in this life(time)

hey! this is a short little ones hot I wrote on my ao3 awhile ago because I couldn't get it out of my head lol. enjoy!

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It starts as it always does.

A faint, dull ticking, as if somewhere an old-fashioned clock is doing its never-ending task of counting down the seconds and minutes and hours.

Incessant, ceaseless ticking.

It's not too much, at first. Grian can usually tune it out, pretend it's not there, just a figment of his dreamy, sleep-ridden world.

It gets louder, though.

It always gets louder.

Quiet ticking transforms into a rhythmic tick-tock, loud enough to annoy the blonde, causing a slight disturbance, but not too bad.

But Grian has never had good luck.

So, of course, it gets louder.

Soon it's a loud buzzing, not unlike the sound of an average alarm clock, succeeding in distracting the avian from his attempt to tune out the noise.

It only gets louder.

Beeping, ringing, click-clacking, so ear-shatteringly loud that the feathered male can't even think, curling into a ball with his wings surrounding him and hands clapped tightly over his ears, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to drown out the uproar.

Flashes behind his closed eyes.

A bridge sprawling with wheat as far as the eye can see.

Shady sunglasses and black leather coats, cheeky grins and mischievous secrets.

A llama as his perch, nosy neighbours, a broken family, blue hair and gills.

Little time, less regrets. A limited life.

The commotion is deafening.

Purple eyes and robed whisperers. A desert, laden with blood as red as poppies. A wizard with a cloak as violet as lilacs. A soulmate with eyes too forgiving. An enemy with a heart shattered.

Loud, Loud, Loud.

A splitting chime, once, twice, three times.

It all stops.

Grian gasps as he jolts upright in bed, heaving for breath and soaked in sweat.

He brings his knees to his chest, shaking all over, In, out. In, out.

Breathe.

Footsteps pull him out of his spiralling thoughts, lifting his head ever so slightly as concerned viridian eyes meet his own.

He looks away, for fear of what he might do if he doesn't. He doesn't deserve those eyes on him, much less in concern. He's done so much harm to them. So much. Lied to them, cheated them, watched the light seep out of them-

A hand on his shoulder and a glass of water pressed gently into his hands.

The hybrid looked up shakily, holding back tears. He will not cry. He doesn't deserve to.

An encouraging hand bringing the cup to his lips, and he swallows, the cool liquid bringing reprieve to his previously bone-dry throat.

A grateful nod, and the glass is set down.

They sit in silence awhile, as they always do, until Scar opens his arms.

And Grian, as always, climbs into them.

He buries his face in the other's broad shoulder, and he can't hold back anymore, doing his best to muffle the hiccups and sniffles that arrive without permission.

A soothing, scarred hand rubs his back and the walls break down. Ugly, snotty sobs escape him and he clutches the shirt of the one holding him, as if to make sure he's really still there. That he's okay. Alive.

The person above him mumbles sweet nothings into his ear, tracing patterns on his feathers and running fingers through his hair, actions performed with practised perfection.

Soon the blonde is calmed enough to loosen his grip on the taller, pulling back in the slightest to look at his face.

Blemished skin, lips as chapped as his own.

And those loving, verdurous eyes.

Grian's never seen anything so perfect.

A kiss is placed on his forehead, and then a chin rests on his sandy curls.

He knows better than to expect this to be the solution to all his problems. A hug doesn't fix everything, a kiss doesn't mend four lifetimes of trauma.

But now, at least, he has time.