Chapter Text
Scar Goodtimes was cursed. Well, some would say cursed. Sometime in the 800’s he was cursed with immortality for stealing an amulet he probably shouldn’t have, and that led up to now, the 21st century. Scar lived on the outskirts of a fairly large city in England in a small house. Most of the space was used to store his many trinkets and tools that were stacked up in boxes and drawers and cabinets or just lined up against the wall. Immortality used to be a struggle, having to watch loved ones die and centuries pass in what felt like minutes. Scar had gotten used to the feeling of time being meaningless. And as much of his headspace as that thought occupied, currently his struggle was locating his original copy of a book from (he thought) the 750’s. BC, that was. That problem was much easier to deal with than the crippling loneliness that came with immortality.
“Jellie! Jellie, have you seen that one book from, what, the 700’s? Jellie?”
Scar called out, elbow deep in a large box of dusty books. Jellie meowed a response. He didn’t expect an answer back, but he was getting desperate now. He could have sworn he just read it! Scar made his way over to the next of his many storage cabinets to see if maybe, just maybe, he had accidentally put it with the crystals, not the rest of his books. Jellie strode over to him, meowing loudly as she rubbed herself against his leg. Scar dramatically sighed, closing the door of the cabinet. Scar rummaged through his cardboard practically overflowing with crystals, trying not to tip any out. He very soon gave up, sighing.
“Well! Jellie, I have been thwarted by my own hubris!”
Scar exclaimed, grabbing his cane as he waltzed over to his small kitchen. Yes, he had had all the time in the world to accumulate wealth and live in a mansion, but he spent his money on other things. Plus, a small cottage on the edge of the city was far easier to live in than a mansion. It reminded him of the good old days! The 1300s, to be exact. Clicking his radio on, Scar pulled pasta and pesto sauce from his kitchen cabinets and let some water boil as he filled Jellie’s bowl with cat food and set it down. The brunet stared out of the window, smiling. Would he have had his millennia long life play out any other way? The sun glazed the sky with streaks of orange and pink and blue, white clouds messily painted on over them. He’d seen a lot of sunsets in his time. They tended to stay pretty similar, even through everything that happened in the world. Sunsets and stars, the only two constants he really had besides himself. The ding of the alarm brought Scar back to reality, and he tipped in the pasta, waited for it to cook before straining and tipping the sauce on top. He sat down at his small, paper-covered dining table with his bowl in hand and Jellie on his lap. He’d go on a walk later. After he ate, of course.
As Scar sat at his small table in his worn green armchair, his mind wandered to the questions that plagued him for, well, centuries. How much time did he have left before the human race went extinct? Was he spending his millennias of life wisely? Should he have been out doing things and getting to know actual people? He never knew what to think about those kinds of things. He’d had plenty of time, he’d done the things he loved, but other people? They came and went too quickly for him to form relationships, hell, they came and went too quickly for him to want to form relationships. He sighed, swiping the papers off his table and placing his warm, untouched pasta down. He’d reheat it after he went on a walk, or had a bath, or something that wasn't sitting still and thinking. He needed it.
~~~~~
Working as a museum curator was fun. Most of the time. Grian sat at his desk, papers piled high as he ran a hand through his sandy hair. There was way too much paperwork for just one statue, and way too much paperwork for one guy to do. But with practically everyone quitting, he had to pick up most of the work. It was basically just Grian, Mumbo and Pearl who did anything at the local museum, and Grian was the only curator there. It was hell trying to maintain a sleep schedule and plan events, displays, do paperwork, and have a social life. No matter how many angry or passive aggressive emails Grian sent, X just would not hire another curator, leaving all the work up to him. He looked over his ‘to do’ pile with disdain as he checked the time. 17:37. His work was repetitive, easy even, but that meant it was positively boring. Sign this, sign that, print out fliers for the museum, contact someone about having a lecture held. It was a chore, this half of the work. The other half, which involved organizing and displaying artifacts, or cleaning exhibits, or actually doing the job he signed up to do, was much more interesting. He still got to do those tasks, but with the workload he had to pick up, well, they weren't as enjoyable as they used to be. Signing what felt like the thousandth confirmation form, Grian felt his eyes grow heavier by the second. He could use a nap. He could really use a nap. He could do paperwork after he had a short break, right? Grian laid his head on his desk with a quiet thud and shut his eyes with a sigh. He’d only sleep for an hour, he’d be fine.
21:42. Well. He’d definitely slept for longer than an hour. The sky had turned that awkward blue color when it's not quite dark yet, but the sun’s already set, and... It was already turning dark. The realization hit Grian like a truck. He barely had enough time to do his job without taking a six-hour nap midway through; he really didn't need such a setback right now of all times. He scrunched his nose, knowing for a fact he’d have to take the rest of his paperwork home. And he couldn't work late because he had cats to feed. Well, he brought this upon himself. He made his bed and now he had to lie in it. Grian took a moment to gather himself, before standing up and staring into space for a moment as his vision decided to call it quits for a brief moment. He gathered all his paperwork up before shoving and scrunching it into his only bag, pulling on his cardigan. He spared a glance at his half-finished, cold coffee, before downing it in one go, crushing the cup against his desk and tossing it into the bin. His eyes were still bleary from sleep, even with his glasses. The museum was already shut, and logically, the only one who should have even been in the building was himself, and maybe Pearl or Mumbo if they had as much work on their plates as Grian did, but the lights inside their offices were off. Good for them, at least some of the employees were getting enough sleep. Grian wished he could say the same.
The nighttime air was cold, far too cold for a man with nothing but a cardigan to keep warm and a bag to hold. It was still 20 more minutes of walking until he reached the town center. Jesus, he was not getting any sleep tonight. It was far too quiet for the inner city, and if Grian was less tired, he might’ve been bothered or freaked out by that, but right now the only thing he could focus on was getting back home.
~~~~~
Scar was really missing that book of his. The Iliad, he thought it was. Even Jellie seemed more agitated than normal, padding across the floor, meowing. With a sigh, he decided a walk would be perfectly in order considering his situation. Yeah, a walk would be good. It was already dark outside, but that didn’t stop him from pulling his boots and coat on and stepping out his door, the cold chill of the night already making him shiver. The streets were surprisingly bare for a Friday evening, and Scar couldn’t help but feel slightly uneasy. Who was he kidding, he couldn’t die, he was gonna be fine, he always was. The faint smell of rain lingered, and grey clouds swirled above, blocking out the stars. That was the main thing Scar missed about the olden days. The stars. All the air pollution and light pollution and just pollution in general made seeing the stars a rare occurrence. He remembered the days where he could see galaxies upon galaxies all streaked across a dark canvas with great fondness. He could still see the stars when he went to less busy areas, and they stayed a nice constant thing in his life, but in the city? Well, at least he had his sunsets. It didn’t take long before Scar had already made his way to the city center without realizing, having zoned out ages ago. Even the usually bustling square was devoid of life. Scar wondered what could possibly be going on, before he noticed the time on the large clock centered on an old building: 21:42. Ah. That explained it. Scar plopped his cane down on the floor and followed suit, sitting cross-legged on the cold stone tiles. Now that he thought about it, he was surprisingly tired. No one was out at this time; it would be fine if he took a nap. His eyes fluttered shut as he very quickly drifted off.
~~~~~
Grian walked quickly, trying to get home so he could feed his cats and pass out on his couch. His glasses had been discarded at the bottom of his bag after they kept fogging up, so his journey was interrupted a few times as he somehow managed to crash directly into a lamppost, his several crashes punctuated by a particularly colorful string of words. He felt like giving up and taking a nap right then and there as he had to gather up his papers from the freezing cold road into his already freezing cold hands. His breaths came out in shaky puffs of fog in front of him as he pulled his cardigan tighter around him, trying to balance keeping warm with carrying his work. It wasn’t long before he made his way into the city square, unsurprisingly empty considering it had nearly gone midnight. It was also equally dark, so if he stumbled over a crack at one point, at least no one was there to see it. Or that was what he thought as he was sent careening to the floor for the fourth time that day, his papers going flying. Great. His face was already going numb from the cold; he didn’t need to crash face first into the pavement. Grian looked back at whatever the hell had tripped him up, only for his train of thought to be interrupted by someone’s voice.
“Oh my gosh I'm so sorry, here, I'll give you a hand!”
Someone spoke up from behind him, already picking up some of the papers he had dropped. Grian was nearly too dumbfounded to speak, but managed to get out an apology.
“Sorry, were you, um, there? Sorry, I should have been, uh, looking where I was going.”
“Oh no, this is totally my fault I really should not have been taking a nap right in the middle of the-”
“You were taking a nap??”
Grian somehow only got more confused the longer the conversation had gone on, what on earth was someone doing taking a nap at four in the morning in the middle of the town square? The stranger had already gathered all the papers Grian had dropped and held them out for him to grab, which reminded Grian he was still lying on the freezing cold floor. He scurried to his feet, wiping the odd mix of snow, ice and dirt off his trousers, before grabbing the papers and apologizing again. He hastily stuffed them back in his bag, no longer caring about what happened to them, he could make new copies or fix these ones up when he was warm and well rested. He finally decided to put his glasses on, rummaging through his bag before grabbing them. The man in front of him looked... strange, to say the least. He wore mis-matched slippers with odd socks and a colorful crochet sweater, and a tote bag hanging from his shoulders. His short brown hair had small, presumably artificial sunflowers woven through it, and a pair of pink-tinted glasses covered his eyes. By the time Grian’s eyes had adjusted to both the dark and his newfound clear vision from his glasses, he noticed the stranger had his hand held out for a handshake.
“My name’s Scar! Scar Goodtimes!”
“Well, it's nice to meet you, I.... I best be off.”
Grian spoke up, shaking the man's hand as he held his bag close to his chest in a feeble attempt to keep warm. He really should have brought a coat. The papers inside his bag were most definitely crumpled and waterlogged by now, and he added ‘reprinting all those papers’ onto his ever-growing mental to-do list. He turned to continue his attempt to get home without breaking a leg, but was immediately halted by the man who had introduced himself as ‘Scar Goodtimes’ speaking.
“Hey pal, you're shaking like a leaf over there”
Grian heard him point out. Now, he wasn't wrong per say, but Grian was more than exhausted and was one mishap away from throwing himself into the nearest river. So, naturally, he used his foolproof strategy of:
“No, I am most certainly not. I'll be heading home now.”
Gaslighting. Grian did his best to shoot Scar a look that said ‘Do not continue speaking to me’ but apparently failed when his brisk walk was shadowed by the man’s own cheery stroll. Grian gritted his teeth, walking slightly faster. There was only a kilometer or two left until he reached his apartment, and he would have liked to make that walk relatively peacefully. In an attempt to ignore the man very blatantly tailing him, he ran over everything he had to do when he got home. First, he had to feed his cats, then he had to finish his work, then reprint most of the documents in his bag. Then he had to start on any unfinished work he had lying around, because falling behind on his quota would mean having to pull more all-nighters than the human body could handle. He ran this list over again, remembering to factor in things like actually having to eat a meal or drink water. And again, remembering that he needed to water his plants and put the laundry away. He most certainly didn't have any time to sleep, Grian realized as he went over his list again and again. He didn’t know how long he could keep up his work routine before collapsing, but until X did something about the lack of employees, well, he didn’t exactly have a choice.
Grian knew the route home like the back of his hand, which was a very good thing because he could zone out as much as he wanted on his walk back, which meant he could ignore the very unsettling fact that some random guy he had just met was following him on his walk back. Now, if Grian had slept the recommended amount in the past few days, he might have thought for a second that maybe he shouldn't lead a random stranger directly to his house by walking home while he was following him. Maybe he would have even thought about confronting this ‘Scar Goodtimes’ or calling the police, or something other than steadily making his way home, but he in fact, did not get the recommended amount of sleep, and he was cold, wet and miserable out here. Ah, great British weather. So, he kept on walking, running over his mental checklist which seemed to only grow every time he went over it.
Eventually, after a very soggy and even more miserable walk, Grian did make it to his front doorstep, fumbling though his bag for his keys. He found them nestled between two crumpled documents, and he cringed as he remembered how many needed reprinting, and how much that would cost, because X wouldn’t let him reprint using company money, so, own money it would have to be. He managed to jam the key into his lock, the problem of his hands being numb from the cold making it significantly harder to get his already finnicky keys to actually work, and as he half-heartedly jimmied them key in the lock, he heard his totally not stalker speak up.
"Here! I can give you a hand with that!"
It was all the warning Grian got before Scar took the key straight out of his hands, unlocking his door first try. Lucky bastard. Grian snatched the keys back, muttering an almost bitter sounding 'thanks' as he immediately walked inside, shutting and locking the door behind him, ignoring anything he heard from outside. Not his problem. It was bed time. It took approximately 30 seconds for Grian to collapse face-first onto his sofa with a groan, leaving his bag on the floor. He managed to get his coat off, but after that he was out like a light. So much for his to-do list. He'd certainly have a lot to think about and do tomorrow.
~~~~~
Well! That walk had been productive! Upon seeing the incredibly grumpy looking stranger shut and lock the door behind him, Scar turned on his heel, humming something as he began the rather short walk home. He and this stranger lived relatively close by! Not that Scar would see the sandy-haired man again, he didn't go outside nearly enough to see people more than once. Which is why he did such weird things. Like unlock a stranger's door for them. Before he knew it, he'd arrived at his front door (which he'd left unlocked) and walked in, calling Jellie over as he placed his cane by the door. Scar smiled, already heading to put his now-cold pasta in the microwave as Jellie followed him around. The sky outside was an inky black now, the stars barely visible behind clouds. It was nice. Scar missed the galaxies he used to be able to see. He thought about that a lot, all the stuff he missed from back in the good old days. His microwave beeped, and Scar took his pasta to his small garden, Jellie immediately joining him on his lap as he ate. A lot had changed since Scar had gained his curse, and a lot more would change in the future, and Scar had accepted that fact. but for a brief moment, Scar hoped things would stay exactly as is.