I decided to give CoLu week a shot.
You can decide whether it was a mistake or not.
Day 1: Eternity
Day 2: Excuses
Day 3: Online
Day 4: Colour
Day 5: Answers
Day 6: Raspberry
Day 7: Energy
Bonus:
Day 8: Aurora
Chapter 1: Eternity
"Are you ready Lu?" the blonde grinned nervously, a lump in her throat. She nodded eagerly, reassuring herself rather than her friend.
"Yeah I think so…" Refraining from biting her manicured nail, she bit her bottom lip instead, pacing. "But, Cana, what if he has second thoughts?" She paced, "What if I'm not good enough?" She scratched her palms with her thumbs, "What if I turn into an ugly old hag and he wants a divorce?" her breaths were coming in fast and short. "What if–"
"Lucy!" Cana grasped the blondes shoulders, shaking her back and forth, careful not to ruin the teams breathtaking work. "Don't do this now; Erik is standing at the altar, possibly more nervous than you are. Stop pacing back and forth like a mad man or you'll snap your heels." Lucy nodded, chomping down on her lip, "And stop biting your lip or you'll look like you just ate a kitten…" Lucy shook her head, wrapping her hands around her waist. Cana cocked her head to the side, "You never know with Erik though, could be a turn on." She winked at the bride to be as the blonde laughed.
"Thanks, Cana." They smiled warmly, wrapping their arms around the other.
"Five minutes until show time." The unusually sober woman reminded. To Lucy though, five minutes had never gone faster.
She heard the music start playing, and the screeches of chairs as people stood, awaiting her arrival. She took calming breaths, her best friend standing beside her, his arm linked with hers.
"Thanks for doing this, Natsu." The pink-haired man grinned smugly.
"It would have been weird if it were Gray." He reasoned, "Just don't go around calling me dad or I won't speak to you again." He threatened. Lucy laughed, he always knew how to make light of the situation.
She walked down the aisle steadily, somehow not falling over; she assumed it was Natsu holding her in place though. She smiled when she saw her future husband, a content smile on his face as he looked at her intensely with what she could only describe as wonder. Her nerves dissipated into nothing as she stared into his purple eyes. Time meant nothing in the moment, all that mattered was him. Most of the ceremony was a blur; she took a deep breath repeating the words, almost whispering,
"I, Lucy take you, Erik, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish for all of eternity." he smiled at her warmly, love and adoration the only recognisable emotions. As he finished speaking the long awaited 'I do.' She slid the ring onto his finger, the gold band reflecting the sun's rays. She mainly paid attention to the vows, how his voice was smooth speaking them, as if he hadn't practised them three times a day for the last month.
"I, Erik take you, Lucy, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish for all of eternity." She barely registered the words of the man to her side, her answer clear in the blur of an anxious ceremony. She didn't need the priest to ask, she knew her answer like the back of her hand.
"I do." Before the old man could command Erik, his lips were pressed to hers, both smiling like idiots at the applauds and cat calls.
Lucy awoke with a start, groaning as the Sunday morning blasted her senses. She turned her head away from the clear glass separating her from the outside world, reminding herself to close the curtains tonight even though she wouldn't anyway. She shivered, her skin decorating itself with goose bumps. She rubbed her arms, hoping to change her appearance from plucked chicken to attractive female.
She looked to her right, a lump of blankets loosely resembling a human, a tuft of maroon hair sticking out of the cacoon. Bending her neck, she saw the quilt wrapping tightly around her husband's head, a lion mane of blankets. A thin trail of drool leaking out of his mouth, she cringed.
"You're a pig." She shook her head in disgust. She turned her body, looking away from the nauseating sight.
Erik cracked his eye open, staring at the back of the blondes matted hair. He raked his eyes up her body, almost laughing at her sad attempt at keeping herself warm; her body curled into a fetal position, rubbing her arms and legs. "Can't deny that, although, I'm lucky," Lucy scoffed, laughing dryly.
"How is that?" she inquired. He smiled sweetly,
"At least I'm not a cow." She turned to face him, glaring. He raised an eyebrow, "Sorry." He mumbled. She looked at him warily, "Got my information wrong. You're not a cow, you're a horse." He stood up dropping the blankets to the floor, "That would be the only explanation for the long face." He walked to the bathroom door, already feeling his wife's hateful gaze on his back. Turning, he looked at her, tapping his tooth, "Let's not forget the buck teeth."
Why she married him was a mystery she was sure the Gods didn't have the answer to. She got out of bed, starting to cook breakfast. She moved sluggishly around the kitchen, a tasty omelette in the frying pan on the stove. She heard Erik's telltale sigh and the air pushing out of the lounge as he sunk into it, the TV flicking on. What a dick. She was slaved over the counter cooking breakfast while he sat on the lounge watching Everybody Loves Raymond.
She couldn't remember the last time they had said 'I love you.' to each other, and she would probably laugh in his face if he did. He really was a pig. She hated her husband.
She looked at the one thing she hated almost more than him; the top cupboard of their kitchen, the resting place of the salt and pepper, the necessity of eggs. She looked at the wooden door with determination; she could do this. She jumped, her hand missing the handle completely. She jumped again. And again. And again. "Struggling a bit there?" She heard Erik call. She craned her neck, looking out of the kitchen into the lounge room. "Need help?" she sighed in relief.
"Help would be great, Erik." He looked at her in boredom,
"Get a stool." She grit her teeth, wondering why she had ever thought he would help in the first place. Getting a seat from their small table, she dragged it across the ground, deliberately making it screech, knowing it would set Erik's ears on fire, it wasn't her fault he had heightened senses.
Propping the piece of wood against the wall, she slowly hopped on, careful not to lose her balance. She straightened her legs slowly; opening the cupboard, she successfully retrieved the salt and pepper. She hopped down, dragging the chair along the tiles, grinding her teeth. "I should have married a chair!" She yelled, "It's more reliable than you!" his eyes snapped to hers,
"Well it gets more ass than me!" Dirty fucking rotten pig. Lucy had a sudden idea as she stared at the man from the kitchen. She looked back over to the frypan, the burner turned off so it wouldn't over-cook. She took two plates from the bottom cupboard; she would have extra breakfast today.
She slid the omelette from the pan, folding it in half neatly, she cracked her necessities on, smiling; she would enjoy this. She took a pair of tongs in one hand, the empty plate in the other; she pressed her foot to the plastic piece at the bottom of their rubbish bin, the lid flying open. She grinned darkly.
Lucy sat the two plates at the table; they unfortunately sat across from each other. She smiled, "Erik, morning breakfast is ready." She heard him grumbling as he took a seat across from her, rubbing his eyes. He picked up his fork, about to stab it into his food before he saw what his lovely wife had prepared for him.
"What the fuck is this?" Lucy smiled innocently,
"You're a pig, Erik, you said so yourself. Pigs eat scraps." She explained as if he were a child. He looked down at his plate in distaste,
"This is not food."
"Oh sure it is." She took his fork from his hand, "Let's see how many vegetables we can spot, okay? You can count on your fingers if it makes it easier." she didn't wait for him to reply, "Look right there." She pointed the prongs of his fork at an almost unrecognisable piece of fruit. "That right there is a banana." Her voice reminded him of when she would give lollies to trick-or-treaters, he felt his eye twitch, "Those are the grapes that went bad a few days ago." Her eyes widened in wonder, "Would you look at that… There's even a piece of steak from last night's dinner. You sure scored big tonight."
Erik was trying his hardest not to bash his head into the table. He was also trying not to inhale the putrid scent wafting up his nostrils, fearing he would be sick. Not that throwing up the contents of his stomach would make his life any easier; his wife would make him endure the same torture for weeks. "Why haven't I divorced you yet?"
His wife mocked hurt, her eyes widening, fake tears gathering. "How could you ask such an insensitive thing?" she waved her hands in front of her eyes, she shook her head smiling such a fake smile it made him want to roll his eyes, "You haven't divorced me yet because you love me." she nodded her head, praising herself. He scoffed,
"I'm pretty sure that's called wishful thinking." Lucy rolled her eyes, all playfulness gone, her face serious.
"No, Erik," she put her fork down, "a vow is a promise, and you know first-hand what happens when you break a promise." She smiled sweetly, but he could see the malice in her eyes. "Or need I remind you." No, he didn't need reminding. The visual image accompanied by the threat made him sit in silence. He didn't need his other eye removed.
She finished her breakfast in silence as he glared at his wife. She walked into the bedroom, presumably to change. He looked at the plate in front of him, repulsed. He looked at her plate, nothing but a few stray grains of pepper. His wife opened the door, walking out much more presentable.
Lucy picked up her handbag, walking to the front door, "You might be able to cook something if you use your brain." She paused, "Well what you have left of it." He removed his eyes from the slop before him,
"Yeah too many years of your shit would do that to someone's organs."
Lucy closed her eyes, calming herself. She reopened them, the brown depths cold, she smiled sweetly, "Goodbye, unfortunately I will return later." She told him.
"Or never." He shrugged.
"I wouldn't want to be the cause of someone starving to death because they don't know how to turn on an oven." She reasoned, "Plus I don't think it would look great on a resume." She slammed the door, leaving a clueless man behind.
He stood up, walking over to the bin, putting the scraps in before shutting the lid. He opened the fridge, looking at its contents. He went back into his shared bedroom, picking up his phone. Walking back to the kitchen he looked at the colourful letters spelling Google.
How do you make an om– he paused, looking up at the fridge in question, "How the fuck do you spell omelette?"
Lucy looked at her saviour, an exasperated sigh escaping her. She sunk her head further into her arms, "I hate him, Cana. I hate my husband." The brunette looked at her friend thoughtfully. "We don't get along; we're constantly bickering over the most stupid things. I'm always doing the cooking and cleaning, and he refuses to help." she looked up in sorrow. "He wouldn't even get the salt and pepper from the top cupboard." She looked at the oddly silent bartender. "Help!" she whimpered.
Cana looked at her friend in worry; she poured herself another drink, silently offering some to the blonde, who politely shook her head. She sipped her drink slowly, swirling it in her cup when she wasn't sculling the beverage. "Have you ever thought of trying marriage counselling?" Lucy scoffed,
"No. Even if we did consider it there's no way Erik would agree to it." She put her hands on her back, arching her spine, sighing in satisfaction when she heard and felt multiple pops.
"How can you be so sure though?" Cana chewed on a peanut, "I never thought Bacchus would go to that sort of thing, he did." Lucy looked at her friend in surprise,
"You go to couples therapy?" Cana licked her fingers, nodding,
"Remember when me and Bacchus went through that rough patch?" Lucy nodded; she remembered very clearly the nights where her friend would turn up on her doorstep at ungodly hours, completely and utterly smashed. "Well we didn't get through that by sitting on our asses." Lucy sighed, looking down at the counter,
"Give me a drink, Cana."
Lucy sat in silence, guzzling the drinks she was given one after the other while Cana tended to other guests.
"Cana!" She whined, the brunette looked at her friend and paled; a drunk Lucy was a tiresome Lucy. "Where council?" Cana looked at her blankly,
"I'm not Google, Lucy. Try widening your search." She answered sarcastically. Lucy pouted,
"Where marriage council." She slurred. Cana raised her eyebrows.
"Where do I go for couples therapy?" The blonde nodded vigorously, Cana took a beer holder, knowing Lucy would forget if she verbally told her. Writing down details on the back, she handed it to Lucy, her eyes hardening, "Keep this safe, Lucy. Don't lose it." Lucy gave her a thumbs up, standing she put the holder in her hoodies pocket.
"All safe." Cana walked around the bar, steadying the woman,
"Let's get you home."
Cobra looked at the kitchen mess in clear disappointment. He would never admit it out loud, but he honestly had no idea how his wife managed to keep their house so clean. He cooked scrambled eggs, in the microwave, and he still couldn't fathom how the mess was made. Most of the utensils he used he didn't know the names of, only seeing his wife use a handful of times. He looked at the mess; piles of plates and bowls and cups. He looked to his right, when the hell did he use a tomato? He came to an internal debate; should he wait for his wife to arrive for her to clean, or do it himself? He weighed the pros and cons, his wife would be pissed at him either way. He sat on the lounge, elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands.
He turned the TV on and sighed tiredly. The opening of his favourite show playing: Raymond Romano playing as Raymond Barone leaping across the living room, locking the front door in a mad dash against time. His mother's hand reaching through the mail slot, touching his head firmly, a look of dread sinking in. He adjusted his body, leaning back into the lounge, wondering if he had already seen this episode. He lay on his side after grabbing a blanket from the floor; the kitchen could wait. After all, it was a marathon this afternoon.
After a few laughs and eight beers, Erik heard the doorbell ring. He ignored it at first; silently telling whoever was there to piss off. The unknown person kept knocking. Erik groaned, standing up. "Alright! I'm coming! I'm coming!" He yelled, the knocking ceased. He threw open the door with a scowl; his frown deepening at what stood in his doorway. Lucy slumped over her best friend's shoulder, giggling. His wife looked up at him, her eyes widening in happiness.
"Erik!~" she cheered. She unlatched herself from Cana, running to him. He took several steps back, holding her shoulder at arm's length so she wouldn't hug him; drunk Lucy was a cuddler.
"Thanks." He said sarcastically. Cana rolled her eyes as the door was slammed in her face.
He guided her to the lounge carefully, not wanting to break any furniture. He sat her down before wrapping the blanket around her. He backed into the lounge, sitting, careful to leave distance between them. "Erik~!" he cringed, the alcohol in her breath almost unbearable. Lucy frowned at him. "Erik," He looked at his spouse in distaste.
"What?" He asked bitterly. Lucy turned away, her knees in her chest.
"Did I make you angry?" she whispered.
"Yes." She sunk further into the lounge's corner.
"Sorry…"
"It's not like you'll remember any of it tomorrow." He reminded, she only nodded. He turned his head back to the TV.
"…Can I have a hug?" She asked timidly.
"No."
"Can I give you a hug?" he turned his head towards her; a bad decision, her lips were trembling, her brown orbs were doing what he could call 'puppy dog eyes'. He looked at her, running his tongue along his teeth. He nodded stiffly. Grinning she tackled him in a hug, her head resting on his shoulder, his hand lay limp at his sides, not at all committed to the embrace.
"Erik…" the one-eyed man only hummed in acknowledgement, that was enough for Lucy. "…You know I love you, right?" he froze slightly, his breath hitching. His next words were chosen carefully.
"…You don't exactly make it very clear…" Lucy nodded, burying her head in the pillow.
"I do… even when I say I don't. You're just an idiot with his head to far up his ass to notice." He would admit, his wife was exceptionally good at ruining sentimental moments.
"And you're a perfectionist that takes people's eyes when they break a promise." He grumbled.
"Promises are important to me." He nodded his head, "Besides you look way more badass with one eye." Erik snickered, a proud smirk on his face,
"Hell yeah I do."
Lucy eventually fell asleep, and Erik remained watching the TV. As the last episode ended he pulled himself way from Lucy, he cracked his back and toes and made his way to their bedroom. He wasn't going to sleep on the lounge, he had better blankets on his bed and he got cold quickly. He would've maybe cuddled with Lucy more, but he wasn't going to wake up to her morning hangover breath if he could help it. He got in bed, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself, smiling stupidly at the warmth radiating in his cacoon.
Erik was peacefully sleeping, not a care in the world for anything else. Sleep was as important as eating and drinking, if not more. It was something he valued and treasured, it was not something he liked interrupted. Unfortunately though, his wife didn't share the same opinion for rest as he did.
So when he was awoken by a pain filled scream coming from somewhere in his house he may or may not have tripped over himself and the blankets in his hurry to investigate. He may or may not have had adrenalin pumping through every vein in his body. He may or may not have sighed in relief when his wife was in no harm. He did though gulp when his wife turned to him glaring, a look of horror on her face.
"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY KITCHEN!" he remained silent, looking at his wife in question. Noticing his gaze she side stepped, throwing her arm in the direction of the kitchen. He looked in the room, realisation dawning. Oh that… "Erik," She breathed, she calmed herself, "You need to get out of this house before I go ape-shit." He nodded, hurrying to get his clothes on before leaving his wife to the mess he had manifested.
Despite him being an outright prick, he at least knew when to just do as his wife said. This was one of those times.
Lucy scrubbed the oven door, surprised she hadn't worn a hole in the cloth. Oh wait, she had. She got off the floor, her knees cracking. She looked around the now clean kitchen, sighing in satisfaction. Feeling prideful in her work, she took off the rubber cloves, rinsing them in the sink. Laying on the lounge she stuck her hands in her pocket, feeling something stiff, she pulled it out.
She lifted it in front of her head, arms extended. She looked at the coaster in confusion, on a whim she flipped. She saw some small writing; she sat up, inspecting her friend's hand.
Mirajane Strauss
Building 1, Fairy Industries
Marriage Councillor
She blinked, wondering how she was even going to suggest this to her husband. She groaned, "Why?" she whimpered, "How?" she fell back down onto the lounge, her hands dropping to the side. "I hate Mondays."
Hope you enjoyed the chapter, reviews are appreciated.
Until next time :)
~MyFictionalFantasy
Tomorrow's chapter will be Excuses.