With a heavy sound, Grian landed on the bench, immediately throwing off his red hoodie. If anyone but Scar had been here, he would have undoubtedly received heat stroke, but Scar was part of an extremely narrow circle of people next to whom he could safely stay in a T—shirt.
The end of the school year was approaching, the heat was gaining momentum and slowly killing the unfortunate students, who couldn't afford even a tiny fan. Scar treated this quite positively, because he didn't like the cold much, but he really adored colorful T-shirts with all kinds of prints. Perhaps only the sight of his roommate in a T-shirt and short shorts kept Grian from mass murder, but he didn't need to know about it.
With a grunt, Scar settled down opposite his friend, casually pushing his bag to the edge of the table. Grian rested his head on his folded arms and watched with tired eyes as he pulled out a box of sandwiches and two bottles of milkshakes. If you had asked him, and if Grian had answered honestly, then you'd have found out that he was ready to propose to him only because of his cooking skills. No, seriously, he really was a wizard. Grian himself didn't always manage to remember about lunch, but he managed not only to remember about it, but also to cook…
-Grian? Don't tell me you fell asleep, - there was an obvious smile in his voice.
Grian didn't want to answer. To move, in general, too. Lack of sleep and a disgustingly high temperature outside did not contribute to brain activity. Mumbling something unintelligible, he lifted head from the table and rubbed his eyes, lifting glasses. Scar couldn't help but smile stupidly, as he watched his disheveled and sleepy friend.
The smile quickly turned into a sad one, when he remembered, that there was no way, Grian would trust him enough to agree to become his boyfriend. Why would he even like him? He's just a Scar, a very ordinary guy, and he's terribly clumsy at times.
Sometimes Grian seemed completely out of reach, even when he was sitting directly opposite, thoughtfully chewing a sandwich. It's like a bright star in the night sky, peeking through the gray clouds. Incredibly beautiful, but so far away and inaccessible. Lonely. Freezing from the cosmic cold. Or, maybe, already dead.
Lightly shaking his head in the hope of getting rid of unpleasant thoughts, Scar reached for the still unopened bottle, mentally sighing. At least he could stay close as his friend. Asking for more is just stupid.