I was bored and sad between the hours of 1 and 3 am, so I wrote the third life ending and it fixed me
I then reread it in the morning and was like, “WOW. I COOKED.” So now I’m posting it here
Warnings: Blood, death, violence, suicide. (It’s third Life, It’s pretty self explanatory)
There is also Scarian, because what else would I write about
Scar had always been better at controlling the bloodlust that came with being Red. It's something you learn from being a vex.
Grian on the other hand was stuck with the fresh stab wound of betrayal and a whole slew of new instincts that came with his final life.
His senses had been sharpened, his reflexes quickened, and his mind seemed to constantly scream, ‘KILL KILL KILL,’ at him.
All the laughter and apologies that filled the air at the start of their fight and quickly dispersed as Grian had given into his instincts.
He’d taken a few good hits from Scar, but he knew he was winning.
Scar was getting sloppier, blood dripped into his ever present grin.
After every wrongdoing Scar had done, he had the audacity to smile at him as if they were still sharing those nights wrapped in each other’s arms, giggling between kisses.
Oh how he was stupid to fall for it. Just one trick and blatant lie after another, all to keep him around until the end, where he could finally finish him off for good. It should’ve been obvious from the start. That salesman smile and easy charm were practically the equivalent of him carrying around a sign saying, “Hey! I’m going to make you fall in love with me and then I’m going to betray you because you were nothing more than a pawn!”
He yelled and threw another punch, finally knocking Scar off his feet.
Scar cried out as he hit the ground, the cactus spines already stuck to his skin dug deeper.
In an instant Grian was on top of him, wings flared out behind him. His talons dug into Scar’s forearm, drawing more blood, and pinning the limb down. His other knees pressed into the sand and he raised to strike with his claw-like nails one last time.
In the single moment before Grian could deliver the final blow, he caught Scar’s eyes.
He expected to see hate, guilt, sorrow, or even regret, but all he saw was a look of pure love and adoration. The same look that Scar had given to him on those nights when he held Grian in his arms. Even his smile had shifted from feigned confidence to a quiet pride.
Before he even had a chance to think about stopping himself, the deed was done.
His nails tore through the flesh just beneath the corner of Scar’s eye, down his cheek, and past his jaw.
Blood seeped from the gashes, dripped down his neck, and stained the sand below.
As if a veil had been lifted off his mind, a sudden clarity washed over Grian. He trembled and cupped Scar’s cheeks. Blood soaked his hands.
“No no no no no,” All the hate that had burned so brightly in Grian’s heart had been snuffed out. “Scar, no I’m sorry,” Icy blood pooled between his fingers.
He sobbed and planted a desperate kiss on Scar’s cut and bloodied lips, as if they were in a fairytale and true love’s kiss would magically fix everything, but sadly, this was no fairy tale. And no amount of true love’s kisses could unto what he had done. “Please Scar,” He kissed him again. The taste of iron nauseated him, “Please come back, I’m sorry.” Tears streamed down his cheeks, doing a poor job of washing away the blood splattered across his face, “No no no no no.” He pressed their foreheads together, “Please, Scar. I love you…”
He begged and muttered more apologies as his body racked with sobs. He held Scar’s limp form closer, not caring about the blood soaking his clothing.
What he would do to hear his voice one more time, or to see that infuriatingly bright smile again, or to see him take a single breath, to know that he was alive.
But no matter how many times Grian apologized, Scar would not respond.
Static enveloped his mind, making his clipped wings twitch. Through the noise, a message had been delivered:
One more life left to go.
His eyes widened and his hold on Scar tightened, like a child clinging to their favorite stuffed toy.
The static pierced his mind again, urging him onwards.
He held Scar back, forcing himself to look at the gashes in his face. The blood had already begun to dry in some areas, leaving a rusty stain on his grey skin, and every slight movement caused more to drip from where the gashes were deepest. It even seeped out from the corner of his mouth.
“I’m so sorry, Scar,” He tried to wipe away the hair that had but stuck to his head, but instead he only left a trail of bright red blood.
He forced himself to stand, but his legs collapsed and he crashed into the sand.
He tried again, making it a few steps further and catching himself on Pizza’s grave.
Grian tried to wipe the hair out of his face with sticky hands, “I don’t feel good.” Part of him felt stupid for saying so.
He clambered to the edge of the cliff, leaning on the back of the grave and overlooked the ruined desert. Craters and pools of lava covered the once pristine land. The sun beat down on him harshly.
A voice in the back of his mind told him to look back at Scar’s body one last time, but he ignored it.
He took a trembling step forward. Followed by another.
Soon, weightlessness enveloped him. Wind whistled in his ears for only a moment, and he closed his eyes.
A flash of agony coursed through his body as his bones shattered on impact.
And as quickly as the flash started, it ended, leaving nothing but deafening silence in its wake.
If you liked this will you pretty please reblog? 🥺👉👈
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