Scar was climbing up birch steps, one step at a time – he’d lie to himself saying that it was so he didn’t risk taking any damage but alas, he was just trying to give himself a little bit more time.
He needed time, he needed to put his thoughts in order, he needed to choose the right words… The scarred man looked up – to his destination –, a small mount, an egg-shaped birch house made by a madman barely visible with the unrelenting glare of the sun dying behind tall mountains.
He was out of time – his feet met dirt and his eyes met Grian’s back.
“Hey, G…” Scar started hesitant – no more than a soft mumbling to Grian’s back while the shorter was busying himself by his crafting table; Scar thought hard about the time he lost going up those steps, about his screaming thoughts, about his pretty words…
Yet, now he was looking at the sun – his sun.
Grian spun on his feet with a crazed grin, smiling from ear to ear to his ex-associate, his old partner in crime, his burning soulmate, his sworn enemy – shining gleefully like the sun.
“I needed to ask you something, G-”
Scar gulped down his words and played mindlessly with his scarred hands – fingers covered in wounds from thorns and leaves of flowers that once begged for his sun to stay, knuckles eternally bruised from a fist fight till death that took the sunshine out of his eyes.
The same eyes that kept staring at the sun at this very moment.
He shook his head and closed his eyes – he couldn’t keep staring; he couldn’t risk getting blindsided again –, yet… He opened his eyes and only saw Grian smiling at him, the sun setting as a halo behind him.
“I- I forgot.” He said, once again blinded for looking too much at the sun.
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