Chapter Text
Grian’s alarm went off at the crack of dawn in the form of birds chirping outside his window, an indicator of the sun rising and the pure golden light flooding his little bedroom.
His eyes cracked open, used to the harsh sunlight attacking his eyes as he peeled off his covers and slid into his shoes, sitting at the edge of his bed for a few moments as he tried to blink away the last of the drowsiness that lingered before he officially got up.
His routine was the same— wake up early, get ready, have breakfast, harvest, wash, sell. Well, he could mentally check off the waking up and getting ready bit.
He went into his kitchen, the roof low but good enough for him to fit through. He wasn’t in the mood for eating much, having grown used to neglecting the ache in his stomach known as hunger. Still he took a crisp, yellow apple from the fridge and munched on it, letting it quench what little appetite he had.
Having breakfast. Check.
Licking his fingers clean and washing the last of the sticky sweetness off them under the running tap, he stacked some empty crates and a box full of tools, picking them and effortlessly carrying them outside. His field was just a five minutes walk away from the little cottage he called home.
The subtle wind softly caressed his body, a pleasant contrast against the scorching sun towering upon him and the rough path that crunched under his boots.
He stepped into his field, staring at the rows upon rows of plump, red tomatoes on one side, and onions on the other. He let out a sigh. It was peak harvest season for the tomatoes which involved him out on the field daily… which was good for business, but in general a rather tedious task.
He had to carefully pluck only the ripe tomatoes, and then inspect them as he turned them around in his gloved hands, looking for any mark or spot on it. Once he made sure the fruit was ripe, perfect, and in good condition, he delicately laid it in the crate, and then repeated the process.
It was a rather simple task he was automated to do, his hands working on their own, giving his mind the opportunity to wander elsewhere.
Sometimes he wondered what life would be like if he was just a tad bit richer, a tad bit luckier— maybe like someone living in cities. From the stories and tales he has heard passed around in the marketplace, the people there had it made for them. They had wonderful job opportunities, developed facilities, and basically everything their little rural town lacked.
Daydreaming about the city life, he let his feet lead him to the kitchen once more, this time to wash the fruit and the onions. He stored the tomatoes in the coolers set to fixed temperature while leaving the onions in the crate. This was his daily ritual.
Still lost in his thoughts he carried the coolers and crates over to his little stall in the marketplace, and set up for the day. This part of the day was also… boring and ordinary. All he had to do was stand there, swat away the flies, and communicate with the occasional consumer.
He let out another noisy sigh.
Today was not going well for him. He was hardly getting any costumers! It definitely had to do with the fact that Gem decided to sell the same produce as him, for a slightly lower price than his own. And of course her stall was just across from his own so he constantly had to see her smug smile as she stole some of his costumers. Ugh.
But it also gave him the perfect opportunity to be cocky when he’d actually get a rare sale. His little rivalry with Gem was the only eventful thing to have happened so far, and it also inspired him to reduce his prices to just a bit lower than Gem’s, in order to increase his sales.
He looked around the familiar landscape lazily, eyes grazing over the dwindling trees, leaves lush and bright, the gray-ish sky in the background bringing promises of rain for later. Hopefully he’d have packed up by then. He then focused on the few people that passed by, everyone dressed in the traditional clothes, sporting a multitude of colours.
One person stood out, though. He was wearing clothes darker than shadows… and whatever he was wearing didn’t look like something common. A hood was pulled over his head, concealing his identity.
He looked suspicious.
And he looked like he was walking Grian’s way.
If it was someone trying to steal off of him (again), he had a fly swatter and he wasn’t afraid to use it.
“Hey,” the man greeted, his voice smooth and velvety as if meant to coax someone into a trap. Well, Grian wasn’t going to fall into it.
“How can I help you?” Grian asked, not letting any emotions seep into his voice as he stared at the stranger with a gaze cold and piercing.
“I’d like 4 and a half pounds of tomatoes,” the stranger demanded.
Grian blinked, “Is that a measurement of some sort or do you mean the currency?” He was definitely confused now. The way the stranger had worded it seemed like it was a measurement but what the hell was a pound?
“A measurement, duh,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.
“And how much is that in KG?”
Now it was the stranger’s turn to look uncertain. “Give me a minute,” he pulled out something rectangular from his pocket. It emitted light and displayed many little things. Whatever was that? Wait… was that what smartphones were? He’s heard of them and now that he recalls, he has seen them before, just very, very rarely.
“That’s uh, around two kilos,” the stranger shoved his phone in Grian’s face, the white screen unnaturally bright. Oh, his poor eyes.
“Okay,” Grian nodded briskly before carefully putting the tomatoes in a bag and weighing them. Once they were exactly two kilograms, he handed him the bag, “Payment?”
“Uh, see, about that,” he coughed, “I was wondering if I can get some sort of discount.”
“Discount…?” Grian repeated in disbelief. “Why on Earth would I give you a discount?”
“Because…” he lowered his hood, finally revealing his face, and paused, enabling Grian to take him in, from his bright-green eyes to his crooked smile. His face was perfectly carved, the skin smooth and glass-like. His silky, brown hair fell like waves over his handsome face.
He was undeniably attractive but did he really expect Grian to give him a discount just because he was pretty?
Grian arched a brow.
“You don’t recognise me?” He almost looked offended.
“Have we met before? Am I supposed to know who you are?” Grian was confused, and annoyed, but mainly confused… but also just as equally annoyed.
“I’m Scar GoodTimes. The Scar,” he stepped back a few steps to do some stupid looking pose, “I’m the guy who plays the hero, Hot Guy!”
“Good for you, I guess,” Grian shrugged, “But I genuinely don’t know who you are.”
Scar jutted his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout, “Do you live under a rock?”
“No, I live in a house.”
Scar sighed and shook his head, “Anyways that’s the reason why I’m here in your town, to film my movie. You know, the one I star in? Well actually, you don’t know,” he started rambling.
Grian actually knew what a movie was, yay to him or whatever.
“You’ll be doing a movie here?” Grian asked, suddenly curious, “Why here?”
“Nice landscape. And the whole vibe fits with the concept so yeah,” Scar grinned, looking happy to talk to someone, “I’m not actually supposed to be here alone but I couldn’t resist touring the area! And buying tomatoes apparently,” he gestured towards the bag.
That reminded him, “Cough up the money, pretty boy,” Grian extended his hand expectantly. Just because Scar was some famous, rich man didn’t mean he could cheat Grian out of the money he rightfully deserved.
“Really?”
“Yes. Money or you don’t get the tomatoes,” he picked up the bag of tomatoes and dangled them out of Scar’s reach.
“Fine…” he groaned, pulling out the cash and dropping it in Grian’s palm, “Can I have my tomatoes now?”
“Mhm, take them and go away now,” he handed Scar the bag carelessly.
“This is no way to treat a world-famous actor,” Scar mumbled under his breath, “You didn’t give me a discount but can you at least give me your name?” His tone was casual but his eyes were pleading.
“Grian.”
“Grian,” Scar tested the name on his tongue. He smiled, “A cute name for a cute guy,” he winked, looking ridiculously handsome as he did so. No wonder he played… Hot Guy, whoever that was.
Grian could sense the blood rushing to his cheeks. He seriously hoped he wasn’t blushing as furiously as he imagined he was. Scar let out a little laugh. Okay, so maybe he was blushing furiously. No one had the right to judge him or blame him for that.
“Anyways, see you around!” Scar waved to him, pulling up his hoodie and walking away before Grian could utter his farewell.
Huh. What an interesting encounter.