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Scar was ninety-nine percent sure that Grian hadn’t noticed yet. Certainly, if he’d checked his phone at any point within the last few minutes and spotted the date switching as evening rolled into midnight, he hadn’t brought it up. They were both anticipating this day, eagerly awaiting its annual return and the tidings it brought.
April Fools was, after all, the day they thrived.
The end of March was a time of immense excitement for Scar and his roommate. It was guaranteed time-off with Spring Break rolling around, and aside from a few hours a day spent frantically grading midterms at the kitchen table, the two got to actually take time for themselves. They could stay up later, go out for longer, and most importantly, they could plan for their favorite holiday.
Scar hadn’t always been as big of a fan of this particular occasion as he was nowadays. A span of time in which there wasn’t a single person not on high alert, expecting a prank? When every little movement was judged and every word analyzed? A full twenty four hours in which he lost the element of surprise?
No, that wasn’t exactly his speed. He liked his pranks to be of a more subtle, slow-burning genre — the kind of thing that sat with his victims for a while.
For example, the time he’d hidden creepily encouraging notes in Bdubs’ pockets over the course of several weeks. Comments about his new haircuts, and little doodles of what outfit he was wearing that day drove him crazy throughout their shared workday. It was a pleasure to watch.
Or if they weren’t capable of being built-up, then Scar preferred his pranks to hit hard and fast, gaining the maximum possible reaction out of his targets all at once.
Clear plastic wrap around a doorway was a classic that had gotten Cleo quite a few times coming into the breakroom, considering they were usually always turned and talking to someone as they walked into rooms. Stealing the pencil lead from every one of Tango’s mechanical pencils was another of his favorites from underneath that same umbrella. The history teacher had been mad for the rest of the day after that.
So, April Fools had been the bane of his existence for a long time due to its limitations.
Until he met Grian.
Scar had been working at the little public high school down the road from his shoddy apartment for two years by that point. The Fine Arts program wasn’t much in the way of funding, but he did his best to keep it on its feet with what they had. Around the time when Grian was hired, he was trying to get his budget for the spring theater production approved, and was visiting the school’s office often.
As a result of the former secretary, the school’s paperwork and filing system was crazy and wrong. It meant forms would be taken and never seen again, or they’d be filed incorrectly and turn up months after their usefulness had expired. Grian was the solution – the new secretary, spoken of like an angel descended from the heavens to save the school from eternal damnation.
Scar had been excited to speak to him, excited to actually get somewhere with his budget approval, excited to have someone who genuinely and actively wanted to help him.
He was so excited, in fact, that it completely slipped his mind that their first meeting was set to be on the first of April. Grian hadn’t forgotten at all.
Five minutes into the waiting room music echoing through the office, Grian staring at him with a blank smile the entire time, Scar finally remembered.
Initially, it’d been frustrating. Having his precious minutes wasted and his comments ignored was bound to be. Honestly, he was close to storming out when the song tapered to an end. But then, Grian had collapsed into a fit of uncontrollable cackling, and Scar hadn’t been able to hold onto his rage.
Grian got his budget approved that very meeting. After weeks of fighting for files and signatures that weren’t available, the new secretary had swooped in and solved every single one of his issues like they were nothing.
And, well, Scar adored someone with a sense of humor.
Their friendship had snowballed from that day onward — the two newest employees at the school became practically joined at the hip. Grian took his lunch breaks during Scar’s planning period, and Scar stayed after school to grade papers in Grian’s office instead of his own. It was the easiest connection he’d ever formed with another person.
A simple friendship at school turned into sharing an apartment and commuting to school in one car. They saw each other every day, spent all their free time together, and it had evolved into a situation the other employees feared — especially on April Fools day.
Because Scar didn’t like April Fools day before, but by Grian’s side, everything was better.
The school secretary knew exactly when every employee arrived for the day, and when the last janitor left in the evening. Grian knew where to step to avoid security cameras, had the necessary keys to get into rooms usually off limits to regular teachers, and best of all, he knew exactly how to use that to his advantage.
This was his third year in a row following Grian into the school after hours to set up their prank. April Fools would be students’ last day before Spring Break was officially in session, and they’d arrive in the morning to find feathers coating the entirety of the school’s floors. In the classrooms, the halls, the offices, and the gymnasium, it was just feathers. Nothing — besides Grian’s office and Scar’s theater — was spared.
Had it taken up a good majority of Scar and Grian’s early evening? Yes, absolutely. But was it worth it? Also yes.
They got home at around eleven at night on the thirty-first of the month, and had collapsed onto the couch, exhausted. Scar suggested putting on a movie, and Grian had agreed before the thought was even fully out of his mouth. With the constant ticking of the minutes, the mind-numbing plot of the movie, and a haze of quiet tiredness settling between them, midnight had arrived.
April first, and Grian hadn’t realized yet.
Rarely these days did the two of them ever direct their pranks at each other, but this opportunity was not one Scar could pass up. Grian’s guard would raise the second he looked at the time. It was half-baked, layered in sleep and fatigue, but only a single idea had come to his mind when he imagined getting under his friend’s skin.
Were it anyone else, he might’ve reconsidered. But this was Grian. He could handle Scar taking it a little past what was usually considered appropriate.
“Grian,” Scar said, voice low and quiet to not disrupt the atmosphere. Dark eyes left the screen for a moment to flick to him. On opposite ends of the couch, with two blankets separating them, Scar’s plan could hardly work the way he needed. He readjusted to make room next to himself. “I’m cold.”
“You have a blanket—“
“I’m cold anyway,” Scar insisted. Grian gave him a deadpan stare, but sighed and moved anyway. The air conditioning was frequently a bother to the teacher, as the frigid air tended to make his muscles stiff. His roommate was quite accommodating to Scar’s requests because of it. Through a bit of shuffling, they ended up side-by-side, sharing just Grian’s blanket.
It wasn’t their first time being this close, but it was the first time Scar had urged them together with ulterior motives. Admittedly, the anticipation of the prank stirred in his gut and tingled in the parts of himself that were pressed against Grian. Stage fright was supposed to be something he knew better than anyone, but it still gripped at his heart and warmed his cheeks.
The teacher let it be for a beat or two, listening as the movie faded from dialogue into calm music. He took his shot. “Hey, Grian?”
“Hm?”
Scar looked over at the same time as Grian did, and their proximity worked exactly as intended. Their noses brushed, their eyes went wide, their faces hovering centimeters apart. Grian sucked in a sharp breath. Scar had to use every ounce of cognitive function remaining in his brain to stifle his nerves.
“Y’know, we make a really good team,” Scar whispered, filling the very limited space between them. “Have you ever noticed that?”
“What? Um,” Grian choked out. His surprise had manifested into a bright red hue along the curve of his cheek and up to the tips of his ears. Faintly, Scar found himself wondering what it might be like to trace his thumb along that trail. “Yes, obviously, Scar… obviously I have.”
So far, Grian was reacting as expected. It was this next bit that Scar was certain would tip him off to the nature of his prank. His friend was often too perceptive – the confusion currently lining his expression would not remain for long. Scar was surprised, honestly, that Grian hadn’t pulled away or questioned his advances already.
Slowly, Scar found Grian’s hand beneath the blanket. He intertwined their fingers, never once breaking eye contact. The other man furrowed his brows.
“Grian,” Scar said. “Don’t you think we could make a better team? In some… other way?”
He’d said it.
A tick of the clock passed, turning into three, five, ten seconds of silence. Neither spoke, neither moved. Not a single breath passed through their lips.
He expected Grian to laugh – expected to be pushed back, their hands disconnected, and for the other to scold him for the pitiful attempt at a prank. He expected, at most, for Grian to play into the joke and toss out a few flirtations of his own. They’d done this before, made jokes about dating, even though it’d never been uttered in such an intimate setting.
He did not expect to hear the pause be broken by a shaky, nearly inaudible, “What do you mean by that, Scar?”
Grian’s eyes slipped down his face, and then back up again. It was as if a match had been lit within his ribcage in response to the simple action. Scar suddenly felt far too warm, far too close, far too out of control. His stomach flipped, and his confidence drained completely.
There was more to the script in his head, but he couldn’t recall anything else. He knew he’d intended to extend the joke further, put his acting skills to good use by crafting the cheesiest fake confession scene possible. But now, when Scar’s mind drifted to form the words I love you, his heart beat up into his throat and stifled any hope of speaking.
Too real, his mind screamed. Too real, too close, too much. Dangerous. Dangerous. Dangerous.
Despite his career in acting, his iron-clad will, the fact that this was his idea in the first place, Scar was the one to finally back up and look away. He laughed, humorless and rife with disbelief.
“April Fools,” Scar declared, though it was devoid of any enthusiasm. “Bet you didn’t notice it was midnight, G! I, uh, beat you to it.”
“Midnight,” Grian repeated, still staring at him with wide eyes. He blinked, and Scar could practically see his walls raise. It was the exact reaction he should’ve gotten minutes prior. “Midnight? That’s your excuse? Scar, it’s not midnight.”
“What?” Scar frowned. He held up his phone. “Yes, it is.”
“No, it isn’t,” Grian argued, holding up his own phone. It showed that it was precisely one hour earlier than the time on Scar’s screen. “That was my prank, Scar. I changed that while you were driving us back.”
Scar opened and closed his mouth several times.
“You weren’t supposed to figure it out until you started screwing up class schedules tomorrow,” Grian said. He threw his phone behind him on the couch, tipping his chin up and glaring Scar’s way. “I didn’t expect you to try and pull some dirty tricks right at midnight.”
“Dirty tricks,” Scar muttered, jaw dropping. “Hey, no fair! You don’t get to call my pranks dirty tricks when yours would have made me late for work.”
“Hasn’t anyone ever taught you that it’s not nice to ask someone out as a joke?”
“Hasn’t anyone ever taught you not to mess with people’s jobs?”
Grian crossed his arms, nose scrunching like it always did when he was getting angry.
Scar backtracked quickly, raising two placating hands and chuckling. “Right. You’re right. That wasn’t nice of me. I’m sorry, G.”
Though he wasn’t entirely sure why this had been Grian’s breaking point, he knew challenging him when he was getting genuinely upset was not a good course of action. It’d been a long time, honestly, since Scar had seen Grian get so wound up over something quite this quickly. Perhaps it was due to the new genre of prank, or maybe he was just annoyed that his own joke was revealed far too early.
Either way, Scar needed to be careful. Even with his apology hovering in the air, Grian’s scowl hadn’t lessened.
He glanced towards the television to see the movie had come to an end at some point during their bickering. Sighing, Scar switched it off.
“I’m sorry, Grian,” Scar repeated. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
For a moment, Scar thought he saw Grian’s gaze dip again, but with distance between them, and the glare from a lamp on the other man’s glasses, he couldn’t be entirely sure. It made his heart squeeze all the same.
Grian straightened, huffing, “No.”
Scar hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Grian said. He leaned into the couch cushions, his countenance changing with the wave of a hand. His face relaxed, his legs crossed in front of him, and a wide smile split his lips. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done in due time.”
Cold terror mixed with a strange thrill of excitement shot up Scar’s spine. The rush of adrenaline straight to his head sent a wave of dizziness through him, and he had to stand in a hurry to avoid doing something stupid.
“Yeah, well, uh,” Scar stammered, cheeks hot. “I’m going to bed. See you in the morning, G!”
Without another word, Scar whirled around and ran into his room. If the personification of fear found him in his dreams, donning a set of dark eyes and a magnificent laugh, then that was his business.
It was over breakfast that Grian made his move.
“Morning, handsome.”
Scar dropped his spoon into his bowl of cereal, staring up at Grian from where he’d been seated in their kitchen. The man stood beside him, far too close, with one hand brushing Scar’s hair out of his face. His smile was foreboding, and the intensity of his gaze kept the teacher pinned in place.
Grian had a husky undertone to his voice, having clearly only just woken up. Despite that, he seemed to be perfectly conscious enough to shock Scar to his core.
“Morning… Grian,” Scar said, sounding distant even to his own ears. “Are you, um, ready to face the consequences of our actions?”
Grian let his head tip to the side, and the hand that had been messing with his hair slipped down to Scar’s shoulder to trace circle patterns there. “Of course,” the secretary replied. “I’m ready for anything with you by my side.”
Scar’s breath caught.
“Y’know,” Grian hummed, grinning from ear to ear. “Since we’re such a good team.”
Oh.
Oh no.
He couldn’t stop himself from gaping a bit as the realization slapped him. This was payback for the night prior. This was Grian’s plan to torture him. He was going to give him a taste of his own medicine.
Scar was screwed.
“C’mon, Scar,” Grian said, giving his shoulder a squeeze before stepping back. Scar missed his presence immediately. “I’m skipping breakfast. Finish yours quickly so we can leave. You’re driving.”
He left the room, presumably to grab his bag, and the teacher glanced down at his bowl. The spoon had been fully submerged in the milk. Scar weighed his options, finally deciding his stomach was twisted in too many knots to be hungry anymore.
Dumping his cereal and putting his bowl in the sink, Scar joined Grian by the door.
The ride to school was uneventful, though the teacher’s mind spun with horrible imaginings of what the rest of his day was going to look like. He could still see a glint of mischief in his friend’s eyes, which meant the worst was not over.
Man, if he’d known he would receive such insane retribution, he never would’ve gone through with his half-baked plan hours ago. It wasn’t funny enough to make any of this worth it. At this rate, he was going to be dealing with an out-of-whack heart rate and visions of his lovely roommate replaying in his head all day.
Scar was, at least, given a moment of breathing room upon arriving at the school. Both he and his best friend were immediately caught up in laughing over their colleagues' reactions to their feather prank. They did a lap around the halls, soaking in the glory, and then stood at the front to catch the first few students as they petered in.
Most passed them by wearing looks of awe, but a handful spotted them and paused. One baffled student asked, “Mr. Minecraft? Mr. Goodtimes? Did you do this?”
Grian shrugged on their behalf. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“They do something every year,” another helpful student chimed in, “But seriously? Feathers?”
“It was that or live chickens,” Scar replied, and the two passersby continued on their way, laughing. Grian leaned against the hallway wall with him, a new kind of smile on his face. “What?”
“Nothing,” Grian said, and Scar stiffened at the sound of that tone back in his voice. “I just really enjoy it when you’re good with the kids.”
Scar flushed, crossing his arms over his chest to disguise the rapid-fire pace of his pulse. He hadn’t expected Grian to continue this bit of theirs in public. All it took was one student walking a little too close to them, and there would be rumors circling the school by noon.
Wouldn’t be the first time, of course, that the gossips would suspect something more between him and his coworker. The theater kids especially had inquired about it on multiple occasions. It was a recurring series of curiosity whenever the spring production would roll around. Why did the school’s secretary linger around until their director is ready to go? Why did they leave in the same car? Why did they always look at each other like that?
Good questions, some of them, but the others were misunderstandings.
What was happening now, however, would be hard to shake as a misunderstanding if it spread.
“Okay, well,” Scar laughed, ignoring how his own voice cracked. He gestured over his shoulder and slowly started in that direction. “I should go, um, get ready for my first period.”
“Scar?”
“Yes?”
“Your first class is in the other direction,” Grian said. Scar clamped his mouth shut and rocked forward on his feet. Mentally, he fact checked that information, embarrassingly finding it to be correct.
The teacher cleared his throat, walking past his friend with a nod. He did his best not to notice the wink Grian shot him in return. If this was going to be how they spent the entire day, Scar was going to be dead before the final bell rang.
Scar tucked himself behind the desk with a sigh, the rolling chair groaning under his weight. His third period class was in an empty classroom on the other side of the school from his second period Drama class, so the rush to get there during the five minutes between blocks was always stressful. The students were in a similar state.
“Alright, gimme a few minutes to catch my breath, guys, and we’ll get started,” Scar announced as they settled. The students muttered vaguely in response, but they were clearly half-asleep. “Did we do the reading?”
He heard a scattered groan leave the majority of them, and took that to mean they had not. Scar slung his bag off his shoulder and fished out his textbook. He stood, walked around to the front of his desk, and sat on it. The bored faces were to be expected for this particular group of his.
Art History was never his favorite subject to teach, but the school needed bodies to fill positions, and he was far more qualified for this than he was for Mathematics. There were worse places to be, though. At the very least, he recognized a lot of faces here to be students also in his more interesting classes. There were around eleven kids from the year prior’s spring production staring back at him.
“That’s fine. You already know a lot of the people from last night’s reading,” Scar waffled on. “We're still covering the renaissance, obviously, but we’re on into the later decades. The High Renaissance, so that’s Da Vinci, Rafael, those folks. Can anyone tell me what changed in the art around that time?”
A girl in the fourth row raised her hand, announcing, “Perspective and an increase in realism.”
“Right, exactly,” Scar said, snapping his book shut. “Artists around this point began to utilize their space more efficiently. Not to say they never did stuff on bigger scales, but we’ve seen the Sistine Chapel, haven’t we? That’s more what it’s referring to.”
Scar was about to move on to covering some definitions when a knock sounded at the door. There wasn’t a chance to respond before it was opening just a crack and Grian’s head poked through. “Mr. Goodtimes, may I steal you for a moment?”
“Oh, uh, sure! One second!” Scar straightened, standing. He popped behind the desk and pulled a video up to project onto the board. It was a virtual tour of the Sistine Chapel – again, boring, but it’d be entertaining enough. Once he was assured his kids wouldn’t be too off-topic while he was out, he followed Grian into the hall. “What’s up, man?”
“Sorry to bug you while you’re working,” Grian hummed. “Since I know you value your job so highly, and you’re so glad we got here on time today!”
“Ugh,” Scar groaned, shoulders drooping. “I said I was sorry!”
“Mhm, and I said you’d pay,” Grian reiterated. “Anyway, I know your free period is supposed to be after this one, but—“
“But?” Scar’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean but?”
“Deep breaths, dude,” Grian said. “Joe Hills called in sick last-minute, and I volunteered you to take his fourth period Contemporary American Literature class. Moved some stuff around and got your lunch supervision covered for fifth period, so you can have your free time then. I emailed you his lesson plan already.”
“Ah, I see. Okay,” Scar replied, but he wasn’t entirely satisfied. He was tired, and looking forward to eating lunch after this. English classes weren’t his strong suit either, especially at the higher levels where Joe usually taught. “Shoot, okay. I mean, I’m not sure I appreciate you volunteering me—“
“Don’t act like you wouldn’t have caved and volunteered yourself the moment you noticed it was inconveniencing me,” Grian tutted. “I’m not dumb.”
Scar reeled back, eyebrows raising. He wanted to fire off a response, but a series of instances in which he’d done exactly what was described flashed through his mind. It was embarrassingly often, actually. Cleo came down with a stomach bug a week ago, and he took one of her gym classes. Bdubs had a doctor’s appointment overlapping with his last period a couple of days prior, and Scar had caved the second Grian brought it up.
With a pang of horror, he realized he was a creature of habit with very clear weaknesses — Grian being at the top of that list. He’d just never been so blatantly called out about it.
“Relax, Scar.” Grian noticed his distress. He always noticed everything about Scar. Casually, he reached over and intertwined their fingers. “I appreciate it. I really don’t know what I would do without you.”
The horror in Scar’s gut twisted to something else that numbed his tongue and lit a fire in his chest. He couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs. His friend, evidently, intended to keep him in that state. Dark eyes shone with dangerous intent, staring straight into Scar’s soul.
Slowly, as if to give the teacher enough time to pull back, Grian raised the man’s hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss atop his knuckles. Scar blinked rapidly to keep from passing out with the force of the emotions that hit him. A gentle smile graced Grian’s expression, and he whispered, “I’ll see you again at fifth period. Good luck with class.”
Then, the man left. Scar watched his form retreat until he was around the corner, firmly out of sight. For several seconds, the teacher leaned against the wall and willed his heart to still. He was going crazy, practically tripping over himself to stay conscious.
What was Grian doing to him? Wasn’t this a little much, even for payback? In all their years of being roommates, under the scrutiny of gossiping coworkers and students, they’d never taken it this far. They’d entertained joking flirtations to amuse themselves, maybe, yeah, but all of that felt immensely different.
Scar didn’t hate the change.
He let his thumb trace over the spot where Grian had kissed him. His skin still tingled.
From beyond the door of his class, he heard talking start up. Scar quickly composed himself, dragging a hand through his hair, and returned to his actual job. The students fell quiet with his presence, but then there was a faint whisper that started again.
“Mr. Goodtimes?” Scar glanced over at one of his students, a boy who’d been the lead in his last production. “What did Mr. Minecraft need?”
“Oh, nothing really,” Scar answered, switching the projector off. “He’s having me substitute for someone later.”
“Y’know, for such a simple thing,” a girl, also from his previous production, cut in. “You sure were gone for a while.”
“What?” Scar paused, blinking. “I think I was gone for a perfectly reasonable amount of time.”
“Sure,” the girl said.
“Was it hot in the hallway, Mr. Goodtimes?” A third student chimed in, “Because you are very red right now.”
Scar resisted the urge to raise a hand to his face. They weren’t lying, if the burning of his skin was as outwardly obvious to them as it was inwardly felt by him. Still, he’d be dead in the ground before he let them have confirmed dirt on him.
He utilized all his acting prowess to force a wide smile and lie through his teeth, “I was just smiling a lot. I’m so used to you guys giving me absolutely nothing to work with that my face doesn’t adjust well when I’m around genuinely interesting people.”
A couple of laughs came in response, but the battle wasn’t won yet.
“Yeah, I bet you think Mr. Minecraft is interesting,” a new voice added. It wasn’t a student from his other subjects, meaning those that were less familiar with him were growing emboldened by their peers. “You two hang out a lot.”
“What?” Scar sputtered, not having expected this from a usually-unresponsive kid. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, oh!” A theater kid whirled around in their seat to inform this newcomer of a fact they clearly considered incredibly relevant. “Did you know that they live together?”
“They what–!”
“Alright! That is quite enough out of you,” Scar shouted. The kids fell silent, but they were almost all smiling at the blush that was still fully visible on their teacher’s face. He sighed, leaning a hip against the side of his desk. “You really want to know about that stuff?”
A collective ripple of enthusiastic agreements flooded towards the front of the room.
“Fine. I’ll make you a deal,” Scar said. They leaned forward. “We have a test the week after Spring Break ends. Every single one of you gets an A, and I’ll tell you the truth about my relationship with Grian.”
Groans sounded around him, and he shushed them.
“Hey, don’t give me that.” Scar crossed his arms. “If you spent half as much time studying as you do prying into my business, you’ll pass easily.”
The disappointed grumbling died down eventually, and the students returned to relative normalcy. Scar heard one final whisper between two of his theater kids as they marveled over him calling Grian by his first name, before all of them completely settled.
He returned to teaching on auto-pilot, hardly hearing the words out of his own mouth. A thought slipped into his mind, clumsy and meek. Should his students actually manage to pull off a consistent output of good grades, he wondered what he would tell them. They were best friends, roommates, coworkers.
But the kids weren’t interested in that. They would ask why Scar’s face was always red, why the two orbited around each other during their downtime, why they both knew the other like the back of their hands.
Scar was well aware of his answer to those questions. The kids were, unfortunately, not far off. All of them were right and wrong at the same time. Was Grian his best friend? Yes. More than that? Well, technically not, even if they behaved like they’d been married for twenty years.
He wondered, a bit sheepishly, if this April Fools prank was going to change anything.
Scar let his imagination drift to what it might be like to experience this side of Grian constantly. How would their lives look if everyday was lined with compliments, genuine intention, close contact? How would their jokes shift when they didn’t have to walk a fine line? How would it feel to have the constant throbbing in Scar’s chest validated and perhaps even reciprocated?
Nice, probably.
In the recesses of his mind, the part of himself where he could allow a sliver of hope to shine, he thought it would be nice.
Scar was a fool for starting this entire ordeal, but not only because it had bothered Grian.
Rather, it was due to his own feelings that he felt the most regret. He spent the majority of his days keeping his building yearning confined within his ribcage. Finally, after three years of letting it fester, grow, infect every part of him, he was dangerously close to tipping over the edge with the slightest nudge from his friend. And it was the direct result of his prodding, his comments, his slip up.
He had asked Grian out as a prank the night prior, and shamefully, he knew exactly why that was an idea that had come to his mind when he thought of getting a reaction out of his roommate. Scar had completely told on himself by letting impulsive thoughts win out.
Now, there were only two possible ways for this nightmare to end.
On one hand, he could survive to the end of the day, or whenever Grian chose to stop and their friendship would remain as unshakeable as ever. On the other, Scar wouldn’t be able to hold it together anymore, and everything he loved would be affected, whether for better or for worse.
Scar listened to the chiming of the bell calling for the end of the period, gave his students well wishes for the break, and proceeded on to his fourth class of the day.
“Hiding in the auditorium, are we?”
Scar startled as a voice echoed through the large, empty space.
He glanced over his shoulder, though he knew who he’d find before his eyes even landed on Grian. The other man was framed by the light filtering through the doorway. From the front row of the theater’s seats, he could tell Grian had a hand in his pocket and his shirt slightly untucked.
He’d likely been wandering around for a while if he’d loosened up to this degree – which would be Scar’s fault. Grian usually didn’t have to go on a wild goose chase around the school to find him during his free period.
On most days, Scar would be in the same handful of classrooms, having just finished teaching his fourth class. If those were needed by his coworkers for whatever reason, he’d go straight to Grian’s office. The fact that he hadn’t done that on this particular afternoon was not related at all to anything happening around him in the slightest.
“No,” he called back to his friend. “No, not hiding – Relaxing. Feather-free!”
“Right, uh-huh,” Grian chuckled. Scar listened to the door fall shut as his footsteps echoed down the aisle. The teacher scrunched up his plastic wrap from his now-finished sandwich, shoving it back in his lunchbox. He stood before Grian reached him.
Grian smiled up at him, both hands in his pockets and his glasses halfway down his nose. The room around them was dimly lit by only a handful of stage lights left on, allowing tempting shadows to fall across his friend’s face. He’d stopped less than a foot away from Scar, clearly planning something judging by that proximity alone.
The teacher was already prepared for Grian’s tricks. The auditorium was a strategic spot for a couple of reasons, not just because his friend wasn’t likely to initially check for him there. This was where he spent most of his time, where he knew every square inch of space personally, where he had the advantage of familiarity in situations that were otherwise beyond his control. If he wanted to keep a level head, this was the place to be.
To demonstrate his own comfortable demeanor, Scar stepped towards the stage and pulled himself up onto the awkwardly-high platform. To him, it was easy, a practiced movement. He lifted himself every day onto the stage during rehearsals and classes — didn’t even need the stairs anymore. Scar sat there, legs dangling over the edge, staring down at Grian with the countenance of a man totally at ease.
He was, however, very much not at ease.
Whereas Grian’s presence had always been a warm thing that he craved both day and night, it had since tumbled into a raging forest fire. A home-field advantage hadn’t been enough to control the way his eyes kept drifting to the other’s lips, or how every inch closer Grian moved towards him felt like it was sucking the air from his lungs. Even the calculating posture the other man had taken on while he deciphered how best to break Scar was enticing.
There was, after all, nothing the secretary could not do once he set his mind to it.
“I was waiting for you,” Grian started, and already Scar felt a bit of his walls chip away. He leaned forward, trying to recover by mimicking the other’s smile. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay in that classroom for fifth period. If you weren’t hiding, why didn’t you come to my office?”
Scar shrugged and fell back against the stage to look up at the high ceilings. “I wanted to get away from the fluorescent lighting. I don’t know how you get any work done without at least a little break from it.”
“I find fluorescents quite calming, actually.”
“Oh, duh,” Scar snickered. “I forgot — You’re strange. It explains everything.”
He heard a shuffling somewhere near his feet, and his grin grew wide enough to hurt his cheeks. Scar didn’t have to look to know what was happening, as little noises of frustration came from his companion. The teacher sat up suddenly, and huffed at the sight of Grian trying and failing to pull himself onto the stage in his business attire. He was not as used to these motions as Scar.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Grian grumbled. He had one leg thrown haphazardly onto the platform alongside half his torso, while the rest of him strained against the reality that was khakis and an unwrinkled dress shirt. “I can tell you secretly want to help me. Come on, give in.”
Scar rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t pretend for a single second that Grian was wrong. He took his outstretched hand, yanking Grian up fully. The secretary collapsed in a heap on the stage floor, panting. Scar was quite a fan of how his hair was messed up by the exertion, and the top few buttons of his shirt had come undone. He dug his nails into his palms to keep from reaching out and brushing stray stands from his forehead.
And then they were there again, in that same typical position — at each other’s sides. Grian and Scar danced around one another as if nothing else mattered. It was the natural order of things to find them glued together, inseparable, grinning like they were the only two people in the entire world.
Scar was, if he allowed himself to be the slightest bit honest, glad the distance he’d put between them had been made obsolete so quickly.
The teacher struggled to pretend that he didn’t long to be as close to Grian as he could, even in the midst of a prank that left his heart open for the world to see. He was pleased anytime Grian showed similar intent to cross that gap. Whether it be by joining Scar on stage when he knew it’d make him look foolish, or scouring the school to find him when their lunch break didn’t go to plan.
“You seem fairly laid back today,” Scar said. “Considering you’re willing to do stunts far beyond your capabilities. I take it you’ve not had too much work?”
“Stunts beyond my—? Hey! That’s rude,” Grian scoffed. “And no, I’ve had plenty to do. One person calling out today is hardly the most inconvenient part. Attendance is a nightmare with all the kids trying to come up with excuses to start Spring Break early.”
“Ugh, it’ll be nice to have a week at home,” Scar sighed, imagining the softness of his bed waiting for him to fall into. “We’re almost done.”
“Keep dreaming, dude.” Grian sat up and nudged him with his elbow. “The two of us still have to stay back and clean up our prank. Even if I can convince the janitors to help, we’re gonna be here for hours.”
“Hah, that’s what you think,” Scar declared, puffing up his chest. “I happen to have a Drama class of thirty-odd kids who could use a little practice as chimney sweeps before auditions for Mary Poppins open up.”
“Scar, you’re not doing Mary Poppins this year,” Grian replied, eyes narrowing. “Your spring production is Newsies, and auditions were months ago. We’re literally already selling tickets for the performance.”
“Mhm, yeah! I’m considering doing Mary Poppins next year, Grian,” Scar said, lying through his teeth. “The kids need a lot of time to prepare. Method acting is a real process.”
“Fine, sure, whatever,” the secretary grumbled. “Just don’t get us sued for child labor and I’ll let it slide.”
“No promises.”
“Yes promises.” Grian leaned closer, glaring. “I cannot handle another batch of paperwork on my plate. A single bad phone call from a parent comes in because of this, and I’ll make you teach freshman gym class next semester.”
Scar shivered. “Okay, geez. You’re scary.”
Grian softened, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “You love it.”
“Yeah,” Scar admitted. “Little bit.”
Quiet settled over them. From this far into the auditorium, the bustle of passing students and wandering hall monitors couldn’t be heard. They were completely alone under the golden glow of the stage lights.
Grian had turned at some point in their discussion, one leg hanging off the edge and the other bent at the knee, barely brushing against Scar. Their hands were less than an inch apart, torsos tilted in each other’s direction, and faces still close from the secretary’s grumbled threats.
From this far apart, he could smell Grian’s cologne — some comfortable mixture of rosemary and sea salt, which he only ever wore to work. It was a soft scent, and so completely him that it made Scar’s chest ache.
Something as simple as cologne shouldn’t have been enough to have a serious impact on his pulse, but his heartbeat kicked up nevertheless. The littlest things about Grian always drove Scar to the brink of madness.
The way he tousled his hair whenever he thought it’d been messed up. The way he feigned stretching whenever he was about to try and leave a conversation. The way his lips split into a smile by rising first on the right side, then on the left.
Knowing someone was intoxicating.
Scar wanted nothing more than to memorize every detail of Grian. He wanted to learn new things about him for the rest of his life. He wanted to experience all the things he’d already learned time and time again. He wondered how this man would grow and change in the future — wondered what wrinkles he’d get and when his hair would start to gray.
More than anything, should he find the courage, Scar wondered if Grian would allow him to close the gap between them completely.
“How’s payback been treating you?”
Grian’s voice anchored him, and Scar took a deep breath. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” the other said. Scar felt a hand ghost over his own, though it didn’t quite settle there, as if it were awaiting permission. It sent shockwaves of static straight to his brain. “Has it helped you understand why playing with someone’s feelings isn’t nice?”
“Yes,” Scar whispered. He wasn’t quite sure which question he was answering – the spoken or unspoken – but his response wouldn’t have changed either way. Grian’s hand stopped its teasing, fingers lacing with his own. It was an instantaneous relief. “I think I get the point.”
“Isn’t it absolute torture?” Grian tilted his head, eyes trailing downward as he spoke. “To have what you want dangled in front of your face like this?”
Scar’s breath hitched. The world moved dizzyingly fast around him, and he squeezed Grian’s hand tighter to keep from caving in. “Is that what I did to you? Really?”
“Scar,” Grian said, his smile audible. Their noses brushed. “You have always been everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Scar made a choked out noise, and raised his free hand to cup the other’s jaw.
“Please,” he rasped. “Don’t say April Fools.”
“If you won’t,” Grian replied. “Then I won’t either.”
Scar etched his silent promise into the ghosting sensation of his lips as Grian leaned forward and finally kissed him.
A crashing wave of satisfaction rolled over the two. It was water after a drought, cold air in a fire, reciprocation after pain. It was both hurried and perfectly paced. It overflowed with conviction stronger than any they’d known before. The distance between them was closed entirely, chests pressed together and hands slipping until they were falling against the stage, Grian hovering over Scar. Never once did they pause for breath or bearings.
Grian was kissing him like he’d wanted to do this for years, like he’d been holding back for years, like he’d been dreaming of this for years. Scar saw stars swirling behind his eyes, traced along his jaw with his thumb, committing the feel of this most wonderful thing to memory. If it disappeared in an instant, if it was revealed to be the cruelest of dreams, then at least he would be able to recount every detail.
How long had Scar been yearning for this? How many movie nights sharing the same blanket, domestic tasks carried out in close quarters, meals in private offices, car rides with quiet conversations had he spent imagining this very scenario? How long had Grian felt the exact same way? How often could he have put an end to ages of pining by simply gathering any amount of courage?
Scar ached deep within his chest, within the recesses of his soul, at the knowledge that this could’ve been his sooner. He could’ve had — as Grian eloquently put it moments prior — everything he’d ever wanted sooner. It was eased by the gratification of finally being within reach, holding Grian in his arms, moving against his lips like the world would end if he stopped.
Logically, Scar knew it wouldn’t. He knew that surfacing for air was not going to rend the other from his grasp. Grian would still be there, holding his hand and smiling down at him. The world couldn’t end so long as he had even a sliver of this man’s attention. It was all he ever needed. The room might catch fire, the oxygen might leave his lungs, the sun might explode, but Scar wouldn’t notice any of it while Grian was occupying his space.
A hand moved up his chest in a flurry of tingling sparks, tracing along the edge of his jaw and tangling in his hair. Grian’s wandering touch blurred the overcomplicated worries in his mind until they were indecipherable. Scar wanted to show his appreciation, to press his entire heart into the kiss, but he felt a smile against his lips and he was lost to it.
Grian sighed, and slowly broke them apart. Scar tried to chase the contact, reunite them, but a finger slipped between the two as a shield. It was over for the time being. The rapid rise and fall of their chests declared it as such.
Begrudgingly, the teacher focused instead on regaining his breath. If he was to go in for more — and he fully intended on it — he would need all the air he could muster. As soon as his eyes opened, and his gaze landed on Grian, his already-paper thin restraint practically evaporated.
His companion’s lips were kissed pink, hair falling into his half-lidded eyes, shirt wrinkled past the point of professionalism, and breaths coming fast. Grian was a mess, and that was entirely Scar’s fault. It was as if the definition of temptation had been bottled into a singular human form.
“So,” Grian started, so deliciously hoarse that Scar had to dig his nails into his palm to keep from outwardly reacting. “How would you feel about leaving this little prank in the past and finding a better title for the two of us?”
“Grian,” Scar said, letting the words flow without giving them a second thought. “If you asked me to marry you right this instant, I would say yes.”
He had the absolute honor of being able to watch in real time as Grian flushed, cheeks and ears reddening to the point where he looked as though he might explode. The secretary swallowed, mouth opening and closing again and again. After hours of being the one doing the flustering, it was nice to see Grian get genuinely embarrassed.
“Well, I hadn’t planned on it,” Grian stammered, eyes darting and a nervous laugh escaping him. “But, y’know, I’m not necessarily opposed—!”
“Calm down, G,” Scar interrupted. Fondness made itself into a lump in the back of his throat. “I don’t actually want to be proposed to in the school’s theater department. That’s lame. I deserve better.”
“Good, great, yeah.” Grian breathed a sigh of relief, smile returning to its usual easy-going self. “You do deserve better. It’s true.”
“Besides, I want to experience everything with you. Let’s take it slower,” Scar said, disconnecting their intertwined fingers so he could cup the other’s face with both hands. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Grian replied. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed one more chaste kiss to the corner of Scar’s lips. “Why don’t we go back to my office? I still haven’t eaten lunch.”
“Sounds perfect,” Scar whispered. “Let’s go.”
The classroom was dead silent as the teacher flipped through the stack of damning papers. Every crinkle of pages turning and pen scribbling had his audience leaning forward in their seats. Each student held their breath, sat up straight, and when Scar raised his eyes to them, they went deathly still.
“I’ve finished grading,” Scar announced, dragging his gaze over the crowd of nervous faces. “Please remain quiet until all tests have been received.”
He set down his pen, stood silently, beginning to pass the finished tests back. The kids checked with shaking hands. There was no immediate celebration, but eyes met while individual conclusions were drawn.
Scar stopped at the front of the classroom, looking out at the sea of anxious expressions.
“Alright,” he started. “After intensive grading, and much thought, our bet has found its winner.”
A hushed whisper ran throughout the room, ending finally as Scar raised a hand. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath.
“You were right,” Scar said. “We are dating.”
The room erupted in cheers. Students jumped from their seats, tossing papers into the air, hugging one another, and screaming with joy. They would learn later that it would be the highest class average on a test that they’d ever achieved.
Scar sighed, head turning to the doorway where Grian had been hovering just out of sight. They shared a secretive smile, and let the children rejoice. The rumors would circulate around the school before the next period arrived, but that’d be just fine.
Even if their peace came to an end, and they had the weight of the world on their shoulders, they could handle it easily together.