#i am a clown
Someone asked me my thought on kimi ga shine’s new chapter
well
When you decide to reappear in the chat group that you had muted for more than 1 year
Hello again scarian nation i was admittedly a little shy about posting this but i come to yall with offerings of gay kisses<3
For context this is for @sparxwrites who wrote the FANTASTIC series there’s something wrong with the boatem holewhich is the universe where this snippet technically takes place. This can be understood more or less without the context i think but it pairs best with reading Found first :] enjoy!!
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“Do you trust me?” Scar asks, sudden and easy as breathing.
Grian’s shoulders hunch. “As much as I trust anyone, I suppose,” he says, but that’s not quite true. Scar is Scar, and everyone else is… he trusts them, of course he trusts them, but Scar is different. Scar is special. A tier above the rest. “I do,” he amends, “trust you. You’re very trustworthy, Scar, even though you swindle me half the time.”
Scar doesn’t rise to the lighthearted invitation to banter. His eyes are void-dark, pupils swirling with stars– slowly, so slow Grian can track each individual movement, he reaches up to the space right above Grian’s head, hovering both hands there.
Grian blinks, and his vision doubles, triples, multiplies by numbers he cannot name until he’s dizzy with it, drunken reeling at the surge of multifaceted points of view. From the corner of his vision he spots his wings puffing, mantling– eyespots blinking, glowing soft and lilac in the shadows of the Swaggon.
Scar’s hands drop, grazing over Grian’s ears– he shivers– before gently plucking at the straps of Grian’s face mask.
Alarm thrills through Grian’s stomach. “Scar, what are you doing.”
“You said you trust me, right?” Scar replies.
“I–” Grian’s throat closes. “Well I– Scar, I didn’t think that meant–”
“So trust me.” Scar’s voice is a murmur, low and melodical. He peels away Grian’s face mask, slow enough that Grian could stop him if he wanted to.
He doesn’t.
The face mask drops between them with a leaden rustle. Grian shivers again; this strange vulnerability Scar is asking of him leaves him raw, exposed– his soft underbelly, for all the world to see.
Except it isn’t the whole world. It’s just Scar.
Maybe that’s the same difference.
If Scar notices how Grian trembles, he doesn’t comment on it. Just rests his hands at the nape of Grian’s neck, curling his fingers into the short hair there. Flexing them, thumb brushing against the shell of Grian’s ear in absent sweeps.
Scar grins, then, a crooked little quirk of his lips. “Still trust me?” he asks.
The words have been stolen off his tongue. Breathless, Grian can only nod his head in one sharp, staccato burst.
“Good,” Scar says, quiet into the fragile space between them, and slides his hands forward to cup Grian’s jaw. Gentle and slow, coaxing him closer, tilting his head up and at an angle as Scar leans down–
Scar’s lips press against his own, somewhat chapped, warm all over, and Grian’s breath shudders to a jagged halt in his chest.
It’s a firm, confident slide of lips over his; Scar angles his head, nudging Grian with one hand, and blindly Grian follows. Parts his lips in a soundless, shaky exhale, drinking in the warmth surrounding him as his eyes flutter shut. His wings fall limp at his back, dragging on the floorboards– he’s not sure what to do with them, or his arms for that matter. Hesitant, he wraps his hands around Scar’s biceps, holding on for dear life as Scar pulls him even closer, tilting his head further and deepening the kiss. Teeth flash over Grian’s bottom lip– the barest of pinpricks in between the molasses rising up to muddy his thoughts.
Grian sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, even as Scar runs one hand through his hair, weaving his fingers through the strands. For this small eternity, rationality doesn’t exist; what he’s left with is the tingle of his lips, the calculated capture of his cupid’s bow, the mindful scrape of Scar’s blunt nails against the side of his neck. Grian shudders, flutters his hand to rest on Scar’s cheek, and lets himself drift.
clown. i am a clown.
I’ve been telling myself for ages that I’m getting close to the end stretch of writing this fic and I think it might finally be true. (let’s not talk about what a beast editing is going to be. one step at a time)
