AN: Just a little mildly spooky Halloween fic for you all! Have a nice night everyone! Stay safe!
Grave Dancers
{i don't know what i'm supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you.}
Natsu tosses the butt of his cigarette onto the ground, smothering it beneath his boot and blowing smoke from his nose slowly. The smoky haze and the fog of his breath swirl around him in little wisps, like ghosts dancing around him in circles. For a moment, the scent of roses tickles his senses, a fingertip trailing down his cheek, thumb catching on his lip before disappearing entirely. He pulls his coat tighter around himself, wetting his lips as his fingers find the worn edges of his scarf, the white fabric falling apart after so many years of use.
He shoves his hands deep into his pockets, fingers finding a cold band of silver tucked against his hip. The metal chills him through his shirt, skin tingling where the silver touches his hands, and his fingers tremble as he grasps at it desperately, the metal biting into his hand, smooth to the touch but so cold it burns.
People in masks pass him on the sidewalk, children in costumes talking animatedly, out long past when they should have been home. Weary adults eye him as they pass, gripping their children's hands tighter, their bodies tense. Teens in costumes meant for adults slip by, giggling and staring, talking in hushed whispers as they glance his way, stumbling slightly, alcohol on their breaths. Natsu doesn't wear a mask. Where he's going he won't need one.
Slowly, he pushes his free hand through his hair, pulling at the tangles, his brightly dyed hair in knots, mangled. His roots are long past beginning to show again, but he hasn't had the energy to bleach them again, the dark strands over an inch long, the pink in his hair faded, almost hazy, muted. He looks like he belongs here, alone in the dark, the streets dark and the air damp, the smell of rotting pumpkins hanging in the air.
He takes a deep breath, eyes squeezing shut. He craves the cigarette he already put out, fingers itching to grab the pack shoved into his back pocket, but he holds back. There are only three left, three hours until midnight, the witching hour. Three hours until Mavis will see him. One cigarette per hour, that's what he promised himself.
Lucy always hated it when he smoked, said one day his lungs were just going to give out on him. He would only laugh, tell her he wasn't worried about his lungs, but it never stopped her from frowning at him, lips twisted in a way that made him sad to see, her eyes dark, no spark of life left to them, a hazy clouding her golden eyes.
Natsu would tell her a joke then, run his fingers along her rib cage until she cracked a smile and laughed and laughed until she cried. And he would kiss that smile, ash on his tongue, roses and smoke in the air, and she would call him an idiot and everything would be okay. They were okay. They were always okay.
He quit for a while, twice. The first was when they were younger, before he couldn't go more than a few hours without feeling the smoke in his lungs, the burning in his chest and in his throat, before her father came back and his disappeared and everything went to shit. He couldn't handle the stress and neither could she, but they always did have different vices. Natsu was slowly killing himself and Lucy bought novels she would never read, stacking bookshelves with paper and ink, money blown on fairy tales and paperbacks in languages they could never speak.
The second was after she was already long gone, December creeping along his skin like a disease, the bright leaves and spicy scent of autumn giving way to bitter winds and cold hearts.
She always joked that he was slowly killing himself, the cigarettes burning holes in his lungs, and he meant to quit after she—and he meant to, but at that point he figured he was already gone too.
"So what are we planning to do this year?" she asked him, propping her chin on her hands and leaning over him. Lucy cocked her head to the side, a small smile pulling at her lips as she stared down at him. Her hair spilled around her in a great sheet, messy and tangled from his fingers playing with the strands. She turned silver and gold in the moonlight, lips the color of wine and her eyes ringed in darkness. She wiggled her toes and the candles in the room danced, floating off the shelves and casting shadows on the walls.
Natsu watched the lights flicker as he considered her question, tucking an arm beneath his head. The candles winked back at him, wisps in the blackness, and his free hand found Lucy's skin, thumb drawing shapes down the length of her arm. Goosebumps followed the path of his finger, and she sighed softly, leaning into his touch.
"Do you want to do something?" he asked instead of giving her an answer. Natsu never did know what to do on Halloween. He never liked parties and it seemed too sad to sit alone at home and watch movies late into the night, though perhaps it could be different with Lucy there. He wouldn't be alone then. Lucy was different in that way. She loved Halloween, the weather and the costumes and the lights. But more than that she loved the atmosphere, the magic that wasn't quite magic.
Lucy waved a finger through the air and the candles began to spin one by one. The flames changed color, switching from off-white to blue to a red so vibrant he had to look away. "I don't know," she told him, sighing and shifting on the bed until she could slink beneath the covers. Lucy curled tight to his side, humming to herself when he draped his arm around her, lips brushing against the side of her head. "I want to go out, but…" Lucy trailed off, fingers tracing an idle pattern on his chest.
"But it's dangerous," he finished for her. Natsu's fingers pattered against her side erratically, his lips twisting into a deep frown. "I know, Love." He mouthed the words against the side of her hair, unable to see her eyes.
He hated their situation just as much as she did. He hated every moment he couldn't be seen walking with her on the streets, ever aware of the Hunters watching him—watching them. If they were to find out about Lucy there would be consequences for the both of them. Natsu would be stripped of his title, his last connection to Igneel gone forever. And Lucy, well, he would lose her forever.
The risk to her was greater than it ever was to him, but she stayed with him regardless, uncaring of the consequences.
They should have been more careful.
"How about," Natsu started, lolling his head against hers, his words muffled by the waves of her hair, "we go out, just you and me?" Her fingers stopped drawing circles, her nails dragging against his skin sharply. The candles flickered wildly, flames turning black as they swirled around them, reacting to her mood.
Lucy took a deep breath, and Natsu stilled, knowing what she would say.
Warm lips pressed against his jaw, surprising him. Lucy lingered there for a long moment before pulling away. "I'd like that." She smiled against him.
Natsu wets his lips as he pushes away from the building, heading off into the night. Three hours left. He didn't mean to come here so early, knowing he'd just have to wait in the city for hours, but it was better than being alone. From his apartment he always had a perfect view of the local park, and from his window he could watch the people walk by in their costumes, children tripping over themselves as they hurried from to door.
He would stand and stare every Halloween, horror movies playing in the background, reminiscing. Lucy would come up behind him and wrap her arms around his waist, grinning and smelling of popcorn, her fingers cold as she slipped them beneath his sweater. She'd hold him for as long as he stood there, watching the monsters pass below his window, trying not to think of the beasts that walk among them, of the blood on his hands, crusted beneath his nails where he couldn't reach them.
Lucy would hum under her breath, rocking them both, and her magic would wash over him like a warm blanket, chasing away the cold. He would have thought she'd shy away from him, wary of his touch after knowing what he'd done the night before, but she would only sigh, singing in a language he didn't understand.
Eventually she would coax him from the window, pulling him down onto the couch and she'd wrap herself around him so tightly he wasn't sure where he ended and she began, the two of them a tangled mess of limbs.
Things were always easy between them, even though they shouldn't have been. They were a match made in hell, but things were good. They fought through the bad together.
Natsu squeezes his eyes shut, running a hand through his messy hair. His teeth dig into his lip so hard it bleeds, a copper taste flooding his mouth. He grimaces, but doesn't spit, swallowing down the bitter taste on his tongue, familiar with it after so many years. Slowly, his hands slip into his pockets, fingers playing with the chilled slip of metal tucked against his side. It heats beneath his touch, familiar.
Shaking his head, he squeezes his eyes shut, blindly wandering the streets. He finds the lighter in his other pocket, thumbing it, though he's careful not to catch fire. He doesn't have a witch to put him out anymore. Instead he'd just burn, burn, burn like she did.
A trial by fire, that's what they used to call it. They'd tie witches to the stake and burn them to dust, nothing left of them but charred skin and bones, a lingering smell of decay in the air, the dull buzz of magic ringing in their ears, blown away with the wind. All things burn, fade away into nothing. And it wasn't just the witches, it was everything.
Igneel used to tell him stories of when he was a young Hunter, how they would light up entire covens and watch them burn to the ground, razing them until there was absolutely nothing left. It was brutal then and still brutal now, though Natsu hasn't been on a hunt in over a year.
Natsu always knew there were monsters in the world, he just never knew he was one of them.
"What do you think will happen if they find out about us?" Lucy asked him, peering up at him from over the top of her spell book. A little ball of light danced around her hand, weaving between her fingers, almost alive. Her familiar, a gray cat named Happy, lounged across the back of the couch by her head, his paw barely touching her. His tail flicked slowly, content, but wary. The familiar was critical of him at first, vowing to keep Lucy safe from Hunters, but then Natsu walked right in through their door.
Natsu glanced back at her, shrugging on his jacket as he lingered in the doorway. Worn gloves covered his hands, his clothing dark, meant for the hunt. Crocus was a busy place, and his division had been there for near fifty years, only half as long as the Crocus Coven of witches nearby. He wasn't hunting witches that night, his gun loaded with silver bullets, vials of wolfsbane at his hip, moonstones glinting in his ears.
He sent her a roguish grin, eyes flashing in the light of the full moon. "Your Coven or my Division?" he asked her, more bitter than anything else. The words dripped from his tongue like poison, and Lucy stiffened. Happy's tail stopped twitching.
Lucy drew her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing it slowly. Her shoulders drooped, and she closed her eyes with a tired sigh, shutting her book with a loud thump. The wisp of light disappeared, the room going dark. "Both?" She shook her head with a laugh. "Would it make a difference which?"
He wet his lips. "Maybe." He turned around to face her fully. "Cana liked me," he reminded her, trying for a smile, but the point was moot. Lucy didn't respond, but she didn't need to, he already knew what she would say. The fortune teller was critical of him at first, but after he agreed to let her read his cards she warmed up to him, though there was always something shadowed in her gaze when she looked at him.
Natsu made a point to only hunt the wicked, those murdering humans for pleasure. He had no interest in murdering children in their beds like some hunters did, but he never stopped them. He should have stopped them. But he didn't, and that was something he'd never forgive himself for.
"You know what I think?" Lucy asked. Natsu's fingers curled around the doorknob, clenching around the metal tightly as he waited for her to speak, unable to meet her eyes. "I think they'd dance on our graves." Her voices carried across the room, her words chilling him to the bone. "Well," she continued after a moment, "my grave."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Natsu walks the streets until he ends up right back where he started, a cigarette in his mouth, staring at the worn bricks of the Coven building. He finds himself moving without meaning to, his feet pounding against the street as he hurries towards the Coven doors, the old building boarded up on one side, bricks crumbling down. The Coven has been there for years but it's only just now falling to pieces, so many witches leaving Crocus, searching for a safer place.
He wasn't part of the group that raided the Coven last year, but he might as well have slaughtered them all himself for his part in it. He lead his Division right to their doors, blinded by the magic and Lucy and the whiskey. He should have been paying more attention, but he was stupid that night. Natsu promised Lucy a fun night, but there was nothing good about it by the end of it.
The smell of ash and charred wood reaches his senses, decay clinging to the air even after a year has past. He swallows thickly, the scent of smoke tickling at his senses. Screams ring in his ears, a dozen voices begging to be let out, begging to let them live. Lucy's eyes turned gold in the firelight, her hair like fire whipping around her as she raced to the door, her fingertips skimmed the metal lock, but she drew back at the heat.
A hand fisted in her hair, dragging her backwards and she screamed and screamed for him to help her, but there was a weight on his back, something cold and steely pressed to his temple, cool dirt digging into his cheek.
The fire burned hot, so hot that everything turned white, the smoke blocking out the stars, and the smell—. He'll never forget the smell of burning bodies, Lucy's shrill call of his name as she went up in flames.
Somehow, he ends up in an empty room, the walls and windows dusty, a single candle flickering in the center of the room, flame going from white to blue when he steps into the room, practically daring him to come closer. He takes another step and the door slams behind him. There's a metal on metal sound as the locks twist shut, three of them, all magic, and he knows he won't be leaving anytime soon, not until she's done with him.
"Mavis," he greets, swallowing thickly, his voice rough from disuse. He doesn't turn around even as he feels her presence in the room, the immortal witch only a few steps behind him, waiting. Watching. She doesn't say a word, only stares at him, gauging his reaction to being here again, in this room marked with death. He only met her once before, last Halloween, when Lucy decided she was done hiding him from the Coven, from her family.
She never should have brought him here. They should have just stayed in his apartment, watched the children pass by and count the people in masks, all hiding in plain sight. Maybe things would have been different if they had have just stayed home.
There's a soft sound as footsteps creep closer behind him, Mavis taking a wary step closer to him. "What are you doing here?" she spits at him, more venom in her voice than he would have expected from such a small girl. The flame in the room flashes black for a moment, and the shadows turn to faces on the walls, accusing eyes staring back at him from the smoke.
He swallows, wetting his lips, and when he speaks his voice quivers. "It's Halloween," he reminds her, clearing his throat loudly. He doesn't look at her, doesn't think he could stand to. She looks so much like Lucy, but nothing like her at all. Mavis was always more of a ghost than anything else, a wisp of a woman, almost unreal.
"I know what day it is, Dragneel," she snaps at him. His hands clench into fists at the accusing note to her words, and Mavis sighs. The temperature in the room grows cold, near freezing. "Why are you here?" she asks again, softer this time.
Natsu squeezes his eyes shut, imagining Lucy's smile. The image he conjures isn't quite right anymore. He's been forgetting what she looks like, the alcohol numbing him so much he can barely see her when he closes his eyes, can barely remember the ay she tasted or the way her eyes would soften when she looked at him, fingers soft against his cheeks.
A heavy weight settles on his chest, cold fingers winding around his heart and squeezing.
"It's Halloween," he tells Mavis again, finally turning around to look at her. "This is the one day I can…" he trails off, unable to finish, and a pair of ghostly hands cup his cheeks, Lucy scent lingering in the air. Even now he can feel her with him, his ghost. She's been haunting him for a year and he's so tired. He just wants to forget it all, but not her. Never her.
"You want to go back to her," Mavis says simply, cocking her head to one side and staring at Natsu, almost looking right through him.
He nods, chewing his lower lip. "The witching hour, right?" He doesn't know if it's true or not, that their souls can linger and find each other again after so long. Lucy only mentioned it a few times, all off hand, like she couldn't bring herself to tell him the stories.
Mavis stares at him critically. "And why would I ever let you go back to her?" She takes a threatening step towards him, the candle flaring, burning hotter, enough to make him sweat. "After everything…" she trails off, shaking her head. Her gaze is fierce when she looks at him. "You should rot," she snarls. When he doesn't respond, she sighs. "If you could take it all back, would you?"
"No," he tells her honestly, Lucy's laughter ringing in his ears. "Not all of it." He couldn't trade her for all the world. "If I could change that night…" He can't finish, choking up.
Mavis remains unfazed. "But you can't."
He nods, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Lucy's key burns against his palm. Her last gift to him. She said it could unlock anything, that it was the key to where lost things can be found. She's lost to him, and Natsu thinks he might be lost, too. "I just want to see her again," he tells Mavis truthfully.
She doesn't respond for a long moment, floating closer to him, her eyes blank, though something in her face softens. He thinks she's about to turn him down, tell him to leave and find his own means to an end. That she won't help him find Lucy again.
Suddenly, she smiles at him.
The clock strikes twelve.
"I hope you burn with the rest of them," Mavis sneers, shoving her hand into his chest. Natsu chokes, blood welling in his throat and spilling from his mouth, his chest. There's a hole in his chest. He stares down at Mavis, confused, and everything burns. She twists her hand inside him and there's an awful squelching sound as she tears at his heart in his chest. His ears ring, vision blurring, and Mavis takes a step back. Her arm drips blood onto the floor, but that isn't what catches his attention.
There's a ball of light in her hand, a flickering orb that goes from red to white to black and then white again. It flickers, almost like a flame, dimming at the edges.
Natsu drops to his knees.
Hands come up to cradle his jaw and the entire room goes white, fingers tremble against him, touching him everywhere: his face, his neck, arms sliding around his shoulders and back to hold him up as he sways. He chokes on a strangled version of Lucy's name and suddenly she's in the room with him, crouched in front of him, hands on him, a ghost. She's dim at the edges faded in the moonlight, but just as beautiful as he remembers her.
Behind her, Mavis raises the ball of light to her mouth. Her lips are moving, but he can't hear what she's saying, his ears are ringing, white noise surrounding him. She pulls back just enough to look at him, expression blank as she cradles the light in her palms. It flickers, an ember slowly dying.
Lucy's lips form his name and she moves in and out of focus as a strange wave of dizziness rushes over him. He raises a shaky hand, cupping her cheek. She leans into him, solid beneath his touch, lips still moving, a smile curling at the edges of her mouth.
Lucy's lips form the words "I love you" and he tries to mouth it back, blood spilling over his lips. She leans forward then, fingertips light against his cheeks and lips meeting his in a sweet, gentle kiss. He kisses her back as best he can, hands trembling as they settle against her back. She sighs against him, lower lip trembling as her lips move against his.
She tastes like honey and death.
Mavis releases the light into the air, and it flickers once before winking out of existence. The world goes white with it.
Lucy leans over him, fingers tracing the shape of his jaw, so light he can barely feel her. Her hair falls around her like a curtain, a small smile pulling at her lips. Her side is pressed tight against his, her body twisted to cover his like a blanket, and in the hazy light she turns to gold, spilling around him like sunlight, an all encompassing warmth that he can feel down to his bones. She doesn't say a word to him, only stares, but the silence is weightless.
"I found you," he whispers, forcing himself upright. There's no pain in his chest, he realizes dully, hand shaking as he raises it to Lucy's jaw, cradling her to him. She grins when he presses his forehead to hers, thumb tracing circles along her bare shoulder as his hands find her skin, touching everywhere he can reach to make sure she's really there.
Lucy giggles, nose bumping against his. "You found me," she echoes him, lips brushing against his, teasing but real. He can feel her on his skin, in his bones, so deep he could never lose her again. His heart squeezes when he hears her voice for the first time in a year.
Slowly, he guides her down to meet him, his grip on her turning desperate as his mouth meets hers in a sweet kiss, their lips moving together in a familiar rhythm. He remembers her like she was never lost to him, fingers trembling against her skin as he holds her to him. Her hands find his hair, holding him close, and a ghost whispers in his ear the things she said to him before.
He pulls back enough to breathe. "And they'll be dancing on our graves," he whispers against her lips, his nose brushing against hers gently. She only smiles against him.
{take me back to the night we met.}
AN: Have a nice night everyone!