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Grian remembers a time that his mother loved him and cared for him. He remembers when he told her that when he grew up, he wanted to be a firefighter, and she laughed and ruffled his hair, telling him he can be anything he wants to be. She, at first, let him live out his dreams.
And now here he is, sixteen-years-old and bowing on a stage that he’s learned to hate, but it knows him by name. It knows where he cracks and crumbles; it knows when his tears start and stop. Grian has to make sure they don’t start here, and the stage taunts him for it.
Grian knows it’s selfish. He knows that so many people would kill to have the opportunity that he has, but he doesn’t even care anymore. This is not his dream, but here he stands next to people that probably don’t even remember his name because he was never allowed to be anywhere but the stage and home. He wasn’t even allowed to go to school anymore.
It was beginning to drive him mad. He was in a constant state of anger and anxiety. But all he had to do was wait until his contract was over, and he would be free from all of this.
That was his plan until someone asked him to go to lunch with him the next Saturday.
Grian asked his mother if he could go (because he had too), and to his major surprise, she said yes. He was 90% sure that she did it so he could be stalked by the paparazzi, but he knew how to avoid and ignore them.
Part of him feels bad because he doesn’t even remember the person’s name. Grian wasn’t allowed to make friends, so he never bothered learning people’s names. Maybe he’ll recognize the person better in good lighting rather than the dim hallways of backstage.
When he arrives at the address the person gave him, he’s very confused. He always assumed the people he worked with had a ton of money and would never be caught dead eating anywhere but incredibly fancy restaurants where only other rich people could go, but here he was, outside of a chicken place.
Grian slowly walks in, cringing at the bell ringing and announcing his entrance. A group of people look up, and one with brown hair waves him over. It takes a second for him to recognize the three people as the people he just did a show with: Impulse SV, Mumbo Jumbo, and Scar Goodtimes.
Despite having just done a show with them, Grian can’t help but fangirl slightly. Sure, he was also considered slightly famous, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be fans of other famous people. It’s just weirder when you work with them and have been for several months along with putting on many shows with them.
“Grian! Come here!” Impulse calls. Grian slowly walks to the table, sitting in the empty chair next to Impulse and across from Mumbo.
“Hey,” he says, far too nervous and awkward to try and say anything else. These were his mother’s idols, the reason he was forced into acting on Broadway.
Grian suddenly feels very sick. His mother didn’t want him to make any friends. No, she wanted him to bring these famous people she adored back to her house so she could be friends with them, not Grian. That’s why he had been allowed to meet up with them.
“Don’t feel nervous about being here with us. I know your mother is weird about what you can and can't do, but Impulse had a chat with her,” Mumbo explains. Grian tilts his head in confusion, but then remembers that’s rude, so he continues looking normal.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Grian says, feeling like he needs to defend his mother. “My mother just wants to keep me safe. I don’t know where you heard that she’s dictating what I can and can’t do.”
Mumbo and Impulse exchange a look Grian can’t read. Grian doesn’t break eye contact with Mumbo, who eventually looks back at him.
“Well, I do get why she is. You’re still young, right?” Mumbo asks. Grian shrugs.
“Depends. Do you think sixteen is still young?” Grian answers. Scar’s jaw drops. Mumbo’s expression doesn’t change.
“Very,” he says with a nod. “Honestly, you shouldn’t even be on Broadway. How are you doing in school?”
Grian laughs at this. “I’m not going to school. I need to focus on my career more than anything,” he says, repeating what his mother told him when she first took him out of school four years ago. He had since learned not to ask why she did things, even though this was illegal.
“Your education is so much more important. It’ll help you get a very good job,” Mumbo replies.
“And you can use a degree to win arguments on the internet,” Scar adds with a grin. Mumbo kicks him under the table.
“Scar, you don’t even have a college degree,” Mumbo points out.
“If I did, then I would use it to win internet arguments,” Scar replies, crossing his arms. Grian stiffens, thinking they’re actually arguing, but Mumbo just smiles.
“It’s probably a good thing you don’t have a degree in anything then,” Mumbo teases. Scar just laughs but glances quickly at Grian.
Mumbo, seemingly remembering something, shifts his gaze back to Grian.
“That brings me back to what I was going to ask you.” Grian stiffens up again, just out of reflex. Nothing good ever comes out of questions. He should know this by now. “Would you like to come on a road trip with us?”
Grian blinks in surprise, suddenly relaxing. “What?”
“Impulse, Scar, and I always travel together when we’re doing the same show. The next place is probably sixteen to eighteen hours away, and we wanted you to come with us so we can get to know you,” Mumbo explains.
“Don’t feel like you have to,” Impulse quickly adds. “We all understand if you want to travel with your mother instead.”
“No,” Grian says instantly, then internally cringes. “I mean, I’ll have to ask her, but I’m sure she’ll say yes.”
His mother was a bit too enthusiastic about her yes when Grian asked her if he could travel with his castmates. He’s shocked at his own relief when he realized he wouldn’t have to travel eighteen hours with that woman.
Impulse, Scar, and Mumbo pick him up in their tour bus at exactly 5am. They wanted to get there at 11pm so they could just instantly go to sleep and not have to worry about a messed-up sleep schedule. In fact, when the bus pulls up, the three others are asleep in their beds. Grian finds the last empty bed and falls asleep too.
He doesn’t know what time it is when he wakes up later, but he knows it’s getting close to lunch time based on the light coming in from the window next to his feet. Grian goes to climb out of his bunk, but he hears the others talking.
“I just really hope he stops acting so jumpy around us,” Impulse says, concern lacing his voice. “It makes me feel bad even though I know it’s not my fault.”
“We can’t rush him,” Mumbo replies. “If he warms up to us, it’ll be on his own time. There’s no forcing him to like us.”
Grian feels all warm and fuzzy hearing them talk about him like this, but he also can’t help but think he somehow forced them to think about him this way. His mother always told him he was always manipulating people into thinking he was amazing and kind and that she was the bad guy.
A voice in the back of his head tells him to stay silent in his bunk the entire time so he doesn’t bother anyone else, and he chooses to listen to it. It’s what he always did with his mother. If he wasn’t driving, then he was sitting in the back seat, quiet as a mouse. Maybe that’s what his castmates wanted too.
Grian keeps quiet for as long as he can, but at some point, his mind wanders and he ends up sneezing. He freezes, knowing that he’s about to be yelled at. His allergies always got bad when he travelled for some reason.
“Grian, are you awake?” Scar asks. Grian hears footsteps come near him, and he holds his breath.
“I’m sorry, I was trying to stay quiet. I didn’t want to bother you guys,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. He peeks through the gap between his curtain and the wall to stare at the others.
“You could never bother us. Are you hungry? We can go get something to eat. What do you want?” Mumbo asks, messing with his fingers. Impulse places his hand on Mumbo’s shoulder, who stops talking instantly and mutters an apology.
“No, I’m fine,” he lies, finally climbing out of his bed. He sits down on a couch in the communal area.
Scar flops down next to him, sighing. “Well, I’m starving. I vote we go get IHOP,” he says.
“Scar, you always read my mind,” Mumbo replies with a laugh. It makes Grian smile a little. He realizes he likes seeing these people interact with each other. They seem to truly care about each other.
“I think IHOP is a great idea,” Impulse agrees, then he glances to Grian. “Grian?”
Grian is taken aback. “Me?” he clarifies, pointing at himself. His eyes widen in shock. There was no way they really wanted him to give his opinion.
Right?
“I’ve never met anyone else named Grian,” Scar replies playfully. Mumbo hits his shoulder.
“We want your opinion too. It’s best that we go somewhere that everyone likes,” Impulse explains. Grian doesn’t quite know how to respond.
“Okay, if it isn’t too much trouble. I can pay for myself, too,” he finally responds. Impulse laughs lightly.
“You don’t have to pay. I will, don’t worry,” Impulse tells him. Grian shrinks back slightly.
“But I’d feel bad if I wasted your money,” he tries. Impulse blinks at him.
“Wasting my money?” he repeats, completely shocked.
“Grian, we’re feeding you. That’s not wasting money. Plus, he wants to do this, so it isn’t a waste,” Mumbo finally explains. Grian doesn’t blink.
“Oh,” is all he says.
It takes a few seconds for Impulse to get over his shock, but when Grian looks back to him, he’s walking to the driver to let him know to stop at an IHOP.
He sits against the arm of one of the couches, pushing himself as close to it as he can. The last thing he wants to do is intrude on these people’s spaces.
“You know, we don’t bite,” Mumbo says in Grian’s general direction. Grian snaps out of his haze, blinking at him.
“Sorry?” he asks, flinching away at the sound of his own voice. He wasn’t used to being allowed to talk this much.
“We don’t bite,” Mumbo repeats, grinning a little. “Well, Scar might, but that’s just because he’s pretty much a feral cat.”
“Hey! I am not a feral cat!” Scar defends, crossing his arms and looking away from Mumbo. “I’m a beloved house cat, thank you very much.”
“Whatever you say,” Mumbo teases. He pats Scar on the head twice, resulting in Scar swatting a hand at him.
Mumbo laughs good naturedly, and Scar can’t help but smile as well. A very small smile grows on Grian’s face before he instantly hides it, coughing nervously and pulling his legs closer to his chest.
“But like I said, we don’t bite. You don’t have to stay so far away from us,” Mumbo tells him. Grian glances out the nearest window and sees the IHOP nearing.
“I just don’t want to invade your spaces,” he mutters, mostly to himself. He times it perfectly so the bus stops as soon as the last word leaves his lips.
Instantly, Grian is standing and heading out the door. He fell asleep in his jeans and red sweatshirt, so he didn’t have to worry about changing or eating in his pajamas.
“They just want the best for you,” someone says from behind him. Grian jumps and turns around, only relaxing slightly at the sight of their driver. He smirks and winks, taking a long drag of his cigarette.
“Sorry?” Grian asks. He didn’t expect to be spoken to by some guy with a Boston accent.
“Name’s Skizz,” the guy says, sticking out his hand. Grian slowly shakes it, then the man clears his voice, it’s much different the next time he speaks. “Sorry about that. Anyway, they really do care about you. I can tell by the way they look at you. Plus, they keep talking about you.”
Skizz takes yet another long drag of his cigarette, ignoring Grian’s complete and utter confusion at the whole scenario.
“They talk about me?” Grian asks in disbelief. Skizz shrugs, coughing again before taking a final drag of his cigarette and throwing it to the ground. He crushes the butt with his heel before walking towards the doors.
“Are you coming with me, or would you rather deal with the awkwardness of them?” Skizz calls. Grian glances back to the tour bus, seeing Mumbo’s head for a split second through the window before he falls.
He hesitates before running to catch up to Skizz. Skizz stays at his same pace, so Grian quickens his pace to stay with him. Neither says a word to the other.
“Table for six, please,” Skizz says. The hostess nods, sees Grian, and nods again, clearly recognizing him.
Grian hates going out in public. He hates being seen and recognized, and he especially hates the pictures and autographs. Skizz seems to notice his anxiety because he stands up straight, shielding Grian from the view of any prying eyes.
Grian is pulled by Skizz suddenly, which causes him to flinch hard. He looks around and notices a middle aged woman reaching out towards him, blowing him kisses. Skizz glares at the woman and picks up his pace.
“Freaks,” Skizz mutters under his breath. Grian just nods shortly, still a little shaken up from being suddenly pulled.
The IHOP worker leads the two of them to a secluded area with only three tables. There were a few windows, but the blinds on all of them were drawn. It was private, and Grian instantly relaxes.
“The others should be here any second now,” Skizz says to the hostess. She nods and pulls out a pen and notepad, glancing between the two of them.
“Do you want to get started on drinks for the two of you, or do you want to wait for the others?” she asks. Grian looks up at Skizz, not wanting to be the one to make the decision.
“Come back in ten minutes please,” he requests. The hostess nods, pocketing her notepad and pen, and leaves.
Skizz sits down in the closest seat to him, and Grian sits to his right half a second later. They sit there in silence, Skizz leaning back and looking around the empty room, and Grian nervously picking at his nails.
“Who else is coming?” Grian asks quietly a few seconds later. Skizz glances at him for a second before staring at a picture.
“Pearl,” he answers a second later. “I don’t know when she’ll get here since her sister is dropping her off.”
“Pearl has a sister?” Grian asks, slightly bewildered. Skizz chuckles.
“You know, you’d know a lot more about people if you weren’t always so wrapped up in being perfect.”
Grian is about to tell him it isn’t his fault, but the others burst into the room. They’re loud, and usually it would bother Grian, but there’s something comforting about it.
“You absolutely would eat it from the center!” Scar exclaims. A tall woman, Pearl, Grian recognizes, scoffs at him.
“How would you even do that?” she asks, bewildered. “You’d have to have a knife and fork, and I think that’s arguably worse.”
“You would eat a Kit Kat with a knife and fork,” Mumbo replies, sitting next to Grian.
Grian instinctively flinches back, and Mumbo notices. He pretends he doesn’t, but Grian sees how Mumbo gives him more space. It makes him feel slightly sick, so he ducks his head down, pretending to be intensely studying the menu.
“Sorry,” Mumbo mutters, looking at his menu.
“It’s fine,” Grian mumbles back.
He continues to study the menu despite knowing what he’s getting, listening to Scar, Pearl, and Mumbo argue over how Pearl would eat her Kit Kats.
“How do you eat yours, Grian?” Pearl asks. Upon hearing his name, his head snaps up, and his eyebrows furrow for a second as he registers the question.
“I bite it,” he replies carefully. He glances around the group, noticing how Pearl is across from him, Impulse across from Skizz, and Mumbo across from Scar. It makes him smile.
“How? Where?” Scar asks, leaning on the table. His long hair brushes against the top of the table.
“You’re so lucky I don’t have a drink right now,” Mumbo mutters, swatting gently at Scar’s hair. Scar ignores him and continues staring at Grian, waiting for his answer.
“I don’t know,” Grian says, picking at his nails again. Pearl notices and slides a red mesh tube with a marble in it. “Like the whole bar. I don’t break it apart.”
He picks up the mesh tube, putting it in his lap. Part of him wants to fidget with it, but the other part of him knows that he doesn’t deserve it.
“Grian, in the most affectionate way possible, there is something wrong with you,” Scar jokes. Grian cracks a small smile, glancing up at Scar momentarily before looking at his lap again.
They all order their drinks, the others teasing Mumbo for getting a black coffee, and later they order their food. Grian wants to play it safe by just getting a simple pancake stack with scrambled eggs and bacon, but Pearl has different plans.
“You know, Grian and I were in a play when we were little kids,” Pearl says after they order their drinks. Grian freezes. He completely forgot about that. “Do you still like chocolate chip pancakes with eggs?”
“Um, yeah,” Grian answers quietly. If he was being honest, he wasn’t expecting Pearl to remember anything about him. It had been probably a decade since then.
“Over hard?” Pearl clarifies. Grian’s throat is dry, so he just nods in response. Pearl nods and hooks her foot around his under the table.
They eat their meals in almost complete silence, only talking every few minutes. It’s nice, honestly. If he was eating with his mother, she would always tell him all the things he did wrong and how he needs to make more famous friends. The reminder of why she let him come on this road trip makes him sick, and he starts poking at his food.
“Everything okay?” Skizz asks him quietly. His voice is low, obviously trying not to let the others hear him. Thankfully, they’re having a loud conversation over the best way to eat eggs.
“Yeah,” Grian lies, stabbing his pancakes again.
“I’ll get you a to go box. And I’m always here if you want to talk,” Skizz tells him. Grian swallows thickly and nods.
If Skizz knows that Grian will never take him up on that offer, he doesn’t show it.
They leave the IHOP thirty minutes later. Pearl decides to join them instead of taking a plane like she originally intended, waving off any concerns about money. She claims to be having too much fun, and Grian has to hide his smile.
When they get back into the bus, Grian takes his place next to the arm of the couch, but this time he doesn’t hold himself so tightly. He allows himself to relax and spread out slightly. Impulse sits, leaning against the other arm, and Pearl flops down next to him, leaning against Grian’s shoulder and stretching her legs out over Impulse’s lap.
For once, he doesn’t flinch.
In fact, he even lets himself laugh a little when Pearl dramatically throws her arm over her eyes, sighing loudly. She lifts her arm slightly, winks at him, then drops it again.
They spent a lot of time together during that one play they did. Pearl was eight at the time, and Grian was six, so Pearl took it upon herself to make sure Grian was always laughing. He remembers it being the best time of his life, and he considered Pearl to be his best friend.
He remembers it being the last play he ever enjoyed being part of.
Scar and Mumbo sit on the couch across from them. Mumbo sits down first, and Scar sits so close to him that he’s practically sitting on top of him.
“Get off of me,” Mumbo says before shoving Scar on the floor.
He lands with a loud thud and, instead of getting up, he just stares at Mumbo, hand over his heart and jaw dropped in complete shock.
“Rude!” Scar exclaims. Mumbo just shrugs, and Scar sits back down on the couch, but this time he gives Mumbo room.
“Better.” Scar sticks his tongue out in response.
Grian, for the first time in a decade, feels safe and comfortable. It’s a foreign feeling, one he never thought he’d feel again after leaving Pearl after their final performance.
“Bad news,” Skizz calls from the driver’s seat. Pearl sits up suddenly, and they all lean closer to them.
Thunder booms outside, and Grian jumps and grabs onto Pearl’s arm. He goes to let go, but Pearl just places her other hand on his.
“There’s a huge storm in this next city along with a tornado warning. We’re going to have to stop for a bit,” he explains. “Or we can just drive through.”
It’s hailing outside, and Grian just grips Pearl’s arms harder. She wriggles out of his grasp and wraps her arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer.
“You are not driving through. Find a rest stop,” Impulse demands. He stands up from the couch, and despite being only around five foot eight, he looks like he’s going to drag six foot four Skizz out of the driver’s seat if he doesn’t listen.
“Yes sir,” Skizz replies immediately. Impulse nods and climbs into the passenger seat instead of taking his spot back on the couch.
“What was that all about?” Grian whispers, leaning more towards Mumbo and Scar and partially out of Pearl’s hold.
“One time, Skizz tried to drive through a storm while on no sleep late at night even though Impulse told him not to. Once the bus stopped, Impulse dragged Skizz out of the driver seat by the ear,” Mumbo explains. His face is red from trying not to laugh.
“Is he really that strong?” Grian asks. Scar nods, covering his mouth to try and hide his laugh. “That’s terrifying.”
He leans back into Pearl, trying not to think about how easily Impulse could hurt him if he wanted to. Maybe his mother would let him quit if something like that happened to him. Grian pretends to not know that there is no way he’s going to ever be allowed to quit.
As the hours go on, everyone starts getting tired and heading to their bunks. Scar heads off first, claiming to need his beauty sleep, followed shortly by Mumbo, Impulse, then Skizz.
Pearl and Grian sit on opposite couches, Grian having moved a few hours ago when Impulse and Skizz came to sit with them. He doesn’t look at Pearl, scared of what she might say.
“How’s your mother been?” Pearl asks, but she says it with a kind of poison that it brings Grian comfort in a sick way.
“I don’t know,” he replies. “She doesn’t talk to me unless it’s about another audition or costume fitting or something to do with performing.”
“I’ve never liked her,” she mutters, pulling her legs to her chest and crossing her arms.
“Yeah, same here,” Grian agrees.
They sit in silence before Grian yawns and stands up, starting to head to his bunk.
“Grian?” Pearl calls quietly. She reaches for his arm, grabbing it gently. “You can talk to me about anything. I’ll do anything to help you, okay? So would the others.”
Grian swallows and nods, and for once, he doesn’t think he’s lying.
He lays in his bunk, staring at the too close ceiling. Pearl is still on the couch, too used to her nocturnal schedule to head to sleep any time soon. She’s laughing quietly to herself, and Grian is just thinking.
“Pearl?” he calls. He doesn’t know what he’s doing or why he’s doing it.
“Yeah?” she replies. There’s a faint noise in the background, probably some TikTok she was watching.
“Can we...talk?” Grian’s hesitating, and the air feels tense. He’s never said what he’s about to say to anyone.
“Always.” And the bus goes silent, except for the occasional snore from Skizz.
He climbs out of his bunk and sits next to Pearl, leaning against her shoulder. It’s something he used to do when they first met, before his mother became the woman she became. There’s something comforting about Pearl now.
“I don’t want to do this anymore.”
The words are out of his mouth before he can even register them. He clamps his hand over his mouth, not breathing for a few seconds. Pearl wraps her arms around him and squeezes, and they sit there like that for a few minutes.
“This can be your final show,” Pearl whispers, and Grian laughs. He pulls away from the hug, and the two move in sync so they’re facing each other.
They’re sitting cross legged on the couch, knees touching. It’s how they sat all the time as children when they would share stories or practice lines or play games. Grian likes how, despite a decade of time passing and everything else changing, this didn’t and never will.
“You say that like I have a choice,” Grian scoffs. “In my dreams. You’ve met her; you should know by now that the only way I’m getting out is by dying.”
Pearl grabs Grian’s hands, squeezing them slightly. She looks at him with determination, spite, and sheer will in her eyes.
“I am going to get you out of here. We are,” Pearl promises. Then she smiles, and there’s a slight hint of chaotic evil in it.
Grian feels safe and relieved. That smile meant it was going to happen, no matter what others thought. He got used to seeing it during their show all those years ago, but he’s shocked that he remembers it.
They fall asleep on the couch together with Grian laying his head on Pearl’s shoulder. Impulse absolutely takes a picture of it as blackmail (for Pearl, not Grian).
When Grian wakes up, Impulse, Mumbo, and Scar are crammed onto the other couch. Pearl is on her phone, reading something. Grian glances at it, and through blurry eyes he sees the title Lately I’ve Felt as Dead as the Leaves Stuck in My Hair. Underneath the title, the author is listed as PandoraRxse .
“You’re awake!” Pearl exclaims, clicking off her phone. “We’re pretty close to the hotel now. She said she’s waiting there already.”
The way Pearl says she makes it sound like it was poison. Honestly, the woman it was about it pretty poisonous, so Grian gets it.
“How’d she get there so fast?” Grian asks. Scar hands him a water bottle, and Grian flinches a little before accepting it.
“Apparently she took a plane,” Pearl replies a second later. She shows Grian a message from their director.
“Why can’t she just be normal?” Grian groans, dragging his hands down his face.
“Because she’s a freak,” Pearl answers. He nods in agreement.
“Wait, Pearl, you knew her before she was bad. What was she like back then?” Scar asks. He glances at Grian for confirmation that this is okay to ask, and Grian nods once.
“She was really chill, if I’m honest,” she replies. “It was clear she loved Grian with her whole heart, but near the end, she started acting weird. I was, like, eight or something, so I didn’t notice then.”
“I would tell her I wanted to be a firefighter, and she would tell me I could once I got old enough and finished acting. At some point, she stopped telling me I could,” Grian adds.
“Let me at her,” Scar says. Grian can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“We are an hour away from our destination!” Skizz calls from the front seat. Everywhere cheers, and Grian sinks back into the couch, thankful for the conversation change.
He zones in and out for the rest of the ride, dreading seeing that woman. Over the next hour, he plans what he’s going to say to her. He’s not even sure if he’ll actually say it, being the coward that he is, but sometimes pretending is nice.
The pull up to the hotel far too soon. Grian’s in a daze as he gathers his bags, stumbling out of the bus. He trips, and Pearl, already out of the bus, grabs his arm and catches him.
“You okay?” she asks him quietly. He blinks at her, still in a daze.
“I’m going to do it.” Grian says this before he even processes Pearl’s sentence.
When he walks in, she’s already standing there, giddy with excitement. Grian feels sick knowing that the excitement is not because she’s seeing her son but for the people he came with.
“You are so warm and welcoming,” he tells her. She turns and glares at him for a second before turning back to the others.
“Not now, Grian. I want to catch up with my friends!” she says, pushing him back. “Go head up to our room.”
“They’re not your friends.” His voice and low, and even Pearl backs away. Skizz stops laughing with Impulse, and Scar glances between Grian and the woman. He can’t even think of her as what she is.
“What do you mean?” She laughs, nervous, looking between them all. “Of course they’re my friends. They love me!”
“They don’t even know your name.” He knows this is dangerous; he knows that what he’s saying is going to cause someone to explode.
“Everyone here knows my name, Grian. I’ve made sure of it,” she tells him, scoffing. Her nervousness is growing, and Grian knows he can use this to his advantage.
He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. That is until-
“I bet they don’t even know your name despite being stuck with you for so long.”
“Do you not realize that I could’ve been anyone?” he explodes. “Anyone! But no, you had to go and be selfish, planning my entire life out for me without even thinking about me. Everyone knows that you did this just to know famous people.”
“Grian-,” she starts, reaching out to touch his arm. Grian flinches away violently.
“Do not touch me,” he warns. There are tears streaming down his cheeks now, but he doesn’t care. “You never even cared about my wants! All you saw was an opportunity for money and fame.”
He pauses, trying to swallow his tears, before giving up and asking a question he has wanted to ask for a decade now.
“When did you stop loving me?”
Pearl chokes on a sob, turning and hiding her face in Mumbo’s shoulder. Scar covers his mouth, and Skizz and Impulse clutch onto each other’s arms. Everyone’s eyes are full of tears.
“I-.”
“Don’t even bother,” Grian tells her. “I’m not doing this anymore. This is my final show. I’m emancipating and quitting. Goodbye.”
“I’ll take you to my hotel room,” Pearl whispers. She’s still crying and sniffling, so Grian just nods.
They head to the elevators while that woman still stands in the lobby, unable to get out a sentence as she realizes she lost her income.
And Grian? Oh, he’s never felt more free.