Chapter Text
Grian pulled off the skin-tight shirt with a grunt, throwing it beside him on the bench where he was sitting, along with the jacket.
The locker room felt eerily quiet, just like it always was. It was like the lighting wasn't making any noise.
The wound in his side wasn’t deep, but it still hurt a lot, and he couldn't go into the infirmary at the moment.
Someone needed more attention.
Using the first aid kit he found in the bathroom, in the cabinet, he cleaned the wound, patched it and protected it with an extra layer of medical tape.
Grian knew who was at the infirmary right now.
HotGuy. Grian’s coworker, who sustained quite the damage after their last fight.
Privacy at the infirmary was not a problem since they were always separated by at least a heavy curtain, but that didn’t mean the superhero would completely be comfortable with Grian there, no matter how he insisted that it was fine.
Even with reflective orange and blue glasses, Grian could tell that HotGuy really was keen on keeping some privacy regarding his own health, and Grian understood completely.
There are better ways to be told your body isn't working properly than with an audience you work with constantly.
But of course, privacy wasn't the only point.
Unlike other places in the world, Hermitown had a new batch of people in their streets. People that had superpowers, like the heroes in your typical comic book.
The powers they were given came from a certain facility. A lab where they operated on barely consenting young teens, shaping them, shoving things in their DNA, and carving the desired result out of the flesh without any form of empathy, with one goal: creating living, breathing weapons.
HotGuy was the one who heroically destroyed the lab, freeing the teens held captive.
He was generous to his peers, offering to protect them and keep them with him if they felt the need. Most declined, out of the need to be completely freed, and HotGuy accepted their demand despite knowing the risks.
Some of those teens became villains later.
Grian, on his side, had refused the offer at the time, but it still echoed in his mind until he caved in and offered his services as a sidekick to the glorious and handsome hero.
HotGuy accepted surprisingly fast, as if eager to have someone on his team, when Grian was certain to be denied and replaced by someone deemed more capable or even just compatible with HotGuy.
Still, his name was given by the citizens and the press as a reminder that he was mostly HotGuy’s sidekick, a hero wannabe. And the rest became routine.
Drowning all day in paperwork and stupid tasks, blowing off some steam and risking his life all night, and suffering the consequences of the night during the next days, without forgetting the coffee break each day to try and get some peace.
And if the routine in itself wasn’t bad, Grian enjoyed having habits but there were parts stuck inside this cycle he would rather get rid of…
Grian grunted again as he tried to pull down his pants that his arms lacked the strength to do so properly.
His arms burned with the heat of exercise, and it was truly bothersome to try and change out of a spandex costume when all your energy had been sapped.
He chuckled when he glanced at his suit, made to be aesthetic and pink but it always ended up covered in ash, dust, and even blood.
Slowly he changed into his civilian clothes, using the mirror to fix his appearance one last time, then put his items in the locker with the exception of the torn t-shirt that he placed in the correct locker to be washed and repaired, or simply replaced.
His wings were already camping to stay inside his large sweater, so he hurried out of the building, walked fast to the nearest bus, and sat in the front.
Grian was a little worried about HotGuy still, since he didn’t look that good while they got back to the HQ. He had sustained quite the injury after taking a blow for Grian. Grian’s first instinct was to tell him off and pull him by the ear for acting like Grian couldn’t defend himself, but the situation was too complex, and getting his nervousness out that way wasn’t really productive.
He bit his lip out of anxiety and watched the scenery go by until he reached his stop and made his way all the way to his apartment on the third floor of a common building.
It was just morning but he was exhausted. His keys jingled as he unlocked his door, slipped inside and locked it behind him.
He threw his shoes in a corner, let his bag fall next to the coffee table and slowly let himself fall onto the couch.
It wasn’t the most comfortable but Grian would’ve lied down on the floor if there weren’t any other options.
He sighed, feeling his lungs fail to completely fill with air.
A fluffy creature made its way over to him and lied down on his stomach, purring.
Maui was sometimes very cute, and that wasn’t always the case, so Grian couldn’t possibly move the cat, even if it was putting pressure on his injury.
“Maui I really love you too but it hurts. Badly.”
Still, he scratched the head of the cat as he thought of the pile of work laid on his desk. A sigh escaped his lips, making Maui lose interest and jump of to wander somewhere else.
After long minutes, Grian managed to make his way to his desk and started working, fighting sleep.
By noon, he had achieved some of the load of work but not enough like he should have.
Yet he knew he wasn’t able to do much more without falling asleep on the desk, so he got up and stretched.
He stared for a moment at his fridge door, because he knew the fridge wasn’t containing anything to make himself a proper meal and he didn’t want to eat half a meal right now. He lost some blood, he could at least have a real sandwich or something to make up for the lost nutrients.
So he fed his cats, changed into cleaner clothes wrapped his wings secure to his body, and left with the bare minimum, remembering at the last second to bring his coat along.
He felt a bit nervous to walk alone like this in town. Nothing scarier than meeting someone you didn’t want to meet at the moment, or simply getting lost because you didn’t actually plan a place to eat in particular and you had just been walking endlessly in an unknown direction and you have a habit of daydreaming about what could possibly go wrong on said journey, somehow avoiding to get hit in the face twice by electric posts in the middle of the sidewalk.
Still, on the edge of his vision, he noticed the brand of a restaurant he enjoyed, and got in without much debate.
He ordered a few things at the counter and grabbed his tray, walking to the middle of the place to look for a table, considering eating outside from the lack of empty seats.
Yet he noticed one, in one of the corners, in front of a man seemingly sleeping while hunched over the table.
Grian got closer, hesitating to bother the man, until he noticed the cane right next to the man and the familiar jacket set on his shoulders.
“Scar?”
The man lifted his head up in confusion, and his expression changed into a large smile as he recognized him.
“Grian! Hi! What brings you here?”
Grian sat down in front of his friend and started eating.
“I think I walked further than I actually meant to. I wasn’t really thinking of coming here, but… Well, just know that I'm here now.”
“Quite the story!”
“And you? What are you doing, sleeping on the table like this?”
“Oh, uh… Well, I was in the wonderful company of some very nice coworkers, and uh, I’ve just told them that I think I’m going to take the rest of the day off.”
“Are you?”
“What?”
“Are you really going to? I mean, it’s not a usual occurrence with you. You could be dying with fever and vomiting all over the place, you’d still want to go to work.”
“That was one time,” replied Scar, embarrassed.
Grian laughed.
“Yeah, and I think only one time is enough. I don’t want to deal with that again.”
“Sorry…”
“Oh no, don’t apologize! It’s fine. I’m joking, okay? It was perfectly fine. I’d do it again, if I had to. It was kind of funny, to be honest.”
Scar groaned, hiding his face in his hands.
Grian continued to eat, feeling starved, and tried not to stare back at the eyes focused on him at the moment.
“Do you like it?” asked Scar.
“The food? As much as I did the first time.”
“Good. I was hoping so.”
Grian took another bite.
“You look like you need help,” he said, his mouth full.
“Help? For what?”
“You look nervous. You wiped twice your hands on your pants since I sat here. You can’t actually look at me in the eyes, and you haven’t changed your sitting posture in five minutes. Something is wrong.”
Scar was too shocked to answer. Was that blush on his cheeks?
“What? Too creepy?”
“I… I didn’t think you noticed that much about me…”
Grian had been trained early on to analyze enemies and find their weaknesses, it was more of a habit than proper voluntary analysis, yet Grian could admit he found Scar to be a very interesting subject. And handsome to look at too. Maybe it helped in getting a proper analysis.
“It’s just… You know… I care about you, and I prefer to notice something before you actually talk about it because you do know that you won’t talk about your problems until it’s become so much of a problem you can’t take yourself out of it. So what is it?”
Scar bit his lip, and that wasn’t a good sign. Grian felt some anxiety squeeze his chest.
“Oh no, I know that look. You’re not just sick, are you?”
“I’m not… I’m not sick, I can tell you that much.”
“What’s going on?”
“I uh…”
Grian finished his plate, switching to his dessert.
“Come on. I may not be your best of friends, but I still know you enough not to leave you alone when you’re in that kind of situation.”
“My uh…”
Grian observed Scar, trying to guess what he had to say before he said it. He was overly nervous now, his eyes darting left and right, his hand coming to rub the back of his neck. His respiration was shallower.
“Scar, please calm down. It’s okay. I’m here. What can I do for you?”
“My chair, uh…”
“Yes…?”
“I… I forgot my chair at home.”
Grian took some time to register the words and make clear sense of it.
That was a weird problem to have, so something was up.
“You want me to bring your wheelchair to you?”
Something seemed to scare Scar, his eyes widened, before he fixed his expression and shook his head no with a smile.
“I uh… That would be complicated, you wouldn’t know where to look, and…”
“It’s okay. But I don’t… I don’t think there’s any store that sells cheap wheelchairs around here so… I don’t really know what to do…”
Scar seemed hesitant, turning the problem over and over in his head.
Grian bit the interior of his cheek, his dessert spoon resting in his hand.
“So… You came all the way here with your cane, no? Do you need just assistance in walking home? I could do that for you.”
“My… My legs stopped… Working.”
“So you can't use them?”
Scar shook his head no.
“At all?”
He shook his head once again.
“Mmh. No legs, no chair… I mean, I could still…”
“Yes?”
“Let me finish eating, and then I’ll try something, and if it works you’ll be home this afternoon. You know the way from here to your place, right?”
“Y-yeah, of course.”
“Good. Because my orientation skills aren’t that good.”
Grian finished his drink and dessert without rushing, wiped his lips, and left the table to put away his tray.
He came back, putting his coat back on, and rolled his shoulders.
He sat next to Scar this time.
“I’m not forgetting my manners. Hi, hello. My name is Grian. Can I lift you up?”
Scar hesitated.
“I mean… Yeah, okay. But be careful with my back.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of hurting you.”
Gently, Grian pulled Scar closer to him.
“Grab your cane too. Do you need to get something from your office?”
“No, it’s fine I hadn’t brought anything anyway.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
Scar wrapped his arms around Grian’s neck and Grian lifted him cautiously, making sure he wasn’t knocking anything over.
Scar let out a small gasp when Grian lifted him completely, pulling him close to his chest.
Scar was pretty heavy, though Grian didn't want to mention it.
“Alright princess, let’s go!” laughed Grian.
“I’ll never hear the end of this, am I?”
And in a fit of giggles, they both got out of the restaurant, and Grian walked in the direction that Scar indicated to him.
“Aren’t you going to get tired really quickly?” asked Scar, but he didn’t look as worried as he usually would.
“I can always find somewhere to sit and rest my arms a bit. But you know, I work out a bit. You’re quite heavy but since you don’t live that far, I think I can make it.”
The truth was, Scar was really heavy. Heavier than the average man. Grian knew that Scar was quite strong and muscular, but there was clearly not enough of Scar to justify weighting that much.
Yet, Grian had been training to be fit for a hero, so he wouldn't let that slow him down. He had faith he could do it.
Grian just gritted his teeth and continued walking, wary of Scar and making sure he wasn’t making anything that would hurt his friend.
And he tried to focus as much as he could on the task at hand while Scar was looking at him, only at him, with this expression too soft for either of them. A risky expression to have displayed when they’re not really trying to look like a married couple just having a stroll in town.
“You’re staring.”
“I think I know.”
“Why are you staring?”
Scar chuckled, pulling himself closer. Grian felt the faintest of Scar’s breath tickling his throat.
“Just curious. You don’t look like someone who could lift up a guy like me.”
“If I make it in one go, will you call me an absolute god?”
“I won’t because if I do you’ll be willing to hurt yourself just for a title,” Scar answered with a sudden serious expression on his face.
“True.”
Though Grian, as a civilian, didn't like to show off that much. He made exceptions for cute disabled boys who didn't know how to take care of themselves.
That being said, he knew only one.
Scar huffed and looked away.
“That's just because I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Riiiight.”
Grian’s heartbeat was going faster than usual, his fingers digging in Scar’s skin, and he found himself out of breath rather fast even if he tried to play it off.
“Are you alright?”
“It’s uh… ‘s fine, and you?” Grian said while panting.
“I think you should put me down for a moment, I don’t think…”
“Scar, we’re just a few meters from your building, let’s just rest inside.”
Grian’s teeth were grinding from the effort, it felt like his arms were going to be torn down. Just how much did Scar weigh?
Yet, it seemed almost familiar. Grian was used to carry civilians out of burning buildings and out of broken ruins. He knew someone that weighed so heavy he struggled to drag him away from danger...
But that was someone else entirely.
They giggled like drunken friends as Scar struggled to get the door opened, and with a bit of shuffling, Grian made them both fit into the door and made his way to the elevator, the metal making a horrible sound as soon as Grian applied both their weights.
Grian sighed as he leaned on the wall of the elevator and Scar pressed the button.
“Heard that, Scar?”
“Heard what?”
“The elevator. That sound meant that you’re a big boy.”
Scar sighed in turn.
“I told you to put me down.”
“Look, I’ll put you down when it means that you won’t be sitting where everyone puts their feet, okay?”
Scar chuckled.
“You really are something.”
"You’re saying it as if you wouldn’t do the same.”
“I think I would be more clever about it.”
“No you wouldn't.”
The elevator opened again, and they got out, Scar taking out his keys.
He slipped the key in the hole, but his hand froze at that moment.
“Scar, buddy? Testing my endurance?”
“I uh… just, just put me down here, you know…”
Grian sighed and took a knee, propping Scar on his other leg, placed like a chair. Still very heavy but no longer on his arms.
“What is it?”
“It’s, it’s okay now, you can go… you can go back.”
Grian closed his eyes and frowned.
“Lemme guess. You have the equivalent of a dildo collection sitting on top of your favorite cupboard and you can’t have anyone know about it.”
“Grian!”
“Is it really?”
“N-no!”
Grian rolled his shoulder, suddenly aware of the pain.
“Just… I could close my eyes?”
“N… no. No I can’t…”
Grian felt exhaustion weigh his thoughts. Still, an idea popped out of nowhere.
“You still have that bandana you kept with your jacket?”
“I don’t… I think…”
“Either you have it or you could just shove your fingers in my eyes. But I’m not letting you crawl on the floor.”
Scar hesitated, then pulled out a crumpled piece of green cloth from his pocket.
“You kept it.” Said Grian with a smile.
“Quiet.”
Gently, Scar tied the bandana around Grian’s eyes, and then unlocked the door.
Grian lifted Scar again, swallowing down a grunt. His wound felt like it reopened. Hopefully, he wouldn't get blood everywhere through the bandage and have to find a stupid excuse to calm Scar down.
“Alright. You’re my eyes now, you need to tell me where to go.”
“Walk forward.”
Carefully, Grian went through the door, and slowly made his way forward. Everything smelled of Scar. It felt… nice.
“Stop. Turn left.”
Grian made his turn as perfect as possible, knowing he was probably messing up.
“One step forward, and put me down there.”
“Tell me it’s a bed or a couch because I’m not maneuvering you into an armchair.”
“It’s a couch. Calm down.”
Grian managed to put Scar down without stumbling over and used his knees against the edge of the couch to stand back up.
“Good?”
“Yeah, good. You can go back now.”
“Sure. Let me figure that out.”
“Thank you Grian. It was really nice of you.”
“Anytime. Also, just so you know I’ll be waiting on the other side of the door until I am certain that everything is alright. So you better hide your collection of whatever and-“
“Yeah yeah, just go. I'll call you.”
Grian wobbled his way over to where he remembered the door was and managed to close it behind him without trouble, slipping his finger through the gap to make sure it wouldn't close on him.
Just in case.
He sat down against the nearest wall, putting his face in his hands with the bandana still on his eyes
He could hear a lot going on. Strings of curses and some complicated struggle, Scar was currently the noisiest neighbor.
It wasn’t something usual for Scar to do at all, but Grian and Scar had this weird unsaid agreement. Grian was to trust Scar to be able to ask for help if it was needed.
He wouldn’t get in and he wouldn’t get that bandana off until any of the conditions were encountered.
And after a few minutes, some more complaining and a long silence only filled with furious panting, Scar called Grian.
The first time, Grian thought he had imagined it from his lack of patience.
The second time, he knocked on the door and tentatively opened it, still not able to use his eyes.
“Yes, Scar?”
“Get in quick and take the bandana off. I need help.”
Grian would’ve teased him about him finally asking for help once in his life, but Scar’s tone was filled with too much pain and frustration to be taken lightly.
Grian got in and closed the door.
“Are you sure about the bandana?”
“I need your eyes too. Come on.”
Slowly, Grian untied the bandana and pulled it away from his face, a room revealed before him.
A nice apartment worthy of the most common of advertisement pictures. Almost void of personality. No pictures, no personal object, just decoration and books.
Scar was sitting next to the couch he was supposed to be in, staring a the floor with a tight expression on his face.
Around him were a lot of different stuff, some scattered on the floor but most of it was on the coffee table, and two wheelchairs were there.
One black, one white. The white one had the logo of HotGuy on it, and it looked more high-tech than most of the HotGuy HQ's equipment.
That’s when Grian recognized the stuff on the floor as HotGuy’s devices and weapons.
“W-where did you get this?”
“Help me sit on that chair, please," Scar pointed to the white wheelchair
Grian hesitated, scared to understand as he pulled the wheelchair closer to the couch and helped Scar onto it, hurting his own back in the process.
Scar, being HotGuy? Scar was HotGuy all along?
Grian's optimistic friend, always trying to get him out of his apartment to see things, constantly needing a cane to walk around town and never letting himself walk for more than two hours, was the Sexy Superhero that everyone was dreaming about?
How did Grian not notice the similarities in just the physical departement? And the common points of their valors?
How could he have been so blind?
Scar looked more than irritated as he pulled of his shirt and threw it on the ground beside him.
Grian could see all the skin covered in large scars all over his body, some looked like battle scars, some were thin and medical, where he was operated.
Signature scars from the lab.
It was him, there was no doubt. It was him all along.
Scar was trembling a bit, clearly worried about Grian’s reaction.
“What… what e-else would you need?” Grian managed to say.
“Could you… hook me up? My complete lower half is done and I can’t turn around as much…”
Grian walked around the wheelchair, feeling a sudden endless pit in his stomach.
If Scar's torso was quite a sight, his back was the worst.
His whole back was covered in scars, raised angry skin that looked fresh and sensitive, surrounding several steel implants that sprouted from his shoulder blades and spine.
It was as if his whole back was torn off and replaced with machinery and his skin was desperately trying to mend itself on top of it.
Glowing light flickered, confirming to Grian that this wasn't just for show. Confirming that those implants were made to make Scar a better soldier. That Scar was filled with cables and machinery.
And if Grian was always wondering what HotGuy was given by the lab, he would've preferred it to be one of his crazy theories, rather than what he had before him.
Scar's voice pulled Grian out of his trance.
“They’re color-coded, it's not really complicated... Be- be gentle, please... It can hurt quite a bit if you're not careful...”
Grian stared at the cable coming from the chair. He knew some of them, he had seen them in different places in the lab.
He never got to know what it was, for he was spared and given biological parts, not cybernetics.
“Is it… okay?”
Scar looked like he wanted to press things, but changed his mind before he spoke.
“…yes. It’s okay.”
“Do… do you want to talk about it?”
Grian couldn't get his eyes off the skin around the cybernetics. It looked so painful.
Grian had always admired HotGuy for his tenacity, for his capability to take a hit and stand back up smiling like nothing could bring him down.
And HotGuy was downright being tortured in the facility. Where some got out just being mutants, HotGuy was the lab’s Guinea pig.
Constantly being taken away.
And Grian heard from the other teens what they did to him while he was in there. They stuck needles and liquids under his skin, replaced his bones, and added new functions in his body like new organs that never had their place there in the first place.
HotGuy was in constant pain and it showed, yet he would keep being so gentle to the other kids there. He would scream in pain in the operation block and smile when he would get out.
The bastards wouldn't even have the decency to sedate him.
What Grian noticed the most, the image that got stuck inside his head at that time was when HotGuy used some bigger extent of his powers at the time and he got blood all over on his shirt.
Grian, at the time, didn't know. He just thought it was a mistake, that the lab had made an error, again. He didn't think more of it.
He didn't know it was coming from a constant issue that was never resolved.
And only now, Grian made a connection. If Scar is HotGuy, and Scar can’t walk much, it isn’t from poor bone structure or muscle loss like he sometimes says. It was from using the implants in his legs until he was so much in pain he couldn’t walk the day after.
And yet, on the battlefield, it was always HotGuy that smiled the brightest at any given time.
Grian felt almost shameful for all the times he complained out loud about how his superhero life was making his existence difficult.
It made some sense now. How Scar was always looking at the bright side of things, convinced deeply that there was a silver lining somewhere. Grian used to think it was cute of him and it made him charismatic but now… Now he remembered a ton of little moments, of simple details that he took as good intentions or cute coincidences, but now it had such a brave undertone.
How Scar always wanted to help Grian carry some things, even if he wasn’t that overloaded, how he made sure to express his gratitude clearly each time Grian did something for him, the number of times he seemed to be looking after the few children they encountered together, watching like a hawk…
Grian felt stupid all of a sudden. Stupid for not noticing sooner, for not making the link at the first signs he had, and stupid for even once thinking he’d be as good as HotGuy. He was really, really far from the perfection the man in front of him displayed: Never faltering, never doubting his faith. Any reason was a good reason to be helpful with Scar.
Grian… not so much.
Grian’s hands trembled as he tried to hook Scar correctly to the wheelchair. Each time a cable was connected it made a small pressurizing sound and he didn’t want to imagine how it could feel inside a body.
One of Grian’s trembling hands landed on Scar's shoulders, as much to comfort his friend, but also to have some kind of anchor that wouldn’t let him faint. Scar’s shoulder muscles seemed to relax at the small gesture. That was a good sign, right?
"Your hand is cold. It's nice."
Grian noticed that Scar's skin was indeed quite hot in contrary to his fingers. He gently pressed his other hand on the other shoulder, aware of the tender skin, hoping he could bring some form of comfort.
“You don’t seem… that weirded out," Scar said.
“I’m- I’m certainly not used to... uh, having to wire someone to a machine, but… But if that’s what you need I- I can manage…”
“Thank you. You’re really helpful.”
Grian looked away for a moment, the pressure and the intimacy getting a bit too much for him. He looked at the walls, the fake paintings, the libraries made of random popular books, the…
The small cat bed in the corner.
Empty.
Grian had only met Jellie once, but it was enough to know she was an adorable cat. And Scar’s best friend, by far.
A collar rested in the middle of the bed, without an owner.
Something squeezed in Grian’s chest.
Grian took another general look at Scar's back.
He would look much more monstrous if it wasn’t for the approximative symmetry of the design of the machinery.
Grian wondered how could Scar ever stretch his back without screaming in pain.
Without thinking about it, his fingertips grazed the raised skin of the jagged scars on that broad back.
Scar let out a sad chuckle.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?”
“How painful is it?”
“One of the wires is specially for painkillers. It does most of the job.”
“Most? You still suffer, then.”
“I thought you’d be a bit more curious at the logos on the tools.”
Grian bit his lip in thought as his fingers ran down Scar’s back, who tensed at the contact.
“I... I made the link. I know, now. And uhm... I don't... know? It's a bit weird..."
“You’re not… scared? Concerned? Curious, maybe?”
Grian bit his lip.
"Concerned, certainly. It can't... It can't be possibly good for you."
"It's okay. The machine part... I'm somewhat okay with it. It's there. It bothers me if I try to sleep on my back. There's a wire to fuel me to make me work again. If I... Well, I don't need to eat, I can just pop a cable and let the machine handle it."
Grian backed away from Scar, and walked over to the bed in the other corner, letting himself fall unceremoniously on top of it, letting out a grunt as his back muscles relaxed.
"Should've told me I carried the equivalent of a laundry machine."
Whoops. His usual CuteGuy manners were showing.
"I'm sorry, is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"
“I don’t think I’m going to leave so soon, my arms stopped responding.”
“Stay as long as you want,” assured Scar.
Grian closed his eyes, barely moving, and he knew Scar was looking at him. After all, he wasn’t behaving normally in regards to the situation, of course Scar would be weirded out.
Grian made the conclusion that Scar didn't live here, most of the time. There’s nothing to do here. The bed hasn’t been touched in a long time, the only personal items are the gadgets that he clearly leaves here when he doesn’t think about taking them with him. It’s just a small hideout.
Grian turned his head towards Scar, and opened his eyes.
“How… how does… Mmh. How… how does it feel?” asked Grian, unsure of his choice of words.
“Depends on what you’re asking about.”
“Being… Mmh.” Grian paused. His real question would be How does it feel to be needed, to be appreciated, to be cheered on by the public? but he would be either too cryptic or simply weird Scar out. “Being a superhero?”
Scar narrowed his eyes, and Grian felt his heart skip a beat. Scar knew something. Scar knew something very important about him, and he was currently reading through his façade, and he was going to-
“It feels good. Really good.”
Grian tried not to let out the breath he was holding too obviously.
“-how so?”
Scar operated the wheelchair to get closer to Grian, a simple command board under his fingers on the armrest.
Grian tried to stare at anything else than Scar’s body. Failed.
Miserably.
Several times.
He was really shirtless. Like, evidently shirtless.
Scar rubbed his jawline, lost in thought.
“It’s… It takes a lot out of you. It’s tiring, you’re constantly pushing your body against its previous limits. It can be difficult with moral dilemmas too.”
“The train with two tracks kind?”
“I usually manage to save everyone. But that too. And the oath I made not to kill, constantly being mocked and used against me. But…”
“But?”
Grian tried to change the subject because he was NOT going to listen to his friend tell him how he’d been the worst kind of partner, challenging HotGuy’s will to save everyone even from themselves.
“But it’s exhilarating. It’s awesome. It feels… Right. It feels so right when I save people. And the people are so nice in return. You should see them, they’re so… so grateful.”
I know , thought Grian. I was standing next to you.
“They’re adorable, with all the kids looking up to you, the… and the…”
Scar frowned, for a split second.
“The?” pressed Grian. Was he going to mention CuteGuy or was he not enough to be a subject of conversation?
“Nothing…”
“Nothing? Just the kids?”
“No, not just the kids. Everyone looks up with hope when I’m there. And I’m glad they do, that they don’t give up. That they aspire to be good as well.”
Grian almost huffed.
“Must be nice.”
Scar muttered something under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Now you’re really pushing it. What did you say?”
“Nothing! Nothing at all.”
“Scar. What did you say?”
Scar stayed mute, which made something dark twist inside Grian’s stomach.
“It’s fine. I don’t need to know all your secrets.”
“Don’t say it like that!”
Grian let out a laugh, something he would’ve done if he didn’t feel so aimed at.
Scar smiled, and it made it a little better.
Did he know? Did he only smile to let Grian change the subject?
Grian thinks he did.
Grian spent the whole afternoon in Scar’s company, it felt a little weird to leave now. And he really didn’t want to return to that boring pile of work back at his apartment.
He managed to slip inside the covers, knowing fully that Scar didn’t sleep here, and feeling relaxed by that fact alone. Yet it smells of Scar all around him.
Scar oriented the chair so that he was side-by-side with the bed, and they talked about a lot of stuff.
Morals, in particular. It was an easy subject. Grian just had to throw a few stupid opinions so that he didn’t look too suspicious.
And he mostly made Scar talk, to listen to his ideas and his values. And also because Scar had a nice voice so that was a plus.
“So, HotGuy,” Grian chuckled.
“Oh please don’t call me that,” replied Scar.
“What should I call you, then?”
“I don’t know. Scar is good?”
“Oh wait! I know! That guy on TV… that guy gave you a nickname… uh, I don’t… Oh I got it! HotShot!”
Scar went beet red, which made Grian erupt into laughter.
“Oh! Oh you’re totally in love with the pink guy, aren’t you!”
Scar smiled, a hand lifting to his cheek to feel how hot his skin was.
“No, I’m not. I’m in love with someone else.”
Grian put his heartbreaking and ragefully tearing itself apart in the back of his mind. But that wasn't important for now.
“Oh yeah? Who is it?” he asked, giggling and twisting in the bed until he could stare at Scar while being upside down.
“Someone.”
“Someone with cute pink glasses and pink guns, huh?”
Scar chuckled.
“What? You sound like those young girls who draw… questionable fanart.”
“Come on. You’re made to be together.”
Scar flashed a large smile.
“Is that so?”
“W-what?!”
Grian was so lost in his objective to look so detached from CuteGuy that he didn’t actually notice what he was saying.
“I- uh, I mean you do what you want, but you know, superhero couples and all that… I’m not, you know, I’m not assuming your orientation or anything, ha…”
“Why, are you asking?”
“N-no! No. Not at all. No.”
Scar raised an eyebrow.
Grian looked away.
“Maybe?”
“I knew you couldn’t help yourself,” Scar laughed.
“Hey! You’re the one who offered to say!”
Scar continued to laugh, placing his hand in front of his face.
After a good minute of laughing, Scar calmed down, turning to a very unamused Grian.
“I feel like you’re mocking me.”
“Never! I would never.”
“You do that again, I'm calling you HotShot for the rest of your life.”
Scar had that little lopsided smile that Grian hated. It meant Scar knew something Grian didn’t and wasn’t going to tell him.
“I will tell you what my orientation is if you tell me you have a crush on someone,” he said with a big idiot grin.
Crush?
Grian slid his head under the cover.
“...maybe I do.”
Grian could imagine Scar’s expression change.
“Well that wasn’t a very cheerful tone.”
“I know.”
“Want… Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
Grian bit his tongue. He wasn't going to think about it.
He didn’t need to be reminded how he cried at night from the loneliness and the desperation, how he had fantasized about a certain relationship before and never dared to write, draw or express in any way, shape or form what he had thought of in the fear of someone finding out.
He didn’t need the embarrassment of being told how childish it was to fall in love with the person he looked up to the most. He didn’t need to tell it right at the face of the person he’s thinking of.
He didn’t need to tell him how he was dreaming about him, how he seeked for him for comfort, how he asked himself constantly “what would HotGuy do in this situation?” anytime he felt like the world was too much.
He didn’t need to say out loud he had fallen in love with someone before even knowing who he was, behind that mask.
And, as it turned out, he’s as inspiring with or without the mask.
“Grian…”
“I said no. I’m not talking about it.”
“Want ice cream?”
Grian wanted to cry. Why was he so nice? Why was he… perfect?
“I’d like some, please.”
Grian hated how his voice broke in the middle of his sentence.
“I’ll get you some.”
Grian couldn’t help but feel downright horrible at the thought of Scar, of all people, going to fetch something for him.
If he could curl up and disappear, he would.
Yet, he didn’t hear the familiar sound of wheels rolling on the wooden floor, but several cables unhooking and Scar grunting as he was standing up.
He let out a sigh, stretching, then walked away.
Grian distinctly heard that Scar's bones didn't pop when he stretched.
Grian curled up in a ball under the covers when Scar came back.
“I only brought spoons so we’re going to have to finish it today.”
Grian came out of the covers as Scar sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes. He was feeling rather sleepy, with all the hero work.
“Sorry about that,” Grian said.
“I’m sorry to have brought it up. You know I’m always here if you need me, right?”
Grian nodded his head and grabbed one of the spoon, spending no time to dip it in the tub of ice cream and bringing it to his lips.
Grian hummed, spoon still in mouth.
“Cookie?” he asked.
“Cookie dough, yes.”
Grian kept eating, his bottled pent-up emotions coming back to a calm sea of anxiety.
“Are you really sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
A calm sea of anxiety that could morph into a tsunami if Scar kept at it.
“Scar. I don’t… I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“It’s some very personal things and you’re not a therapist. Let’s not… Let’s not try to dive into that.”
Scar huffed, put the tub of ice aside, and held out both his hands.
“Take my hands, Grian.”
“Scar, please-”
“Take my hands. I promise I won’t do anything weird.”
Grian made a sad smile.
“I don’t think you promising me something makes me feel any better…”
“I hold my promises.”
“Scar. Please. No matter what it is you always find a way to change the actual meaning of the promise.”
Scar chuckled.
“I guess I like to bend the rules a little. But bear with me. Take my hands.”
Grian hesitated but did anyway because you couldn’t deny anything to the HotGuy.
Scar caressed the back of Grian’s hands with his thumbs. It was a bit distracting to notice the size difference.
“I don’t know what’s going on, that’s for sure. But if I know something, it’s that you can’t… You can’t let this eat at you, okay? You need to take care of yourself. Why… why not talk to that person, maybe? Try to unwind things?”
Grian wanted to dig a hole and lie in it. He pulled his hands away.
“I’m fine. I’ll manage, eventually. And stop being that nice.”
“Heh, you know that’s the whole character, Grian.”
“You know it’s not.”
“Oh yeah? Then what am I?”
Rich? Handsome? Charismatic? Lovable? Stupid? Strong? Hot, like the whole nickname the town adopted? Philanthropist? A genius? An excellent friend?
“Eh… A good friend?”
“Your words sometimes wound me, you know. You could’ve at least mentioned ‘shirtless’. I’m devastated you didn’t notice,” Scar said in his fake dramatic voice.
“You would’ve been too glad to tease me and try to flirt with me,” Grian blurted out.
Oh, right. He wasn’t as CuteGuy right now, he hadn’t been flirted with recently.
Grian managed a fake excuse out of the blue.
“Oh, ehrm… Uh, sorry, it’s just… ahem, stupid.”
Scar’s made a big smile, the one that was plastered all over the billboards, the calendars and any merch you could get your hands on.
And maybe Grian's signed poster he was given to as CuteGuy which he kept next to his bed.
"Well, if you were wondering about my orientation, I'll be glad to say that HotGuy doesn't discriminate."
Grian let out a chuckle.
"Is that a real thing or a publicity stunt?"
"Aha!"
Scar dug again in the container of ice cream, and after a bit of hesitancy, Grian did the same. Better to leave that here.
Later in the evening, Grian told him he had to go to sleep, hopefully not stay up all night to work, and Scar nodded, saying he had some work to do too.
Grian chuckled, knowing fully well he was going to go to HQ. And Grian too, later.
First, he played the game and made it look like he went to his own appartment, then changed directions in a few corners and slipped inside the HotGuy HQ.
He walked to the locker room that he knew the HotGuy never used, opened his own locker and changing into his vigilante gear, and slipped his weapons into their holsters, freeing his wings from their confined space.
He checked himself out once in the mirror before heading out and taking the elevator all the way to the roof.
The doors opened and HotGuy was already there, his arms crossed, staring at the city in front of him.
“You’re late,” said HotGuy with a smile.
"The sun is still at the horizon and hasn't disappeared. I'm early."
Grian didn't like that remark one bit, because it was just playful banter with a coworker for HotGuy, while it was a stab in the back for Grian.
He didn't let it show but any remark at his efficiency took a toll on his mood.
HotGuy lifted up his arm to stare at his watch.
“There a thing two blocks from here. How about you take care of the one further and I manage things closer to me?”
“You have a grappling hook. You can travel the same distance as me, you know.”
“Yeah, but you’re faster.”
Grian rolled his eyes with a small smile, getting closer to the edge of the building.
Grian jumped and fell from the building, wind whistling in his ear. He spread out his wings and slowed his fall, using the gained speed to race to the indicated place.
The street was well-lit, it was easy to see what was going on. He grabbed a man who had seemingly stolen a handbag and pinned him to the ground.
Grian smiled with his usual work smile, yet internally he was gritting his teeth.
HotGuy just sent him somewhere with something easy to do while he would do the actual important stuff, didn’t he?
He gave the lady her bag back and she thanked him, he made a little bow and gave his usual responses, before taking off and flying through the streets, low enough to look for HotGuy fighting someone.
He didn’t find him at the place he indicated he went to, but it was evident he went here. Two people were attached to a pole with a trapping net.
So Grian kept looking for him, going through the labyrinth of rather empty streets. The darker the street the busier, of course, but he wasn’t going to try his luck and get too close to those areas.
He was maybe labeled a superhero but he was not invincible.
He was just about to return to HotGuy’s HQ when he noticed three men aiming at him, from afar.
He managed to just get out of the line of fire before shots echoed, triggering his adrenaline response.
He pulled out two of his guns, but before he could properly aim, one already fell to the ground, pinned down.
Grian just recognized the blue and orange and noticed it was the arrows’ fletching, when he heard the familiar battle cry.
“ HotGuy !”
Two other arrows whistled past Grian and disarmed the other two, breaking the strange devices they were holding.
Grian hadn’t even noticed they were strange devices yet.
HotGuy swung from a rope, executing a perfect backflip before landing behind the three and in swift movements trying their arms with cable, trapping them effectively as they fell to the ground, harmless. He was precise. Efficient.
People cheered from their windows, opening them just to call the name of their favorite hero.
“HotGuy! HotGuy! HotGuy!”
Grian landed a bit far from the enemies that were trapped, and watched as HotGuy used his bodyweight as leverage to hoist them up onto a lamppost, swinging from the cable.
He stared for a moment, at the enemies that already gave up by the look on their faces, at the people proudly chanting from their windows, at the few people next to him who changed from panic to joy at the hero’s intervention.
Then he looked at HotGuy, smiling and waving before taking his leave.
It was like Grian was invisible.
The people continued cheering for a moment, then went back home.
If they had the possibility of walking through Grian, he knew they probably would.
His heart was a little heavy as he took off again, taking altitude, exchanging a glance at the moon. The moon was never too kind to him in those kind of moments.
He continued flying, scanning the town with only his eyes. It wasn’t like he had an HQ working for him to secure the town. He had a watch that was given to him, a generic model, to keep him updated on the eventual crimes he could find.
But after three nights of use, he left it back in his apartment, the speed at which crimes were being solved decayed his mood rapidly.
And he didn’t know if this night was really against him, but he found nothing except tied-up criminals awaiting the police. His hands were itching at the idea of using his weapons, of taking action to do some good, but there was nothing.
Not even a crumb of action for poor Grian.
He was about to return to HQ again, sit down, and maybe have some alone time with his thoughts, when he met up with HotGuy again.
And he was glorious, shooting arrows left and right, alone against a group of people who wanted him dead, disarming the bad guys with surgical accuracy without even lodging an arrow in their hands.
He even had the luxury of boasting in the midst of chaos.
Boasting.
"I could do this with my eyes closed! Are you even trying?"
He spun around and blew a kiss in a lady's direction, making her giggle and blush.
Grian wouldn't have minded if he didn't know how special these little things made him feel, when directed at him. But it rarely was.
Grian had half the mind to land on the side and just guide the civilians away while HotGuy handled it all, when something a bit unexpected happened.
HotGuy made a step back, his grin less exaggerated. Amidst the bad guys, someone new stood. He barely looked human, visibly injected with something that made his veins stand out at his neck and wrists, pulsing with inhumane power.
Electronic components were on either side of his head. Those looked strangely similar to what Scar had on his back.
That one had to be from the lab.
Another villain that could've been a hero.
And, for the first time in a long time, HotGuy wasn’t the first to act.
In a scream of agony and rage, the modified human punched HotGuy to the face who stumbled a few steps backward.
Grian’s instincts kicked in quicker than his own brain and he flew near the civilians there, grabbing two bystanders that were too close.
“Back! Back!” he yelled, as the few witnesses felt the sudden dread of the situation.
“ YOU .” screamed the poor soul, pointing at HotGuy. “ YOU RUINED ME .”
“How could I have? I don’t even know you,” HotGuy chuckled, but it was not confident, and a cold shiver hand down Grian’s back.
In his typical fashion, he refused to place a hand where he was hurt, because he couldn't show that he was hurt.
“ HOTGUY !” the man screamed again, and his voice cracked in the middle of it, as he charged the hero.
“Hey, that’s me!” HotGuy responded, jumping up and over the man, tucking his legs in.
He landed gracefully, turned around and aimed an arrow and shot, the rope following the arrow in a perfect arch.
Yet the man extended his hand and let the arrow lodge itself in his palm, and he used the rope to pull HotGuy forward, disrupting his meticulous stance.
Grian couldn’t see Scar’s expression at that moment, but even if he did, he would have not recognized the loss of the usual glint.
HotGuy threw his bow to the side.
“Alright. You want to play hard. I get it.”
HotGuy took a boxing stance and stayed light on his feet, testing the ground.
Somehow that angered his opponent even more.
Grian felt his stomach drop as the man roared in fury, tearing off his shirt and revealing torso and arms almost completely replaced by cybernetics. His body bled at the seams. The flesh was red and swollen, as if his own DNA rejected the implants.
An energetic core glowed in the middle of his chest, half-hidden behind thin unhealthy skin.
“Oh we’re not having a shirtless competition, that’s only for the premium customers of the HotGuy Gift Shop! We’re restocking by the way-”
“ SHUT UP !”
Grian pushed the civilians away, in the direction of another street as soon as he noticed Scar’s smile completely fade.
As the fight started, Grian felt time itself slow down.
He didn’t want to think about those cybernetic implants, and how they looked familiar.
How he maybe knew the person that HotGuy was fighting right now.
Grian felt a bit more aggressive as panic travelled his veins, pushing the civilians out.
“That way! That way! Don’t look back!”
He pushed them and yelled at those around to follow, get them out of the eventual blast radius.
They all slipped inside a shop that was open late, Grian advised them to hide in the aisles.
His hands trembled as he tried to not breathe hard, as communicating his worry to the civilians would be his worst mistake.
A kid reached out to him.
“Is HotGuy going to be okay? He’s going to win, right?”
Grian felt the weight of several pairs of eyes. His answer was always the same.
“Sure, he always does.”
A beat of silence.
“I’m going to check to see if he needs help, though. Be kind and stay there.”
“HotGuy doesn’t need help from you! He’s the best!”
Grian smiled as much as he could, though it couldn’t have looked very well.
“Just to make sure. Now, not a noise.”
He got out of the shop and took off, going back to the location of the fight.
HotGuy and his opponent were having at it roughly. Part of HotGuy’s costume was torn, especially at the shoulder, and the back of his black shirt was soaked, in what Grian knew was blood.
His opponent, on the other side, was dripping with blood from all the seams. He looked barely alive.
As Grian got closer, his wings spreading to slow his descent, he noticed HotGuy had lost his glasses, smashed on the ground, and had blood running down his face too.
HotGuy's face displayed nothing but regret.
“ YOU’RE JUST LIKE ME. YOU'RE NO BETTER "
The man threw a punch which HotGuy blocked with his arm, and Grian could see from the impact how the flesh was being destroyed inside, and the arm was distorted until the impact reached the metal of the bones.
The bones resisted.
Yet there was only pain written on Scar’s face, just for a moment.
Grian was about to grab his gun and shoot when the man grabbed HotGuy by the arm and threw him towards the wall of a building.
Threw him, as if he wasn’t weighing so much more than the average human.
Grian jumped into action, his wings flapping, he swiftly grabbed Scar and positioned himself to slow the impact, spreading his wings for wind resistance and putting his feet back towards the wall, preparing for the reception.
Grian only noticed how little it did when they both hit the building, Grian heard the loud crack of the concrete as his back hit the wall and he barely managed to save the back of his head, and also the cracking of bones. His bones.
They fell down to the ground after the first impact, and Grian twisted mid-air and took the brunt of the fall again, his arms finally giving under the shock, releasing HotGuy from his grip.
“GRIAN!” Scar shouted, turning immediately around to lean over Grian.
Grian’s head was completely foggy as he felt his lungs lack the capacity to breathe, to take air in.
He glanced at the side, the figure with the glowing core still standing and approaching them. Approaching Scar.
Grian wouldn’t give up Scar so easily.
With a gesture that felt barely like an effort, he pulled out his gun and shot his paralyzing pulses, emptying the charge while aiming at the core. Grian was good at shooting fast, it couldn’t have taken more than two seconds.
He stared as the core lost its glow and the figure fell on its side.
Grian felt his arm holding the gun giving out.
“Grian? No no no, please look at me.”
Grian weakly turned his head to look at Scar. His vision was blurry.
“Scar?”
“It’s me, it’s me Grian. It’s going to be ok. I’ll- I’ll save you, okay?”
“... know my… name…”
“I’ve always known. Always.”
Grian felt the world retract. His strength was slowly leaving him.
“You’re… bleeding…”
“It’s fine, I’m fine, it’s just a couple of bruises, okay? I’ll uh… Let’s get out of here.”
“You should… care more about yourself…”
Scar chuckled as he slipped his arms underneath Grian. Grian didn’t notice how sad it was.
“I’m so sorry. Come on, let’s get to the infirmary.”
Scar lifted up Grian who let out a hiss.
“Hurts hurts hurts hurts-”
“I know, I know baby. I’m so sorry. It’s alright.”
“Don’t… be sorry.”
Scar picked up his bow and climbed his way up the facade of a building, to jump from building to building with Grian in his arms.
“You’re- you’re overusing your implants…”
“They’re fine.”
The answer was immediate. Like a reflex.
Scar ran and ran his way to HQ, clutching Grian close to his heart.
“Don’t fall asleep, Grian! We’re almost there!”
“Scar…”
“Grian! I’m begging you!”
“Everything hurts…”
“I LOVE YOU, PLEASE STAY WITH ME!”
Grian could barely whimper a response before slipping into the dark nothingness.