#Crossposted to ao3 bc im forcing myself to

[scopop08]

AO3 link

This is my first attempt at writing anything in a really long time, it's mainly character stuff and it feels kinda like word vomit but I'm trying to start again so! Desert duo be upon you!!

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A sharp, shuddering breath cut through the silence that had settled over Monopoly Mountain. 

“Can I talk to you?”

It was so quiet Scar almost thought he had imagined it. If he had breathed while Grian had said it he wouldn’t have heard at all. Pitch black as the room was, Scar turned his head toward the other. He almost spoke, but the words died on his lips. Suddenly afraid that if he said anything it would ruin whatever the moment was, that Grian would never talk again. ‘Can I talk to you’  is so uncharacteristic the phrase was almost sacred.

“Scar,” Grian started, wavering voice only slightly louder. Scar could feel the hand Grian had been resting on his bare chest was raised slightly, fingertips still touching skin, but held as if he set it down he might shatter the other. “I’m scared.”

Scar stopped breathing. He let himself falter for a second, trying to find his footing and not break the fragile trust he had just been handed. They were holding each other, sleeping in the same bed, and even so Scar could tell that what had just tumbled out of Grian’s mouth was the most intimate thing that would ever happen atop the desolate mountain. 

He was petrified. 

‘Why’ and ‘What’s wrong’ seemed far too impersonal, too stupid to answer with. Scar prided himself on his silver tongue, but at that moment it seemed to fall lame before he could even part his lips. 

He settled on slowly moving his arm so he could cup Grian’s face, thumbing along the down feathers that traced his cheek bones. The younger man was breathing so shallowly he shook.

“You can tell me, G.” Scar finally supplied, softly whispered just before the silence became unbearable. He was sure the pounding of their hearts only noise that either of them could hear, echoing around the room to try and fill some of the silence the usual katydids and desert owls occupied. Trying to make what they called a home feel less like a tomb.

Another shuddering breath, and another confession.

“I don’t- I think-” He paused for a second, lifting his quivering hand from Scar’s chest entirely and closing it in a fist he dropped by his side. “I don’t think I have control anymore. Over the game.”

Scar didn’t know what to make of that. He tried to lay as still as possible and let Grian continue, hoping he would be given something he could grasp on to. He kept running his calloused thumb over the side of Grian’s face, moving to card through his hair. 

They were looking directly at each other, faces only inches away. He could feel every uneasy breath hit his scarred cheeks. He wished more than anything he had enough light to see Grian’s eyes, to take in every detail of his face.

“It’s not a game anymore. You’ve seen them. You feel it.” The words were so careful and pained it made Scar’s heart break. A wave of new guilt washed over him as he realized Grian knew how many times he had almost killed him while his back was turned, stopping the knife just before it could fall into his neck. How during every minor argument his brain clouded over and he could see himself ripping the younger apart, how many times he had thought about the size of his hands and compared it to Grian’s neck. It wasn’t just a game anymore. Nothing about what was happening, how it was escalating, was fun. He felt almost relieved to have someone else confirm that something about this was wrong.

“I wasn’t sure at first. I thought I had made a mistake, I just screwed up some code. I’m not very- very good at all of that. you know?” A small, forced chuckle punctuated the question. “But then it kept happening. 

“Somehow they got in. I shouldn't- I shouldn't've-” He gasped as his voice broke, beginning to sob. “Scar, I thought I was safe.”

Scar didn’t have any clue who ‘they’ were, or what he could do to solve it. He hated making empty promises when it wasn’t trying to sell someone the very air they were breathing, but he gently pulled Grian to his chest and settled his head into the crook of his neck as began whispering assurances anyway. 

It must’ve only been thirty seconds since Grian began to speak, a minute at most, but to Scar it had felt like an eternity. He hadn’t felt so helpless to turn a situation into his favour in so long, even more blindsided by the fact that Grian, mischievous, strong, and ever optimistic seemed to be breaking beneath his hands, voice so pained and cautious he refused to believe it belonged to him. Even if he could practically feel every punctuated syllable on his own lips.

“It’s okay, Grian.” Scar lied through his teeth. So often was he used to not understanding, but never to this degree. “We’re going to win. We’re gonna win and get out of here for good.”

Dead silence took control again, interrupted only by increasingly infrequent gasping breaths. 

Scar knew this was the last moment where Grian would let him see him like this, that in the morning he would pretend to sleep so Grian could sneak out of bed and leave before there was any chance of Scar wanting to talk again. Of meeting Scar’s eyes and finding pity in his adoring stare.

Scar had one last chance to drop a facade, to meet vulnerability with his own. What Grian said hadn’t meant a thing to Scar, but the weight that they carried was demonstrable. The silence begged something in return. Scar hated being in debt.

“I don’t blame you. For any of it. I think this might be the best thing that has happened to me.”

Scar squeezed his eyes shut, preparing himself for the next sentence that came from his parted lips. He didn’t know how to be so honest.

“You. I mean.”

Grian tensed for a moment as Scar’s words sunk in. Suddenly he wrapped his arms around Scar, finally allowing himself to be embraced. His breath evened out as he pressed closer, bare chests flush. When Grian shuffled for the last time, for a fraction of a second Scar had thought he was going to leave. Then he felt dry lips brush his collar, and a head settle directly next to his.

Scar didn’t care what happened. He didn’t care that Grian left in the morning just like he thought. He didn’t care that he would never have another chance like that night. He couldn’t bring himself to care when all he could focus on was how he was going to win. Just for Grian. He would never understand what the other was trying to tell him, but when he could hang on to the memory of every soft kiss they exchanged before finally falling asleep, he didn’t think he needed anything else.