𓈊 A Poppy By Any Other Name

Act XXXIII

Mumbo ended up taking a shower while Scar took Grian into the living room to watch a movie. His hair already being wet and needing to he washed was the excuse he used, but in reality, he couldn't stand to see the sight of Scar smiling down at Grian with the fondest of expressions on his face while Grian smiled back. It was the cutest thing Mumbo had ever seen, yet it made him jealous all the same, and the majority of his shower was spent thinking about it.

If Scar likes Grian, then I'll probably have no chance with him, Mumbo thought defeatedly as he leaned his forehead against the shower wall, the water hitting his back just below his shoulders. Scar's so much more attractive than I am, not to mention his fantastic sense of humor. Heck, and they even grew up together! I didn't know Grian until last year. He sighed. I guess Scar would be better for him. He's always so happy around him. Lifting his head, he tipped his head back under the stream of water to rinse out the conditioner. He stared up at the ceiling. Just keep your jealousy under control, Mumbo, he scolded himself. Act how you always do and Grian never has to know that you ever liked him in the first place.

Scar was in a similar predicament as he sat on the sofa, Grian on the floor, and rubbed a towel gently over the smaller's head to dry his hair.

"So, you like Grian, too, then?"

Scar bit his lip as he realized Mumbo said too. He likes Grian, the brunette thought, and if he likes Grian, then Grian won't like me. He couldn't help the sigh that left his lips. Mumbo's so much prettier than me. And he's smart. He understands Grian's nerd stuff. Well, more than I do, at least. Scar paused drying Grian's hair when he heard the remote fall to the floor.

"You alright there, Grian?" he asked, and the only response he received was a quiet snore. Scar practically melted at the sound, an affectionate warmth blooming in his chest. Even if I don't stand a chance against Mumbo, I'll never stop loving you, you adorable nerd. He took the towel off Grian's head and got up from the sofa. Kneeling down on the floor, he carefully wrapped one arm around Grian's shoulders, the other under his knees, and lifted him up long enough to lay him along the sofa.

Scar froze, his breathing hitching when Grian mumbled something and stirred as he tried to pull a throw blanket over him. Scar was thankful when Grian didn't wake up. Just when he was finished making sure Grian would be warm enough, he heard the water turn off upstairs.

A feeling of slight resentment bubbled in his stomach at the thought of Mumbo, and it made him feel uneasy. He didn't want to hate Mumbo. He loved Mumbo, he was one of his closest friends. Yet jealousy had other ideas.

And that made the rest of the night unbearably uncomfortable for the both of them.

"So, uh," Mumbo murmured from the opposite end of the sofa, "what should we do?" He had Grian's feet in his lap and had been tasked by the latter to massage them, which he did happily, eager to help his ill-feeling friend feel more comfortable.

Scar's eyes found particular interest in the potted plant by the TV stand, his hands busy carding through Grian's now very fluffy mop of hair. "Dunno," he answered, half zoned out.

Pursing his lips, Mumbo nodded and shifted slightly. He froze when Grian whined at the movement. "Sorry," the blackette mumbled. He lifted his gaze to stare at Scar for a moment before whispering, "Are you mad?"

Scar turned his head to look at him now. "No," he said plainly then glanced away. "Maybe."

"...Is it because of me?" His voice was barely audible.