an mmau drabble.
( mentions of unconfirmed character death )
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Scar sits in a park.
His cane rests against the bench beside him as he leans back into the seat, eyes taking in the scenery around him. He watches the happenings of natural life, seeing families out with their children, couples going for a stroll on the path. A man plays frisbee with his dog, and Scar nearly becomes well acquainted with said frisbee as it nearly smacks his head. He catches it in time, the man running up to him with an apologetic smile as Scar returns it.
The man has sandy blond hair, and for a moment, Scar’s eyes play a little trick on him.
He sees brown instead of green, a red sweater instead of the plaid button up.
Scar feels a bit numb as he passes the frisbee off to the stranger, who runs back to his dog and throws it in the air again. Scar’s eyes follow the movements of the frisbee, watching how it soars through the air.
He entertains a fantasy, just for a little bit. One where he’s watching not a stranger, but someone he knows very well. Someone who is his other half. He entertains a world in which nothing ever happened to them, and Scar never needed a cane on the hard days. He entertains a world in which there is still a plastic ring on his finger, maybe even a real gold one, and he is the happiest man on Earth.
The frisbee is caught midair by the dog, who happily runs back over to its owner, the plastic firmly between its teeth.
It’s been eight months since everything happened. Two months since Scar tried to find Grian with no luck. It’s been two hundred and forty-three days since Scar was left behind, and sixty days since he was forced to face the very possible truth that Grian was dead.
He hasn’t heard anything about the apartment, no sight of Grian anywhere even remotely nearby. There hasn’t been a single trace, not even a small clue. The thread is gone, and Scar might have missed his window of opportunity forever.
Nearby, a group of pigeons land on the ground, picking through some crumbs spilling from bags on the ground. They coo and jerk their heads, and Scar looks over at them. Something tugs at his chest as he sees one of the pigeons lift its wing to poke its beak through the silver-gray feathers.
It feels like grief.
(“What do you say to getting a cat one day?” Scar looked down at the man curling into his arm, a curious expression on his face. “A new home, new pet. A lovely little companion for us!”
Grian snorted as he pulled the blanket up to cover his bare skin from the chilly air. He rested his head on Scar’s arm, looking up at him. “I think you’d spoil that cat absolutely rotten.”
“What?!” Scar made a playfully offended gasp. “I would never do such a thing!”
“You would.” Grian grinned at him. “There’d have to be a limit on treats though. The cat’s health is important.”
“Of course, of course!” Scar nodded along before his face softened. “You’d get a cat with me?” He didn’t mean for his voice to sound so wobbly, but sue him, he was an emotional guy! The idea of getting a cat with his boyfriend made him happy!
Grian looked at him with a look that on the surface screamed annoyed, but Scar knew better. He could see the fondness in those brown eyes, the slight quirk of his lips. “Obviously. Someone’s got to be the responsible Cat Dad.”
“Cat Dad!” Scar couldn’t help but gasp before bursting into tiny giggles. “And hey! I’d be a very responsible Cat Dad!” He playfully squeezed Grian’s side in retaliation. Grian laughed in return, getting comfortable against Scar as he was pulled closer to him. Scar moved to rest his chin on Grian’s hair, pressing a kiss there first. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Mhm. Do you have any animals you’d want to adopt?”
Grian moved his head to rest more comfortably under Scar’s own as he hummed in thought. And then, “A parrot.”
Scar chuckled, “I should’ve seen that one coming.” He was fully aware of Grian’s love for birds, how much they meant to him.
“We’d have to keep Professor Beak away from the cat though,” Grian replied, and Scar couldn’t help his fond little laugh at the bird’s name.
“Professor Beak?” he questioned. “Gosh G, has anyone told you how cute you are? I can feel my little heart just melting!”
“Professor Beak is a perfect name for a bird!” Grian exclaimed defensively, moving to look at him. Scar could see how pink his face was. “It’s sophisticated and elegant.”
Scar only melted into further laughter. Grian grew more embarrassed by the man’s reaction, squawking some kind of defense for himself. Yet all Scar could focus on was how much he loved the man in his arms.
Silencing Grian, he used the arm around him to pull him forward until he could kiss him. It was something sweet, loving, and light. Grian sighed against him, a content noise as Scar held him within his arms.
When they pulled apart, Scar grinned, “A cat and a bird then.”)
They never got the bird. Scar never got Grian, and he probably never will, with the man quite possibly being dead.
It’s not something he’d put past Them.
He watches as one of the pigeons takes flight, seemingly uninterested in the pile of garbage on the ground. Scar follows the bird as it flies, and he can’t help but wonder. If Grian really is dead, perhaps in his next life he’ll be a bird. It’d be a beautiful gift, for the man to finally have the wings he envied so much.
It was something Grian used to talk about a lot, having the ability to just fly anywhere, any time. He was envious of it, of that much Scar was certain. Grian had always seemed so trapped, and not even Scar’s shitty apartment could break him free of his cage. There were nights where Scar often wondered who held the key to Grian’s chains, who kept him grounded and clipped his wings.
Maybe such kindness shouldn’t be offered to the man who left him to die. Who betrayed him. Yet Scar found himself giving it to him anyway. He’d give Grian a lot of things, he thinks. Forgiveness could be one of them, depending on the reason. Besides, Scar is too tired to hate. He’s too tired to be angry and hold contempt. He doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to.
Besides, he thinks he let it all go the moment he realized Grian could very well be dead. He still held out hope for the man, but two months and… maybe it was time to move on (Scar knows he never will. Not when a piece of him will always belong to Grian. Maybe it shouldn’t, but Scar is a man in love, even now).
He’ll just have to bury his need for answers and live.
As he watches more of the pigeons fly away, he hopes that Grian is among them. He hopes that Grian has his own flock to call his family, and that he is able to soar in the skies like he’s always wanted. Scar hopes that wherever Grian is now, he is happy. He hopes it’s a lot better than where he was.
Scar certainly knows he’s much better than where he was.
And even if it’s not with him, there’s a part of him that hopes Grian can finally fly free.
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