Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Xelqua was quite new, in terms of immortality, when the painter first caught his eye.

He didn’t get prayers often, as the god of the sun, but as he granted the requests asked of him he often found himself at the painter’s studio.He didn’t ask for much, usually just good light for working on his art, but more often than not Xelqua found himself sticking around long after he needed to.

His days were lazy, as there was not much around for him to do, so sitting in the corner of the painter’s room, watching him work, became Xelqua’s favorite pastime. The painter was quiet while he worked, the only sound in the room the soft whispers of a brush across canvas and his little hums that he only made when he stepped back and wasn’t satisfied with his work.

Xelqua felt weird watching without the painter knowing, but that guilt was easily overcome by the fascination of observing his work. He’d seen art before, but it had never really meant much to him. Something about the painter’s work was different, though. It made Xelqua intrigued in a way that he hadn’t ever been before. . 

The colors were the same ones that he’d seen, but the painter seemed to make them somehow more vibrant, jumping out of the canvas and dancing around the room. Xelqua had no idea how the vague blobs that the painter always started with transformed into a masterpiece, even when he watched the process with his own eyes from start to finish.

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It was a year into Xelqua’s visits when he realized that the painter’s next painting was of Xelqua himself. 

The painter started with yellow, a sun taking form, and soon there was a figure in front of it, glowing in the light. The figure became more and more defined until Xelqua could identify it as similar to the church’s depiction of what he looked like. He’d always hated it, especially the way it made him look much more serious than he was in reality.

Xelqua couldn’t hold himself back, “I’m not that old!” he said, indignant, materializing himself in a spot somewhere behind the painter. He studied the painting a little more, shaking his head in disdain. He was so caught up in his examination he barely noticed the painter’s shocked scream and dive to hide behind his supplies.

When it became clear that Xelqua wasn’t going to immediately smite him, the painter hesitantly left his hiding spot. “You’re Xelqua?” he asked, wonder filling his voice.

“Yes, yes,” Xelqua responded, waving his hand in the air. “I don’t understand why you mortals are always so shocked when I appear. It’s not like I’m mean or going to strike you down.” He paused a moment to think. “Now Cleo, if she appeared to me? I’d be so terrified I think I might just disappear on the spot.”

“You’re not going to hurt me?” The painter’s voice was still timid.

“No?” Xelqua knew that his name inspired some sort of respect due to his godhood, but he had no idea mortals would be this scared of him. He really needed to get out more. “I like your art, why would I smite you?”

“You like my art?”

Xelqua rolled his eyes. Mortals always tested his patience. “Why else would I be here?”

“I don’t know, to punish me or something?” the painter questioned, still hesitant.

“That would be silly. I like what you make, and I enjoy watching you do it. Are the other gods so cruel?” Xelqua hadn’t interacted much with the other gods, but he’d thought they were at least cordial with the mortals.

“They stay above for the most part, making appearances only to be ominous and deliver warnings. I don’t think I’ve ever known someone who’s talked to one directly. They’re seen as someone to worship and revere, above us mortals in all ways.” The painter’s words were carefully chosen, his tone strained as if he was scared of offending.

Xelqua scoffed. “That’s silly. Why shouldn’t I talk to you if I want to? I think I’ll talk to you more, just to spite them. What’s your name by the way? I ought to have something to call you by.”

“Me?” Scar questioned, still recovering from the shock of it all. “Oh- uh, it’s Scar. Scar Goodtimes.”

“Thank you, it’s nice to finally have a name for you. I’ve been watching you sometimes, and it felt rude to not even know your name. ” Xelqua made an effort to downplay how much he’d really watched the painter. Opening with the fact that he’d been watching him paint for over a year seems like a pretty bad first impression, not to mention creepy. 

He waved his hand at the canvas, “Come on, you can keep painting now. Just make me less serious, I’m not all standoffish like the rest of them.”

After a moment of just staring, dumbfounded, Scar returned to painting, brushstrokes slow across the canvas as he got used to having an audience. They quickly returned to their normal rhythm, the familiar rhythm of the strokes filling Xelqua’s ears. He perched himself on a crate in the back of the room, continuing to chat with Scar as he worked.

It was nicer than Xelqua thought it would be, having someone to talk to. He’d been alone so long that he’d forgotten how fun it was to have someone to speak with, especially someone as entertaining as the painter. He could tell the mortal was still nervous about talking with him, but it didn’t bother him too much.

They had a good conversation, Scar teaching Xelqua about all sorts of interesting mortal things, and the time for him to leave came all too soon. He left to do his job, but his thoughts remained in the painter’s home. 

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Xelqua continued to visit the painter as winter turned to spring turned to summer, and as summer started to show the first signs of fall he had a thought.

“You should pick a new name for me.” Xelqua was thoughtful that day, gaze fixed on a point out the large windows.

“What?” Scar was used to Xelqua’s randomness by now, but he wasn’t quite sure what he meant this time. Gods were assigned their names when they were born, and they weren’t exactly able to be changed.

“I want a different name. One more like yours, more human.” Xelqua wasn’t sure when the desire to be more like the mortals had started, but he found himself entertaining it more and more in the recent months. 

“I see. Well, we will have to find you one then. I’ll warn you though, it is hard. It took me a while to figure out mine.” 

“Figure out yours? I thought they were given at birth, like ours?” Every time Xelqua thought he knew everything there was to know about humans he was told something new.

“I was given one then, yes, but I found it didn’t fit me after a time. I chose a new one, with the help of my friends.” Scar looked up at Xelqua. “It’s actually quite similar to what you’re doing!”

Xelqua smiled. He’d been doing that more recently too, curving his lips upward in happiness the way that mortals do. The gods were stoic, stern, and the mortals were anything but. Xelqua found himself liking the human way more and more.

The two of them spent the day throwing names back and forth, both real suggestions and silly ones. The majority of the names that Xelqua knew were names of other gods, and those wouldn’t do, so a lot of it came from Scar.

He’d started with names that were distinctly human, but they’d quickly moved away from those. Xelqua didn’t want a normal name, he wanted something special, something that fit him.

Eventually Scar had the great idea to start flipping through his books to find something. They surrounded themselves in stacks of reading, skimming through the pages hoping to find something that would work.

It was in a Scottish book that Xelqua finally found something he liked. “Grian.” he said, Scar looking up from the book he was looking through. “It means sun.”

“Grian.” Scar repeated, testing the name out on his lips. “I like it.”

“Me too.” Xelqua nodded, satisfied. “Grian it is.”

“Hi Grian, I’m Scar!” Scar said cheerfully, holding his hand out.

Grian rolled his eyes. “It’s just a new name, it’s not like I’m a new person or something.”

“I know that! I’m just teasing you, silly. It’s fun to do, and you just got a new name! That’s important!” 

“You’re silly, human.” Grian tried to say it sternly, but he couldn’t stop his fondness from slipping through. 

Grian could see Scar pause, like he wasn’t sure about something.

“What Scar? I can tell you want to say something else.”

“It’s just— can I give you a hug?” Scar sounded so genuine, as sweet as he was hesitant.

“What’s a hug?” Grian asked. Scar had told him about many mortal things, but this had never been one of them. It must be important if it was making Scar this nervous.

“It’s a human thing— it’s silly but, I don’t know. I’d really like to give you one right now. Could I touch you? I can show you, but I’d have to touch you for it. I’ll stop any time you ask me to, I promise you that.” Scar was so timid about this, voice shaking slightly, and it was making Grian almost concerned.

To be fair, touch was one of the boundaries that they had yet to cross. Grian wasn’t sure exactly what it was like, since he’d been apart from the other gods other than his mentor since he was very young, and his mentor was definitely not big on touch. It seemed nice, from what he’d heard. Comforting, maybe.

“Sure, go ahead.” Grian said, taking a small step towards Scar. The man took a step forward as well, until they were close, closer than they’d ever been before.

Scar reached around Grian, putting his hands around him, and then he was hugging and Grian’s world exploded.

Every point that Scar touched was a starburst of feeling, little pinpricks of tingles that felt like they were dancing across his skin. It should have been overwhelming, all that feeling coming alive all at once, but somehow it wasn’t.

He sighed into the hug, relaxing a little bit, releasing tenseness he didn’t know that he had.

Scar laughed a little. “You’re supposed to hug back, you know.” 

Grian’s mouth formed a small “o” and he carefully wrapped his arms around Scar like the man’s were around him. Scar was warm, even through his clothes, and it made Grian realize how cold his own body was. Were all humans like this?

A moment later Scar stepped back, untangling them from each other, and Grian sat down, trying to collect himself.

“A bit overwhelming?” Scar asked, and Grian nodded, face turning bright red. It felt silly for him to get overwhelmed by something that simple.

Grian made his way out of Scar’s early that night, thoughts whirling as he watched the sun go down. What was that? Why did it make him feel like that?

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Grian found that one of his favorite things to do was pranking. . 

Whether that was sneaking up behind and jump scaring Scar, or replacing his white paint with the toothpaste he’d found at Scar’s sink, he loved the reaction it got out of the man. The little squeaks he let out when he was surprised were very funny to Grian, and he often had to hold back his laughter. 

He was feeling extra mischievous today, and he decided to try something new. Instead of appearing outside the home and walking in announcing his presence like he usually did, today he snuck in, staying invisible to Scar’s eyes. 

The painter was focused on his work, and Grian had to hold in a gasp when he saw the art he was working on. Like the first time Grian had appeared to him, he was working on a painting of Grian himself, and this one was incredible. 

The backdrop was a sunrise, sun just barely peeking over the lake and trees Scar had painted in. The colors were somehow soft but also vibrant, the yellow and orange of the sun fading gently into the blue of the sky. 

In front of it, a figure stood, floating in the sky. Scar had drawn Grian to look ethereal, skin glowing and hair a golden yellow, just slightly darker than the sun. 

What really amazed Grian, though, were the wings. They were giant, a soft white color that reminded him of the clouds, and although Grian didn’t have wings this made him wish he did. 

He wondered if this was how he looked in Scar’s eyes. Did the man really see him this way?

After letting himself stare for a few moments longer Grian tore his gaze away, refocusing on the prank he was about to pull. 

He made his way across the room, grabbing white paint and squeezing a bit of it onto his fingers. He figured of all the paints, white would be the easiest to fix if it somehow ended up on the painting, so it would all be good. 

He flicked some paint at Scar’s back, having to hold back his giggles when Scar spun around to look where he was standing and found nothing. Moving to the side he did it again, always sliding away before Scar could notice the floating paint tube and white paint stained fingers. 

It took until the fourth flick for Scar to catch on. He sighed and turned towards the door, hands on his hips. 

“Come out Grian.” he said, his stern voice carrying a hint of humor. 

Grian purposely moved to be behind him. “Hi Scar!” he greeted, giggling the whole time. His giggling turned into full laughter when Scar jumped in surprise and whirled to face him, fixing him with a stare. 

Grian wasn’t the least bit intimidated. Scar did his best to try to look mean, but the man didn’t have a cruel bone in his body. 

“That could have gotten on the painting!” Scar protested, still trying to look upset at Grian’s antics. 

“It would have been ok!” Grian responded, a smirk affixed on his face. “I chose white because it wouldn’t have mattered much if it did.”

Scar rolled his eyes, used to Grian’s pranks by now. His stern act dropped a bit, his voice lowering. “Thank you.” he said, sincerity in his voice as he thanked Grian for his easy consideration.

Grian didn’t know what to say, so he settled for complimenting Scar back instead of trying to respond. “Scar, your new painting looks incredible! Thank you for that!”

The painter’s eyes scanned over his work, judging it in a critical way. “It’s ok. Needs a lot more work, but I am pretty proud of where it is now.”

“I think it looks amazing.” Grian countered, “I should be thanking you for it, not you thanking me for just being silly.”

Scar shook his head and smiled, stepping closer. His hand reached up and touched Grian’s cheek, and Grian still wasn’t used to the starbursts it created under his skin. 

“Thank you for being my muse.” Scar murmured, voice low. 

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One bright fall day Grian entered Scar’s house to something odd. Instead of the silence or light hums that were usually the only sounds he could hear, there was a quiet tune playing, reaching out from under the door to Scar’s studio. 

Grian knew what music was, of course, but he had never really listened to it. There was not often music played wherever he was worshiped, and he hadn’t had much of a reason to go beyond those areas, so music was generally unknown to him.

He didn’t mind the music. It was soft piano, with a woman’s voice singing over top that sounded nice in his ears, however unaccustomed to it he was. It was making him nervous solely because this was something Scar didn’t normally do, and Scar was a man who had a strong routine.

Walking quietly just in case something was wrong, Grian made his way to Scar’s painting room, following the sound of the music. He opened the door gently, and was greeted with nothing out of the ordinary.

Scar was standing in front of the easel as usual, palette sitting on a nearby table as he worked. The painting he was doing today was a landscape, a sweeping forest with large, tall trees that reached all the way up into the sky.

The man was so wrapped up in painting and the music that he didn’t even notice Grian’s entrance, swaying slightly as he swept brushstroke after brushstroke across the canvas.

“Music, huh?” Grian questioned, not able to help the fond smile on his face as he said his greeting.

Scar startled, almost dropping his paintbrush. “Grian! You can’t startle me like that, I could have messed up the painting!” he chided, raising an eyebrow at Grian teasingly. “I got this music player from someone in town! I can listen to all sorts of pretty music now.”

“There’s more than one kind?” Grian was confused. The only music he’d ever known of was music used to worship the gods, and that was usually only music like the one Scar was playing right now.

“Grian!” Scar stared at him like he did every time he didn’t know about something Scar thought he ought to be aware of. “You’ve only heard music like this?”

When Grian confirmed, Scar went on to tell him about all the kinds of music, rambling about all the different types that he’d heard from the various places he’d traveled as a teen.

It was weird, because Grian knew the instruments he was talking about, but he had no clue what they sounded like, let alone how they would combine to create music. He was born with a lot of knowledge, like all gods are, and taught more by his mentor, but music was classified as a thing of the mortals and was not deemed important enough.

Rules like that seemed silly, now. How were they meant to watch over the humans if they couldn’t understand them? He understood so much more about them now after just a year or so of spending time with Scar. He had figured out very little in his many many years staying above, especially in comparison. If the other gods spent the time to figure out the humans and actually talk to them, maybe they’d reconsider some of their rules.

He was breaking so many of them now, and he had been for a long time. They were supposed to spend little time on Earth, solely traveling down to grant requests and prayers, not interacting with the mortals beyond what was necessary. No one had bothered to explain the rule to him, and he had no clue why it existed, but Grian found himself questioning it, and the rest of the things he’d been taught, as he got closer to Scar. Surely there was nothing wrong with getting to know one human.

“Grian?” His eyes jolted up at the sounds of his name, and he looked down, embarrassed, when he realized that this was not the first time Scar had called his name.

“Sorry, I-” he shook his head once to clear it. “I was lost in thought a bit.”

“It’s ok!” Scar was cheerful, always way too understanding of Grian’s tendency to get lost in thought. “I just asked if you maybe wanted to dance!”

“Dance?” Grian questioned, sure he’d misheard. He had a vague sense of what dancing was, but it was just as foreign to him as music. “How do you dance? Isn’t it something you have to study for a long time to know what to do?”

Scar chuckled lightly. “No, no — that’s only the people who do fancy dances, in the temples and stuff like that. Us two-” He stepped forward, grabbing the music player in one hand and gently tugging on Grian with the other, “We can just dance how we want. It doesn’t have to be good, at all; I’m quite terrible at it, but it’s fun anyway.”

“You don’t have to be good at it?” Grian had never quite understood the human concept of doing something even though you’re not able to be the best. It seemed silly, to do something just for the sake of it.

“It’s more fun if you’re not! Although you’ll probably be amazing, you tend to be at anything you try. Dancing is about having fun, and feeling the music. I’m not surprised you don’t know that though.” He wrinkled his nose, “The people at the church seem to have very different ideas.”

Grian wasn’t sure what to make of Scar’s distaste for the church. Grian wasn’t a big fan of them either, but Scar seemed to have an even bigger grudge against them. Clearly that grudge didn’t extend to him, or from what Grian had talked to him about the other gods, but it still left Grian unsure.

Scar set the music player down, starting some music and then reaching for Grian’s hand. Hesitantly, he stepped forward, letting Scar guide his hands to where they should be for whatever dance he was trying to lead them in.

As Scar’s hands settled on Grian’s shoulders, his own around Scar’s waist, Grian’s breath caught, and he had to force himself to keep breathing evenly. He didn’t know why it kept doing this; Scar hadn’t touched him often after that first initial hug, but he wasn’t as careful about avoiding it anymore, and Grian had thought he’d been getting used to the casual touches.

This felt different though, something more than any of those. Grian’s mind was locked on the hands rested on him, and every little movement that Scar did as he adjusted sent little sparks through Grian’s body. Even Scar beginning to move didn’t distract Grian, and they started to sway slightly to the music together.

Grian never felt closer to being human than when he was with Scar. Here, Grian could almost forget that he’d have to return up to the sky tonight, could almost convince himself that he could stay down here, with Scar, for as long as he wanted.

Scar took a step to the side, Grian following his movements without even a thought, and soon they were full on dancing, moving in a pattern that Scar seemed to know and Grian tried his best to follow.

At first Grian was focused on making sure that he was doing it right, but eventually he was able to let go and enjoy it, a smile creeping onto his face. Scar was right — dancing was fun, especially when he was doing it with his favorite human.

Grian yelped as Scar spun him, catching him easily to stop his momentum when he’d made it all the way around. “Scar!” Grian chastised, Scar’s only response teasing laughter. 

Sometimes Grian thought Scar’s laughter was brighter than the sun.

They danced like that for a while, then Grian decided to take a turn at leading, placing his hands on Scar’s shoulders and directing him around in circles. The music changed as they went, shifting genres and speed, but it didn’t matter. 

It all went downhill, though, when Grian attempted to spin Scar like Scar had him earlier. Everything was on and then suddenly, all at once, Scar was falling, Grian rushing to catch him before he hit the ground.

Grian gently lowered him down to the ground, concerned eyes brushing over Scar in an attempt to figure out what was wrong. They just sat there in silence for a moment that felt like an eternity, while Scar caught his breath.

“I’m fine, Grian. It was just my knee acting up again. You don’t have to look at me like that” Scar sounded tired in a way that Grian hated.

“Your knee just gave out on you. You’re not fine.” Grian was firm. He knew that Scar had a penchant for not taking care of himself, and this was not the first time he’d had to make sure that Scar wasn’t pushing himself too far. “You want to go inside? You can lie on the couch and we can hang out until it’s time for me to go.”

Scar rolled his eyes and sighed, long and deep. “Yah, yah sure. Only because I know you won’t let me do anything else.” 

A smile flashed on Grian’s face as he reveled in his victory before he stood, taking a second to adjust his clothing before he bent down and scooped Scar up, bridal style.

“Hey!” Scar protested, cheeks flushing bright red as he looked up at Grian from his position in his arms. Grian was surprised to find an identical blush on his own face. He hadn’t really thought before he’d picked Scar up, and now he was embarrassed.

“I’m not letting you walk on that knee.” He stayed firm in his original statement, starting the walk back to Scar’s home. The music player sat abandoned on the ground, but Grian didn’t care. He could come back for that later, he was carrying the much higher priority.

Scar protested the whole way back but he never really fought against Grian, and he had a feeling that the fighting was more on principle than anything else. 

When they got inside Grian settled Scar on the couch, then went to get a snack and some water for Scar before settling next to him. They talked for a while, mostly about Scar’s next painting and other unimportant things, and it wasn’t until later that the conversation turned more serious again.

“I’m sorry.” Scar said quietly, turning in his seat so that he was facing Grian.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Grian asked, confused at what Scar was apologizing for. The day had been good, and Scar had done absolutely nothing wrong. 

Was this a time where he apologized for nothing? Scar had explained the concept to Grian, in the past. Grian had thought it was really silly that humans had the urge to apologize when they’d done nothing wrong. 

“I’m sorry I was arguing with you, earlier. About coming inside. I probably wouldn’t have if you hadn’t picked me up and brought me yourself.” Scar was looking down at his hands, twirling his fingers together nervously.

“But it makes sense why you would think that! You wanted to keep dancing, and didn’t care that your knee was hurt. You probably would have been fine, but I was worried, so I took you inside. Why is that something you should be sorry for?” Grian was getting better at properly understanding human emotion, but apologizing was something he didn’t think he’d ever properly understand.

“I… I guess you’re right.” Scar was hesitant, still refusing to meet Grian’s eyes. Grian looked at him, posture still slumped, eyes still turned down.

Grian took a jump.

“Scar… can I give you a hug?” Grian asked. At Scar’s nod he leaned in, carefully wrapping his arms around him the way that Scar had the first time. It was different, with them both sitting down, but Grian had a feel for it now and it was easy to adapt.

The hug lasted longer, this time, and only ended because Grian pulled back a little, scared he’d crushed Scar. “Are you okay?” he asked, looking at Scar’s face.

“Thank you.” Scar said, avoiding the question. “Thank you Grian, so much. I…” he trailed off, doubt flashing through his expression.

“What?” Grian questioned, when the silence had lasted too long.

“I… uh…” Scar couldn’t seem to finish his sentence. “Forget about it, it’s not my place anyways.”

That really perked Grian’s interest. “You can tell me anything, really, it’ll be ok Scar.”

Scar still hesitated. When he did speak it came out in a rush. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

Grian was confused. This was another human thing that he’d never had explained to him. “What’s a kiss?”

Scar flushed bright red. “It’s… uh… when two people like each other a lot… they press their lips together? And it’s a symbol of affection — people like it a lot.”

Grian brightened. “Oh, it’s a lovers thing! I know about lovers!” He paused and looked at Scar, seemingly recognizing what Scar was implying. It was his turn for his cheeks to redden. “You really…? Me?”

“You can say no and I can pretend this never happened. I know it’s not appropriate at all for me to ask you and-” Scar was flustered, rambling quickly in a scramble to backtrack.

“So how do we do this?” Grian questioned, leaning towards Scar even closer. 

Scar backed away, doubting himself again. “Grian are you sure?”

Grian simply nodded once, smiling at Scar as if to confirm. “I want to try it. Come here, Scar.”

He leaned back in, and grabbed Grian’s head with his hands to pull him even closer. Their lips met softly, and Grian fumbled for a second, no clue what to do with his own hands. He eventually settled on wrapping them around Scar like the hug from earlier, and only then did he relax, letting himself think about what was happening.

Grian had no clue what he had expected a kiss to be like, but if he had imagined anything, this would not be it. Scar’s lips were soft, and warm, and they felt nice against his own as they moved against each other.

Eventually, they broke apart, staring at each other as they both processed what had just happened. Before he could really think about it, Grian leaned in again, pressing a quick little kiss against Scar’s lips.

He liked this kissing thing, he decided. It was fun!

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Two days later he went searching out for the god that had taught him, Cleo. They were the only one of the other gods that Grian knew well enough to ask questions, and Grian desperately wanted some answers.

“Cleo?” he called, walking through the area that Cleo most often frequented. 

“Xel?” a voice called back, and he followed it until he came across the goddess herself. She was standing in the library, a book that looked to be centuries old in her hand. The snakes on their head hissed quietly in greeting as Xelqua made his way over to meet his mentor.

“Cleo… I have a few questions for you.” He tried not to betray his nervousness, but he knew they could tell. Cleo could always tell.

She raised an eyebrow. “So it’s going to be one of those conversations, huh?”

Xelqua rolled his eyes. “Don’t be difficult, Cleo. I just want to ask you a few questions about mortals.”

Her eyebrows raised even further and she hurriedly set the book she was holding back in place on the shelf, walking swiftly towards a table, sweeping Xelqua along with her. The snakes sniffed at Xelqua, but he didn’t flinch. The first thing he’d gotten used to when Cleo was teaching him were their snakes.

They arrived at a table fast enough, and they both settled down opposite each other. Cleo stared at him, gaze searching. “So what did you want to ask me then? What was so important that you came to visit me for the first time in fifty years, and didn’t even exchange any pleasantries before jumping in.”

Xelqua hesitated, suddenly nervous, and Cleo sighed. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone and fallen in love with a human already.” They said sarcastically, jolting backwards when Xelqua stayed silent. “Xel! That took me at least a millenia, why must you always be so early to things?”

Xelqua simply sat there, dumbfounded by Cleo’s casualness. She sighed again, folding her hands together and leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands. “So, Xel, tell me about him.”

“How do you know it’s a him?” Xelqua questioned, looking up at Cleo’s piercing stare. 

They simply blinked twice, continuing to stare. “You really don’t think you give off gay vibes?”

“What’s gay?” Xelqua asked, getting even more confused by the minute. He’d come here to get questions answered, and somehow he was only gaining more!

“It’s…” Cleo trailed off, shaking her head in disdain. “We don’t have time for this. Just tell me about him, I’ll explain homosexuality to you later.”

Xelqua’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, but he knew better than to question his former mentor. “He’s a painter. I… He kept requesting better light for his work and I just started watching him. Eventually I revealed myself to him and we started hanging out more and more.”

Cleo scoffed. “I’ll give it to you, Xel, you are a romantic. Not that it surprises me —- of course you’d fall in love with someone in a way that reminds me of a fairytale. Well, continue on then, has he kissed you yet?” One of their eyebrows raised as they waited for his answer.

“That’s what I came to ask you about. What is… what does a kiss mean to mortals? He explained it to me, but I don’t think I quite understand.” Xelqua watched as Cleo’s expression shifted, their eyes staring off into the distance as if they were remembering something from long ago. 

“A kiss means different things for mortals, depending on the intentions behind it. Some mortals kiss often, spreading their attention between multiple others, but I doubt your painter is like that. Most humans… most humans kiss because they’re in love, or at least on the way there.” Cleo met Xelqua’s eyes, and continued when he nodded.

“Love is… love is different for everyone. I can’t tell you how love feels for you, you’ll have to figure that out for yourself, but I can tell you that for me, love is the feeling of safety you feel when you spend time with someone you adore. Love is entering a room and seeing someone that makes you smile, no matter what. Love is the feeling of warmth in my chest that being around them brings. This painter… does he make you happy? Does he bring you something you think might be love?”

Xelqua’s eyes widened with that thought. He didn’t know why, but he felt sure, in that moment, that what he felt for Scar was love. He thought about the giggle when he was pranked, the coziness that he felt watching him paint, the overwhelming comfort he felt when Scar had wrapped his arms around him. And that kiss! Scar was lovely, and perhaps what Grian felt was love. He spoke, his voice quiet but sure, “Yeah. Yeah I think he does.”

Cleo sighed, their snakes stopped their movement to curl up close to them. “Then my best suggestion is for you to get away as fast as possible.”

“What?” Xelqua asked, the conflicting messages bouncing around in his head. “What do you mean? Isn’t love a good thing?”

“I care about you, Xel, you know that, right?” Cleo’s tone was serious, which confused him even more. 

“I know that, Cleo, yes. Where are you going with this?” He was so lost. How had they gotten from teasing to this?

“Xelqua, spending time with him will only hurt you more. You need to stop meeting up with him before it’s too late.” This was the sternest Xelqua had ever heard Cleo. She hadn’t even been this stern when he was her student.

“Too late?” He questioned, “It’s just spending time with a human, why does it matter?”

One of Cleo’s snakes hissed softly and they reached a hand up to stroke it. “Xel, I… I’m only telling you this because I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.” They paused for a moment and took a breath, long and deep.

“My first love was a mortal. He was a poet, and even amongst poets he was strange. In a time where all the mortals were scared of me he was a romanticist, writing all sorts of hymns and odes in my honor. It intrigued me — a mortal who was not scared of death — and I approached him one day.

“He charmed me with his odd yet compelling words, and I hung around him more and more. It was a lot like your painter, you see — we spent time together, and I felt comfortable with him like I never had with the gods. Slowly, over time, I fell in love.”

“What does this have to do with keeping my distance? That sounds lovely!” Xelqua was impatient. Usually he enjoyed Cleo’s stories, but he wanted to get to the point of this one.

She fixed him with a stare, waiting a charged moment before speaking again. “I’m getting there, Xelqua, if you would let me speak.”

“Sorry.” He responded, thoroughly cowed.

“We spent a lot of wonderful time together, Joe and I.” A mournful smile appeared on her face, and Xelqua felt as if he was intruding on a private moment. 

“But the thing about mortals, Xel? They die. They don’t live for eternity like you and I, and once they’re gone you’re left to pick up the pieces.” Cleo looked the closest to tears that Xelqua had ever seen.

“The hardest thing I’ve ever done is collect his soul.” Their next breath was shaky.

“Was it not worth the time you spent with him? You still have the memories, isn’t that worth something?” Xelqua didn’t know how to comfort his mentor. He hadn’t ever thought he’d need to.

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you learn that a millennia of hurt isn’t worth a couple decades of happiness. I can’t bring myself to hate Joe, but I resent the pain that his memory has caused me, and I don’t want you to have to do that. Leave now, so maybe you can cherish the memories you have without the pain of loss.”

Their words made sense to Xelqua but he couldn’t bring himself to believe them. “I think it might be too late for that. Is it really better to leave now and still know the end he’ll meet? I could spend that time with him, wouldn’t that be better?”

“Xel you’re an optimist. I think it’s in your nature —- as god of the sun you are always bright, hoping for the best. Spending more time with him is only going to make it hurt more later. The more memories you have the more ammo your brain has to throw at you when they’re gone.” Their eyes darkened. “Trust me on that.”

Xelqua still wasn’t convinced, but he let Cleo think he was, catching up on more mundane things before bidding her farewell and making his way to his little space in the clouds.

He thought as the sun set, but he couldn’t come to any more of a conclusion on his thoughts than earlier.

There was one thing he knew for certain, though —- he wanted to spend as much time with Scar as he could, regardless of anything Cleo said.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ 

Grian thought Scar’s shoulder might be the most comfortable thing in the world. As he leaned against the painter, covered with the softest blanket Grian had ever felt, he knew that there was nowhere else that he’d rather be.

The day had been perfect — Scar had surprised him when he arrived today with a blank canvas, paints all nicely lined up. He’d been confused at first, until Scar explained that he wanted to try and teach Grian how to paint.

He’d been nervous at first, scared to make the first mark on the canvas, but Scar had urged him on, reminding him that there are no mistakes in painting, and that everything can be fixed easily later. He knew this — he’d watched Scar paint enough to know, but it was all different when it was him doing it himself. Grian was still scared, but he went for it, confident in his ability to do anything with Scar by his side.

The cheer he made when he finally took that first stroke was kind of embarrassing, but looking over his shoulder and seeing the giant smile on Scar’s face erased it all.

He was beautiful, Grian mused, looking at his tousled hair, crooked smile, and twinkling eyes. His excitement was impossible to miss, lighting him up brighter than the sun Grian moved across the sky every day. 

The surge of feelings that hit him was overwhelming, but not new — now that Grian had talked to Cleo and knew better what it was, it wasn’t so scary anymore. He’d been comfortable sitting with the knowledge, enjoying being able to label the feeling, but now a new urge had appeared.

The realization that he wanted to tell Scar how he felt shouldn’t have been shocking. It should be common sense, because of course you’d want to tell the person that you are in love with about your feelings, but this felt scary in a way Grian hadn’t really ever experienced.

What if Scar didn’t feel the same? Grian was pretty sure he did, but if he didn’t then Grian didn’t know what he would do. He’d grown used to the companionship he had with Scar, and it was to the point where he didn’t know how he’d existed without it.

Scar’s soft call of his name broke him out of his thoughts. He started, jolting back a little, but Scar steadied him, the point of contact vanishing quickly but lingering in Grian’s thoughts.

He brushed Scar’s concern off, following his directions and beginning to paint, letting himself do whatever came to mind as Scar had told him to. It wasn’t until a couple minutes in that he realized that he’d begun to paint Scar’s face.

It was tempting to change it, but it felt too late now, and Scar would certainly ask about the flip in subject. Instead, he played it off as a joke, getting Scar to pose dramatically next to the canvas.

This felt worse, almost, than Scar being behind him. Now, he lurked in the corner of his eye, always there to distract him. He leaned over occasionally to peek at the canvas, scrutinizing Grian’s work and giving him advice.

Painting was calming, despite the distraction, and Grian could see why Scar enjoyed it so much. He wasn’t great at it, of course, but it was clear that the subject was Scar, and that was enough for him.

At one point he’d needed a view of the side of his face and he’d reached out without thinking, gently turning Scar’s face with his hand. Scar’s eyes widened softly, and Grian apologized, unsure if that was good or bad.

When he finished the painting to the best of his ability, Scar looked at it closely and complimented it endlessly, but Grian had a feeling that he would have no matter what it had ended up looking like.

They put the supplies away together, resetting the studio to the way that Scar liked it so that it would be ready for his next work of art. They chatted as they did, Grian marveling at what it was like to paint,  and Scar offered to let him paint again. It was the easiest yes that Grian had ever said.

That led to where he was now, curled up on the couch. Grian had been tired, and Scar offered to let him rest on the couch, but Grian had not expected the care that he showed for him.

Scar had fetched the blanket before settling down on the couch, and he’d wrapped the blanket around them both, leaving Grian to scoot even closer to him so that they could both be warm.

He’d laid his head on Scar’s shoulder without thinking, and froze when he realized what he’d done. When Scar didn’t react at all, Grian relaxed, settling into the cozy position.

Normally he didn’t sleep, but Grian felt like he could fall asleep right here if he wanted. He’d never had comfort like this in his life, and it felt like something precious to hold and cherish.

The little voice in his head urged him to tell the painter, and as he thought he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold it in much longer. The safety he felt from being curled up here gave him bravery that he didn’t think he had.

“Scar?” he said softly, trying to check if he was awake.

“What’s up, Grian? You want me to get another blanket?” Scar matched his soft tone, voice dripping with care.

“No, I’m good, I just-” Grian fought to keep the tremble out of his voice. “I just wanted to talk to you about something, and wasn’t sure if you were asleep.”

“I’m definitely awake,” Scar chuckled lightly, and Grian wished he could see the smile that was surely on his face. “What did you want to talk about?”

Grian took a deep breath, gearing himself up for the confession. The part of him that was terrified screamed at him, his hands shaking as he tried to tell Scar how he felt.

“What does gay mean?” Immediately, Grian scolded himself. It was so easy, just three words, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Scar’s laugh was loud, and it took him a full minute to calm down again. Grian’s brow furrowed in confusion as he wondered what exactly the word meant. Cleo had never gotten around to explaining it to him, but it couldn’t be too bad, right? Cleo had called him it, and while the gods were mostly reserved in their relationships, it was clear that Cleo held at least some care for him.

“Where’d you hear that word?” Scar asked him, turning to be able to look at him properly. It meant that Grian’s head slipped off his shoulder, and Grian couldn’t help the slight pang of disappointment.

“Cleo called me it. Said she’d explain it, but never got around to it and I don’t want to wait until I see her next to ask.”

Scar laughed again, much calmer this time, before taking a second to gather his thoughts and explain. “Gay is a descriptor used for people, though it is something that you have to figure out about yourself, so Cleo calling you it was just a guess. A gay person is someone who is interested in people of the same gender as them, as well as people with no gender at all.”

Humming in understanding, Grian pondered the words. He’d never really got the human concept of gender, but he supposed he was a man in their terms, even if he wasn’t particularly attached to the label. “So Cleo is saying that I’m interested in men? Or people that have no gender at all?”

“Yep! A lot of people that are gay tend to try to guess if other people are kind of as a joke and kind of seriously. They know you pretty well, so I’m not super surprised that they thought that-” his cheeks flushed, “and I have to admit I may have too.”

Grian’s eyes widened and his cheeks darkened to match Scar’s. “I think you’re right, but I don’t like it. How did you guys figure it out before I did? That’s not fair!”

Scar laughed again, and Grian dropped his fake pout to let his own smile shine through. His feelings surged forward again, and this time Grian didn’t hold them back. “I love you.” he said, his fondness overwhelming in his voice. He said it like he’d spoken the words a million times before, and he might as well have, if you counted the times in his head.

Looking over at Scar, Grian tried to read his expression. He had always struggled with figuring out emotions, but from what he could see on Scar’s face it seemed positive, at least.

“Really?” Scar asked, hope weaving through the words, “You… you love me?”

In lieu of an answer Grian leaned in, hand resting on Scar’s cheek as he pulled him close. He paused before their lips touched, an unspoken question. Scar leaned in, and suddenly they were kissing.

This kiss was not at all like their first one. That one had been quick, an experiment more than anything. Grian had enjoyed it, of course, but he’d been more focused on the kiss itself, rather than the man who he was doing it with.

Kissing Scar this time was still soft, but it was more urgent, almost demanding. He felt a need to press in, to be connected with Scar in any way he could. This kiss was longer, carrying on as Scar’s hands came to wrap around his waist. 

Leaning on Scar’s shoulder might be the most comfortable place in the world, but this was the best. Grian never wanted to leave this position, pressed up against Scar. 

Scar may not have said it, but the kiss told Grian that Scar loved him too. 

They broke apart eventually, looking at each other as they caught their breath, shoulders rising and falling in sync. It was quiet for a moment. 

“I love you.” Scar breathed and it wasn’t just a statement, it was a promise. The words didn’t just tell Grian that Scar returned his feelings, they also told of care, of loyalty, and of a promise to spend as long as they could together. Scar’s gaze combined with his words melted Grian’s insides into a little puddle of emotion, and he paused, uncertain of what he was supposed to do next. 

He settled for a hug, pulling Scar close again. He rested his head on Scar’s shoulder for the second time, soaking up the comfort he got from being in his painter’s arms. 

“I love you.” he said, pulling back a little so Scar could see his face, trying to give back at least some of the promise that Scar gave him. 

Scar closed his eyes, and Grian watched him take a deep breath, guessing he was getting overwhelmed with all the emotion. Soon, his eyes opened, and a fond smile appeared on his face. 

Grian’s eyes were drawn to his lips, and he stared perhaps a second too long before his gaze returned to Scar’s eyes. As soon as he did he noticed the smile curling up on one side into a smirk. 

There was barely any warning before Scar planted a kiss on Grian’s forehead, dancing back before he could retaliate. 

Grian pouted, looking at Scar with his best puppy dog eyes, but he didn’t budge. Grian secretly basked in the smirk and playful glimmer in Scar’s eyes. The banter and mischief would never get old.

“Not fair!!” he protested, making an attempt to get to Scar but getting foiled every time as Scar simply moved away. 

“You’re mean to me!” he continued, not letting up on his relentless pursuit. “Withholding kisses is a crime, you know!”

Scar laughed and Grian smiled wider than he thought was possible. Just as good, however, was the opening that Scar’s distraction gave him. 

“Got you!” he cheered as he got his revenge, kissing Scar’s cheek lightly. 

Scar straightened, looking down at Grian with what would have been a disapproving face if not for the hidden sparkle in his eyes. Scar’s eyes were always what gave him away. 

They didn’t give away his next move, though, and Scar was able to easily scoop Grian up and put him over his shoulder, walking back over to the couch. Grian yelped at the attack, then pouted again as he was transported against his will. He would struggle for fun, but he really didn’t want Scar to drop him. 

They settled back on the couch, and Scar patted his leg, something he’d never done before. Laying down, Grian got comfortable, and rested his head gently on Scar’s lap. 

After he’d gotten settled, Scar’s hand made its way to Grian’s hair, his fingers running through it. It felt nice, soothing him into sleepiness. 

He looked up at Scar with tired eyes, catching the fond expression on his face. The words Cleo said to him flashed through his head, but he pushed them to the side.

Despite everything in him yelling for him not to, Grian chose to stay. He chose Scar. 

“I love you.” he said, quiet but still audible. He cuddled closer to Scar, and drifted off to sleep before he even heard his answer.

Chapter Text

Grian woke up in a panic the next morning when he looked around and found himself in an unfamiliar place. He settled a bit once he realized he was just at Scar’s, snuggling closer to what he had figured out was Scar himself. The man grumbled in his sleep and shifted slightly to accommodate him, making Grian have to fight to not start laughing and accidentally wake the man up.

Curled up on the couch he drifted in and out of sleep for a while, not fully awake but definitely not fully asleep either. It was only when the sun was fully shining through the window that he finally got himself up and stretched, his joints getting used to the movement after being scrunched up for so long. 

He basked in the sunlight for a moment, only stopping when he had a realization that he probably should have had a while ago.

The sun was up.

The sun was up, and it hadn’t been him that had raised it, and it had still been in the sky when he fell asleep, which meant that it was two whole movements of the sun that he’d missed, that someone else had done in his place.

To say the thought made him panic would be an enormous understatement. His hands were shaking, his breathing already almost as quick as his pounding heart, and he had no thought other than the need to leave and get back to his home in the clouds as fast as possible.

Not because of anything Scar had done — he’d done everything perfect, this was Grian’s fault completely. He shouldn’t have let himself fall asleep, no matter how comfortable he’d been in Scar’s arms.

He thought about waking Scar up before he made his way out, but decided against it. Not only did he want to make his departure as quick as possible, he also really didn’t want to make the painter worried. He would be fine; this wasn’t good by any means, but he would be forgiven. A mortal in the god’s domain, however? That would be deadly, and not for the gods.

Leaving Scar’s place felt disruptive, in a way. There was a peacefulness to the air, and Grian’s franticness disturbed it, raising tension that shouldn’t have to exist. Grian justified his quick exit as doing Scar a favor, letting the peace resettle in his wake. He knew deep down that he was lying to himself, but it was easier than considering the alternative.

He knew the way well by now, traveling back to the sky without thinking, muscle memory guiding him while his mind ran in circles. There really was no reason to hurry, the sun had made its way into the sky regardless of his absence, but something in him urged him towards his home anyway. He had a feeling that something, or someone, was going to be waiting for him.

His suspicions were confirmed when he reached his little home, eyes narrowing as he sensed more than one of the other gods nearby. He didn’t even have a chance to enter before two figures came striding out, bringing Xelqua’s fear to a rising peak. It was bad before, but now the pit in his stomach grew even more as he recognized just who had come to scold him. They approached quickly, steps almost creepily in sync with each other.

In the lead was Tango, known to the mortals as Tangotek, lord of fire and steel. He was tall and imposing, the fire on his head burning blue as it only did when he was upset, and a glowing blue aura of heat radiated around him. His eyes were a sharp and steely teal, and when they met Xelqua’s they pierced directly into what felt like his soul. His robes flowed around him gracefully as he took large strides towards Xelqua, who suddenly felt very, very, small.

A step behind him was Impulse, god of redstone. He was dim in contrast to Tango’s brightness, his pale skin hidden behind dark clothes, lightened only by golden highlights in the fabric. He was often found at Tango’s side, and his presence did help to calm Xelqua, if only marginally. He always tempered Tango’s flame, at least a small bit. 

Xelqua’s gaze was drawn to Impulse’s sleeves, the gold reflecting Tango’s blue light in a way that would normally have been enchanting. It was much nicer to focus on the sparkling glint, ignoring the dread that filled his body.

“Took you long enough.” Tango said, close enough that his words could reach Xelqua where he’d stopped in his tracks. “I had to raise the sun for you today, but I suspect you already know that.”

Trying not to shake, Xelqua nodded, eyes cast down to the ground just in front of Tango’s boots. “Yes, Tango, I’m sorry.”

“Well?” Tango prompted sharply, impatience clear in his tone, “Why were you not able to do your duties?”

“I- I was-” Xelqua scrambled for an explanation that wouldn’t give away the fact that he’d been spending the time with Scar. Cleo had already warned him off spending time with him, and he didn’t know what they might have told the other gods. The last thing he wanted to come out of this was Scar getting in trouble. “I was down in the mortal world and I accidentally fell asleep.”

He hoped that was specific enough they wouldn’t ask questions but vague enough it didn’t give anything away. He knew in his core that it wouldn’t work, but the shred of hope that it would still remained.

Impulse raised an eyebrow, looking at Xelqua in a way that made him want to hide away forever. “And just where, exactly, did you feel comfortable enough to sleep in the mortal realm? From what I know you don’t sleep often, let alone outside of your home.”

Xelqua cringed, quickly realizing that there really was no way out of this one. “I was at a friend’s house.” he said, still trying to protect Scar any way possible.

“A friend’s, huh?” Impulse’s voice bordered on teasing. “Does this "friend" happen to be the mortal that you told Cleo that you’d fallen in love with?”

Xelqua’s face fell, immediately. “Please don’t hurt him,” he begged, composure immediately gone, “It wasn’t his fault, it was mine, I promise.”

The two elder gods exchanged a glance, and it was Impulse that spoke again, his voice slightly softer. “Xelqua, we don’t want to hurt you.” he took a step closer, and this time Xelqua didn’t back up, letting him draw near. “We don’t want to be mean, or take this from you.” Impulse’s words were likely supposed to be comforting, but it sounds strangely like a threat.

Impulse’s hand appeared out of his clothes, reaching up and resting on Xelqua’s shoulder. It was a comforting weight. “We just want you to know how risky this is. Cleo’s already talked to you about it, but we agree too, and I want you to understand that. Messing with mortals isn’t for us gods, no matter how tempting it is.”

Tango spoke up, his voice stripped of most of the sternness as well. “Not only that, but you have to be more careful with your job too.” Even without looking Xelqua could tell that the stare from Tango had returned. “I know you’re all caught up in a mortal right now, but millions of mortals will suffer if you don’t take proper care of the sun. If this keeps happening we’ll have to take some larger measures, and you know neither I nor you want that”

The fire god took a step forward, and Xelqua tensed, expecting some sort of retribution for his carelessness. Instead, all that he did was raise a hand up to ruffle Xelqua’s hair as he brushed past, Impulse following him as they went on their way.

“We care about you, Xelqua!” Impulse called as they walked off towards the horizon, the words ringing in Xelqua’s ears, “Take some care of yourself!”

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ 

Grian never told Scar about his encounter with the two older gods. He knew that he should tell the man, and that Scar would be upset if he knew that he was keeping a thing like that from him, but every time that he tried to find the words they danced out of reach, too hard to express to the one that they’d affect the most.

With any other subject, though, talking with Scar was easy. They’d spend hours leaning against each other and chatting, and Grian soaked up all the knowledge of the mortal world that he could. Scar was more than willing to tell stories, and sometimes Grian would get him going for hours, just rambling about random things.

The thing that Grian liked hearing about the most was Scar’s childhood. It hadn’t been the best, being bounced around from home to home, but just the idea of a childhood was fascinating to Grian. 

Sometimes Grian wondered what he would have been like as a child. Scar’s description of how he was when he was young sounded much like how he was now, just a little more adventurous and lacking the nervousness that floated around Scar today.

Childhood seemed simple, from Scar’s stories. Despite how much he’d gone through during that time of his life he still looked back on it fondly. The far off look in his eyes he’d get while talking about it was soft, even through the clear pain in some of the memories.

Grian wanted to go back in time solely to protect Scar from the things that had hurt him.

It took longer than Grian thought it would for the topic of his own childhood (or lack thereof) to come up. He’d been dreading the topic, for more than one reason, but he knew that it would come up eventually regardless. Maybe Scar sensed his hesitance and spared him for as long as he could bear before the curiosity got the better of him.

It was a quiet day, weather outside just right for them to relax together on the hill near Scar’s home. He was just far enough outside of the nearby town that it wasn’t visible from here, so they were able to look in all directions and see nothing but the nature around them.

For the time that they spent together it was easy to pretend that they were just in their own little world.

Scar was humming gently as he wove the dandelions that he’d picked into a crown, fingers deftly arranging the stems. He’d offered some of the pile to Grian, but the god had shook his head, not wanting to admit that he’d have no idea where to even start.

It was soothing, watching Scar weave the flowers together. Grian’s eyes drooped slightly as he watched, and he looked up at the sky, closing his eyes and soaking up the gentle warmth of the sun. This was exactly where he wanted to be.

He startled when he felt something brush his head, opening his eyes to Scar giggling as he tried to tuck the flower crown into Grian’s hair. Shaking his head in amusement, Grian’s smile was easy, eyes crinkling in the corners so much it almost made it hard to see Scar.

Crouched in front of him the man was framed by the sun, rays of light streaming through any gaps in his form. His hands were careful as they brushed through Grian’s hair, and it was hard for him to resist melting into a puddle from the comforting touch. 

Finally meeting Scar’s eyes, Grian bit his lip to keep his smile from growing even wider. Most would describe the look on Scar’s face as dorky, all scrunched up in concentration, but Grian didn’t think he’d ever seen anything cuter.

When Scar finished and leaned back, a giant smile appearing on his face as he admired his work, Grian couldn’t help but pull him closer to kiss him senseless.

Their first kisses, both their actual first and the one that really counted, had felt monumental. They were milestones, carrying meaning much deeper than either the god or the mortal could express. They had been important, and scary, and good — so so good — but now it was easier.

Now Grian could kiss Scar whenever he wanted. 

When they parted Scar moved back to sit beside him, claiming Grian’s hand and intertwining their fingers. It wasn’t long before the light rhythm of his thumb rubbing back and forth against the back of Grian’s palm began. 

“I used to make these little crowns all the time when my brother and I were kids. He’d always protest when I put one on his head, but I knew that he enjoyed it deep down.” Scar’s expression was wistful, and his eyes far off.

“Is he… still around?” Grian asked hesitantly, not wanting to breach the subject if it wasn’t something Scar didn’t want to discuss.

“Oh yah!” Scar said quickly, “I forgot it could be taken that way, he’s completely fine. He just doesn’t have much time to hang out anymore. Busy with his job and things in town, not exactly the type to go hang out in fields with his air headed painter brother anymore.” 

Grian hummed in acknowledgement, filing the information away for later. Scar laughed it off, but Grian could tell that there was at least a little hurt behind the words.

“Do you have any siblings?” Scar asked, the question surprising Grian even though he should have expected it. 

“I do, actually.” He paused before continuing, “A twin sister. Gods don’t usually have siblings, but for some reason when the god that handled both the sun and the moon passed on the two of us appeared instead of one singular person.

I haven’t seen her pretty much at all since then. With our purposes being opposites we didn’t really have a choice in the matter. We spent a lot of time together when we were both still learning, but our mentors didn’t want us together much especially as we got closer to being set loose to do our work. The gods aren’t very big on bonds.” 

Scar looked thoughtful, and Grian could practically see the cogs turning in his brain. “Do you miss her?”

That was not the question that Grian had thought Scar would ask, and it caught him off guard. Scar was always like that; asking the questions that hadn’t even crossed Grian’s mind. “I do.” he concluded, the words soft.

Scar brought their clasped hands up to his lips, and kissed the back of Grian’s hand with just a brush. “You’ll get to see her again soon.” he stated, and though realistically Grian knew it was unlikely, he somehow believed the words with his entire heart.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ 

Scar’s invitation to join him when he went into the village came as a surprise. 

It wasn’t that Grian couldn’t; he wouldn’t even need a disguise to do so, the mortals really didn’t know what he looked like, but it still felt odd in a way he couldn’t quite describe. 

Scar’s life as a mortal in the village was entirely foreign to Grian, and stepping foot into that world scared him. What if Scar’s friends didn’t like him? What if they disapproved of whatever he and Scar had?

Honestly, the only reason Grian had accepted the invite was because Scar was so excited about it when he offered. 

The day they arranged came, and Grian carefully pulled on the hoodie Scar gave him to wear, pulling the hood over his hair to make the golden stand out less. Without it he was practically a beacon, hair glowing like a torch and marking him as something other than human. 

Scar gave him sunglasses too, in case he wanted to hide his eyes, which were a similar golden hue. He slid them on to test, and the dimmed view of the world was odd. Logically he knew it was still bright, but it felt wrong, uneasiness settling in the pit of his stomach. He slid the glasses into his pocket. He’d use them if needed, but right now he wanted them tucked away as much as possible. 

Bouncing with excitement Scar emerged from his room, and they headed out the door. Once Scar had made sure that it was locked properly behind them he held his hand out towards Grian expectantly. 

There was a pause for a long moment as Grian stared confused, eventually giving up and asking, “What do you want me to do?”

Scar blushed. “Oh, it’s a silly mortal thing.” Turning, he started to leave, but Grian’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

Grian waited until he turned to face him then spoke, “I want to hear, please tell me.” he brought his hand up to Scar’s cheek, cupping it gently as he spoke. 

“It’s just another thing mortals do, anytime, but especially if you’re with someone you like romantically.” Scar stuttered his way through the speech, but didn’t seem as embarrassed as the other times he’s had to explain things. 

“That’s me!” Grian said, interrupting him. Scar rolled his eyes, but the crinkle of his eyes and the deepening of his blush showed his appreciation of the joke. 

“Holding hands, that’s what it’s called. It’s simple, just like this.” Scar linked their fingers together. Grian squeezed once. It felt nice, a little comfort to soothe his nervousness. 

They walked out the door together, hands still intertwined. It wasn’t a far walk to the village, and with Grian helping with supporting Scar’s bad leg, it was quicker even than it took Scar to reach it normally.

Grian spent the whole time as a bundle of nerves, clutching Scar’s hand with far more strength than necessary. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, but he could feel it in his stomach, a bundle of butterflies tumbling in circles.

He was scared they wouldn’t like him, although that notion seemed a little silly. It was just that these people were a huge part of Scar’s life that Grian had never seen, an entire world known to Scar and unfamiliar to Grian.

They entered a bakery, Scar gently tugging Grian to the counter. The person at the counter, a woman in a bright pink jacket with short brown hair and a bright smile on her face, greeted them warmly. She introduced herself as Stress, and Scar talked to her briefly about town gossip, names and places that Grian had no clue about flying right over his head.

Scar broke off the chat before too long and they got tea and treats, settling down into a booth in sight of the door. Grian stared at the baked goods with wide eyes, none of them anything he recognized. Scar laughed at his puzzled expression, pushing a small cake with fluffy pink cream on top towards him.

“I know you don’t technically need to eat, but try a cupcake. I promise you’ll like it.” Grian wasn’t sure if he hated or loved the teasing note in Scar’s voice.

He pulled the cupcake towards him, taking it out of its wrapping and lifting it towards his mouth. It was longer than he thought, but he managed, accidentally getting some cream onto his nose in the process. 

That was quickly forgotten though, because the flavor in his mouth was much more interesting. It was sweet, almost overwhelmingly so, but the cream and cake went together so well and the faint taste of strawberries made him like it even more.

“Like it?” Scar asked, the smirk on his face growing as he reached over and swiped the cream off Grian’s nose, licking it off his finger. “You missed a little there.”

“You didn’t have to mention that.” Grian grumbled, but the smile on his face told a completely different story.

The bell on the door chimed before long, and a man walked in who Grian assumed had to be Cub. He was shorter than Scar, with darker hair, but he shared the same walk as Scar, every step sure of himself. He wore a lab coat, which matched with what Scar had said of him in the past. It wasn’t long before he walked over to join them, tea held in his hands.

“Cub!” Scar cheered happily, getting up on his feet and embracing the man. Cub’s serious expression lifted slightly into a smile, which Grian got the feeling it didn’t do often.

“I’ve missed you, brother. We need to see each other more often.” Scar’s smile was wide, but the grip that he had on Grian’s hand betrayed his nerves.

Cub raised an eyebrow. “It was your fault this time.” he nodded towards Grian, looking fondly at Scar. “You brought someone for me to meet?”

Scar startled a bit, having forgotten that he needed to do an introduction. “This is Grian. We’ve been spending quite a bit of time together recently-” His cheeks blushed bright red and Grian looked on, amused.

“We’re together, in some sort of way.” Grian finished for him, laughing silently as Scar managed to turn an even darker shade of red.

“I see.” Cub’s gaze felt like it was staring straight through him. For a few moments it felt like he might start asking questions Grian really couldn’t answer, but he thankfully moved on to much easier topics.

Grian stayed silent for most of the conversation, only chiming in when he was directly addressed. Cub was an interesting character, and he could definitely see the family resemblance between him and Scar no matter how different they looked on a surface level.

The directness that Cub had was the thing that shocked Grian the most. Unlike Scar, who would dance circles around the truth almost like it was a game to him, when Cub wanted you to know something he just came right out and said it, no hesitation visible anywhere in his demeanor. Despite it seeming like Cub was still very wary of him, Grian appreciated being able to know easily where he stood with the man.

Before long they moved tables to a larger one, and were joined by many of Scar’s friends from around the village. Grian wasn’t surprised at all by how many there were, but he lost track of names and faces pretty quickly. It was fine though, Grian was more than content to sit back and watch Scar interact with the people that he so obviously loved.

He lost track of time rather quickly in the indoor setting. Unlike Scar’s house, which let in a lot of light from the big windows that seemed to be everywhere, the diner was lit mostly by electricity, which meant that the passage of time was a lot trickier to track. Grian hadn’t anticipated staying very long, so he didn’t think to keep a careful watch.

By the time they left, it had long since grown dark. Grian tried his best to shake off the dread that was weighing him down.

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It was quiet, when Grian approached the house.

This in itself wasn’t all too odd; sometimes Scar preferred to work in silence, but there was always an echo of his painting through his house, the soft noises that were so connected to Scar in Grian’s head. 

When he checked the studio and it was empty Grian started to actually panic. In his years of visiting the painter he’d never not been in his kitchen or studio when Grian arrived. 

The door to the bedroom taunted Grian, and the only reason he went to open it was because of the overwhelming anxiety that was flowing through his body. It felt like an invasion of Scar’s space, stepping over an invisible line. 

It felt like the door should creak, some sort of warning of Grian’s presence, but it was silent, barely making a sound as it was pushed open. 

Grian stepped in carefully, avoiding the many piles of things stacked up on the ground. He smirked observing it; the room wasn’t messy, technically, as everything had a place, but there were stacks of this and that strewn all over any available surface. The only safe space was a path between the door and the bed. 

Heart pounding Grian made his way to the bed, sighing in relief as he saw a Scar shaped lump lying buried under the blankets. Turning around he was even more careful than before, closing the door gently and busting himself making Scar some food in the kitchen for when he woke up. 

Cooking worked as a distraction for a while, calming the racing of his mind as he focused on the ingredients, but it only lasted so long before he’d finished and was left staring at the plate sitting lonely on the table. 

The temptation was strong to go try and clean up Scar’s studio, just as something to busy his hands with, but he knew Scar would murder him if he so much as moved something out of place. It was just as cluttered as his bedroom, but Scar somehow proved again and again that he knew where everything he could possibly need was hidden. 

He tried to lose himself in thought, but his brain was focused on worrying about Scar, so that proved futile very quickly. It was easier to find some paper and a pencil and attempt to improve his drawing skills. 

Scar had been teaching him how to draw, sitting down a couple times a week and giving Grian advice as he tried to draw random prompts Scar gave. The most recent prompt had been snakes, and he wanted to try something that had been on his mind since. 

His sketch of Cleo was horrible, at first, but once he got the outlines of the snakes solidified it came together much better. He was still horrible at faces, mashing features together and hoping it would turn out, but it ended up looking pretty decent. 

He might show it to the goddess later, but he didn’t think that she’d take too kindly to being depicted by Grian in something so mortal as art. 

The creak of a floorboard under a quiet step alerted Grian of Scar’s presence, the man having finally awoken and emerged from his room. 

He yawned, jaw stretching all the way wide, and blinked sleepily at Grian. His balance seemed off, and his face was flushed. “What time is it?” he asked, words running together just a little bit. 

Grian’s brow furrowed immediately in concern, already moving towards the man to steady him. “I’m not sure, but sometime in the mid afternoon,” he answered, slotting himself under Scar’s arm to take part of his weight. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed. You’re definitely some kind of sick, and I don’t want it getting worse.”

“Not sick,” Scar protested weakly, but he didn’t fight Grian as he walked him back to the bedroom. They made their way through the maze of piles, and when they got to the bed Grian attempted to deposit him back down. 

The stubborn man held on, somehow gripping him with a strength that Grian didn’t think he had, even when healthy. Resigned, Grian sat down on the bed, pulling Scar down with him so they were sitting on it together. 

Scar looked over at Grian, a bright smile on his face. “Birdie!” he said, giggling to himself slightly, the name funny to him somehow in his fevered haze. 

Grian smiled slightly and shook his head. “You’re really out of it, huh?” He didn’t expect an answer and he didn’t get one, eventually reaching out to brush his fingers across Scar’s forehead to check his temperature, then resting his fingers against Scar’s cheek. 

He knew from past experience nursing Scar through other sicknesses that when he was running a fever he loved the coolness of Grian’s fingers. It was useful having someone who couldn’t get sick to take care of an ill one. 

“Mmmm” Scar’s hum was faint but satisfied, and accompanied him burying his head into Grian’s shoulder, shifting until he was comfortable. 

The position wasn’t all that pleasant for Grian, but he didn’t mind. He’d stay there all day for Scar if that’s what his love wanted. 

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Scar had been sick more often, recently; he’d been ill more in the last couple of weeks than the whole rest of the time Grian had known him. It was starting to become concerning, but Grian was too scared to make Scar worry so he hadn’t brought it up yet.

Today he really needed to though — this was the first day that Scar had been lucid after almost a full week of being horribly sick. It had gotten to the point where Grian had been scared to leave him, staying by his side as much as he could to make sure that he was okay.

While he wasn’t looking amazing, Scar seemed much healthier when Grian had arrived this morning. They’d had breakfast together, Grian making sure that Scar got plenty to eat, and had spent most of the day playing board games on the couch.

Grian enjoyed the games, trying his best to learn and find little ways to edge out a victory, but there was always an undercurrent of anxiety laying in wait in the back of his mind. He knew he needed to speak up, but he didn’t know how to have this conversation.

When their next game ended he took his chance, “Scar…” his voice fell off as soon as he started.

Scar looked up at the sound of his name, cheerful expression on his face as it always was. It broke a part of Grian’s heart to see it fall when he took in the concern on Grian’s face.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Scar’s voice was gentle, and the pet name broke Grian immediately. The distress lining Scar’s face grew even stronger when he saw the first tear slide down Grian’s face, and he quickly gathered him into a hug.

The shoulder Grian buried his face in grew wet from tears nearly straight away, but neither of them cared. Scar’s arms were wrapped tightly around Grian, almost as if he knew that it was what he needed most in that moment. It served as a little reminder that Scar was okay, the pressure helping him towards calming down, at least a little bit. 

He was here. Scar was here, and those were his arms wrapped around Grian’s body, squeezing him tight. It was impossible to forget that when he was held like this.

Grian shifted, and Scar loosened his hold a little, enough for Grian to twist around so he was sitting on his lap rather than leaning into him. A slight blush was visible on Scar’s face, Grian too distracted by positioning himself to notice.

Eventually they settled, Grian still in Scar’s arms, but in a much better position to talk. They stared at each other, neither knowing where to start, until Scar gave a slight nod, signaling Grian to talk first.

“You’ve been sick a lot.” Grian’s voice was shaky, the source of the nervousness a combination of all the events leading up to this moment.

Scar shrugged. “Yeah?” He looked at Grian, confusion evident on his face. When Grian only looked confused back, his mouth formed an “o” in realization, “I forget that you still don’t know everything about me sometimes.” He laughed lightly, but it didn’t seem particularly funny.

“I got like this a lot, as a kid. It’s odd for it to go on this long, and it hasn’t happened in ages, but I’m no stranger to being sick a whole lot.”

Grian was still confused. “Even if you’re used to it, isn’t it still concerning? I mean, Scar, you were really sick. I don’t think you even recognized me, at times.”

If the conversation wasn’t so serious, Grian would have fun analyzing all the different emotions that flashed across Scar’s face in a matter of seconds.

He settled on nonchalance, “It’ll be ok. Shouldn’t happen again, and if it does, we’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”

Grian buried his head back into Scar’s shoulder, his next words coming out muffled. “Scar… I was scared I was going to lose you.”

He couldn’t see Scar’s reaction to the statement, but there was a long pause before he spoke the next words. 

“It’ll all be okay, I promise. Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.”

Grian looked up at Scar’s face, bothered by his easy attitude about what Grian knew to be a serious illness. “Please be careful, Scar.” He was tempted to bury his head back into Scar’s comfortable shoulder, but it was important for him to see Scar, and let Scar see how sincere his words were.

Scar’s eyes were sad, not teary like Grian’s, but instead holding a heavy weight to them. It was odd to see his mouth downturned, smiley as he normally was.

His next words were quiet, but he knew that Scar heard. The usually lively house was hushed, not even the birds outside daring to break the silence with a chirp.

“I can’t lose you too.”

Scar looked crushed, but Grian couldn’t bring himself to do anything but cradle Scar’s head in his hands and draw his face closer.

“Please.” he begged, voice raw. He pulled Scar the rest of the distance and they kissed, hungry, and aggressive, and seeking. Grian showed Scar his desperation, breaking apart for air as little as he could, pressing into Scar until he fell backward, allowing Grian to climb on top.

He peppered Scar with kisses, leaving his lips when he needed more air than Grian had the patience for. He wanted Scar to understand, he needed Scar to know the depth of his love and concern.

When he exhausted the little energy he had, Grian collapsed, finding the spot between Scar’s shoulder and head that he liked so much. Words were too much for both of them at that moment, so they just lay there, feeling the rising and falling of their chests and the frantic but slowing beat of their hearts, synced together.

The conversation lay open between them, but neither had the energy to have it that day. This was easier, simpler than the complexity of trying to figure out emotions.

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It was hard to leave Scar that night, even more than usual. 

He knew he had to leave, not only for his duties with the sun but also to give him some space, but part of him just wanted to cling onto Scar, no matter how fragile he may look at the moment, and never let go. The glance back at the painter’s home may have been more than a glance, eyes lingering on the door.

Scar only got worse over the next few weeks. It was hard for Grian to watch him be sick pretty much constantly, swapping between complete delirium and an almost frightening clarity, but Grian couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. 

He owed Scar that much, especially if the cause of this sudden health decline was what he thought it was. 

It all came to a point when there was a day Scar was even sicker than usual, bed bound all day with little to no consciousness. He’d been avoiding leaving Scar’s side, in part out of worry and in part procrastination, but he had to confront his fears if it meant a chance at Scar getting better. 

Cleo wasn’t hard to find, all things considered. They were where they always were, in the library, sitting in a dimly lit corner with a book bigger than anything Xelqua had seen before.

Her snakes hissed a warning when Xelqua got closer, and Cleo’s eyes lifted to meet his own as he approached. The book was set aside easily as she stood, walking to the set of chairs nearby that were much more suited for a pair to talk. 

Xelqua followed, the silence a little odd. Cleo wasn’t one for mindless chatter and never had been, but Xelqua had gotten used to Scar’s need to fill silence. 

“So..” Cleo said, getting comfortable in their chair. Xelqua sat, his anticipation keeping him on edge. “Out with it, then. What did you come to talk to me about?”

Stiffening, Xelqua kept his face closely guarded. He didn’t know how much Cleo already knew about Scar, or if it even was them that made him sick. 

“Have you been watching the painter I talked to you about at all?” he asked, keeping his words as vague as possible.

Cleo’s eyebrows raised, and Xelqua knew without a doubt they were involved somehow. “Perhaps.” her stare pierced through Xelqua. “I thought I told you to stay away from him.”

“But Cleo-“ Xelqua started to protest, but Cleo cut him off immediately. 

“No arguing, Xel. I told you that for your own good, and you didn’t even wait a day to disobey. Not only that, but I also heard from Tango and Impulse that they’ve had to do your duties for you more than once.”

Xelqua froze. Cleo knew way more than they expected. “Listen, as I’m sure you know, Scar is sick right now, really bad. If you leave him be, I’ll do whatever you want,” his face scrunched, “Even- even stay away.”

Their eyebrows raised again, and Xelqua knew Cleo didn’t believe his words in the slightest. “We both know that won’t happen. I’m surprised you think that I don’t know you that well, Xel. I raised you, and you think you can lie to me and make it believable?”

Xelqua deflated, his whole body slumping back into the chair. Barely five minutes into the conversation, and he’d already ran out of things to attempt. 

“Besides, I didn’t even add anything, just accelerated what is already there. This would have happened down the line, I just nudged it along a little. I-“ they paused, a rare window into their real emotions opening for a moment. “I wish that someone had done this for me. My only regret is that I didn’t start this sooner to spare you the pain.”

“You don’t think it was worth it? You got decades with your partner, and now that they’re gone you don’t think it’s a price to pay for the memories?” Xelqua’s questions were soft, not bothering to hide the pain all over his face. The effort it took to feign indifference was more than he could bear in this moment. 

“I was happy with Joe. Really, truly, happy in a naive sort of way. It’s easy to be enchanted by humans, and just as easy to fall for them in a way most gods could never describe. We spent a good 50 years together, and I thought that joy would last forever.”

They paused for a moment, and Xelqua could swear that a small tear was falling down their face. Xelqua had never seen Cleo cry before. 

“I don’t think anyone will ever quite understand the pain that was reaping his soul. I had to take him away, deliver him to where I would never got to see him again. Xel, that broke me. I will never be quite the same person as I was before I met Joe.”

She reached a hand out, and when Xelqua accepted she pulled him into a hug. 

“I don’t want that for you, Xel.” They whispered into his ear from where their head rested on his shoulder. “I don’t want you to have to go through what I did.”

They stayed like that for a while, Xelqua trying to process what they’d just told him. They’d essentially just admitted that it was them who made Scar sick, even if it wasn’t stated outright.

Xelqua felt sick at the thought, even though they’d come here expecting that to be the case. He’d thought he could trust Cleo, but clearly that was not true, at least not anymore. 

A tear broke through the barrier he’d been trying to keep up, and once one fell more followed, Xelqua shaking with quiet sobs. He pushed Cleo back, not wanting to be held by them any longer. 

“Please,” he begged, looking up at their face through his tears. “I love him, Cleo, please let me love him for as long as I can.”

There was a hint of something on Cleo’s face but she turned away without responding, walking to the other end of the library. 

“Please, Cleo, you don’t have to do this.” Xelqua continued, following behind her. Cleo didn’t even turn to face him, simply continuing on her way. 

Eventually they reached a doorway and Cleo stepped inside, using their body to block Xelqua from following. They turned, and finally Xelqua could see their face, tear streaked and drawn tight. 

“This is why I warned you.” their voice was soft and mournful, barely loud enough for Xelqua to hear. “I’m sorry Xel.”

The door shut, leaving Xelqua outside, sobbing uncontrollably. He screamed and pounded on the door, fists scratched and bloodied by the wood by the time he gave up, slumping against the door in exhaustion. 

He didn’t move until the morning when he had to raise the sun again, dragging himself up and back to Scar’s side.

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It was easy for Scar to notice the drag in Grian’s mood, but he mercifully didn’t question him at all the next couple of days, allowing him to soak in the news. 

He went through stages; first grief, then desperation, then a strange sort of defeated acceptance. Every possible solution that he thought of seemed plausible at first, but flaws were everywhere, no matter the way that he turned the variables in his head.

It all came down to a simple answer, despite Grian’s denial: Scar was a mortal, and mortals were painfully, horribly, fragile.

When the fifth day in a row of Grian moping around arrived, Scar had enough with the constant aura of sadness that followed Grian around like a stink cloud. 

While he couldn’t really move from his bed at this point, especially without Grian’s help, Scar still could easily force Grian to sit down and actually address his feelings with him.

As always, however, Scar was much more perceptive than Grian had hoped. “So you went to talk to Cleo.”

Grian flinched at the words, and that was the only confirmation that Scar needed to know that his assumption had been correct. “By your reaction I’m guessing it isn’t looking good.”

The silence in the room was heavy. Grian knew if he started speaking he’d cry, and he really didn’t want to force Scar to comfort him instead of the other way around.

“Grian, I love you but we always knew that my lifespan wouldn’t nearly match yours.” Scar forced himself up into a sitting position, Grian hurriedly moving to assist him. “Sure, I hoped that I’d have at least a decade or two more to spend with you, but my health has never been good and that was likely wishful thinking regardless.”

Grian opened his mouth to say something, anything, to convey the whirling emotions flooding forward, but Scar held up a hand to stop him.

“I know that one of the other gods likely had a hand in this. I’m not naive, people don’t just get incredibly sick like this all of the sudden, but it’s not like I was in top tier shape to begin with. I bet whoever did this has a reason too. Please don’t hold it against them, I know that they love you.”

Tears were staining both of their cheeks at this point, and Grian collapsed forward to bury his face away in Scar’s chest. Only Scar would forgive the people that he thought were his killers for Grian’s sake.

Grian breathed in the scent of whatever deodorant that Scar used, woody but with some sort of sweet note buried underneath. Neither of them spoke for a while.

“Don’t leave me, please.” Grian pleaded quietly, Scar’s arms tightening around him as he said the words. Scar’s lack of a verbal response made Grian feel even worse, though empty reassurances would never have hit home either.

When the time for the sun to set came, Grian didn’t even bother to leave Scar’s side. For all he cared, the other gods could storm in here right now and he still wouldn’t let go.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

A little over a week later when Grian arrived to visit Scar was already awake, his gaze fixed on some point in the distance. “You know I’ve been reading a lot lately.” His words were thoughtful, his clarity almost startling after so long of him being in a fevered haze.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about a myth that tells the tale of a man named Daedalus and his son, Icarus. They were trapped by a king, with what looked like no way to escape. Daedalus was an inventor, though, and he created beautiful wings made of wax so they could fly away. The wings worked wonderfully, but there was one exception —- if whoever was wearing them got too close to the sun the wax would melt, leaving the wearer stranded in the air.”

Scar looked up at Grian to make sure he was listening before he continued, “They escaped with no issues, but instead of landing in safety Icarus’ curiosity got the better of him and he flew on, despite his father’s warning. Intoxicated by flight and feeling as if he was on top of the world he got too close, leaving him to fall into the waves below.”

Grian’s eyes widened as Scar finished, finally catching onto the point of the story. 

“You are the sun and I am your Icarus. I know you’re scared sweetheart, but it’s alright. I know I flew too close, and I don’t regret a single moment.”

“Scar…” Grian spoke his name like a plea, soft and mournful.

“No, birdie. I know it scares you, but let me think about my death. Let me be selfish in this one thing, despite it clearly causing you pain.”

Grian’s eyes fluttered shut and he took a deep breath, shuddering as he tried to calm himself for Scar’s sake. Breathing was far more difficult than it should have been.

Flurrying thoughts competed for Grian’s attention as he tried to express even a fraction of his feelings. “I want…” He moved closer to Scar, gathering him in his arms. “I want you to be happy.”

Scar’s face swum in his vision through the tears gathered in his eyes. “Oh Grian.” Scar’s lips were upturned slightly, a soft smile resting prettily on his face. “I’m always happy with you. It’s been an honor to have the chance to love you.”

They laid there, Scar solid in Grian’s embrace, for a long moment before Scar spoke again, voice quiet as he spoke into Grian’s ear.

“Don’t linger on me too long, ok?” Grian inhaled sharply, but Scar continued anyway. “Find someone else who can love you as much as you deserve. I know that someone out there exists that can make you just as happy as I hope that I do, and you deserve to be with them regret free. I love you birdie, always, and I know you love me too.”

When Grian snuggled his head further into Scar’s chest, refusing to acknowledge the words he did not want to hear, Scar pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

No more words were spoken that night, and they simply lay there, intertwined and content with their love, despite the tint of mourning. Grian knew he should do his duty with the sun, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. This was much more important.

The next morning Grian woke up, and Scar did not.

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Grian flew to Cleo’s in a blind fury, not thinking before he was already far along the way. It was not logic that guided him to their place, pure emotion driving him to their door despite the end of their last conversation.

They weren’t in the library or any of their usual haunts, and eventually he had to give up, collapsing onto the ground of a cliff overlooking open sky, legs dangling over the edge. It was probably dangerous, but he didn’t really care.

Cleo found him still sitting there a couple of hours later. Her presence was no surprise, especially seeing as she found out about Scar’s death before Grian himself did, but he was still a little shocked she’d come to find him. His former mentor had never been the most caring or emotional person.

“Looking for me?” They asked, coming to sit beside him, keeping enough distance between them so as not to crowd Grian.

It had been long enough that the fast flowing rapids of his anger had faded into a sort of melancholic stream. A small nod was all he could manage in response. Grian viewed Cleo out of the corner of his eye, refusing to turn and fully look at them.

“I’m sorry. I thought I was doing what was best for you, but I think I just managed to hurt you more. It’s been a long time since I lost Joe, and I think my bitterness may have influenced me more than I thought that it would.”

That got Grian to look up. Apologies from Cleo were very rare, and he didn’t think that she’d ever admitted that she was wrong so directly to him. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to feel about anything right now, and despite Scar’s wish for him to forgive Cleo he didn’t think that was possible right now.

When it was clear that Grian was not going to respond, Cleo continued. “As someone who has lost like you just have, take some little advice: let yourself feel the emotions, but don’t wallow in them too long. While mortals have a brief encounter with this life we do not, and even though it seems impossible to move on now, I promise that it will get easier with time.”

They paused again, but Grian merely hummed neutrally, words too much right now.

“And…” She hesitated, but carried on anyway. “More of the other gods know how you feel than you’d think. Don’t be scared to ask them about their experiences. We may be old and jaded compared to you, but no one of us would turn you away.”

Her gaze locked onto him, and he met it for the first time since she’d arrived. The tear falling down their face was unexpected, but not surprising. 

“Remember that we love you. We were wrong, and I know that for certain, but we acted to do what we thought was right. Your forgiveness is not something that we have earned yet, or that we expect anytime soon, but I hope you will understand us someday. When that day comes, please visit. We’re going to miss having you around.”

After she spoke, the silence between them turned to a strange sort of comfort. 

Grian wanted to ask for a hug, but didn’t know how.

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Cleo left not long after, but Grian stayed, tears streaming down his face, an unceasing stream. 

It was easier to let the tears overtake him. If he lost himself in their grasp then he didn’t have to think, or feel, or imagine a life without his love in his arms. 

Scar made the world something Grian wanted to open his eyes wide to watch. With him gone, Grian saw no reason to keep them open any longer. 

The hardest part of it all wasn’t even losing Scar. He’d known the inevitability of his death, a shadow looming since they began to grow closer, always somewhere in Grian’s thoughts at the beginning of their relationship. 

He’d known he’d have to say goodbye to Scar, but he’d imagined having decades together first, Scar passing gently in old age. He’d thought about helping Scar as he grew old, sitting together and talking and getting a chance to say goodbye. 

It had never even crossed his mind that he’d get ripped away so soon. 

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Scar’s funeral didn’t happen for a week or two, despite Grian alerting Cub to his brother’s death. Grian had no clue if Scar had informed anyone of his health before he died, but if he had to guess he’d say that he didn’t with the scramble that ensued in the village.

Grian watched from afar, not even tempted to go talk to any of them. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, his voice silenced as he did nothing but watch, choked by grief.

The funeral was a quiet but beautiful affair, held in a gazebo just outside of town that someone had covered in flowers. Cub was the only speaker, but after the short ceremony the mortals all broke off into groups and told their own stories. Grian didn’t understand how they could make it through mostly put together, but he’d stopped comparing himself to mortals. It felt like his only defense against getting hurt again, though even that felt futile.

Grian knew nothing but numb these days, but that felt easier than facing the truth.

He kept one single painting, taking its place leaning against the wall of his home. The painted mirror of himself, looking more angelic than he ever could, stared at him from across the room.

No matter how long he glared daggers at it, the painting remained as beautiful as the day he’d first seen it.

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There were legends about him, spread all around the world. The sun god, doomed to fall in love over and over, distraught every time another of his lovers fell. The stories became myths, and it was told that the reason for the night was the sun god’s mourning. An appearance of Xelqua was a blessing of light, but also a warning of a tragedy.

Grian knew it wasn’t true, but he never thought it was worth his time to correct them. At least when they told the tales about him they also honored his loves, immortalizing them in time.

Knowing that they would never be forgotten brought Grian his peace. Scar’s paintings would always be treasured, Mumbo’s inventions are referenced every day, Doc’s wit will always be acknowledged. Just as he is immortal, they too were timeless, even if it was just their legacies.

At first, he’d been heartbroken every time. It would be lying to say he wasn’t still, but over time he figured out how to go on. He’d never forget any of the mortals that touched his life, but Scar always held the largest part of his heart.

My love, he vowed often, looking up at the stars, you will never be forgotten.