Freed had only a few rules. For a man with a magic such as his, you would think he would have hundreds – thousands, even – and in fact most of the guild would make the mistake of thinking that. The people closest the Freed however, knew better. They also knew better than to break them.
He wasn't joking around when he'd told Elfman that those who broke the rules, his rules, would be subjected to a fate worse than death.
So yes, most people tended to avoid breaking even one Freed's rules, unless they really wanted to be a sobbing mess in corner, crying for their mother.
Unless, apparently, your name happened to be Laxus Dreyar.
Who'd broken two of them.
In a day.
And Freed hadn't, couldn't do a damn thing about it, which is why he found himself propped up in the corner of the guild glaring daggers at Laxus who was at the bar, drinking and talking with Mira.
Bickslow even thought that Freed was sulking when he came over to check on him, but just as quickly took it back and went to find someone else to annoy when Freed turned his gaze to him.
Freed didn't sulk, but he was annoyed.
Freed returned his glare to Laxus, and Mira must have said something that was amusing to him because he was laughing, head thrown back and his amusement carrying through the guild hall like a gust of wind.
"I wish I could hate you." Freed said, the words loosing themselves the ruckus of the guild, mixing and mingling with them under all anyone could hear was the loud ruckus that already seemed to be present when Fairy Tail's strongest were around.
Hating the man for breaking his rules would have been so easy once upon a time. It would have been so easy to have cast the spells that would make his life hell upon him, fear, suffering, pain, maybe even death if was feeling pissed off enough about the offense, but that was all before Laxus saved him.
Saved him from his life and from himself.
And when Laxus scanned the guild hall and his eyes found Freed's, lighting up a little as they found the green haired mage, Freed felt most of his irritation melt away.
When Laxus smiled at him, one of those real, soft smiles that sometimes found their way onto Laxus' face – normally, Freed noted, when Laxus was looking at him – and gestured for him to come over, Freed could feel his resolve crumble, a small smile tugging on his lips as he walked over.
Sometimes, he wanted to hate Laxus, but other times, he was really, really glad he didn't.
