendship? What if Grian didn’t want to spend time with him anymore?

The thought made his chest ache, but he was certain it was the right thing. Grian deserved happiness, and if that happiness wasn’t with him, Scar could live with that. He’d just… love him quietly, from the sidelines, forever if he had to.

The sound of the door opening startled him out of his thoughts. Lizzie stepped into the kitchen, a soft smile on her face as she leaned against the doorframe. “There you are. I thought you might be hiding in here.”

Scar chuckled weakly. “Not hiding. Just… taking a breather.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been buzzing around this party all night, Scar. What’s stopping you now?”

He hesitated, debating whether to brush her off, but the kindness in her gaze undid him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I… I was going to ask Grian out tonight.”

Lizzie’s face lit up with excitement, but Scar held up a hand to stop her. “But I can’t do it. It’s been such a great night, and I don’t want to ruin it. What if I mess everything up?”

Lizzie frowned, pushing off the doorframe and stepping closer. “Scar, come on. You’re not going to mess things up. You’ve been so good for Grian—don’t you see that? He’s so much happier now than when he first came here.”

Scar blinked. “He is?”

Lizzie nodded firmly. “Joel won’t stop going on about how perfect you two are for each other. And honestly? He’s right. You make him laugh, you make him feel safe, and- honestly, Scar- you deserve someone who makes you feel that way too.”

Her words hit Scar harder than he expected, him and Lizzie had never really been close- only seeing eachother occasionally when she stopped into the cafe. It made something inside him ache, knowing that this person who barely knew him had such confidence in his worth. “You really think so?” he asked softly.

Lizzie smiled, leaning down to rest a hand on his shoulder. “I know so.”

Scar let her words settle over him, a small flicker of hope igniting in his chest. Before he could say anything else, Lizzie straightened abruptly, her grin turning mischievous. “Sorry about this,” she said with a wink, and then she hollered, “Grian! Can you come in here for a sec?”

“Lizzie- wait!” Scar stood up quickly- reaching for her, but she was already slipping out the door, leaving him flustered and frantic.

Scar moved to follow her out, almost colliding when Grian suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking confused and slightly winded. “What’s going on?” he asked, his eyes darting around the room. Then he looked up, and his face immediately turned bright red.

Scar followed his gaze and spotted it: the unmistakable sprig of mistletoe hanging above the kitchen doorway. His stomach flipped. They had done a great job of tracking Joel's movements throughout the party, but they hadn't considered that someone else might have been playing their game. 

“Uh,” Grian said, shifting awkwardly. He glanced at Scar, his cheeks still flushed. “I, uh, guess we’re caught.”

Scar’s mouth went dry. He tried to laugh, but it came out shaky. “Seems like Lizzie’s handiwork.”

Grian nodded, his gaze flitting between Scar and the floor. “Mistletoe isn’t an obligation, remember?” he said softly, echoing his own words from weeks ago at the café.

Scar swallowed hard, his heart pounding. It wasn't an obligation, especially with no one around to see. They could brush this moment off easily and no one would be wiser.

The only problem with that was that Grian was looking up at him with the softest expression, worrying his bottom lip, nervous but not backing away.

He took a deep breath, smiled, and took a leap. “No, but… it is a time-honored Christmas tradition.”

Grian’s eyes widened, but he swayed closer. “Seems like bad luck to mess with tradition…”

Scar was usually a gentleman. Normally, he would have smiled and planted a chaste kiss on Grian’s cheek, pulling away quickly for the two of them to have a quiet laugh.

Months of pining had apparently eroded that instinct to dust. 

He leaned forward, quickly, capturing the shorter man's lips with his as they both inhaled sharply as if scalded. Scar experienced a brief moment of weightlessness followed closely by panic, suspended in a moment as Grian remained motionless. As soon as he started to pull away though, a set of hands shot up, fingers threading into his hair and pulling him closer by the temples.

His hand that wasn't holding his cane came up to cradle Grian's neck, tilting his head slightly for a better angle, to dive deeper into the kiss. The soft hairs curled around Grain's ear tickled his knuckles, and suddenly everything was burning.

Scar had imagined kissing Grian a few hundred times but this reality burnt every one of those visions out of the sky. He was so soft, so warm, responding to every twitch of Scar's fingers with a gentle sigh or a soft press. His hands carded softly through Scar's hair, and he could feel the heat radiating off of him through his sweater.

Scar gently opened his mouth and Grian responded to that too- sinking deeper into him, tasting him, and when Grian gently took Scar's bottom lip between his teeth he instinctively pressed Grian's back into the arch of the doorway with a quiet thud that made something coil inside of him.

This woke something in Grian though, as he immediately parted with a sharp gasp.

Grian pressed lightly against Scar's chest, encouraging him to step back. His heart thudded painfully as he complied, confusion clouding his mind.

“Scar… we can’t do this,” Grian said, putting more space between them. His hands fidgeted at his sides as his voice trembled.

Scar frowned, a pang of hurt rising in his chest. “Why not?”

“Because I’m messing everything up!” Grian snapped, his voice rising before softening into something closer to a plea. “I’m always messing things up. Don’t you get that? I’m not like you, Scar. I don’t know how to… how to let things be normal. I get too close, I say the wrong thing, I make it weird—and now I’ve dragged you into this, too. It’s not fair.”

Scar’s brow furrowed, his stomach twisting, immediately wanting to get loud. He opened his mouth to respond, but the raw frustration in Grian’s voice made him hesitate. “Grian, you haven’t dragged me into anything,” he said softly, but Grian’s bitter laugh cut him off.

“Of course I have!” Grian’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, and Scar’s heart clenched with them. “I make everything about me, don’t I? I can’t even figure out how to be a decent friend without screwing it all up. And you—you’re amazing. You’re so kind and thoughtful and—” His voice cracked as he tried to continue. “And you have Cub. I’ve been sitting here, making you feel guilty for something that isn’t even mine to feel.”

Scar tilted his head, his chest tightening. “Cub? What does Cub have to do with—”

“And that’s why we can’t do this!” Grian interrupted, his voice breaking. “Because I care about you too much to keep being this person who takes and takes. You deserve better than that. You deserve someone who makes your life better, not harder.”

Scar stared at him, his mind racing. The vulnerability in Grian’s voice was like a knife to his chest, twisting deeper with each word. His hands hovered at his sides, itching to reach out and comfort him, but he was frozen by the weight of Grian’s pain.

“Grian, stop,” Scar said firmly, finally stepping closer despite the way Grian avoided his gaze. His heart ached at the sight of the tears brimming in Grian’s eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Grian finally looked up, his eyes glassy and his cheeks flushed. “I’m saying that I like you, Scar. Okay? I like you more than I should. And it’s a problem, because you’re—” He stopped abruptly, his voice cracking. “You’re already taken.”

Scar stared at him, stunned. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. “Taken?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

Grian looked away, nodding miserably. “Cub.”

Scar’s chest tightened, a mix of disbelief and frustration rising within him. “Cub?” he echoed, his voice shaking. “You think Cub and I are—wait.” He felt his breath hitch as the realization hit him like a lightning bolt. “That’s what this is about? You think I’m dating Cub?”

Scar’s hand finally found its way to Grian’s shoulder, gripping him gently but firmly. He couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, soft and incredulous, though it was tinged with the ache of all the misunderstandings between them.

Grian stiffened at the sound, misinterpreting it. “Don’t laugh at me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with hurt.

“No,” Scar said quickly, his grip tightening, his heart breaking all over again. “No, Grian, I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing because this—this whole time… you’ve thought Cub and I were together?”

Grian’s brows furrowed as he glanced up at Scar, still uncertain. “Aren’t you?”

“Not even a little bit,” Scar said, his voice gentle but earnest. “Cub’s my best friend. He’s like a brother to me, but that’s all.”

Grian blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to dawning understanding—and then to horror. “Wait… what?”

“I’m not dating Cub,” Scar repeated, softer this time. “I’ve never dated Cub. I thought you knew.”

Grian gaped at him, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to find the right words. “But you’re always together. You brought him to the party. I just assumed-” He stopped, his face flushing a deep red. “Oh my god.”

Scar chuckled, the sound full of warmth and relief. “Grian,” he said gently, stepping closer and resting a hand on his arm. “I’ve been a mess these past few weeks because I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out.”

Grian’s eyes snapped up to meet his, wide with shock. “You… you have?”

Scar nodded, his voice tender. “Yeah. Because I care about you too. A lot.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of their confessions settling around them. Then, slowly, Grian let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Scar said, his lips curving into a small smile. “I like you, Grian. Would you like to grab dinner with me tomorrow?”

As the words left his mouth, Scar felt a rush of relief and a pang of frustration all at once. Relief because it was finally out there, but frustration because he couldn’t stop thinking about all the wasted time—the months spent dancing around his feelings, the countless moments he could have said something but didn’t. He should have told Grian at the vet when they sat together on that cold bench, Grian’s hand warm and steady on his back, offering quiet reassurance. Or maybe at the movie, when they had laughed so much over shared popcorn that Scar thought his chest might burst from how light he felt.

It seemed so simple now, looking back. If he’d been brave enough to say it then, this whole misunderstanding could have been avoided. All the worry, all the overthinking, all the time spent convincing himself that Grian didn’t feel the same—it had been for nothing. They had wasted so much time.

Grian stared at him, his face softening, the tension in his shoulders melting away. “You’re an idiot,” he said finally, but there was no heat in his voice- only a quiet, fond exasperation. “But… yeah. I’d like that.”

Scar’s grin widened, his chest swelling with warmth and relief. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Grian said, his smile growing, though it faltered slightly as he took a shaky breath. “But… Scar, I need to say something first.”

Scar tilted his head, his smile softening into something more patient, more encouraging. “Of course. What is it?”

Grian glanced down, fidgeting with his hands. “I’m not an easy person to love, you know. I’ve got baggage. I overthink everything. I get scared over stupid things, and I say the wrong thing at the worst times.” He exhaled, his voice dropping. “I’ve been through so much that I’m not sure I even know how to do this the right way.”

Scar’s heart squeezed at the vulnerability in Grian’s voice. He reached out, gently taking Grian’s hands in his own. “Hey,” he said softly, waiting until Grian’s dark eyes met his. “You don’t have to do anything the ‘right way.’ You just have to be you. And for what it’s worth, I find you pretty easy to love.”

Grian blinked, his breath hitching as his cheeks flushed. “You—you do?”

Scar smiled warmly, his thumb brushing over the back of Grian’s hand. “I do. And if there’s baggage, we’ll carry it together. If there are rough days, we’ll get through them. We’ll roll with the punches, Grian. Because any time I get to spend with you? It’s worth it.”

Grian's eyes became suspiciously glassy, and he laughed softly. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Scar chuckled, his grin widening. “I’ve been called worse.”

Grian hesitated for a moment longer, as if weighing Scar’s words, then smiled—a real, radiant smile that lit up his entire face. “You’re absolutely sure about this? About… me?”

Scar leaned forward, his voice steady and full of affection. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

And when Scar leaned in this time, Grian met him halfway, their lips meeting in a kiss that was full of laughter and sweetness.

---

The morning light spilled through the blinds, warming the room in soft golds and whites. Scar stretched lazily in bed, his body blissfully sore and his mind buzzing with the events of the night before. He couldn’t remember the last time he had woken up feeling this light, this happy.

Grian.

The memory of Grian’s shy but dazzling smile, his warm hand slipping into Scar’s, and the way they’d left the party together filled Scar’s chest with a deep, bubbling joy. He couldn’t help but grin as he thought back to how the others had reacted. No one had seemed surprised, really. Not Lizzie, who had looked smug as she pulled them both into warm hugs, or Cub, who had simply raised an eyebrow and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “finally.”

Joel, however, had looked positively miserable. “It couldn’t have happened fifteen minutes earlier?” he’d grumbled, throwing his arms up in mock despair. “Do you know how much money I would have won?” Scar had laughed so hard he thought he might cry, but Joel had given him a genuine pat on the shoulder before they left, muttering something about rooting for them all along.

Now, as the sun danced across his room, Scar felt the possibilities of the future unfurling before him. Dinner plans, late-night conversations, designing silly projects together. He was ready for all of it.

A soft meow interrupted his thoughts. Scar glanced down to see Jellie perched at the foot of the bed, her tail swishing expectantly. “Alright, alright, I hear you,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

Before he could move, a sleepy mumble came from beside him. A blonde head popped up from the other side of the bed, hair a tousled mess and eyes blinking groggily. “What time is it?” Grian asked, his voice husky from sleep as he rubbed his eyes.

Scar turned to him, his grin widening. Grian looked incredible, wearing one of Scar’s old T-shirts that was far too big for him, the collar slipping slightly off his shoulder. “Time to feed Jellie, apparently,” Scar replied, his voice teasing. “She’s not one for lazy mornings.”

Grian groaned, flopping back down against the pillow. “You should train her to let you sleep in.”

Scar laughed, rolling onto his side to face him. “She’s a cat, Grian. I’m pretty sure she trains me.”

Grian smiled, his eyes half-lidded as he reached out to tug lightly at Scar’s sleeve. “You spoil her, that’s the problem.”

“Well,” Scar said, leaning closer until their foreheads almost touched, “I guess I’m just a sucker for the things I love.”

Grian froze for a second before his smile softened, his cheeks tinged with warmth. “Good thing for Jellie, then.”

“And maybe for you, too,” Scar added softly, his voice low and affectionate.

Grian’s breath hitched slightly, but his grin returned as he gave Scar’s arm a playful nudge. “Careful, or you’ll make me start thinking you’re sentimental.”

“Too late,” Scar said, laughing. “Now, come on, let’s feed the queen before she stages a coup.”

Grian chuckled, stretching before sitting up, his messy hair catching the sunlight. “Fine, fine. But I’m not doing the dishes.”

“Deal,” Scar said easily, watching him with an adoring smile as they climbed out of bed together.

He followed Grian out of the room, thinking that if every morning started like this, he’d never ask for more.