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Keepsake

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Hi! This was just a little drabble I wanted to do as a thank-you present for BlamedOrange/Red Okra for making the most wonderful fanart for my other fic, After Hours. Thank-you so much again! I hope I didn't make this too angsty, and I hope you enjoy! :)

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Disclaimer: Fairy Tail, its respected characters and its plot are all sole property of Hiro Mashima. Any resemblance to other pieces of literature or fiction, whether published online or on paper, is purely unintentional and merely coincidental. Any quotes or references used will be sourced either immediately or at the end of the chapter in the order that they appear.

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It's just after two in the morning when Lyon pulls up to the front of his girlfriend's house, lights already off and engine humming like a cicada. Summer came early this year; the sweet scent of blooming jasmine unmistakably strong, and he thinks that its slowly becoming his favourite scent second only to her.

But, Meredy's so much more than just jasmine isn't she? She's the crest of an angry wave against the shore, the clap of thunder just before it rains – she's hellfire and brimstone and everything cacophonous rolled into a blushing sunset, and not a waking moment goes by where his thoughts aren't wholly consumed by the thought of her, her, her.

So it's no surprise that when he hears her footsteps beating towards his car that his heart rate increases tenfold, white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel intensifying. Gods, he wishes he could tell her. Tell her every single waking moment that she's beside him is so frightening, so exhilarating; that it makes him worry it's all in his head.

"Hey," she settles beside him, hand immediately finding his.

"Hey yourself," his grip on the wheel softens as it accepts her grasp, squeezing gently, "feeling any better?"

Meredy nods, eyes glancing away from the knowing stare of her boyfriend – she can't lie when he's looking at her with those eyes. He wants her to tell him that the results came in, that they were negative, that things are going to be okay, that everything – everyone – is going to be just fine.

But that's not how things work, is it?

"Meredy?" Lyon's calling out to her now, one hand still holding hers as the other grasps her cheek, gingerly nudging her to turn and face him.

So she does.

"Is everything all right?"

"Everything is fine," she reassures him, closing her eyes and leaning against his touch. How can she lie so blatantly to him? He deserves to know more than anyone else in this world but she cannot bring herself to tell him the truth. The ball in her throat has begun to choke her, but she refuses to cry – she'll do anything but that – crying is for those who can afford it, and right now, neither of them can spare the tears.

"How was the doctor's? Did you get the results in?"

Meredy can feel the knowing pricks of tears starting to well against the creases of her closed eyelids. Gods, this should be so easy – this should be the easiest thing in this world. She loves him, gods she loves him just so much, so why is it so hard to just say those words?

'Because what if he doesn't want this?'

It's the same stupid voice that has been nagging at her since she woke up that morning – no, since she went to bed the night before. The same damn voice that has been knocking against the walls of her brain, filling her ears with awful, awful things, keeping her awake at night with a million possible outcomes.

And what if it's right?

What if Lyon doesn't want this? How could he want it – she is so much younger than he is, so much more naïve. He has an established occupation, a car, a house, a mortgage, he pays bills for christ's sake and she's still living with her brother, only a year into university, with absolutely no direction whatsoever.

Who could ever want a stupid child like her?

A fat, warm traitor of a tear falls, gathering itself against Lyon's open palm. Several more follow after, and all he can think to do is bring her face closer to his, gently kissing her lips, her wet cheeks, her forehead, before bringing her in for an embrace.

Meredy folds into him like a handwritten letter, loud, panting sobs wracking her body in fierce tremors while she grips at his shirt collar, burying her face deeper against the expanse of his chest. Gods, and now she's ruined his clothes – probably streaked her face and his expensive oxford button-up with cheap mascara and ugly tears. Just as she's about to pull away, his hand threads through her hair, stroking it lovingly, before traveling down to give similar treatment to her back.

Neither of them speak for a while; the car is full with the sound of her pitiful sobs and that just seems to make her cry even harder knowing that she's responsible for their current situation.

"Meredy," his voice is so much warmer than what she deserves, "please look at me."

She shakes her head indignantly, burrowing it further against him.

"Please," he moves his hands, gently prying to collect her face in his palms once again, tilting it up once she relents.

Despite her disposition, Lyon has never thought she looked more beautiful – the moonlight has cast a halo around her body, threading through her wild hair, feral as can be. Despite being rimmed with red and bloodshot, the flecks of gold in her viridian eyes dance amid the streetlights.

"I'm so sorry," she finally sputters out before Lyon can continue, tears spilling again, "I'm so, so, so sorry, Lyon. I can get rid of it, and I understand if you don't want to see me ever agai – "

"Meredy," Lyon repeats, silencing her, "no matter what, I promise you I will be happy," he strokes her cheeks, wiping the newly shed tears, "I want whatever you want – it's your body, you decide what's best for you."

Her eyes find his as she catches her breath, still panting slightly.

"R-really?" she sniffs, "do you mean that?"

"Every single word."

"Even if I want to keep it?"

Lyon nods, pulling her forward again before kissing her fully on the mouth.

"I want you – I will always want you, no matter what," he kisses her again, "and nothing would make me happier than raising a child with you."

"But what about…we're not married, Lyon. I'm still in school. You were just promoted, we've only been dating just under a year, what happens if we break up?"

He holds her back against his chest, and she can hear his heart hammering.

He's just as terrified as she is.

"I'm willing to take that chance if you are," Lyon kisses the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair, "but I know I'm not going anywhere."

Meredy's breath hitches in her throat and she almost begins to cry again, but wills herself against it.

"I want to keep it."

"I do, too."

They pull apart once more, but it's Meredy who pulls him to her this time, their mouths colliding in a sweet kiss, both trying to get as much of the other as possible.

"Let's go back to my place," Lyon pecks the corner of her mouth, "I'll make you some tea."

Meredy nods, biting her lip as she presses her forehead against Lyon's.

"I would like that a lot."

"I would, too." He smiles, kissing her once more before moving back fully into his seat, clicking on his seatbelt and telling her to do the same before he shifts the car into drive, pulling away from the curb.

Before he searches for her hand, Lyon reaches over and grazes his fingers against the flat expanse of his girlfriend's clothed stomach, glancing at her gently. Meredy smiles back, taking his hand with her own and curling their fingers together. Lyon brings their joined hands up to his face, brushing his lips against the back of hers.

"I love you," he reminds her.

"I love you, too." She responds.

'He wants it.' The voice sighs in relief.

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Notes:

Soooooo right quick, 'Keepsake' is a song by (my personal favourite band) The Gaslight Anthem. I thought the name fit the fic, though the song – not so much – it's a little too sad for what I was going for. I hope this doesn't seem rushed – I had it waiting to be finished and really wanted to get it out as a thank-you drabble!

THANK-YOU AGAIN FOR THE AMAZING FANART LJFBHSJKBDJKSBDKJS