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Having a dead best friend was proving more helpful than Pearl would've expected. To get out, all she had to do was get Tango alone and mumble something about the graveyard being emptier at night. He let her go with a demonstration of how to jam the ankle monitor's electronic lock and a warning to be back at the academy with the monitor on before they were due down for breakfast.
The journey over was alright, if cold. She lost her balance a couple times, halfway through kickoffs that should have been fine, if she was properly paying attention. By the time she reached the right roof, her ankles were aching from a fall too many and the palms of her hands were scratched up where she'd had to catch herself on nearby walls. The first thing she noticed upon arrival was that Scar was still in his funeral clothes, and, after a moment, Pearl realised that so was she.
She scrambled up the last section using the metal ladder attached to the wall; it was freezing and clunked ominously with every movement but she was too exhausted and shaky with the adrenaline from getting there to risk an unnecessary kickoff.
"I, um… I thought your speech was really good," Pearl mumbled as she stood up. Scar didn't respond, either choosing his words carefully (unlikely) or still lost in whatever world he'd been in while he waited. He was in the place he used to share with Grian, leaning back against the wall. Pearl and Gem had had the spot opposite, sat on the concrete step between this rooftop and the other, slightly higher, one to her left. The girls were always fairly tucked-away, but Grian and Scar had to stand, Scar to stop his braces digging into his hips, Grian so his wings wouldn't get crushed. Pearl hesitated briefly before sitting, reluctant to recreate the layout of so many birthdays and end-of-exam celebrations, but God, she was tired. She wasn't going to stand up all evening just to keep away the ghosts that she was definitely imagining.
"I liked the bit about, we would have died with her if we had been as brave as her."
'Liked' wasn't the right word if she was completely honest. It had made her feel sick. But it had been true, which was more than she could say for most of the eulogies before Scar's.
Gem was such an easy person to say good things about, and that was all funerals were for. Why did they all insist on so many iterations of "stolen from us" and "taken too soon"? They should be remembering her eleven years old and racing Pearl across the playground, or sixteen and glowing as she graduated top of the intermediate levels, not nineteen and bleeding out in a side street with the world exploding above her and—
And and and. And maybe Pearl didn't want to think about the person who did the stealing.
Before she could think about it anyway, Scar cut off her thoughts by finally responding. "That's good. I practised it a load of times, and I can't—" he paused, then finished, "I don't completely remember saying any of it. I tuned the whole thing out." Scar laughed nervously. There was a second of silence, then, "I'm glad I did it right."
Pearl said, unnecessarily, "You did. Do it right."
Then the awkward silence crept back in, and part of her brain wished automatically that Gem or Grian were here to make the conversation easy. She pictured herself reaching through her skull, pinching out the guilty section, and stamping it into the ground. Then she looked back at Scar and wondered the least-rude way to say why did you tell me to meet you here?
He answered her question by suddenly saying, "I could do one for Grian, too."
Pearl kept looking at him.
"I was thinking. Even though it's not like I could make a speech at the funeral. Um. Would it be okay if I said something here?"
Pearl kept her expression entirely neutral. She moved her head the minimum amount that could be considered a nod. Scar took a deep breath and began to speak.
"We are gathered here today to mourn a beloved friend and brother. He touched many lives and inspired many people, more than I could ever hope to describe now.
"I met Grian a bit more than half my life ago. It was ten minutes into our first day of big school, and since I arrived in the classroom I'd been realising how out-of-my-depth I was here, more than ever before. There were kids everywhere, and most of them would have been taller than me even if I hadn't been in a wheelchair then. They were all talking and yelling like this was no big deal, and no matter how hard I tried to look confident, I felt so alone. And then I saw Grian. He was standing in a corner, also alone, scrappy and untidy and clearly terrified, but I remember his expression so well. It was as if, without trying to hide his fear, he'd just decided to be unbothered. The way he stuck his chin forwards and glared around at everyone told me that it was all going to be okay, whether I liked it or not.
"That's something I've always admired about Grian: his determination. When we first became friends, he decided we were going to be okay, and once we were okay, he decided we were going to be happy. When he was separated from his sister he ran away over and over until he got to stay with her again, and when he was put on a team he fought till I was allowed to be there with him.
Grian was, for everyone who knew him, a rock. He was devoted to his loved ones and refused to give in even when a solution to a problem seemed impossible. Losing him has meant more than losing a friend; it's meant losing a source of stubborn, relentless support in a scary and confusing world. Even though his loss was a shock, I think it's our duty to carry on as he would have: strong forever and refusing not to heal. No matter how much I wish I could have kept knowing Grian for longer, I will always be grateful to have known him at all."
They both stayed quiet for a while after Scar finished talking. Then, Pearl looked downwards, at his hands. They were empty.
(Like he could have made it through a script that long without stumbling anyway.)
"You practised that. A lot." Her voice was carefully even, balanced on a calm edge to be taken as either a fact or a challenge.
(I want a fight if you want a fight.)
The backs of her eyes itched.
"Yeah." Scar said faintly. He was staring somewhere near the horizon, his eyes moving slightly as he apparently traced his gaze over the buildings behind Pearl.
She tried again. "How could you sit down and write all that about him? After everything." She kept the anger at the back of her throat, letting it seep through slightly into her words.
"I don't know," said Scar, which made her feel like an asshole. There was no hostility returned in his tone, whether he'd detected it from her or not. Instead he sounded empty, and so tired. The anger sunk heavily into her stomach, making her feel sick. "I just— I do miss him, y'know? And it's not like I can say that to anyone else. And— everything I said was true?"
He said that last part like a question, his voice pitching up at the end, so Pearl nodded. When he didn't keep talking, she swallowed and said, "I miss him too. I think." She didn't mean for it to come out as a whisper, but it did. "With Gem, it's— everyone keeps saying they're sorry. It's like there's this gaping big hole right next to me, all the time, wherever I go. And you can feel them thinking about her. People have been looking at her more since she died than they did when she was alive. And then, Grian… They're acting like he never existed. There's no one to miss. And I don't know if it's 'cause she died and he didn't, or 'cause she didn't deserve it and— and he did."
After another minute, Scar said, "He did love you, you know. He loved us."
"Wonder why he stopped."
"I…" Scar trailed off. There was another minute of silence.
"He wasn't different, right?"
"What?" said Pearl.
"Before. Leading up. He hadn't changed? To you? I keep thinking, he seemed the same as normal. Not…"
"Evil?"
"Yeah."
"I guess he was normal."
"That's what I thought. But there should have been— he should— it's not fair."
"He might've been a bit quiet." Pearl mumbled.
"Yes. Quiet. He was quiet, wasn't he?"
"Quieter than normal. Probably."
"I wish we'd noticed." said Scar. "Maybe things would've been different."