Setting: Post-Tenrou
Words: 2,517
No Strings Attached.
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There was something wrong, and he could tell.
For some reason her smile was restrained, sad—dare he say . But Laxus did not know what lay behind the change in her mannerisms. All that he knew was that suddenly the golden girl had lost a little of that light that she always brought with her. It was a strange sight to his eyes, to him, who was so used to her joyful smiles and a coy gleam in her eyes.
He wondered if someone else took notice.
He was not part of her team, and had it been a member of the Raijinshou, he would have bluntly asked. But the case wast that he was not, and he wouldn't do anything about it either. Not even when the issue had been bothering him for a while. Not even when he felt compelled to do so. Not even when she laughed halfheartedly and he pondered on how heartbroken she must be. No. He would simply mind his own business and let her own team deal with it. After all, it was given that sooner or later somebody would inquire as to why she seemed so sad. Somebody will ask her. Somebody will understand. But it would not be him asking why she was sad, and it will not be him the one who understands. Not him.
Somebody would notice.
Someone had to notice.
.
.
Or so he thought.
.
.
He was watching her again.
And again, he wondered why she was sad. Again he wondered why nobody had bothered to ask her why she was so broken yesterday. It had been two days, and he was sure his brow would be a permanent frown. Did it just bother him?n Seriously?
Looking down from the veranda of the second floor, he was trying to asses the guild below him. He was trying. But failing miserably upon her entrance.
Today she looked just as crestfallen as she did the day before, and like the day before, she was sauntering with a fake smile. It was not real. It was not the real her. Laxus was never too observant, but he could tell. Even the bright aura around her was off. Could it be that he was the only one who felt inclined to ask why? Him?
Him when he still did not know the reason behind her mask bothering him. Him who did not know why for some reason he wanted to see her smile. To see her laugh. To see her joy. The urge for this strange to his being, for he had not known such a feeling before. And he figured he just wanted to see her smile because she was his nakama, because he was to be a guild master, because he was used to seeing her smile, because it was her, and that was it. Nothing more.
He just wanted to make sure that she was alright. That his nakama was alright. Because it was his responsibility.
It was nothing more ...right?
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He had no feelings attached behind the sentiment of unease her sighs ignited within him. She was nakama and he was simply worried over the health of one of his guild members. He knew his grandfather cared for all of the guild members equally, and so should he if he was to follow in his footsteps. Everyday he watched over the guild, and it was given that everyday he would get used to seeing her smile. Surely not seeing her smile was something to worry about.
It was not natural on her part, from the girl made up of sunshine and hope. She was the epitome of undisguised happiness and it made him wonder what had happened to her carefree laughter and the golden hue that so brightly lifted gloom. He wondered what had befallen upon the guild's lucky star.
Of course, he was just worried for a friend.
And there were no strings attached behind the simple feeling.
It was completely normal to feel this way about a nakama.
Mundanely, commonly, tremendously normal.
.
Specially because it was the golden girl.
And the golden girl would never be sad in his eyes.
.
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Normal?
.
.
Yeah?
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Yeah, it is. Perfectly, understandably normal.
There is nothing else behind this worry overriding his senses.
She is nakama. It's normal.
Normal. Nothing more.
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But she sighs, and he frowns, and her smile fades, and his chest tightens, but she turns around, and he is anxious.
.
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And that was normal...? Wasn't it?
He questions himself. Is this feeling for this girl normal?
.
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He can no longer tell.
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.
Laxus has never been so worried about someone before.
Not with the Raijinshou, not with his grandfather. He knows them. He knows that each and every one of them is more than capable of taking care of themselves. Plus, they share what's on their mind. They share their pain and they don't hold back. But she does. And that worries him.
It has been three days. As he watches, Natsu approaches her, placing his arm around her small shoulders, and she offers the boy a smile. It is another of those broken smiles Laxus recognizes, and he feels as if it's eating him alive, but the oblivious boy falls for the cheap bait and unceremoniously opens his mouth to talk, and Laxus is incredibly angered, and Natsu doesn't shut up.
It is as if the dark red carpet below has taken a new rigor in shade and it is all the color he can see in the room, deep dark red that falls in the walk from the main doors to the bar, and Natsu is still talking. Squaring his jaw, and clenching his hands, he lowly growls in annoyance, wondering if this boy is blind?! How can he, one of her closest friends, not tell that she is obviously unhappy? That she is so clearly hurt about something that she doesn't want to share?
He huffs in annoyance.
It's enough for a day. And Laxus walks away to return to his office, thinking that maybe tomorrow she will be fine, and that someone will ask her what's wrong. He walks away hoping that someone will ask her the question that he doesn't care to ask. Because he doesn't.
That's it. He doesn't care.
He doesn't.
He doesn't care.
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At all.
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So why the hell does it bother him so much?!
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It's the fourth day.
And he is tired of this shit.
He will not sit by another day wasting his time in doubt. He will not. So determinedly he walks out of his office, into the hall, leaning against the veranda to find her. And there she is, sitting in a table with Gray, whom for some reason is in his boxers. As Laxus looks down at them, he decides that maybe he will catch her alone.
He tells himself that that would be better, and some of his initial determined self diminishes.
They're talking silently, when he notices that the ice mage is, very much like him, frowning. He can tell. Just like Laxus himself. A tentative hand reaches for her, and she allows him to hold it, her face still nonchalant. For some reason Gray's frown deepens, and Laxus's follows. The latter can easily tell that Gray is asking her something, and his lips mouth 'Is everything o.k.?' but she just nods and offers him a smile that this time is not so fake, and Laxus is not so angry, and the world is not so small, or so he tells himself.
From a distance, his eyes narrow to the linked hands, and he can see the flex of bones and the very way that Gray squeezes her hand persistently. But she shakes her head again, and reassures him by repeating the same action with her hand.
For some reason the green tapestries along the the walls are brighter, and Laxus feels his stomach in knots, as he is again angry. Angry at her for saying nothing, angry at Gray for not insisting enough, angry at himself for not marching down there in person to do anything about it. But his anger rises the most when Gray confidently —like the cocky bastard he is— lifts his arms and places it around Lucy, a playful gleam in his eye that Laxus doesn't like at all.
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A tightening in his chest surges, and he wants to yell, to scream, to shout, that he doesn't get it, and what the hell is she hiding?!
.
But he doesn't. He just watches them.
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.
He growls.
And he asks himself why the hell does he growl when Gray leans closer and whispers something in her ear.
For some reason he wants Gray to keep his distance.
.
But that feeling is irrelevant because he's just worrying over his nakama, right?
.
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Laxus comes to terms that maybe, it is, in fact, not so normal to feel this way.
But he still doesn't know the reason behind it.
And nothing makes sense at the moment.
.
.
He was just leaving the guild when he saw her.
The first thing Laxus noticed was that her amber orbs trailed the floor, her hair a golden curtain around her face. She was hiding, and he could tell. Probably to be able to smile before anyone notices her distant expression. In her daze, she keeps walking, and he allows her, not knowing how to proceed. She probably didn't see him due to him walking a few paces behind, his stride slowing as he watches her for a moment.
It would be better if he just let her be. After all it was not his business.
She bites her lower lip, her mind in distress.
And he feels his call. He feels that he has to do something. He feels that he has to help her.
No. He needs to help her. Now.
Now.
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.
"Lucy?"
.
She turns and smiles.
.
"Hello, Laxus."
.
.
Her smile is fake. And like always, he can tell.
"Stop it."
Her smile falters, and she is confused. Her steps fumble, and she stops, facing the blonde male who has also stopped in his tracks.
"What?" because she doesn't comprehend what he means.
"I said stop it." The blonde male repeats, his shadow mimicking his lean figure in contrast to his body against the sun's fading rays.
"Stop.. what exactly?" she mumbles.
"You're sad about something," he states calmly, and his eyes are the sea at calm before a storm.
She shakes her head, allowing a laugh to shrug off his accusation. "I'm not sad—"
"Bullshit." He takes a step closer.
This time she allows her smile to vanish completely, and he is taken aback by the hostile look on her face, unconcealed pain written on the soft delicate features of her sun-kissed skin. Her tone was somewhat broken, too.
"So what's it to you?" surely the words were meant to be harsh, but the sound was more tired than defensive.
"You're part of the guild, and I'm merely concerned for another guild member." The lines sound practiced.
Maybe because they are.
"And?" she tries again defiantly.
"And?" he asks himself before continuing. "Is that not enough?"
She sighs. He crosses his arms. She relents by lowering hers'.
"Alright, I'm sad. But if I tell you you'll probably think it's stupid."
"Try me," he replies with as little interest as possible, because truthfully he is dying to know.
"My father is dead." Deadpanned.
"Well, uh," he was never one to speak for the better of fatherly relationships, "that's a good reason to be sad for..."
Laxus was at loss of words. Now he knew, but he did not know what to say to makes things better.
"But I don't know why that concerns me, or why does that make me sad."
He frowns. "He was your father, you should be sad is he died. Right?" Laxus was sure that if his father died he'd be more than pleased.
"You don't get it," she elaborates, her eyes somehow brighter against the light. Golden, like the rest of her. "My father did not love me. To him I was more of.. an object."
A tool.
But neither said those words, and Laxus completely understood where she was.
"He was why Phantom Lord attacked, wasn't he?" he softly asked.
She nodded before continuing to speak.
"He's dead. And I don't know if I should be sad or... relieved."
A light breeze drifted by them, and the girl basking on the sunset's bronze glow pushed a few locks of hair fro her face. She watched the man before her, his scar more prominent on the brazen lighting. His eyes were suddenly hinting a connection to the younger mage before him. And she could tell that he knew, and somehow was familiar to her situation.
"Did you ever love him?" the question was a surprise to her, and the girl found herself tongue tied.
"Did I love him?" she thought for a moment, trying to find those memories that she had carefully locked away at the back of her mind. Memories that had been brutally exposed over the years to the monster she thought her father was. Memories that she kept from before her mother's death.
Laxus knew the answer, for he sometimes wondered the same thing on his case.
"Yes," she says tentatively. "I did."
"Then you're sad."
Her eyes meet his, and she offers him a wry smile, one that is real, but not happy. One that is as broken as she is.
"Thank you," she murmurs, and he just stands there as she leaves.
No more words are spoken.
.
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It has been two days since then. And he didn't see her the day before.
Today, as he leans against the verada he expects to find her mingling figure, but again, she's missing.
He frowns.
He is worrying again.
.
.
The third day afterwards, his eyes frantically search for that golden girl he so desperately needs to see.
And there she is.
She is animatedly talking to a shorter blue-haired mage. And she stills looks broken.
.
Although not as much.
He watches her for a while, thinking about his doubts, thinking about his worries concerning the girl. Thinking about the reason behind his worrying.
.
She looks up, her eyes searching. Her eyes find his, and he allows himself to smile.
.
And she notices how young he truly is. She smiles back.
.
Laxus feels a tightening in his chest. Painful, but reassuringly good. Nice, even.
.
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And she blushes slightly, and he smirks, and she turns around laughing at whatever her friend said, and he feels good.
Extremely good.
.
.
And he allows himself to think again.
Maybe there are some strings attached.