Note: Whoa, I actually wrote something with the characters as kiddos. It was certainly interesting, if only because their personalities were a bit different. Anyway, if you notice a couple similarities between this and "Beneath the Imperfections", you're probably not imagining things. This story was actually written way ahead of that one, and I pulled a couple ideas from here to help me out since I suck at humor so badly. They're standalones and not technically in the same verse, but sometimes I like to think of them as being in the same timeline ;)
Gray blamed the nightmare. For one, it was stupid that he was still having nightmares. It had been a long time since…everything. And anyway, he was ten years old now, which meant that he wasn't just some little crybaby kid anymore. Nightmares were for babies, and Gray wasn't a baby.
And two, he had actually been doing mostly alright lately, so he should be fine now too. It was obviously the nightmare's fault that he was curled up in bed crying his eyes out. Gray really, really hated feeling like a crybaby. He was practically grown up and could take care of himself and didn't need anyone else. So why, why, why was he crying over something stupid? Why wasn't he okay no matter how much he pretended to be?
Snuffling loudly, he curled himself into a tighter ball and tugged the blankets over his head. It's not like anyone was here, but it still felt better to be hiding where no one could see him, to have a barrier between him and the rest of the world. Today was a day for hiding away from the world rather than facing up to it.
So much for being all grown up. Maybe that was the worst thing of all, that in the end he was really still just a kid who wanted his mother but was alone instead because he'd messed everything up. Everyone he needed was dead or gone, so he had to make sure that he didn't need them anymore, that he could take care of himself. And sometimes he could, but not so much on days like this.
Since he was just being a silly child anyway, he stayed in bed. Eventually he'd cry himself out and fall asleep again so that he didn't have to deal with this anymore. He should probably get up and go to the guild, but he wasn't sure he could handle that right now.
But even after the tears stopped, he didn't fall asleep. He just stayed curled up in a ball, waiting. Waiting for what, he wasn't sure. Anyone he could possibly be waiting for was already dead.
"Hey! Gray!"
What the hell was Cana doing here? That girl was probably the closest thing he had to a friend around here, but it wasn't every day that she came looking for him outside the guild. Inside the confines of the guild, they were acquaintances. Outside, they were basically strangers.
"Are you in there? It's noon! Come on, I want to show you a new card trick. Gra-ay!"
Gray snaked an arm out from his cocoon of blankets to snag his pillow and crush it against his ears, muffling Cana's shouts and the pounding at his door. He wished she'd just go away already.
Right now this was a place haunted by ghosts and memories that had nothing to do with her, and Gray wanted to keep them to himself. She didn't belong here any more than he belonged at the guild. Just like he felt like an outsider there, she was an outsider here. This was his and his alone, and he didn't want to share.
After a few minutes, blessed silence fell again as Cana finally decided that he wasn't home. Which suited Gray just fine, since he liked the silence and wanted to be alone.
But it wasn't as quiet and lonely as he told himself he wanted it to be. Remembered screams still rent the silence and he could feel the press of ghosts all around him, making it hard to breathe.
Eventually the heavy, oppressive atmosphere got to be too much, and he wriggled his way out of his mess of blankets. Padding into the bathroom, he glowered at his reflection in the mirror. There were dark hollows under his red-rimmed eyes, and everything about him looked pale and drawn. This was less than ideal if he wanted to show his face in the guild today, so he halfheartedly scrubbed at his eyes and tried to hide all the signs of grief and stress. Well, it wasn't like anyone would be looking at him closely enough to notice anyway.
He glanced at the clock as he left the apartment, and was surprised to see that it was two o'clock. That seemed so early after what had felt like an eternity, but also so late compared to when he should have gotten up and gone to the guild.
And to the guild he would go. He told himself it was because Cana would interrogate him tomorrow if he didn't show up today, and not because being alone was starting to make him feel like he was going crazy. Anyway, going to the guild was the grown-up thing to do, and Gray wasn't a baby who had to sulk on his own all day.
When he pushed his way into the guild hall a few minutes later, Cana was the first to spot him.
"There you are." She stomped over and scowled, hands on her hips. "Do you have any idea how late it is? Where have you been? I wanted to show you something cool."
"None of your business," Gray grumbled, glowering at the ground.
"Yeah, well–" Her scowl morphed into a frown as she leaned forward to peer at him. "Are you alright? You look terrible."
Well, so much for that plan. Someone was being awfully nosy today.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."
"Are you sure? You weren't cry–?"
"No!" he interrupted, glaring at her. Then his anger melted away, back into a dull ache. Staying really worked up about things was hard now that all the crying and thinking and hiding had worn him out. "I'm just not feeling that good."
He could practically hear Ur's voice in his head, scolding him about his grammar. She'd always gotten on his case about things like misusing 'good' in the place of 'well'. Which, if you asked him, was a stupid thing to get worked up about. And anyway, if she had wanted him to use proper grammar that badly then she shouldn't have gone and offed herself like that. Now he was going to be grammatically challenged for life, and it was all her fault.
Deep down he knew that it was really his fault, not hers, but it helped not to think about that.
Cana reached out to feel his forehead, and Gray jerked backward. She was giving him some kind of weird, thoughtful look, and he wondered why he had thought coming here was a good idea. It wasn't like he really wanted to be here—he wanted to go home to Isvan and his family. Except that his family was dead and all he was left with was these people. He didn't want the guild members to be dead, but he still resented them for being the only ones left for him to turn to when he really wanted someone else.
He managed to summon up a flicker of anger and bitterness at that, but he couldn't maintain it for long. Thinking like that mostly just made him want to cry again, because he missed his family so much and he really, really needed them right now. But he couldn't afford to think too hard about that here in case he gave something away.
"You're sick? Why didn't you just say so?" Cana scrunched her face up and leaned away. "You're not contagious, are you?"
Now there was a thought. Maybe he should thank Cana for handing him a readymade excuse. Even if he didn't want to play the sick-sick card, he could probably write this off as just feeling a little blah or something.
"I'm not con–"
"You're sick?"
Gray turned and frowned as Erza magically materialized by his side. He eyed her warily, not sure what to make of her sudden interest. They didn't fight or get on each other's nerves as much anymore, not since he'd found her crying down at the river a few months ago, but it wasn't like they were close or anything. She was still something of a loner and he still didn't really want friends, so although they occasionally exchanged a few words when the situation called for it, it never got much past that.
"Actually, I–"
Erza's hand shot out and slammed into his forehead, and Gray leapt back with a surprised yelp.
"Why is everyone touching me?" he complained as he scowled and rubbed at his forehead. "And did you really have to hit me so hard?"
"You don't seem to have a fever," Erza mused, studying him as if she was trying to puzzle something out.
"Well no, I–"
"But sick people have fevers, so you'll develop one," she reasoned, nodding confidently.
Gray gaped at her, temporarily rendered speechless. He had no idea what had gotten into her or why she was apparently so concerned about his health.
"I don't think it works like that," he muttered. "I'm not going to–"
"If you're ill then you should be in bed," Erza continued blithely, as if he wasn't trying to say anything. "But–" She broke off and her eyes widened. "But that works best if you have someone to take care of you, so you came to the guild to find someone to help!"
"What?" Gray gawked at her in disbelief. "No, that's not at all what–"
"Alright, I'll do it!" she interrupted, her eyes shining with excitement and determination.
Gray stared at her. It was like a switch had been flipped or something. The last time he'd seen such a dramatic personality shift out of her was when she had first been introduced to strawberry cake. He switched his gaze to Cana, but the other girl looked just as confused.
"I'm fine, really," Gray said, at a loss as to how to get Erza off his case. "I don't need–"
Erza grabbed his arm and started tugging him back toward the entrance of the guild. Gray squawked in surprise and tried to pull away, but she had a death grip on him and he had no choice but to stumble after her awkwardly.
"But Cana had something to show me. Didn't you, Cana?" he said desperately, shooting the brunette a pleading look.
Cana blinked after the retreating duo and then grinned. "I'll show you tomorrow when you're feeling better. Have fun!"
"It's not supposed to be fun," Erza disagreed. "He's sick. Would you stop that already?"
The last part was directed at Gray, who was still futilely trying to wriggle out of her grasp.
"But I'm not–"
"Stop talking," Erza said, frowning at him. "It'll only make your throat worse."
"My throat? There's nothing wrong with–"
"Sick people get sore throats," she explained patiently. "Everyone knows that."
"But–"
"Stop talking," Erza commanded, whacking him over the head.
"Ow! Stop that, you crazy– Ow!"
"Then be quiet. If your throat doesn't hurt now then it will hurt later, and there's no point irritating it."
Gray opened his mouth, but shut it again with an audible click when Erza's eyes narrowed dangerously. He wanted to ask why she was apparently so concerned with his health and yet thought it was perfectly okay to assault him anyway, but he didn't have a death wish.
He threw Cana one last imploring look, but she was too busy laughing her head off over Erza's tender ministrations to bother bailing him out. He glowered at her. Some almost-sort-of friend she was.
"Come on," Erza grunted, prying Gray's fingers off from where they were clutching the doorframe. "If you don't let go, I'm going to hit you."
Gray let go. This was obviously a lost cause, so he reluctantly gave up struggling and let her pull him out of the guild.
"Good," she said, pleased with his compliance. "I'm going to take you home."
If he was allowed to talk then Gray might have told her that he didn't have a home anymore, but minor quibbles weren't worth a concussion. Instead, he glowered moodily at the ground and brainstormed ways to get rid of her as she dragged him down the street.
"You'll need something to take the fever down," she was saying, her face scrunched up in concentration as if she was thinking very hard about something. "And something to eat? Soup? Yes, soup. Soup is supposed to be good for sick people, right? I can do that."
Gray wanted to roll his eyes, but wasn't eager to get another beating. He was doing very well at not talking, but as they made their way through the streets, he got more and more antsy.
"Where are we going?" he asked finally, interrupting Erza's monologue.
Erza frowned at him and he flinched back, but she didn't hit him again. "I told you, I'm taking you back to your place."
"Uh, you do know that I live in the other direction, right?"
She stopped right in the middle of the street and swiveled her head around to look at their surroundings. Then she flushed a little and coughed awkwardly.
"Um, yeah. That way." She tugged Gray around sharply, and he stumbled as he lost his balance and almost face-planted into the ground.
He wondered how long Erza had been planning on wandering the city aimlessly before admitting that she had no idea where she was going. As far as he knew, she'd never been to his place before. Honestly. He thought it was supposed to be guys who were too stubborn to ask for directions.
"Can you let go of me now?" he groused. "I'm coming."
Erza gave him a suspicious look but released his arm. Gray rubbed at the sore spot gingerly, wincing at how tender it was. He would have an impressive bruise soon.
"Now stop talking."
Gray sighed but kept his mouth shut. As Erza continued thinking aloud about how to properly take care of someone who was ill, Gray silently schemed. All of his hypothetical scenarios seemed to end in grievous bodily injury. He briefly considered just leading Erza astray—it's not like she actually knew where they were going anyway—but again, he foresaw that ending terribly for him.
"There," he said reluctantly, pointing at his building. He headed for the door, Erza trailing behind.
"You live in an apartment by yourself?" she asked as he fumbled in his pockets.
"Yeah."
"They let you do that? You're kind of young to have your own apartment."
"I can take care of myself," he snapped, finally locating his key. Sliding it into the lock, he pushed his way into his apartment and successfully resisted the urge to slam the door in Erza's face. "Although yeah, I had to jump through hoops 'cause no one thinks a kid can handle stuff like that. The old man vouched for me and made a deal with the landlady. They check up on me sometimes to make sure I'm not destroying the place or whatever, but the arrangement has worked out for a while now and I pay everything on time, so they mostly leave me alone."
"The old man? You mean the Master?"
"Yeah."
Erza tilted her head and studied him curiously. "Why do you call him that? Some of the others call him 'Jii-chan', but you never do. Why not?"
"You don't call him that either," Gray huffed.
"No, but I know why I don't," she replied, rolling her eyes like he was stupid and missing something painfully obvious.
Gray thought she was missing the point, but let it drop.
He had never settled for using 'Jii-chan' because it made the old man sound too much like family. Gray didn't need another family. His families had a bad habit of ending up dead.
"Does it matter? Anyway, you can go. I can handle myself from here."
Erza shook her head firmly. "Sick people should have someone to look after them, and there's no one else to look after you because you live alone."
"I can take care of myself," Gray snapped back. "I do just fine on my own."
Erza chewed on her lip for a second, before her eyes widened and then narrowed dangerously. "You aren't supposed to be talking."
Gray opened his mouth but then thought better of it, wilting under Erza's glare. The redhead grabbed his arm again and started tugging him across the room.
"Sick people should stay in bed."
Gray groaned. He'd basically spent the entire day in bed, until about half an hour ago. But it was easier to comply, at least for now. He sat on his bed and crossed his arms, scowling at the far wall. Apparently that still wasn't good enough, because Erza pushed him down none too gently.
"Lay down." She paused and frowned off into space again, before nodding to herself. "I'll be back."
She disappeared back into the living room, and Gray rolled his eyes. There had to be a way to convince her to leave that wouldn't put himself in mortal danger. He was no closer to coming up with a plan by the time she returned though.
"I got you some ice and a damp cloth to help with the fever, and some water too," she told him, depositing the glass of ice water on the bedside table and pressing the washrag to his forehead. Apparently she still wasn't convinced that he didn't actually have a fever. "Do you have cold medicine or something? It might help."
"No," Gray lied. He didn't particularly want to take medicine for an illness he didn't even have.
"You should," Erza said disapprovingly.
"Seriously, you can go–"
"Yes, yes, I'll go make you soup in a minute."
Gray closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. He thought he might be able to feel a headache coming on.
Erza set about fussing over him with a fierce determination that he didn't really understand. There was much fluffing of pillows and rearranging of blankets and fetching of any item Gray could possibly want and many that he definitely wouldn't. It felt weird. Not just because it was Erza, but because it had been a long time since Gray had anyone to fuss over him.
Although his mother had never been clumsy enough to spill ice water on him or bring in a massive pile of random junk and then accidentally knock it over. She also hadn't been nearly as violent. Still, Gray guessed that he could kind of appreciate the effort Erza was putting into this for some incomprehensible reason that only she understood.
He really needed to get rid of her.
When she disappeared into the kitchen, apparently determined to make some kind of soup or something, Gray lasted all of two minutes before tossing aside the compress and slithering out of bed. He paced around his bedroom in helpless frustration, wondering how he had gotten himself into this mess. Glancing over at the window, he briefly considered making a break for it. But then he'd have to deal with an angry Erza later, and an angry Erza was a violent Erza. And anyway, he didn't like the thought of being chased out of his own apartment.
Eventually he got bored enough to wander into the kitchen, even though that was probably a bad idea. Erza had something going on the stove and was currently digging through the fridge, a displeased frown plastered on her face.
"Whatcha looking for?" Gray asked, leaning against the doorframe and folding his arms across his chest.
"Chicken," she mumbled, not even glancing up. "Why don't you have any chicken?"
"Because I don't cook it? I don't cook a whole lot, really. Cooking is boring and messy. If it's not prepackaged or made by someone else, then what's the point?"
"But it's supposed to be chicken soup for sick people," Erza insisted. "And you have no chicken."
"Sorry? Seriously, you don't need to make anything."
"Of course I do. I–" She broke off suddenly, her head snapping up. Her eyes immediately locked on Gray and narrowed. "You're supposed to be in bed."
"I'm fine. I don't want to be in bed."
"The patient should stay in bed."
"But I'm not–" Gray yelped in surprise as Erza moved quickly across the kitchen and grabbed him before he even realized what was happening. "Hey!"
"You're sick," Erza said, dragging him back into the bedroom and shoving him onto the bed again. "You should be resting. Stay here and I'll be back when I finish the soup."
Gray huffed in irritation and watched her leave. For someone so worried about his health, she sure was bad at realizing that there was actually nothing wrong with him. And every time he tried to explain, she cut him off. How was he supposed to convince her to leave when she was forcing him to stay in bed and banning him from talking?
He sulked for a while since he had nothing better to do, coming up with all sorts of fantastic and maniacal schemes to solve this problem. None of them would ever work in reality, but it was satisfying to daydream nonetheless.
It seemed like ages before Erza reappeared. She handed him a steaming bowl of soup and then dragged a chair over to the bedside.
"And now I'll feed you," she announced, looking much too pleased with herself.
"Uh-uh," Gray said, shaking his head violently. He had put up with all her other ridiculous demands, but he was going to put his foot down on this one.
"But–"
"No."
Erza sighed and deflated a little. "Well, as long as you eat it, I guess."
Gray could hardly believe that she'd given in so easily after how obstinate she had been about everything else. Thank goodness.
Turning his attention to the soup, he poked at the broth dubiously with his spoon. Something floated up into view and he squinted at it, trying to figure out what the hell Erza had put in here and if it was going to kill him.
Then his eyes widened. "Is that…Is that a chicken nugget?"
Erza's cheeks reddened and she shuffled her feet awkwardly. "Well, you didn't have any real chicken, so…"
Gray looked at her. He looked at the soup. He burst out laughing. She had made him chicken nugget soup.
Then he started in surprise, his laughter cutting off abruptly. He had been laughing. It was the first time he had felt like laughing all day, and it felt weird. Maybe it should feel good, like a relief, but it also made an uncomfortable, nauseous feeling settle in his stomach. He shouldn't really be laughing. There was nothing to be happy about.
Erza was too preoccupied with her own dilemma to really notice his. Her flush had deepened, and she scowled at the ground.
"I did what I could with what you had," she grumbled.
He stared at her for a moment and then sighed. The embarrassment and irritation were coming off her in waves, and he felt a little bad. He should probably fix that, not even so much because he was worried about getting punched, but because she really had put in a lot of effort in some misguided attempt to help him.
"Yeah… It's fine." He obediently scooped up a spoonful of broth and chicken nugget and other unidentifiable food items, and ate it. His mouth immediately wanted to twist in distaste as the overwhelming taste of salt and mushy chicken breading assaulted his tongue. Ugh, had she dumped an entire shaker of salt into this thing?
Erza was watching him with an almost hopeful expression, twisting her hands together anxiously in her lap, and Gray didn't have the heart to tell her that this was one of the worst things he'd ever tasted.
"It's good," he said, managing a wan smile. "Thanks."
Erza watched him warily like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop—maybe because he wasn't very nice at the best of times and had been giving her a hard time today already—but he just sipped at his soup quietly, a martyr to the cause. She smiled at him hesitantly, her usual indifference and aloofness disappearing, along with her newly acquired sense of odd determination and resolve. It was a fleeting expression, but genuine enough that it made Gray's heart hurt.
"You should laugh more," she told him.
"Huh?" He stopped eating to blink at her in bewilderment.
She shrugged and let her gaze wander away. "You're always so grumpy and defensive, but your whole face lights up when you laugh. I think you'd be happier if you smiled and laughed more."
Gray's mouth twisted into a bitter grimace, and he could tell that Erza caught a glimpse of it when she glanced back over, before he smoothed it out again. "I guess."
The requip mage cleared her throat awkwardly and stood up. "Well, I'll go make you–"
"You don't have to," Gray interrupted quietly, staring down blankly at his soup. "I'm not really sick, exactly."
"You're…not? Why didn't you say something?"
"When did you ever let me get a word in edgewise?" he asked without any real heat. "I never said I was sick. Cana assumed that I was, and then you took over and wouldn't let me tell you otherwise. All I said was that I didn't feel goo– well."
Erza was silent for a long moment, and Gray kept his gaze fixed resolutely on a chunk of disintegrating chicken nugget. It kind of felt worse to admit this now, after she'd put so much effort into everything.
"Which is it?" Erza asked finally, her tone indecipherable.
"Huh?" Gray looked up at her and frowned, not understanding the question.
"You were going to say that you don't feel good, but then you switched it to well. Do you not feel good or not feel well?"
"It's the same thing, isn't it?"
Erza shrugged. "Usually if you say that you're feeling well you mean that you're healthy, and if you say that you're feeling good it's more of an emotional thing or overall state. So if you–" She noticed Gray's expression and broke off, flushing again. "Never mind. Most people don't bother making that distinction anyway. I guess they're used interchangeably."
Gray stared at her for a few more seconds, before letting out a brittle laugh. "Looks like I've still got someone to correct my grammar after all."
"Uh…" Now it was Erza's turn to look confused.
"You can go. I can take care of myself."
"You want to be alone?" Erza guessed after a moment of silence.
"Yeah," Gray said with a sigh. "Something like that."
Well, not really. He wanted his parents. And Ur. And at this point maybe even Lyon, as long as it was the version of his one-time friend who didn't hate him. He was tired of being alone, but he couldn't imagine wanting anyone other than the people who were already gone.
"Oh." Erza hesitated, but then backed towards the door. "I'll, uh, tell Cana that you're okay and you'll be back tomorrow."
"Yeah. Thanks."
She paused in the doorway indecisively for a moment longer. "I'm sorry you don't feel good," she said finally, before quietly slipping out of the room.
Gray sighed. No, he didn't feel good at all. After a few seconds he heard the door to his apartment open and close, and he slumped backwards into the heap of pillows Erza had built up for him. Well, that hadn't gone well. He'd meant for Erza to assume that he was just feeling a little off but wasn't really sick, but he got the feeling that she'd guessed something too close to the truth by the end there. He knew he should have just stayed home today.
Untangling himself from his blankets, he slipped out of bed and got to work cleaning up the mess Erza had made. But trashing the nasty soup and returning everything back to its proper place could only occupy him for so long, and then he was just left in an empty apartment with nothing to do again. He wandered around the small space aimlessly, drifting like the ghosts he could feel swirling all around him.
Funny, but it looked like maybe Erza's unwelcome intrusion had done some good after all. He hadn't really noticed at the time, but he had been so distracted by her antics and by thinking up ways to make her leave that he hadn't been grieving as much. And now that he'd gotten what he wanted and she was gone, he was just left with his dark thoughts again, and everything started spiraling downward once more.
It wasn't long before he could feel the walls closing in around him again, and he wanted nothing more than to leave this place and not look back. At the very least, he wished he could escape and roam the city instead of being caged in this tiny apartment. He often ended up wandering the streets restlessly when he was upset, but he couldn't risk running into anyone from the guild now that everyone thought he was ill and in bed. He didn't need them asking questions.
Still, as the hours dragged on and he became more and more restless, it became harder to resist the lure of the outdoors. The easiest way to preclude that was probably to find something to busy himself with, but he couldn't focus. He was trying very hard not to think about his parents or Ur or Lyon or Deliora or blood or screams or death, but the more he tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, the more they bothered him. It was going to drive him crazy.
He was still in the process of trying to wear a groove into the floor when a loud knock shattered the oppressive silence. Gray paused midstride, twisting about to frown at his front door in consternation. A quick glance at the clock told him that it was already almost six, and he honestly couldn't imagine why anyone would be dropping by here at all, much less when it was this late. He briefly considered ignoring the intrusion, but then sighed and headed for the door. Anything to give him a break from his thoughts.
When he pushed the door open a crack and peered outside, he was greeted by the sight of Erza standing on his doorstep, holding a large white box in her hands. Her expression was an odd mixture of uncertainty and determination, and Gray was at a total loss as to why she had come back.
"Uh, what are you–?"
"If you like to be alone so much, then why are you crying?" she said in a rush, before Gray could even finish his question.
He stared at her blankly for a second and then frowned. "Do I look like I'm crying?" he asked, defensiveness creeping into his voice.
Erza flushed and winced. "Uh, no… That didn't come out right. Look, I'm just trying to be nice."
The words finally clicked, and Gray's frown deepened. She was, in essence, parroting back something he had said to her when he'd found her crying on the riverbank a few months ago. A possible rationale for her sudden odd concern for him was starting to form in Gray's mind.
"You don't owe me anything," he grumbled, unconsciously shrinking back into his apartment a half-step, the door starting to drift shut another centimeter or two.
"Of course not." Erza shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, her gaze dropping to the ground. "It's not… It's just… Friends are supposed to help friends, right?"
"Friends?" Gray asked slowly, the word tasting strange on his tongue. He eyed the redhead dubiously.
"Do you…not think we're friends?"
Well no, he actually didn't. Sure, they had gotten along better after that incident at the river, but it's not like they were super close or anything. Part of that was because he wasn't exactly looking for friends, and part was because Erza was something of a loner too.
"Um…"
"Oh." Erza scuffed her foot back and forth absently, her shoulders slumping. "I just thought that since you were friends with Cana and everything…"
"Cana?" Gray repeated uncertainly, still at a loss.
Erza finally met his gaze again and frowned. "You don't think you're friends with her either?"
Well no, not really. Cana was probably the closest thing to a friend he had these days, but the last real friend he'd had was Lyon. He still remembered how that had played out all too well. Friends were dangerous. They knew you well enough that when they decided they wanted to hurt you, they knew all the best ways to break your heart. And even worse was when you hurt them instead, whether you meant to or not. Gray didn't want that kind of risk and responsibility again. He'd messed it up badly enough last time.
"I like her well enough," he said noncommittally.
"And she likes you, so you must be friends," Erza reasoned.
Gray wondered if it was really as simple as she made it sound. Either she was naïvely optimistic or he was a terrible cynic.
"So why shouldn't we be friends too?" the redhead continued brightly, satisfied with her logic.
Gray eyed her mistrustfully. "Why would you want to be friends?"
"Huh?" she asked, thrown off guard.
Gray's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I'm not stupid. I know I'm not nice or friendly or any of that. That I'm… How did you put it? Grumpy and defensive? I don't see why you would want to be friends."
It was certainly true that he was just an angrier, unhappier person than he used to be, but part of his coldness was also affected. He didn't want to have to rely on anyone else, because they could always die and leave him alone. And he didn't want to end up hurting anyone again either. It was easier to push everyone away instead, keep them at an arm's length so that they didn't get too close to his heart.
As a result of that, he knew that the people he encountered thought he was mean and unfriendly, and most of them didn't really want anything to do with him. So Erza suggesting that she wanted to be friends was awfully suspect.
"I didn't mean–"
"If you want a friend that badly, go try Cana. She's a lot friendlier than I am."
"Yeah, but… I don't know." Erza readjusted her grip on the box and stared down at it blankly so that she didn't have to look at Gray. "I'm not very good at being friendly either, am I? Neither of us are that good at it, so I thought… I don't know."
That was true enough, Gray supposed. Erza hadn't shown much interest in making friends, or even acquaintances, when she had first joined the guild. She was less of an outsider these days than she had been a few months ago, but she still sometimes had trouble around other people and liked to be alone a lot.
"Cana's nice," Gray assured her. "If you're willing to try, she'll give you a chance."
"I know that. I just thought that you and I had more in common."
Gray frowned, not having thought of it that way before. Not that that really made it any better. "I don't do well with the whole friends thing. You'd do better with Cana."
"Maybe." Erza shrugged. "Sure, you're not all that friendly. Neither am I. Cana can be a little too friendly. And let's be honest, everyone in this guild is totally crazy. Everyone's got their own weird little quirks. It's not like you're the only one."
Gray stared at her silently for several long seconds. Then he sighed and opened the door, beckoning her inside. Erza hesitated, perplexed by the sudden change of heart.
"Come on," Gray grumbled. "You're going to let all the bugs in, and I hate bugs."
She blinked at him for a moment longer, and then smiled a little as she stepped inside and he shut the door behind her.
"What's in the box?" Gray asked, more out of politeness than out of any real curiosity.
Erza grinned suddenly, as if she hadn't just been awkward and uncomfortable only seconds before. Her sudden mood shifts were making Gray's head hurt.
"Come here and I'll show you." She headed for his kitchen with a new spring in her step, and he followed after her with far less enthusiasm. Setting the box on the table, she opened the lid to reveal the largest strawberry cake Gray had ever seen in his life. "Ta-da!"
"…And?"
"And now you eat it," she explained, still looking pleased with herself. "Strawberry cake is the most delicious thing in existence, and it's great for making you feel better when you're down."
Gray's eyebrows shot upwards. Erza did not share her strawberry cake. That was a rule that Gray had never seen violated. Everyone knew that to touch her cake meant certain death.
"Um, what?"
"Eat it," Erza repeated patiently. "And also, it should help make up for the terrible soup."
"The soup was…fine."
Erza coughed awkwardly and looked at her feet. "I could tell it must have been pretty bad from your face. I'm kind of surprised you didn't complain about it. I guess that sometimes you're nicer than you think you are."
The silence dragged on for a long time as Gray stared at this incomprehensible girl, but then he shook his head and went to retrieve plates and utensils. He didn't particularly want to eat this cake—didn't really want to eat much of anything right now, when grief still twisted his insides around uncomfortably—but it was hard to say no to Erza. He told himself it was because she might hit him again if he didn't comply.
"Fine, fine." Cutting two pieces of cake, he handed the significantly larger one to Erza.
"It's for you," Erza protested, not accepting the plate even though it looked like it was a real struggle for her not to leap forward and eat the entire cake.
"You really think I can eat a whole cake by myself?"
"Why not?" The redhead frowned, puzzled. "It's good."
Gray stared at her. Then he shoved the plate into her chest, forcing her to take it, and shook his head. "I can't eat it all at once, and it will go stale. You might as well help me."
"Well, if you insist…"
"I insist."
After another moment of hesitation, Erza sat down and began happily munching away at her cake, a look of blissful satisfaction overtaking her features. Gray ate with less gusto. The frosting was so sweet that he could practically feel the cavities forming, and the strawberry flavor was overwhelmed by copious amounts of sugar. He fought not to screw his face up in distaste, wondering why Erza liked this stuff so much.
The girl across from him was too distracted by her own cake-eating experience to notice his disgust, which was just as well. Gray methodically worked his way through his slice with grim determination as Erza gobbled hers down.
"It's amazing, isn't it?" she asked cheerfully.
"Oh yeah, it's amazing alright," Gray agreed. Amazingly sweet, at least. "Um, thanks."
"You're welcome. You know, when I went to the bakery to pick up the cake…"
Gray breathed a sigh of relief as he finally finished his chore, and leaned back to watch Erza as she rambled on and on about bakeries and cake. Gray didn't much care about either bakeries or cake so he sometimes tuned her words out, but he couldn't help but watch her anyway. It was funny how she'd mentioned his face lighting up when he laughed earlier, because it was amazing how animated she got talking about something as simple as strawberry cake. It was kind of nice to see the normally taciturn girl get so excited about something.
"What?" she asked suddenly, breaking off her story to peer at Gray more closely.
He wasn't sure why she'd stopped at first, until he realized that at some point the very corners of his mouth had begun creeping upwards. He quickly flattened his expression back into something more neutral.
"Nothing," he mumbled. Then he raised an eyebrow and asked, "Have you ever tried anything besides strawberry cake at the bakery?"
"Of course not!" Erza exclaimed, affronted. "Nothing could possibly match the divine taste of strawberry cake!"
Gray started chuckling before he could help himself, and after a moment of shock, Erza smiled back. Then Gray's eye caught on the clock on the far wall and he frowned.
"You should probably go now," he told Erza.
Her smile disappeared. "Oh," she said, trying not to look hurt.
"It's almost seven," Gray explained hurriedly, wincing. "It'll be getting dark soon, and you should go now so that you don't have to walk in the dark."
"It's that late already?" Erza asked in surprise. "Oh. You're right, I guess. I didn't even think about that. Thanks."
Gray shrugged. "You can take the rest of the cake."
"Certainly not," she disagreed, standing up and pushing her chair in. "I got it for you."
Gray fought back a grimace. What was he supposed to do with an enormous cake that he found too sickeningly sweet to be edible? No, he had to get rid of this.
"But–"
"But I got it for you," Erza repeated stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest.
Gray's mind frantically jumped from possibility to possibility, desperately searching for a way to convince her to take this cake. Hm, maybe a compromise?
He made to cut the remainder of the cake in half, but changed his mind at the last second and cut it into thirds instead.
"I won't be able to eat all this before it gets all stale and gross," he said reasonably. "Why don't you take part of it? And you can give some to Cana too."
Erza blinked at him for a moment but then beamed. "I'm sure she'd be glad to hear that you wanted to give her some of your cake."
Gray flushed and scowled at the table. "You don't have to tell her that. Just tell her it's from you."
"I don't understand why you always seem to want to disguise the nice things you do for other people so that they still think you're just mean and grumpy all the time," Erza said disapprovingly. "She'll be glad to know that you were thinking about her."
Gray sighed as he packaged up two slabs of cake for Erza to take with her. Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt. Cana had been trying to be nice to him earlier, and he supposed he should return the favor. He thought that was probably how friends were supposed to work.
"Whatever," he said, shoving the cake at her.
"I expect to see you in the guild bright and early tomorrow," she said cheerfully as she accepted the offering.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there."
"You'd better be. The Master said he'd make sure your landlady checked up on you tomorrow if you didn't come, just to make sure you were doing alright."
It took Gray a second, before he remembered that everyone else thought he was sick. What a pain.
"You can tell Jii-chan that I'm doing better," he said, shaking his head in irritation. "I'll be back at the guild tomorrow."
Erza had started walking towards the door, but paused to turn back and give Gray a quizzical look. She studied him and he stared back at her, his face perfectly expressionless and unreadable. Then a small smile ghosted over Erza's face.
"Okay then. Everyone will be glad to know that you're feeling better." She started for the door again. "Later, Gray."
"Later," he echoed absently as he watched her exit the apartment, the door closing behind her.
He stared after her solemnly for a few minutes, before finally managing to drag his attention away from the door. His gaze came to rest on the ghastly cake sitting on the table. He would really have to figure out what to do with that. It would feel wrong to just throw it away, but the idea of actually eating it wasn't very appealing either.
Then again, if he gave it another chance, maybe it would grow on him eventually.
His gaze wandered back to the closed door again. Sort of like Erza and Cana and the rest of the guild.
Note: The only thing sweeter than strawberry cake is this story. The cavities, I can feel them forming lol Not sure if I'll ever write anything else with them as kids, but it was fun.
Also, I have no idea where Gray lived as a kid. I just BS'ed my way through it lol He's such a precious little brat and Erza is adorable. *sigh*
emmahoshi: "Busy doing nothing" is my default setting lol Although I've been legitimately busy lately x.x Yeah, from what we've seen in canon, Gray was even more of a little brat as a kid and Erza was a lot more asocial (although I went with the idea that she could still snap into her weirdly determined phases even back then). They were still pretty messed up from their childhood tragedies. The "neckless" strikes again XD Yeah, I can forgive some spelling and grammar errors, but they always make my fingers twitch and I want to take a red pen to them. Ha, yeah, amnesia landlady. I never explicitly state it, but she's in my headcanon for most of these verses now. I could see Makarov making a deal with her since Gray was a stubborn enough little brat to make a fuss. Every time I mention cake in a story, I know you're going to comment on it XD In my head, this thing is frosted in the sweetest American buttercream ever, and I hate American buttercream x.x Almost any other kind of icing is fine and I'll eat it plain, even, but buttercream basically just tastes like powdered sugar. Bleh.