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“Did you love me? Back then?” Scar asked, his voice low, hesitant, even. Perhaps that single question had been stuck with him for a long time —and Grian knew exactly why it was so difficult to put it into words.
They usually refrained from talking about the past. Scar always understood. He knew that, as unfortunate as it was, Grian had no choice but to comply with Their wishes. Scar knew the universe had been cruel to them, over and over again. Scar knew they weren’t allowed to have a happy ending on multiple realities.
But, on Hermitcraft, things were gentler. On Hermitcraft, they were allowed to lay beside each other and lose themselves in unconcerned conversations about their days. They were allowed to daydream about plans together, about the cozy home they wish to build in their spare time, once their gigantic bases become a little too much for their desired domesticity.
On Hermitcraft, they had more time to reflect on how things used to be. And Scar did that a lot, Grian knew. But he never really brought whatever thoughts he had up.
Until now.
Grian allowed himself a long sigh. He felt Scar’s breath against his neck and gentle fingers caressed his hair, as they did many times before. But, this time, it felt different.
Scar wanted an answer.
“As much as one could.”
The answer came out easier than he expected it to. It was Scar, after all; his best friend, his soulmate, the person he would find himself drawn to in every single universe.
He would always love Scar. As deeply and as purely as one possibly could.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
There it was, at last. Some sort of confrontation —or something as close as they’d ever get to one.
“If I had told you back then, and if I had allowed you to love me back, it would hurt even more when you left,” he answered, voice shaken. “I’d miss you like hell. And it’d be even harder for me to forgive myself for what I had to do.”
Scar’s fingers stopped for a moment, and he fell silent. Grian wondered if he, too, still felt the pain of the bruises they inflicted upon each other. If he still smelled the blood and the ashes.
“You know I don’t blame you,” he said.
“I know, Scar. I know. You’re too good to ever hold anything against me. I know.” He raised his voice ever so slightly at every single one of those words. And it hurt. Hell, did it hurt. “But I have seen them. I have seen the scars I gave you, and I wish I had let you hurt me instead. I wish I had been less selfish.”
“Look at me.”
Grian did as asked, turning towards his partner. Scar had that look in his face he only had when Grian was hurt or had overworked himself once again. Scar carefully caressed Grian’s face, and it felt soft, even if his hands often were bruised by work.
“We both know I’d never be as brave as you were to end it all,” he said with a sad smile. “I don't blame you, because I know you don't always get to choose.”
“The only thing that matters to me is that you chose to stay.”
Grian leaned his head towards Scar’s touch.
“I always will,” he whispered. “I need you.”
“Oh, you don’t. If anything, I’m the one that needs you the most. I can’t even cook by myself.”
Grian couldn’t help himself but to laugh at that.
“You’ve been improving!”
“At breakfasts . You couldn’t even taste my beetroot soup, I was so hurt… Stop laughing!”
Scar was smiling, though. Nothing made him feel better than being able to make Grian laugh —it was, by all means, the perfect view: Scar would never get tired of the way his body moved and how his eyes narrowed.
“In my defense, I had never seen a soup that smelled like that , and I still don’t quite understand how you even managed such a thing.”
“You still should have given it a chance, though. It wasn’t that bad after the first two spoons.”
Grian smiled, snuggling himself a bit closer against his partner. It was always that easy to feel comfort when it came to Scar.
“Hm, no, I don’t think I’d like it.”
“You’re such a menace to this household, did you know that?”
Grian laughed again, closing his eyes.
“I know. Jellie wishes she was me.”
Scar embraced Grian and pressed his lips against his forehead. Grian was just a little embarrassed to admit his heart still raced every time he did that, but there was nothing he could do against his most prominent weaknesses: soft kisses and gentle caresses across his feathers.
“I love you,” Scar said, marking his words with yet another gentle kiss, this time against his partner’s temple.
“I know,” Grian whispered. “I love you too.”
“As much as one can?”
Grian smiled.
“As much as one can.”
Always .