Chapter Text
Grian didn’t think it was possible that his thoughts could be loud enough to give him a headache, but as he closed the door to a familiar recording studio, this was proven to be the case.
Jimmy, his brother, whom Grian had the misfortune of sharing a room with, kept the man up all night as he packed up for his first tour. It was only a few months ago that the blonde signed with The Rejects, and now he was about to set off across the country with the group.
Grian could understand his brother's nerves regarding the tour, but his patience slowly grew thin as Jimmy paced around the room debating between pairs of jeans that looked identical to the man.
Needless to say, sleep didn’t visit either of the brothers last night, and Grian’s thoughts were racing with worry for his brother.
Struggling to get through his courses for the day, Grain couldn’t wait to get home for a much-needed nap. However, halfway through his architecture lab, Jimmy called in a panic, explaining that he had forgotten all his bags back at the apartment.
How his brother managed to forget the luggage that caused him so much heartache the night before, Grian didn’t know.
Their sister Pearl was already busy working a shift at a local cafe, so that left Jimmy’s fate completely in Grian’s hands.
The idea of leaving Jimmy hopeless as revenge for the sleepless night was enticing; however, despite what all his teasing and bickering may imply, Grian was a good brother.
So, the moment his lab got excused, Grian booked it to the bus that led back to the siblings' shared apartment and collected his brother’s pesky luggage. Once everything was collected, Grian got his small revenge by purposely leaving his brother’s toothbrush behind, then started the arduous journey across town to Life Record’s Studio.
The walk was only about fifteen minutes, but Grian learned quickly that it felt way more laborious when carrying a whole wardrobe of clothes around his shoulders. After much effort, he finally made it to the studio that had slowly become familiar over the past couple of months.
Some employees stared at him strangely, but if they couldn’t figure out that Grian was only here because of his brother's stupidity, that wasn’t his problem.
Taking out his phone, Grian started spamming his brother's messages with vague threats and half-hearted jabs, his own thoughts and concerns running wild.
Both Grian and Pearl discussed their concerns regarding Jimmy’s tour ventures a few nights ago. The three siblings have always been close, Grian reckoned it had something to do with never really having proper parents.
Even into their adult years, the three continued to live in a shared apartment together. Despite being the youngest, Jimmy was the first to leave the hypothetical nest, even if it was just for a few months.
Grian could share his concern regarding his younger brother for hours, but he has yet to vocalise the concerns he had for himself regarding this change.
His siblings mean the world to Grian; they were basically the only people he talked to regularly, and he was about to lose one.
Pearl will still be around, and video calls still exist, but Grian was struggling to come to grips with the reality of his brother leaving today. The thought of having no one berate him for his all-nighters working on architecture projects, no one to fight with on whoever could use their shared speaker, or even no one to have liminal late-night discussions about the future with.
The thought terrified Grian.
However, as he made out the figure of his brother walking towards him, the man put on a brave face and attempted to silence his anxious thoughts that were currently pounding against his skull.
“I cannot believe you, Tim!” Grian shouts out, alarming everyone within the building. “How do you spend over six hours packing, only to then forget your absurd amount of luggage in the morning!”
‘Timmy’ was quick to reach for the bags his brother secured around his shoulders, and Grian was eager to hand off the cause of his sore arms. When Jimmy didn’t respond to his brother's tease, Grian spoke up once more, mumbling an annoyed, “And you made me wait twenty minutes for you, ridiculous.”
“Hold on, weren’t you supposed to be here two hours ago?” Jimmy speaks up, a smirk playing on his lips as he turns his attention towards grabbing a towel from one of his many bags.
In the nicest way possible, Jimmy looked like a complete wreck.
Sweat was dripping down his face, and Grian could spot the makings of a sunburn on his brother's shoulders. The man’s hair was completely soaked through as well, which Grian knew his brother must be furious at.
Deciding not to draw attention towards his brother’s state, Grain spoke up.
“It’s not my fault, I have actual responsibilities. Not all of us can avoid life by jumping on a tour bus and wearing questionable fashion choices.”
“Grian, please tell me you picked up my bathroom bag?” Jimmy spoke, ignoring the jab directed towards him.
It was at this sentence that Grian met eyes with his brother for the first time since this morning. Anxiety flooded those brown irises, only interrupted by the slight flashes of exhaustion mixed in them.
The sight didn’t help Grian’s headache.
“Yeah, I shoved it into your backpack cause I didn’t want to carry it,” Grian replied, forcing a smirk on his face. “I did take something random out of it, though, as payback for the hassle, so have fun figuring out what.”
“Oh my god, why are you like this!” Jimmy shouts, and headache be damned, Grian cackled at his brother's annoyance.
Once his own laughter died down, Grian was once again met with the stressed-out eyes of his younger brother, and he could no longer ignore the issue plaguing him.
“Real talk though, how are you feeling?”
Whether the question was targeted toward himself or his brother, Grian wasn’t entirely sure. Unaware of the dilemma, Jimmy spoke up.
“Feeling pretty pumped, and tired. They worked us like dogs this morning, moving all the equipment and stuff, but that was probably better than forcing the roadies to move everything.” Jimmy rambled, and Grian fought back against the frown attempting to take over his face.
“Not feeling nervous about leaving home?” Grian asked out, and he watched as his brother dropped the act and sighed.
You would think after spending their whole lives together, Jimmy would’ve learned he can’t keep anything from his brother anymore. However, time and time again, the blonde proves this not to be the case.
“Truthly, I am…” Jimmy admits, and Grian watches his brother's shoulders slump as he allows himself to be honest. “I got the band, though, plus I’ll still be calling you guys at least once a week. Y'know, Grian, you could just say you will miss me, you don’t have to make a show out of it.”
Grian recognised the attempt to steer the conversation into more familiar territory for the two of them. If bickering could be considered a love language, then the two siblings would be fluent in it.
There was so much more to be said between the two brothers.
The silent concern they both shared for each other seeped through the cracks between the wall and baseboard, filling the studio with unspoken thoughts and comfortable eye contact.
There was so much to be said. Yet, Grian allowed himself to scoff and fall back into the familiarity of the comfortable dynamic between him and his little brother.
“Don’t let such a small amount of fame get to your head.” At the words, Grian could see a bit of stress dissipate from his brother's gaze. “Plus, I already have plans on that day, so I’ll be an hour or so late.”
“Oh, glad you finally learned how to block out a schedule. All you need is time management, and you might actually be a functional human soon.” Jimmy laughs out, and Grian allows himself a smile at his brother’s quip.
“Whatever, Timmy.” Grian made sure to enunciate the nickname. “Have fun getting sick on that bus.”
There was a moment of silence between the two brothers after that, almost like a challenge presenting itself.
It only took a few words for Grian to be honest, and Jimmy would, without a doubt, comfort his brother. The thoughts that felt as though they were going to smash open Grian's skull would finally be silenced since the first time Jimmy told his siblings about going on tour.
It only took a few words.
“Now, I’m gonna go home and take a nap. I deserve it after you kept me up so early.” Grian deflects, turning towards the door of the recording studio.
It was silly to expect his brother to ask him to stay, and the man knew just as much, but he couldn’t help that small bit of hurt when his brother simply waved him goodbye.
The moment the door closed to the studio, the sun assailing Grian’s eyes in a way that felt all too familiar, the man felt a piece of himself get lost.
The piece of himself that would always try to wind up Jimmy by arriving late to plans.
The piece of himself that could endlessly bicker with his brother, with no end in sight.
The piece of himself that Grian has lived his whole life with was now gone. Climbing onto a tour bus and off to greater things.
At this revelation, Grian began walking home.
The city they lived in was certainly an interesting one. What was once a historic college town now seemed to be a shell of its former self, with construction becoming a constant in an attempt to improve something that was already perfect.
The city replaced wood panels with concrete pillars, community areas were replaced with parking garages, and the past was replaced with the modern.
Just from the fifteen-minute walk back to his apartment, Grian witnessed five different construction sites. The workers were tearing up perfectly fine roads in their efforts to improve the city, and their power tools were doing a number on Grian's head.
From a distance, the man could spot the university he was at not even an hour earlier. The beacon of the school was a clock tower in the middle of campus, just barely bigger than all the other buildings.
The tower, surrounded by oak trees and busy students, is a place where one could almost forget about the chaos happening outside of campus.
The keyword being almost.
Turning around the block, Grian was met with a student protest—a very common occurrence in a college town like this.
Today, the students will be protesting the unfair termination of a favourite professor, and the next day, they will be holding signs against the treatment of campus workers.
As much as Grian would’ve loved to join the rallying cry of his peers against whatever cause they chose to fight today, he could think of several other things he could be doing.
Catching up on sleep is one of them.
So rather than joining his peers, taking a walk around campus, or even returning to the lab in hopes of getting just that little bit more work done, Grian headed home.
When a small brick apartment building presented itself throughout the chaos of the city, Grian couldn’t help the relieved smile that took over his face.
His apartment was one of the few older buildings left in the city, somehow a safe space from the needless remodel.
Fishing his keys out of his pocket, Grian unlocked the flimsy metal gate that led to the entrances of his apartment complex.
In the courtyard, there seemed to be some kind of event happening; a birthday was Grian’s guess based on the decor. Streamers were hanging from the various levels of the complex, and balloons were tied to the railings of the second floor.
Grian could only sigh when he realised this event was going to prevent him from getting a proper nap before his class later that day.
Practically dragging himself up the metal stairs in the courtyard, Grian made his way to the one space he truly felt comfortable in as he approached his shared unit. A small smile spread across his face.
After fighting with the lock for a couple of seconds, the door begrudgingly opened for the man.
The apartment, by all means, was nothing special, with only two bedrooms and one bathroom. However, that didn’t stop the excitement Grian felt as he stepped into the unit.
He walked into the kitchen only to be met with the mess Jimmy had left behind while hastily putting together breakfast for himself this morning. Usually, Grian would be annoyed at something like this, but it’s not like he could take it out on his brother anymore.
The wall connecting the kitchen to the living room had a whiteboard with notes about chores or random inside jokes drawn onto it. Today, however, the whiteboard had a note written in handwriting that was all too familiar.
‘Going to be spending all day after work in the studio because of a new commission, should be back by morning!! – Purl’
Smiling to himself, Grian mentally took note of his sister’s whereabouts.
It wasn’t abnormal for Pearl to stay out late working on her sculpture commissions, nor was it abnormal for her to leave notes such as this.
Grian rarely saw his sister at the apartment when she was not sleeping. Between working full-time at a local cafe, creating sculpture commissions for wealthy clients that didn’t pay her nearly enough, and building her own brand from scratch, Pearl was not acquainted with the concept of downtime.
Seeing his sister overworked day in and day out was partially why Grian aimed for early graduation in secondary school, to try and help his sister in any way he could. He fully expected to pick up a crappy service job and retire from the idea of doing much else with his life, but the local university just had to offer him a full-ride scholarship and work study job.
His part-time position at the campus library wasn’t nearly enough to help Pearl with the bills. Still, the woman insisted it was okay and encouraged Grian to pursue a higher education.
Two years in, everything had been okay, but it was moments like this when Grian wished he could help his sister just a little bit more.
Jimmy’s paychecks haven’t come in from the label just yet, something about music-royalty transfers and intellectual property rights— Grian honestly tuned out when his brother explained it to him.
All he knew was that Pearl had been supporting herself and her two brothers the entirety of their lives, and Grian hoped to repay her at some point.
Brushing off his worries and painful thoughts, Grian walked through the living room of the apartment to an unassuming door. Opening it, the room that Grian practically grew up in greeted him.
On the left side sat a desk absolutely cluttered with construction paper and sketching tools propped up against the only window, Grian’s bed sitting only a few feet from the absolute mess. Plain walls stretched to the roof, only being interrupted by a few shelves holding textbooks and class supplies.
This was in great contrast to the left side of the room. The walls were littered with band posters, barely any of the original paint visible underneath the overpriced prints. A bed lay in the corner, a nightstand next to it holding a CD player and a few random trinkets. Fairy lights hung from the corner, almost creating a canopy effect over the bed.
The sight must’ve been jarring for anyone viewing it for the first time, but Grian has known nothing different. He has always shared a room with his brother throughout their childhood, aside from when the siblings were temporarily separated.
It was almost comforting to know someone else was in the same space as him; that Grian wasn’t alone.
However, when Grian looked closer and saw a poster with Jimmy himself printed on it with three other band members, he knew that was not the case.
The man’s headache never fully went away on the walk home, but it only got worse at the reminder of his brother’s absence.
Taking a deep breath, Grian resigned himself to the future that lays ahead and tried to take a nap before his class at five.
It was a fruitless effort, and the man knew as much, but he tried regardless because he would rather try to do something productive rather than stare blankly at the right side of the empty room.
Later, he would force himself out of bed and go to his urban planning course. The man would blink tiredly throughout the whole class and nearly fall asleep as the professor rambled on about uniformity within urban culture.
Then after class, rather than grabbing the bus, Grian walked to an art studio where he found his sister hard at work. They would chat about Jimmy’s forgetfulness, the new commission, and Grian’s coursework.
They would chat about anything that wasn’t the thoughts burning holes into Grian's mind, and the man resigned himself to this.
This was the comfortable life he created for himself, and nothing could change the status quo.
Nothing.
“With the end of the module on partial and complete support beams and columns throughout the Renaissance, we will now begin our first official project of the semester. I have the rubric pulled up on the screen–”
It was moments like these when Grian debated changing his major.
He loved studying architecture with all his heart and was grateful for the opportunity to do so; however, taking a required class on History of Architecture was the last thing he wanted to spend his Tuesday and Thursday afternoons doing.
Looking around the lecture hall, most of Grian’s peers seemed to share the same thought. Some of the people he recognised as fellow architecture students, sharing silent stares and quick apologies with each other in their shared classes. Others must’ve been taking this course as an elective, which Grian felt great sympathy for.
“For this project, you will be tasked with recreating a modern building with the techniques we’ve been studying over this past semester. You must draw out a two-dimensional model of the building, with notes as to why you used certain historical methods in certain places–”
Looking away from the people that surrounded him, Grian took a glance down at the notes he had been taking during that day's class.
Notes are a generous name for the written-down ramblings and side tangents that presented themselves to Grian. You would think that after two years of university, the man would improve at taking notes during lecture classes.
“This project will also be in groups of two.”
The room went silent.
Grian never appreciated group projects in secondary school, but he had lost all respect for them by the time he reached university. Everyone in this room was a stranger to each other, and there was no reason to be bound into groups aside from some sort of sadistic joke the professor was humoured by.
“I have already created the groups based on previous grades and work within this course, so I’ll list out your partners now.”
As the professor listed name after name, her microphone picked up on some slight static after being in use for so long. Grain just waited, a mix of anticipation and dread churning in his stomach, as his already loud thoughts completely took over his mind.
Pulling at the strings of the red sweater which has practically become synonymous with him as a person, Grian braced himself for his name to be called.
“We have Grian Minecraft paired off with Scar Goodtime.”
Like a judge slamming a gavel down on a final verdict, Grian felt his stomach drop. Looking back up at his peers, he scanned the room before making eye contact with the man he assumed was his project partner.
He sat across the room, looking almost startled at his name being called. Grian had half the mind to wonder if the man was even paying attention to the thing that gave him so much dread.
Grian didn’t recognise Scar from his other courses, so he assumed the man was one of the unfortunate few who must’ve chosen this class as a random elective.
Scar, holding eye contact with Grian, gave a small smile and a wave before returning to whatever seemed to distract him before in his notebook.
He seemed nice enough.
With anxiety and adrenaline coursing through his veins, Grian forced himself to stay focused in on what the remainder of what his professor shared.
“I decided to excuse class a bit earlier today in favour of allowing you to become acquainted with your partner. Remember that you must visit the historical district before next Tuesday’s class and provide documentation that you were there.” The professor rambles on as everyone begins packing up their bags at the announcement of early release.
“Make sure to go over the rubric in your own time and sign the attendance sheet in the front if you haven’t already, and with that, you are dismissed.”
Within a second, everyone stood up and started heading towards the exit of the lecture hall. Group partners awkwardly exchanged emails and socials before heading out, most likely going home earlier to procrastinate on the project they had just been assigned.
At least that was Grian’s plan.
However, a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“It was Grian, right?” A voice asked from behind him, and Grian willed himself not to look startled at the sudden contact.
“Yeah, you’re Scar, I’m assuming?” Grian asks as he turns around, only to be met with the man he spotted across the lecture hall.
With them now standing together, a noticeable height difference was apparent between the two. Scar probably was a head or so taller than Grian; scars that were once hidden by the fluorescent lights of the room were now on full display.
“The one and only!” Scar laughs out, shifting his weight onto the cane that was held by his left hand.
Grian couldn’t find it in himself to laugh with the other man, just giving him a tired stare as Scar reigned in his laughter.
“Did you want to exchange numbers?” Grian asks, near monotone in tone, as he quirked an eyebrow at the other man.
For some reason, Scar was caught off guard by such a question. Going to scratch the back of his neck at the question and breaking eye contact with Grian.
“Yeah–” Scar starts, almost as if willing himself to speak more straight to the point. “Yeah, that would be great.”
Grian pulled out his phone, and Scar copied the action. After exchanging contact information, the two made brief contacts for each other. Grian quickly typed ‘Scar (HIST 3680)’ into his phone before chancing a glance at the other man's screen.
‘Grain’
Taking a deep breath, Grian went to correct a mistake that he had become all too familiar with throughout his time on earth.
“It’s actually spelt G R I A N, not grain.” The man speaks up, pointing towards the mistake in his partner's contact for him. “Do you mistake me for a piece of bread?”
The question was a weak attempt at humour from Grian; meant to be purely rhetorical and forgotten after a silent scoff.
However, as Scar locked eyes with him once again with a focused expression, Grian watched the gears turn in his head.
“I wouldn't say a piece of bread,” Scar starts, catching Grian off guard at the mere action of responding. “Maybe more so a waffle?”
For the first time in what feels like forever, Grian found himself too baffled to speak. He just stares at the man, who he hasn’t even been properly acquainted with, in pure disbelief.
“You mistake me for a waffle?” Grian asks out after the moment of silence, and Scar just nods his head.
“It’s mostly your hair, I would say,” Scar continues, unaware of the disrepair he’s causing to Grian’s mind. “It looks very delectable.”
“I– what does that–” Grian babbles, just at a complete loss for words. “Thank you, I guess?”
With the confused appreciation, a smile spread across Scar’s face.
“Of course, now I was planning on heading over to the historical district in a sec to try and get the visit out of the way. Did you want to accompany me?” Scar asks, and Grian continued to gape at his peer.
“I thought we were able to go on our own?” Grian states, his tone reflecting more of a question rather than a statement.
“Oh, we can.” Scar confirms as he begins walking out into the hallway, Grian following in tow. “Just figured I’d offer since I was heading over there already.”
The more the two talked, the more Scar continued to baffle Grian. It’s as if the other man were a walking enigma, challenging Grian to even attempt to understand him.
“Are you not exhausted from class?” Grian asks out, matching Scar’s pace as they walked in sync.
“Oh, trust me, I am.” Scar admits, laughing to himself before continuing. “I actually had two other classes before this one, but now is the only time I can afford to travel off campus.”
Grian stayed silent as he continued to walk with his peer, absolutely baffled by the man. How could one’s schedule be so busy that they could rarely leave campus?
“Do you live on campus?” Grian asks, his curiosity getting the best of him.
“Yeah, I’m over in Jellie Hall,” Scar explains while pointing to some vague direction. “I actually work as an RA, so I’m basically on call at any given moment.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Grian, despite his better judgment, allows himself to laugh. “I can’t imagine dealing with all the new students on top of courses.”
“It’s a lot, don’t get me wrong,” Scar admits with a laugh. “But I love it though.”
At this, the two officially left the building, and Grian was faced with the crossroads of going home to an empty apartment or getting on a bus with a stranger to visit some old buildings.
His better judgment be damned, Grian continued walking with the enigma known as Scar Goodtime.
A small smile spread across Scar’s face as he realised his peer was following behind him.
“Here, we can grab a quick pick me up at the student union before hopping on a bus. Are you a coffee fan?”
“I’m offended you would ask me that question.”
“Tea it is then.”
“Chamomile tea in particular.”
“Camel-meal tea?”
“What?”
Taking the bus was always a tedious part of Grian’s day. Being forced to sit, or standing up in some cases, surrounded by strangers, didn’t seem to be appealing for anyone.
This time, however, was a special case because a stranger was insisting on talking with Grian.
“I think it could be fun to do something Disney-related for the project.” Scar yaps to the side of Grian while the people around them pretended not to eavesdrop on the loud discussion. “We could maybe do Snow White’s cottage, though it would be difficult to draw the hay roof–”
“I thought it had to be a modern building.” Grian reminds, and Scar hums in thought.
“Then maybe we could do a building in one of Disney’s parks.” Scar suggests, still hung up on the idea of pursuing anything and everything Disney.
“If I knew I was going to be stuck with a Disney Adult as a partner, I would’ve asked the professor to swap me.” Grian mutters more to himself than Scar, and the other man hears his comment and lets out a laugh.
“You’re stuck with me now.” Scar laughs out as he wraps an arm around Grian’s shoulders, seemingly way too comfortable with physical contact between strangers. “Being a Disney Adult just comes with the territory of pursuing imagineering, I suppose.”
“Our university has an imagineering focus?” Grian asks out, for the first time in this conversation, genuinely curious about something.
“Close.” Scar replies, still laughing that insidious laugh of his. “We have a Themed Entertainment Design focus.”
Grian rolled his eyes at the clarification. Universities have always had a way of complicating and naming focuses and classes, the most random of things.
“I’m also taking a sub-focus in film; being a movie director is my backup.” Scar adds on.
“Isn’t being a film director a notoriously hard job to achieve in the industry?” Grian asked out, only to be shushed by his peer.
“It isn’t if you don’t think about it.” Scar replies, reaching his arm up and pulling on the indicator above them so the bus will stop at the historical district.
“I don’t think that’s how that works.” Grian comments as the bus comes to a stop.
Making sure not to lose his balance while standing up, Grian threw his tote bag over his shoulders and headed towards the exit. Scar followed close behind, taking a bit more time to situate his balance.
The bus stop was a block or so away from where they needed to be, requiring the two to walk through the local park to see the historical district. It wasn’t the end of the world, but Grian couldn’t help but wonder if the walk would be challenging on Scar.
Grian didn’t know Scar’s exact condition, and he would be a fool to pretend like he did, but it didn’t take rocket science to figure out that a long walk wouldn’t be the best for someone with a limp.
Before Grian could even voice his concerns, Scar was already ahead of him.
“Have you ever been to the historical district?” Scar asks once Grian catches up with him, smiling to himself as he watches some squirrel scurry across the park's tree tops.
“Not once,” Grian admits while fishing out his notebook from his tote bag. “My apartment is kind of in a historical part of town, though. We are yet to be plagued by construction.”
“Well, that's a blessing.” Scar quips, grabbing his own notebook from his messenger bag. “I get lulled to sleep by jack hammers every night, living on campus, I swear.”
Grian hummed at that as the two continued to walk together, following the carved wooden arrows that were probably older than the two of them combined. There was a silence that swallowed them, and Grian was more than eager to embrace it; Scar not so much.
“You live off campus then?” Scar asks, pulling Grian from his own thoughts.
“Oh yeah, I live with my siblings in an apartment about twenty minutes away.” Grian shares, intentionally being vague about details in case Scar turned out to be some kind of cold-blooded killer. “My siblings and I are all locals.”
“Do your siblings also go to uni?” Scar asks, his full attention on his peer as they continued walking.
“My older sister just works in the city,” Grian starts. “Then my little brother just graduated secondary school, and he’s taken to travelling rather than education.”
Scar nods his head and listens, nearly tripping over a tree branch as he puts all his attention on what Grian is saying. He quickly recovered from the embarrassment, now lending some of his focus to his surroundings.
“So you’re a middle child then?” Scar asks, getting a nod from Grian. “Always fighting your siblings for attention from your parents?”
“I don’t have parents.”
For seemingly no reason whatsoever, Scar now seemed fond of the silence he spent so much time combating. Curious as to why the man was no longer in a foreign conversation, Grian looked over to see Scar standing still and staring at him in shock.
Grian quirked his eyebrow towards him, trying to understand the cause of this sudden shift in behaviour.
Scar shook his head, clearly trying to snap himself out of his own thoughts before walking at a much slower pace than before.
“I’m sorry, Grian. I shouldn’t have said that–” Scar starts, and then it all clicks for the man. “I should’ve been more cautious, I’m so sorry.”
Scars' reaction was something Grian had to deal with way more often than he would have liked. Not having parents is a pretty jarring idea for some people, and the man always seemed to forget that.
In Grian’s defence, his parents passed only a few months after Jimmy was born. The man was far too young to remember anything about his caregivers.
His only family has always been Pearl and Jimmy.
“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Grian reassures his peer. “Can’t really be offended about something you never had.”
Scar nods vaguely and hangs his head, no longer trying to attempt small talk.
Dare Grian say, it felt weird not having the man next to him ramble on about senseless topics and project plans. The two just walked in silence the rest of the way to the historical district.
Once they arrived, it was hard not to marvel at the sight.
Wooden houses were fenced off with information plaques about their history standing in front of them. Despite being built hundreds of years ago, the structures have not lost their significance over time.
Wood columns and spandrels adorn the frames of the structures, with a few beams in place for added structural support. These were all things Grian could identify from his time in the history class he hated with all his heart.
Grian drew some diagrams and references of the structures, while also taking his own notes on how the historical builders might’ve executed such a feat without modern-day technologies.
His red grid papers filled up fast with all the information Grian noted down, all the while Scar silently did the same.
Sneaking a glance at his group partner's notes, Grian was met with another oddity.
Scar’s notebook paper was standard, but the blue horizontal lines were replaced with green. Not only that, the paper was filled to the brim with drawings.
There were no written notes with his peers' efforts, just drawings of seemingly unimportant things, such as the patterns carved into the wood of a column and the finish used against the stones.
Scar didn’t dare to speak up during their research, and Grian couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable in the silence.
For the first time in his life, Grian felt put off by the silence he usually held dear.
There’s a first time for everything, he supposed.
Grian doesn’t know what comes over him as he speaks up.
“We could maybe do Cinderella's Castle…”
Scar looks over to him, and Grian swears on his life that he saw stars form in the other man’s eyes.
“Y’know,” Grian continues despite himself. “The one in the park isn’t too historically accurate, and we could work with that.”
“I would love that.” Scar practically whispers, and if Grian weren’t waiting for his reply, he wouldn’t have heard the other man.
Sharing a small smile between the two of them, they continued to take notes. Grian attempted to decipher the drawing codes his peer seemed to be exclusively writing, but to no avail.
One thing Grian did notice, however, was that for the first time since Jimmy stepped onto that tour bus and started his travel, his thoughts went silent.
Finally giving him a moment of rest from the stress and anxieties that have been plaguing him, Grian allowed himself to take a deep breath.
He couldn’t help but wonder why that was.
That his thoughts, as troublesome as ever, seemed to quiet down in a moment as inconsequential as this.
Not trying to read too much into his luck, Grian turned his attention back towards the grid paper he was holding, a smile slowly growing on his lips.