Hey! I haven't updated any Fairy Tail Fanfic's in forever! I so owe you all this. This was inspired by Hiro Mashima's latest tweet talking about the complexities of Natsu. Very angsty. I tried to make it as heartfelt as possible(probably could have done better). But yeah! Please enjoy spiraling through the Five Senses of Grief with Natsu! ReMeMbEr, ReViEw!
He could hear the party.
He could hear his heartbeat.
He could hear her.
As he sat in the old broom closet, his head between his hands, his hands near his knees, he could pick out her voice.
Sometimes he hated his enhanced hearing.
Hearing Lucy was normally a welcome thing. It was calming, relaxing, and fun. But now, today…it hurt to hear it.
He stiffened and a tremor rocked through his body.
How long ago was it?
Didn't matter.
Where was she now?
He didn't know.
Did she die happily?
Something dripped onto his knee.
He straightened and scowled. Grabbing the bottle by the neck, he grumbled at it; "Aren't you supposed to help?"
Another long gulp. He wiped his eyes. He shook his head, and gasped for air. It felt too thin. It felt like it was constricting him, slowly squeezing him to death. But he did not move from his seat.
The scene replayed in his head again.
Another tear. He cursed and wiped it off his face with such force it almost hurt. He could still hear her voice in the mix of party chatter. It echoed around him, bouncing around the walls and zipping through the thin and constricting air.
One more swig. The bottle was empty. He sighed and set it down next to the broom, it's presence already forgotten. More tears. Did they ever stop? Would they ever stop?
He took a deep, shaky breath.
She was fine. He picked out her laugh. A smile found his way to his face…then vanished as if the air had pulled it from his face. If only because an image of the blood trickling out of her mouth came into his mind.
He slammed his fist into the wall, rattling the old closet. That wasn't the point! It elated him to know she was alive, laughing, looking beautiful at the party. But it wasn't the reason he was stuck in this lapse of her death.
…He had been right. There.
And he couldn't save her.
He couldn't move.
He couldn't even force himself to run to her aid.
He couldn't.
He had watched as her life slipped away. He had watched as all his nightmares came alive.
He lowered his head, breathing hard. The air just kept squeezing him.
His fingers tangled into his pink curls. A sob. A curse. How much longer could he hide?
Lucy said his name.
He froze. It hurt. Her saying his name hurt. His chest heaved. He lifted his head and looked around wildly. He felt the chair under him-the wall behind him-the rough wood underneath his feet. He tried to regain his control. He fought the urge to attack something. To release his energy in a rage until he was exhausted. Too exhausted so he wouldn't feel.
He did the only thing he could. He tried to block the sound. He blocked all sounds. Muted the world around him. How was beyond him, but it worked. Soon all was quiet.
1 out of 5.
He swallowed and ran his tongue around his mouth. All he could taste was beer and an odd sting.
2 out of 5.
He took a few deep breaths. He smelled tears and if he concentrated, he could smell even her. He pinched his nostrils together.
3 out of 5.
Then he closed his eyes. Softly, slowly. The motion made him feel sick but yet he did it anyways.
4 out of 5.
What was he doing? Blocking out his senses? What would that do? How could that possibly help?
How did he block out the fifth sense?
He didn't know.
Minutes passed. Natsu breathed slowly, in through his mouth, out through the mouth. He couldn't taste the air.
Just when he thought he could regain his composure, just when he thought it had actually worked. He felt something press against his forehead.
No. He thought desperately. He wanted to move back. He wanted to move away. But his muscles wouldn't respond. It was as if the air had finally succeeded in holding him in a tight grip. Not this. Please. Anything but this. Please.
His prayers went unanswered.
His hand shivered as he felt the softness of her silky hair under his palm.
A tear traced down the cheek where he had once felt her warm breath.
A sob held in his chest like an hammer slamming into his heart. He couldn't take it. He just couldn't. He was ready to explode.
He released his nose. Dusty air filled his nostrils, and yes, he could pick out her faint scent as well.
2 out of 5.
He opened his mouth and let the air glide across his taste buds. A sour tear slipped into his mouth and he swallowed it on a reflex.
3 out of 5.
He strained his ears and suddenly the world was filled with music and noise. He could pick out her laugh.
4 out of 5.
He hesitated. He squeezed his eyes as tight as they could go. Then slowly, he opened them.
5 out of 5.