SULLY'S MUSICAL GRIAN ONESHOTS!! ✨

Feel Better

So,

motivations a bitch

i have nothing else for you.

xD

~

Grian shifted in his bed, next to Scar's.

God, what had he done? What was he doing? Every second, his heart races with the stupid, stupid anxiety he just can't get rid of. It's his fault, he knows.

Not even just 3rd life. No, it was never 3rd life. It was before, back on Hallow's Eve.

Back when the blood pumped at unnatural levels too, when Grian could actually feel love.

Back when Taurtis died. When Grian's only hope of living a life died, too.

Sure, he's here now. Sure, Scar reaches for him. Sure, it could all work.

Grian, Grian doesn't want it to work. He wants to hide, to pretend that Taurtis is still here & waiting for him. He wants to pretend there's nothing between him & Scar, because, for god's sake, he's Taurtis'.

Grian wants goofy tuesdays and shared sundaes and the blissful peace of escaping into his own little world with Taurtis.

Grian rolls out of bed. It creaks, a stupid, unnatural sound. It creaks like the bed in the basement of the house in Tokyo, like Grian's aching heart struggling to continue.

He walks to the crappy kitchen. Grian didn't bother to make it good, he didn't want or need a base with Scar. Just some twigs, some stapled planks, worked. 

Grian & Scar didn't need, no, deserve a base. Because it wasn't Grian & Scar. 

It was meant to be Grian & Taurtis.

The glass of water in Grian's hand suddenly feels a lot heavier. He grips the thick, hastily made glassware in his hand tightly. Like he didn't want it to leave.

That's funny, considering, he'd left a long time ago. 

You know, Grian's life is like a book. A book by a twisted, demented author who needed a likable sidekick who could die, over and over, twisting and breaking each time. A sidekick who wouldn't do anything, wouldn't change, just hide away and pick up the pieces and pretend he's fine.

Grian doesn't want to pick up the pieces. He wants to leave the shattered vases and glasses and windows all over the path to his heart. He wants everyone trying to reach him, the true him, to stumble and fall and bleed.

Because that's how it should go, they should be warded away so Grian could hide away with his tears and his witchy candles and try, try to be something.

He misses when he didn't have to try to be something, because someone loved him. Someone, that bastard named Taurtis, managed to skip over all the glass like it was a hopscotch game. Grian knows why he was able too, too.  Taurtis had seen, watched the glass shatter. Taurtis knew where to step just to barely avoid all the shattered fractions.

...

Grian liked that Taurtis knew the path. Grian would sweep it, even, for him. 

Grian wouldn't sweep it anymore. No, he was going to leave it, let everyone else feel the crunch of every bit and weep. 

...

Grian's out of water now. He's drank it all. The glass, thick and crappy and bad, is lightly cracked. Grian didn't know he could do that.

Perhaps he should've.

Perhaps he should've known it all, that the bus would crash. That Sam would never allow happiness, that Taurtis watched and waited and prayed for him to just move on. Perhaps he should've known that Scar loved him, that Scar would tread through all of the shattered glass, broken and bleeding, and still smile at Grian.