Creation Of Cremations - Mumscarian Superhero AU

Chapter 2 - Grian

An unwashed coffee mug sat on the counter. The clock tick-tocked, agitating the man in the red sweater even more than usual. Oh but he really had to wash that mug. It’s been sitting there for hours. A tired gaze fell on the abandoned colouring pads on the table. There was nothing more pressing or important to do, he could wash that mug to kill the time. It’s a relatively low effort task.

Come on. Just wash it.

Grian felt disgusting sometimes. Taking care of himself was never going to be easy. It didn’t help that he’d learnt to live in his shithole of a house. Not that you could even call Grian’s life a good one.

He had no friends. Well, that’s not exactly required is it? Grian had always been an introvert. Everyone his age was well into their life, already surrounding themselves with the people they wanted to be with. Grian didn’t need to be sociable to live, in fact he much preferred to work alone. But nobody heard his troubles, maybe that was for the best.

He had little money. Well, that’s not the end of the world? Money doesn’t buy happiness, as they say. Yet he would be lying if he said he didn’t want money. Constantly hoping that this paycheck would be enough was wearing Grian thin. Money wouldn’t make him happy but it would lessen many of his anxieties, which would contribute to his happiness.

He had no passion. Well, not everyone has to be passionate about everything they do right? But he didn’t really have an escapism. Even though the mountains of art supplies told a different story. Grian never found himself good at any, his perfectionism was his ultimate enemy when he was in a circumstance which provokes mistakes. Local social groups could spark a flame in something, perhaps? Drinking didn’t spark any joy, nor did cinema. Perhaps yoga? Kill him right there, his chest bindings grew tighter at the thought of being around bodily-observant people.

He hated his body parts. Confident was not a word to describe Grian. Normal people hated who he was so he made sure he wouldn’t be seen. Seeking medical transitioning was out of the question too so he was stuck like this. Lucky him, he hadn’t developed much but he could still feel them. So. Freaking. Heavy.

His gender wasn’t the only thing that sent him spiralling, despite being a huge contributing factor. The more he thought, the more he realised how many areas he was lacking. Perhaps if he worked on all the little things, being out in public would become easier?

It all started with washing that mug. A few hours had passed but it was done. Grian closed his cupboard door, earning a satisfying thud.

“I did something…” He hoarsely whispered.

Scrolling through his phone, an advertisement appeared. A local arts group? Huh. Grian was a creative person though he couldn’t really commit to anything. Yet something just felt right, he couldn’t place it. Nevertheless, Grian had nothing to lose. Small steps, right?

Grian wrapped himself in a cream scarf - it was white, he swears. The crumbling hall wasn’t much better than his own house. A white haired man stood outside the hall, lighter in his hand. Oh this was going to be awkward. Grian didn’t smoke, being near smokers was difficult due to his minor breathing issues. The man didn’t seem to be smoking, however. A nerve shot through his back when he realised he was staring at the man, the man was staring back.#

“Evening.” The man shrugged, holding out a hand. “Etho, are you here for the group?”

Grian stared at the forward gesture. Oh right, he had to reply!

“Um, yes!” Grian tried to appear optimistic. Sure he was a mess but his masking was top notch. “You’re the leader, right? I’m Grian.”

“Mhm.” Etho put his hand back on his leg. Oh shoot, Grian was supposed to shake it? “Don’t mind me, I'm just making some charcoal.”