The A Team

Chapter Twenty One

Trigger warning: some PTSD but very very little. This is mostly a super fluffy chapter so get ready my fellow Grumbo shippers!
In case you are unaware, I recently uploaded a new chapter of The Unseen Beauty of the Ungrateful AND I uploaded the first chapter of the Harry Potter HC fanfic! Please check those out and let me know what you think.

Grian brushed his fingers through Mumbo's dark hair as he slept. The poor man. According to Ren, he had stationed himself by Grian's side and had refused to move, not even to sleep.

Grian felt a pang if guilt in his stomach at the thought of Mumbo forcing himself to sleep in such an uncomfortable way, with his head barely tilted on the cold iron bar of the bed railing, his hands hanging off of the chair in an awkward fashion that must have made his limbs fall asleep.

Luckily, after Grian demonstrated that he could indeed walk without support, he had managed to convince Mumbo that he didn't need to be by his side all night, and to take the cot that Stress had offered.

For once, Grian could return at least a fraction of the adoration he had been showered with for the last... how long had it been now? A couple months? He wasn't sure exactly how long he had been in captivity nor how long he had been unconscious after, but since he had woken up he estimated that at least three months had passed.

He sighed, and resumed the soft stroking of Mumbo's hair. It really didn't matter. All he knew was that nothing he could ever do would make up what his friends had risked and done for him, and he would spend the rest of his life making it up to them if he had to.

The moonlight illuminated Mumbo's features, highlighting his jade white skin, strong jawline, and long dark lashes. Grian traced his finger down the side of Mumbo's cheek and Mumbo turned his head in his sleep to chase the sensation.

Grian giggled quietly, removing his hand as to not wake his sleeping friend.

He stood from the chair slowly, giving his still recovering limbs the extra time to stretch out. He stumbled forwards the way he had been doing everyday for the last couple weeks or so. He still wasn't used to the lack of weight on his back.

Making sure Mumbo was still asleep, Grian carefully pulled off his night shirt and walked into the bathroom to stare at himself in the mirror. The harsh fluorescent lighting did nothing to hide the whip scars that covered his chest and back. They were starting to heal properly, turning either white or a light shade of brown. Grian shook his head and quickly pulled his shirt back on.

Don't torture yourself with unnecessary trauma.

The psychiatrist he had been assigned to in the hospital had been helping him a lot with his PTSD, and at all other times Mumbo was by his side, smiling and listening to any stupid rambling story Grian could come up with as though there was nothing more interesting he could be doing in the world.

Still. It was hard not to feel broken.

Not inwardly really. He knew he was just as much of a person and an avian as ever. He had gone through a lot and his injuries didn't make him any less whole.

He still missed his smooth unblemished skin. And his wings.

His wings.

Grian bit his lip to keep a whimper from escaping his throat.

His extraordinary golden wings that had made him special. Had made him beautiful. Had given him purpose.

Well, he was no longer beautiful. He could hardly call himself that before, certainly not now. He didn't need to be attractive, but with a very average face and a short skinny physique his wings had been the only thing that had made him enjoy his reflection.