billet-doux
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His perplexities finally came to a brim one day while he sat on a stout stool and Mirajane stood between his spread knees, trimming his hair. She'd just finished with the razor on the sides of his head and now worked on the longer top strands when Laxus broke the comfortable silence that spanned between them.
"What happened to you?" came Laxus' gruff voice.
In front of him, Mirajane proceeded as if she heard nothing, carefully eyeing and uneven strands. "Hm?"
"You used to be so different. Demon Mirajane just fucking up towns and making grown men shit their pants when she looked at them with that ice cold glare of a sadistic killer." Laxus elaborated, his lids still closed so nothing would fall into his eyes. He looked so peaceful, as if he wasn't talking about ghosts. "Now you're giving me hair cuts and you smell like a bag of Mrs Field's." There was more on the tip of his tongue, how she used to be so rough, the epitome of act before you think. How she was the metallic taste in his mouth after she kissed him and bit down until blood dripped down the side of his mouth. How she used to be a scary adventure, the most sordid of thrills, lightning under his skin, l'appel du vide.
No, she felt like something safe, something like a home he never wanted to leave.
Her fingers stopped working the thin scissors that snipped at his hair. "Do you hate it?" Mirajane responded, her voice so quiet as if she was afraid to be disappointed by his answer. She couldn't be different for him. This was who she was now, even if he preferred the volatile child that was her or how she had an impulsiveness that matched his. She thought about their youth, her chasing him like how dread came right after a thunderstorm. How every time they touched she felt static dance on her skin. Dangerous missions, reckless endangerment and hasty decisions.
(A toxic love.)
No, she liked the life she had now. She liked the person she came to be. Serenity and kindness was the best gift she'd given herself in the wake of tragedy, trauma and grief. She wouldn't deprive herself of that, not even for Laxus, not even though she loved all of him from the sin, the exile and then his own serenity.
"This is who I am now, Laxus." And she wanted to add: take it or leave it if you only love who I used to be. But she didn't because it was written all over her face.
"And this is who I love." He answered so simply that any fight that formed in her throat left with her next breath. "I'm just saying you're different."
"Is that bad?" she asked.
"No, not at all." He said. "I'm not telling you to change back or at all. I'll have what you give me."
Pleased, she dropped a kiss on the crown on his head. When she drew back, there was a grimace on her face. "Oh, ew." On her ruby gloss-slicked lips, the hair she'd been cutting stuck to it like a bad art project. She swiped the back of her hand over her lips, taking lipstick and hair.
Laxus laughed. Gently, he grabbed her chin to pull his face down until they were eye to eye. "Missed a spot." He rubbed the pad of his thumb on the corner of her lip where some smudge of red remained, erasing it until only pale pink skin was left. "Perfect." He proclaimed before he pressed his thumb and forefinger to the hollows of her cheeks to force her lips to pucker. Kissing her was easy then, first a brush of lips, then something more wholesome when she opened her mouth to him. When he kissed her, so gentle and sweet, there was something that was both soothing and fiery that moved in her heart.
"You know, you're different now, too." Mirajane remarked breathlessly once she drew away, a cherry tint on her face. "You're better at kissing now. You used to just shove your tongue down my throat until I choked on it."
Laxus' face was bright red when he told her to shut up.
note: this is me apologizing for all the horrible angst that i love to post xoxo