Grian Angst |~One Shots~|

|~Wither Roses~|

TW: suicide, knives, Taurtis X Grian and Scarian (all implied)

Withering roses would be the only flowers in his coffin, he was sure. No quantity or quality of love, from Scar, from his friends, could soothe despair so raw. Grian supposes he could’ve stopped picking at the scab but the pain felt good, it made him feel human in a grotesquely godly body and basking in the agony was impossibly better than moving on. He could anchor this pain in the void of his mind then tug it to the surface whenever his smile reached his eyes. Happy endings weren’t for people who weren’t willing to embrace the sun, so Grian stayed nocturnal.

Poor poor Scar, the man who’d tried so hard to love and the man who’d poured every ounce of radiance into Grian’s hollow soul. Hollow from Sam, hollow from evo, hollow from his time under the watchers, so so hollow and never enough band aids in the world to cover the muddy hole aching in his very being. A hole that every ounce of negativity that dared breathe his direction would inevitably slip and fall into, a hole that only grew and never filled. Too scared was Grian to start over and try again. He’d tried it before hadn’t he? Twice, once from his horrible parents and another from the monsters that took their place. He could still taste the plastic, he could still feel the itch of blue on his skin and headphones over his drumming ears. He could still taste the brutalistic pain that sent him to the floor when the watchers had changed him. He will make friends, he will love, but those feelings will never dip below the ceramic surface that was Grian. And deep down they all knew that.

They all knew this beautiful boy with his gorgeous wings and divine smile couldn’t last. By the gods did they try, but you can’t peel off an expiration date and expect it to stay fresh forever. Hermitcraft was heaven, Grian wasn’t living in hell but in the ugly aftertaste of it. The need for numbness, the choking feeling when he felt, and the animalistic need to tear his sickly flesh from bone and to unravel every choking tendril in this deformed body of his. He would never be fixed, and especially not by the Hermits. The everything which was midnight wandering, dancing upon countertops and warming souls collectively by a fireplace and singing songs till your lungs burned a joyous raw harmony. They lived in a tight dome where the air wasn’t filtered, but a natural sugary sweet when breathed, and Grian lived so many decades away. Effort was futile, but they’d never stop pulling that old creaking rope which attached Grians island to theirs despite being too far to realize Grian had already cut it at the base.

Grian was a sunflower under the weight of human hands, and while you can try and glue his petals back on they’ll wilt an ugly black and Grian will forever and undoubtedly live in a state of uncomfortable disfigure. What he needed was a clean slate, a new life, and the idea of self-inflicted death was a heavier pain than the idea of losing hermitcraft which crushed him with horrendous guilt. He’d give his life for his friends, and he’d give his life for himself but how could he care how death would impact Scar, Mumbo, X, when he himself was delirious and drugged with a bone-staining unshakable constant ache. When some days this fog was so heavy things like eating weren’t priorities and not even for the sake of Scar could he muster a smile.

And this was precisely why the Hermits could not, would not, be allowed to be surprised when the news came.

When the news came of comfortable warm puddles of blood, pure, human, soaked and rotted with carcass of Grian. A man hanging by a thread, cut loose from his own kitchen knife which had been meticulously sharpened for the past few days, though truly since Sam had first wounded him. Since his parents had let him rot in their silences which left Grian with hypothermia. Since he’d lost the only man who could’ve ever saved him, but too weak to keep himself alive. His lover, his brother, his best friend. Covered in blue, headphones on, lips like clouds and tasers and blood like cherries and tears. How romantic, how brotherly, how ironic for them to meet the same demise. How sad of Grian to keep the knife which promised him he’d never again cry and never again smile, how sad of him to use it now. How sad of Grian, as his mind drifted from face to face to forget Scar’s and think only of Taurtis- the beautiful perfect man he was, the only one he wanted to meet again. And finally, how sad to let his final words be spoken in a language which belongs to monsters dressed in halos and feathers as soft as his lips had once been.

One final smile, one final, excruciating upwards tug of muscles, one final exhausting emotion- genuine one. Not because he’d found peace, not because even a millimeter of himself had healed, but because it was time for this oppressive fog to lift and it was time to start truly anew, hopefully one hand slipped into another of the boy he dreamed of at night. Hopefully not in heaven, not in hell, in the perfect in between where a boy like Grian was allowed to exist.

His funeral was on a hot sunny day. 95 out, yet all bodies were perfectly still, all eyes moved in startling union and unblinking pattern. All focused on the closed casket, a face too blank to look at, a person too complex to throw empty words at even in the afterlife. They would not grieve, since Grian was never theirs. And they would not move on because he was too real and too fuzzy to just…forget. And they would never not blame themselves but they would never take it to heart, and Scar would never follow Grian even after dying of old age he will meet someone he can love ferociously and wholeheartedly as a thriving Hermit does and it will never be a happy ending on the chapter of Grian, it will always, always be sad. And that will always be uncomfortable, like the sand in your shoe or the eyelash in your eye but it will heal and the Hermits will find one another as Hermits did.

But Grian will finally let his soul rest, and his head, against the soft blue sweatered man waiting for him in the clouds.

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Deeper then I meant
ANYWAYS I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS LIKE FINALLY THANK GOD 😭😭
This was just a silly easy little thing to write ill actually create a story next time but I wanna just actually get some content out there since yk I've been inactive for basically a year
Love yall ❤️
( ＾ω＾ )

Word count:1183