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Auxilium
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I know the warnings, disclaimers, author's notes are always so long and rambling, but I'll only be including them in this first chapter – so please do read them before advancing, you won't have to again!
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Warning: This piece of fiction contains strong adult situations, including but not limited to sexual situations and the passing mention of both physical abuse and alcohol abuse. Though glossed over, they are still heavily implied. Please do not read if either of these topics are triggering to you. I've tried to minimize them as much as possible, but better safe than sorry.
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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"All art is quite useless."
Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
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The rain seemed relentless lately, Gray Fullbuster mused as he took another drag from his cigarette. Despite the steady approach of spring, it had poured without fail from morning to night for the past week – you could barely tell where dusk ended and night began. While there had been the occasionally sparse pockets of sunshine here and there (it was the end of February, after all), streetlamps stayed lit and unwavering regardless, glowing phantoms against the monsoon.
Exhaling, Gray took one last drag before flicking the cigarette out into the curtain of water before him. Fortunately enough, he had been able to sprint towards a vacant shop awning just before the shower reached its crescendo – and it was painfully obvious by his third cigarette that the rain wasn't going to relent any time soon. Fuck Lyon, fuck Ultear, fuck everyone, and fuck him, especially. Storming out without his damn umbrella, as if he was some unruly, angst-ridden teenager…there was no way he could go back to get it tonight, especially after that dramatic exit. Gray would get it later – tomorrow, or maybe the day after. Whenever he felt up to it, really. It wasn't like he was planning on going anywhere any time soon, especially with the new gallery opening looming dangerously before him.
When was the last time he had created something worthy of a gallery opening, anyway? Months? Years, even? Maybe…never? Never…maybe he had never, in all of his twenty-six years, produced something worth tagging with a price…what a troubling thought. In a way, though, it was also strangely comforting – he still had a chance to impress before his fifteen minutes were up.
Maybe he just needed a muse. Something to inspire him, shirk him out of this clouded reverie he seemed to have stumbled upon, and give him reason to press pencil to paper instead of staring at his apartment ceiling for hours on end.
Feeling in the pocket of his leather jacket for another pack of cigarettes, Gray grimaced when skin met fabric. Fuck. He could have sworn he had…another…pack…digging into the pockets of his denim pants, all four of them, also proved fruitless. Cellphone, keys, wallet – all present and accounted for, but no cigarettes. Maybe it was time to brave the downpour and hail a taxi. Technically, he was still downtown, and it was a Friday evening, well after the end of a workday – taxis should be plentiful, as long as the rain hadn't stalled the traffic flow. As if on cue, directly across the street, a large, canary-yellow car stalled, its light box bright against the dreary city backdrop. Yes! It was empty and operating.
Looking both ways before leaping into a sprint, Gray held up his forearm, grimacing as needles of freezing rain pricked his face and bare hands. Damn, he didn't mind the cold so much, but this rain was really starting to tick him off. Opening up the taxi door, Gray slid onto the backseat, shaking the water out from his hair. Before he could open his mouth, the opposing door opened, and a figure flew in next to him, drenched and shivering.
Oh, hell no. This was his cab.
"I got here first." Gray didn't care if he sounded like a childish little shit at this point, he already accepted that he had regenerated back into a preschooler – wasn't that how Lyon had described him barely an hour prior? In addition, he truly didn't want to force interaction with anyone other than the cab driver and his doorman at this point. Not that he was a loner, no; he enjoyed company greatly…when he wasn't in one of his moods.
The figure turned to look at him, eyes up-turned and red-rimmed. At first their gender was indiscernible - female, at the very most effeminate Gray decided – but their wardrobe was not helping in the slightest. Between an obviously soaked knit hat, scarf, and matching thick winter coat, the figure's body was ultimately shielded from any real telltale shape. Their cheeks flushed a deep red momentarily underneath his scrutiny, mocking the bloodshot eyes, both contrasting greatly against the shock of blue hair plastered to their forehead. Drops of water leaked from the knit cap, threading through their thick, black lashes. Girl, definitely girl – Gray would have thought her face instantly beautiful, almost bewitching with her shock of blue hair and ethereal glow, if it were not for the jarring, bloodied split on the left side of her lip. Squinting, he couldn't help but note there was slight discoloration and swelling encircling the same area, as if she had been…
A loud thump against the cab door jerked them both out of their respected thoughts. The girl's eyes found his again, pleading.
"Please," her voice broke on the last syllable, though very soft and melodic, "I will pay the entire fare, yours included –"
The door closest to her side swung open cutting her off, rain pelting inside as another figure stood hunched by the taxicab, staring at the girl. His dark eyes rested on her, brightening instantly. There was something so eerily familiar about this man's presence. This was proving more irksome than he had anticipated.
"Ah, Juvia," the man's voice was hoarse, baritone, and slightly accented, accompanied with a warm smile, "come out of the cab, darling. We need to get you back inside and get you a change of clothes, you'll catch a cold if you stay in those wet things."
"I'm going back to my place," she responded timidly, directing her gaze away from his, "please leave, you're letting the rain in."
His eyes clouded cruelly at her rejection, but his smile didn't falter.
Grasping her upper arm, the man leaned further in, completely oblivious to Gray – and the driver's – presence. His olive-toned skin stood out against the taxicab's pale light, but nothing was more prominent than the strange facial tattoo resting above his right brow bone. A quiet voice in the back of Gray's head was relentlessly nagging at him, but the young man quickly shoved it away. It didn't take a genius to add up what was happening here, and Gray had lost what little he had left of his already waned patience. Grabbing the man's hunched shoulder, Gray pushed him, the grip he had on the girl instantly breaking.
"She said she doesn't want to go with you," he growled, shoving the man again, more forcibly this time. He stumbled back onto the street, his silhouette clouded by the rain,
"Now fuck off before I call the cops."
Reaching across the girl's lap, Gray stretched over to grip the taxi door's handle, slamming and locking it immediately on contact.
Turning his attention back to the driver (who, despite the commotion, was fiddling around with a text message on his personal cellphone) barking at him to hurry up and drive. The damn meter beside the steering wheel had already been running for several minutes. Of course the damn cabby would account for those ridiculous dramatics in the total.
"Address, sir?"
Oh, right.
"477 West Belford Avenue, please," deep down, he didn't want to frighten the poor girl with his bluntness, but getting back to his apartment was top priority. Turning back to her, their eyes locked once more, and Gray nodded towards the driver, signaling for her destination as well.
"I…I have the same address," she muttered, turning back to stare out at the passing traffic.
Gray's ears pricked. Tempted to steal another look at her, he relented, but only for a moment. The girl's profile was illuminated lightly by the flickering streetlights, only giving a small taste of her appearance to his peripheral vision. Despite the flush that never seemed to leave her cheeks, her skin was very pale, and he knew the swelling on her cheek would soon give way to a horribly mottled bruise. She was young, possibly even younger than him, which was rather strange – he hadn't seen anyone else even remotely close to his age in the building since he had moved there several years prior. The loft he rented was big enough for him and his studio work, but the majority of the other tenants that lived in his building were either middle-aged businessmen and women, or other well-established artists and architects. Obviously she was a part of the latter group, her blue hair was hard to miss – so obnoxiously artsy it could almost be called endearing. There was no way that was natural.
She was also still in that soaking wet coat.
"Hey," he nodded in her direction, breaking the silence of the cab ride. Her eyes fluttered over to him as he shrugged off his leather jacket,
"Take off that and put this on," he handed the garment over to her – it probably reeked of cigarettes, but it was dry, "it's better than what you have on."
The girl hesitated before accepting the jacket, muttering a soft 'thank-you' as she held it up before her. Gray turned away while changed, attempting to focus on the traveling raindrops running down the cab's windowpane. It wasn't like she was undressing completely, but he still felt a pang of guilt watching her remove any garment of clothing in the state she was been in. His curious mind, however, wasn't as much a gentleman as he was, and it took little to no prompting to convince him to sneak a glance just as she removed her knit cap. More blue hair spilled down in water-laden waves, resting just below her collarbone. She was wearing a simple, long-sleeved, navy blue shirt underneath that heavy winter coat; quite thoroughly soaked through as well, judging by how it clung to her body in areas Gray knew he had no business looking. Yep, he had been correct in his assumption. Turning his gaze back to the window while she put on his jacket, Gray rested his chin on his upturned hand, as his elbow perched by the pane. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, he determined, as he felt her form relax back into their shared seat. It was just…heavy. A heavy silence – a silence that contained a lot of probing questions, none of which Gray really wanted to ask but that he really wanted answered.
"Juvia, right?" Her body tensed slightly before she nodded tersely.
"Thank-you," she turned back to gaze at him. "You really didn't have to do that. Giving me the jacket and…I could…I –"
"No, it's fine." He cut her off. The last thing he wanted her to do was apologize.
"I'll pay for the cab."
"No, I've got it,"
"Please, I honestly couldn't let you…"
"I said it's fine. I've got it, don't worry," he sighed running his hands through his hair as they adjusted back to their heavy silence. Gray was absolute shit with girls and their emotions, let alone girls that had obviously been in crazy ex-lover/boyfriend/husband standoffs. Paying for the cab was nothing in the grand scheme of things.
"I really appreciate it," Juvia supplied, turning her attention back to her own window.
"Don't take this the wrong way," Gray began again, "but I've never seen you around the apartments, and I've lived there for the past two years – I think I'd recognize someone with blue hair."
For a moment he thought she hadn't heard him, or at the most, chosen not to. He didn't blame her – small talk was awkward. Flickering his eyes back to her body he noticed she was looking directly at him once again, her deep blue eyes curious and impish. Calculating. It was if she had been memorizing his face, inch by inch, before he caught her. Her blush darkened once again as she lifted her scarf to her upturned nose.
"It was a rather recent transaction. I've been living with my…I've been living on this side of town for about a year." The scarf muffled her voice, but it was still discernable.
"Why the rental?"
A beat passed, and Juvia's eyes flickered back to him, only for a moment.
"Well…" The girl burrowed deeper into her scarf, exhaling, "I wanted a back-up plan, I suppose."
Oh. Right. Fuck. See? Fucking awful with this kind of stuff, absolutely wretched. Of course she didn't want to talk about this shit, who would? He wasn't a friend to her; he was still just a stranger in a taxicab.
At least that confirmed a good portion of Gray's questions – the man, the quarrel, her lip – though, he wasn't even aware that there had been apartments for sale as of late in his building. Showed how much he paid attention to the world outside of his studio these days. Maybe she had been roaming around and he had just been too engrossed in work to notice.
"What's your name?"
The taxi pulled to the side of the road, gears shifting into park.
"Gray," he reached into his pants pocket, pulling out his wallet as he checked the taxi's meter. Forty bucks? Yeesh. Handing the driver several bills, he turned back to face her, hoping she'd take the hint that they had arrived and she needed to get out before the damn driver decided to run that meter again. He had more cash and a card or two, but his bed was calling.
"Like…the shade?" She only blinked in response, and Gray deadpanned in return. He hadn't questioned her weird name.
"I come from a long line of pretentious fuckwit artists," his eyes flicked back to the meter before motioning towards the door. Blushing again, she grabbed her coat and exited, Gray following suit.
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That taxicab's heater was nothing compared to the one blasting in their building. Gray pressed for the lobby's elevator, Juvia to his left and the doorman nowhere to be seen. She wasn't short, but she wasn't tall, either – the top of her head just barely reached his collarbone. They both shifted uneasily underneath the all too-bright fluorescent lights.
"You're an artist, then?" her eyes glittered, impressed, and Gray could barely look at her without gaining a full-frontal view of cleavage, despite the scarf and his jacket. That navy shirt she wore underneath was cut dangerously low for just a casual top.
"I guess you could say that," Gray stepped into the elevator as the doors opened, Juvia following behind him like a puppy, "which floor?"
It wasn't a complete lie – he was an artist. If you could call ripping up sketches and getting so impossibly angry you finished an entire bottle of whiskey while chain-smoking cigarettes in under an hour artistic behavior, sure. He was an artist. Had been one for years, matter-of-fact.
"3," Juvia smiled as Gray pressed her floor as well as his, the doors shutting them out from the lobby. Silence enveloped them once again, but this time it was lighter – easier.
As the elevator dinged and its doors opened to her floor, Juvia handed Gray his jacket back.
"Thank-you, again," she smiled warmly, waving to him as she exited.
Gray raised his arm, fully intending on waving back, but the elevator doors closed too soon and she was gone. Digging his half-raised arm back into his pants pocket, he instead pulled out his keys, fingering their blunt ridges as the final floor number flashed onto the elevator's digital screen. What a fucking weird night.
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Throwing the jacket onto his kitchen counter, Gray also disposed of his shirt, pants, socks and shoes in a pile by the door, padding over to his fridge to take out a bottle of beer. After taking several gulps, he walked towards his blinking answering machine and grimaced. Five missed calls, three messages. Great.
"Good Day, Mr. Fullbuster. My name is Jose Porla, and I'm the gallery direc– "
Delete.
"Babyyy, c'mon pick-up the phone, I know you're there…I miss y – "
DELETE.
"Gray…I'm – we're – very sorry about what happened tonight. If you felt cornered…that wasn't our intention. There…are still some things we need to discuss. Give me a call when possible so we may arrange a meeting more convenient for you. Your umbrella is here, by the way."
Click.
It was the only message Gray allowed to run its course, but he swiftly pressed delete once it had finished.
The apartment's landline was primarily for his business calls or commissions. Ultear must have known he would ignore her attempts on his blasted cellphone. Sighing, Gray walked back to his clump of clothes, fishing out the smartphone in question before trudging up the staircase to his bed, half-empty bottle of beer in his grip sloshing against his thigh.
Taking one last chug out of the bottle before placing it on the bedside's table, Gray glanced outside at the city skyline before him. No stars, too many lights, but no rain.
Closing the curtain, Gray climbed into bed and closed his eyes.
Notes: Oh man, to say I've been working on this for a while would be an understatement. It took me a few days to plan, just over a week to write, and two weeks to edit. I cannot make any promises, however, I will attempt to update as frequently as I can - and with hopefully longer chapters. There is a beacon of light, though! At least you know I will be painstakingly involved in this story, so much so that I will try to always publish something worth reading (and not half-assed!) (…maybe). I wasn't really proud of the original draft honestly, but I'm feeling loads better about this reworked version. The plot is still being tweaked (insert cringe here), I'll be honest about that as well, but this only means I'm open to interpretation and suggestions if you have any!
Constructive reviews are welcome, and positive reviews keep the midnight oil burning!
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