I own nothing. All rights belong to Hiro Mashima.
Higher still and higher
From the earth thou springest
Like a cloud of fire;
The deep blue thou wingest,
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
-Percy Bysshe Shelley "To a Sky-Lark"
Sometimes he thought he could forget. Sometimes, when the corners of her mouth lifted and the sun was warm and bright, he thought he could forget. Unfortunately for Gajeel Redfox, she wasn't always there and the sun did not always shine.
"Levy," breathed Gajeel, sitting upright with a gasp. He was met only with the sound of his own panicked breathing and the pouring rain outside. He swung his legs over the bed, putting his head in his hands wearily. It had been raining for three days, and for whatever reason, the gloomy atmosphere had triggered the memories—recurring nightmares, really—of his own violence and cowardice, of when and how he had first met Levy.
He sighed and rose, moving to the window silently. He could not forgive himself. She had forgiven him, and tomorrow he would greet her with a "Shrimp," and she would scowl and then smile in the most adorable way he'd ever seen and it would all be fine. Right? An image of her battered little frame flashed in front of his eyes and he slammed his fist against the wall, splintering the wood.
"Levy again?"
"Shut the hell up," snarled Gajeel. Lily exited silently, knowing better than to aggravate Gajeel in this mood. Gajeel felt him leave and decided to ignore the guilt gnawing at him. It would be morning soon, and it would be fine.
Approximately two hours and seven minutes later, Gajeel stalked into the guild and slumped at the bar. At this hour, Mirajane was the only one here.
"Rough night?" she asked sympathetically.
"Nah, just tired," grunted Gajeel. He really did not feel like talking about his nightmares.
"Do you want something?" asked Mira. Gajeel considered this for a moment.
Drunkenness did serve its purpose sometimes…then he shook his head. Levy would be coming in later.
"OK, just let me know," said Mira, moving away. Gajeel slumped back down, listening to the pouring rain outside dully. Suddenly he straightened. He heard the slosh of feet through puddles even as he caught Levy's distinct scent. He moved to open the door (she was carrying books; he could tell from her slightly labored breathing), but he stopped himself and turned back to the bar. He heard her struggle in, bringing the chill air with her, and his shoulders tensed as she almost slipped. The wood of the oft-abused bar was beginning to crack under his grip. He couldn't go to her. He couldn't forgive himself. He was…dark, and evil and everything about him was so very, very wrong for her.
He slipped off the bar stool and retreated into a corner quietly. He shouldn't watch her like this. It wasn't fair to her, and he didn't deserve to even look at her. Nonetheless, he looked up, guilt smoldering in his eyes. She hadn't seen him, and was already opening a book that was almost bigger than she was. He almost smiled as she pushed her glasses up and with one small hand on the page, began to read intently. Minutes passed, and Gajeel automatically relaxed, soothed by Levy's scent and the lulling sound of rainfall. He fell asleep watching her.
The next time he woke, it was because the sun was directly in his eyes. He squinted, stirring sleepily. Then he stiffened. The guild was bustling and noisy, but where had Levy gone? Then his mind caught up with his senses and he turned. Levy sat cross-legged on the bench at his side, absorbed in another giant book.
"Hey Shrimp," said Gajeel automatically. Levy instantly looked up and scowled.
"I'm not a shrimp," she said, and then smiled. "You must have been tired." The smile fell from Gajeel's lips. Her words brought back the nightmares and the night, and images of a cruel torture jumped into his mind unbidden. He winced and turned away. He was the darkness. She was…too bright, too far away, too happy. A demon could not approach that light.
"Gajeel?" asked Levy. Gajeel couldn't meet her eyes, couldn't speak, couldn't move. Shame colored his eyes a dull red. Then he felt a slender hand rest on his shoulder.
"It's OK," said Levy, half-kneeling to whisper in his ear. "I don't know exactly what's wrong, but it's OK. I'm right here." Then she quickly sat, her cheeks flushed, and fiddled with her book.
"Shrimp—" choked out Gajeel finally. She looked up at him and bit her lip at the sight of his obvious misery. "Just—stay for a while, will you?" Levy nodded and gave him a smile. Then she went back to her book.
Gajeel didn't touch her, but just having her next to him was enough. He could only breathe when he smelled her. He could only smile when she was there. He couldn't forgive himself, but he needed her there next to him. He leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes, breathing her in. It was enough, for now.