Thank you so much for the positive feedback! As it is, we all know Juvia's very quick to fall in love, so don't be surprised if it starts happening fairly soon. Idk what this story is about, but it's a pleasure to write it. And hopefully a pleasure to read! :)

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He had messy shaggy black hair and dark blue eyes. His skin was pale and only looked paler with his dark features. He wore a vest, opened for all of her furniture to see; his jeans rode low on his hips, hip bones almost tantalizing her in a way that Juvia did not think she wanted to be tantalized in.

Her eyes skimmed his abdomen, getting lost in the harsh lines that shaped the muscles; she quickly lifted them to the dark marking on the left side of his chest.

She didn't understand the symbol—the tattoo—but it was black, like his hair and his clothes and his blood.

Juvia lowered her eyes and stared down at her oatmeal, lips half-parted as she tried to concentrate on something—anything. Next to her, the napkin where she'd written down her number in sticky-like characters still laid, the blue of the ink making her think of Gray's eyes.

It's been two days since he appeared on her bed, following her into her apartment by pure chance and his offhanded way of making decisions. He was quiet and had read all the books on both the bookshelves in her living room and her bedroom in one single day. He did not eat and he did not sleep yet Juvia had absentmindedly made sure her couch looked and felt good enough to lie upon.

She kept trying to ask him what he was doing on earth—never mind her apartment, she had quit wondering that since the first day—but every time she asked, something or someone interrupted the conversation and switched to something entirely different.

Gray didn't seem willing to answer anytime soon, whether for mischief and fun or because it was something Bad, Juvia didn't really know.

She sighed and brought a spoonful of her breakfast to her lips, swatting some of her blue forelocks away from her eyes to allow her a better view of her new roommate as he stood in the middle of the living room, rereading one of the books he'd already read. And, she mused, maybe she was completely wrong in the head for not feeling any sort of negative feeling at sharing her apartment with a demon whose actual home was hell.

Maybe it was a sign that she was not normal.

Juvia pursed her lips for a second, eyes staring at the ceiling, before she shrugged.

Oh well, what else was new?

"You talkin' to yourself?" he asked, not looking up from the book.

Juvia's eyes turned towards him, blinking as she scooped another spoonful of oatmeal. "…No…"

Gray smirked down at the page he was on, and said nothing more. Behind him, the shadow of his tail twitched from one side to the other.

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The shower-head rained hot water down at her, steam floating around the bathroom and clouding her in a ball of comfort.

Juvia closed her eyes shut, lifting her chin up and allowing the water to pelt her face, hair tickling the small of her back. Thoughts raked her about Gray—nothing too severe; rather, curiosity. What was hell like? What was his role there? Why was he there—what did he do? Why did he resurface to earth and why didn't he just go back?

So many questions, and it wasn't like Juvia wanted them there—they just appeared upon being exposed to him.

Demons… They were real.

She dropped her chin down, blue hair curtaining around her as she gulped air.

Maybe she should just ask.

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She walked out to the living room, oversized wool-knitted sweater falling off her shoulders and sleeves swallowing her small hands. Her blue hair was damp, more curly than wavy and bangs stringy as they began to dry up. Gray was standing in the kitchen, seemingly doing nothing but observing—calculating, even. Juvia pursed her lips, maybe even memorizing, she decided.

She slid onto a barstool, watching him, her socked feet dangling in the air, swinging softly so she wouldn't hit the barred leg of the stool or the wooden counter.

"What is hell like," she asked, tilting her head to the side. She wondered if that's what it was called or if it was just another silly name humans had given it.

Gray turned around to face her, his dark blue eyes blank, forelocks messy and shadowing his face. He smirked and a tooth peeked out from the corner of his lips; a fang—demons had fangs, didn't they?

"Hell?" He tilted his head to the side, his messy hair brushing his bare shoulders.

Juvia furrowed her brow, wondering if he was confused at what she was exactly asking—what else could it be called…?

"There isn't a definite hell," he drawled, tilting his head back upright and leaning against the cool surface of the stainless steel fridge. "Like I said—your picture box fills you humans up with lies, it's almost ridiculous."

She furrowed her brow, her lower lip jutting out in a light pout. "You're really rude, you know."

"Che." He looked away, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His tail wrapped around his waist, like a belt, dark and camouflaging against his black pants. "Everyone has their own hell, just for them; designed just for them."

Juvia curled her hands on top of the counter, leaning forwards. "So… It's just one person in their own hell—just one person…? Alone… forever?"

Gray shrugged a shoulder and Juvia watched as the muscles constrained under his skin. "Well, yes and no."

"Hm?"

He stared at her. His eyes were a dark blue—a dark cerulean, almost violet-blue, almost gray, almost black. His lashes were thick and black, shadowing his pale cheekbones with every blink. They were icy cold, his eyes, and Juvia felt shivers run down her spine as they locked with her dark ones, any fight—any thought—to look away was gone because his stare demanded attention and she couldn't help but just give him that. The attention his dark presence demanded without any threats.

"You're alone until the nightmare of enduring your biggest mistake over and over begins. See," he lifted a hand up, walking out of the kitchen and towards the small living room. "My boss isn't as cruel as people make him out to be—he gives you a break. Seven days of being in the presence of something soothing, something kind. And then—boom. Your nightmares begin for the rest of eternity."

He is quiet then and Juvia was left to soak up the reality of everything—the fake reality that she'd lived with since she was a little girl, shattered and broken.

"And that's only if you're lucky."

Juvia looked back at him. "What… Do you mean?"

"If you're lucky, you'll just relive your nightmares, your biggest regret while alive. Mostly, you get a couple of hundreds of years of torture—hey, you must'a been a sick bastard if you landed in hell, yeah?"

Juvia stared at him.

"What's your hell like...?"

Gray remained quiet, shifting and lying on the couch, arms crossed behind his head and a leg bent at the knee. "It was a snow terrain."

"Oh, but that almost sounds peaceful."

"Che," Gray scoffed, looking away with what was almost anger. "I got my mentor killed in a snow terrain, long ago."

Juvia bit her lower lip and looked away. "Did you… Did you… Get tortured…?"

"Yes."

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Juvia gave up on sleep, that night.

She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling and fingers worrying at the strands of her hair. The window was open, even if a light drizzle was beginning to fall; the cool air was doing little to nothing to calm her scorching skin, but she admitted that the breeze felt good against her sweaty forehead.

It's not that she was getting nightmares—that was giving her the luxury of at least a bit of sleep.

But Juvia hadn't gotten a smidge; she closed her eyes but nothing came—her brain was still on and she still blinked even with her eyes shut, eyes moving under her lids. Thoughts plagued her—the heaviness of what Gray told her playing with her veins, squeezing out adrenaline that demanded she got up and did something because sleep was out of the question.

She moved her covers and stood up, fixing the waistband of her leggings and stepping outside of her room.

Gray was in the living room. The lights were off and he floated above the couch, legs crossed as he reread another book.

Juvia turned the lights on and the only notion that he acknowledged her presence was his tail's quick twitch.

"You're reading without lighting," she said to him, hugging herself as she approached the couch.

"I don't need lights," he said, sparing her a glance from his peripheral vision.

She rolled her eyes, "Right because you're a demon."

"Yup."

It was silent for a while and Juvia slid onto the couch's arm.

"Shouldn't you be asleep," Gray drawled, closing the book and setting it on his lap. He turned to her, bringing up a claw and scratching at his chin with the tip of it.

Juvia shrugged. "I can't sleep."

"Oh?"

"Your story jumbled me up," she said, looking away and tucking strands of her hair behind her ear.

Gray shrugged, "Yeah, s'why we're not supposed to say anything."

"And yet you told me?"

Juvia was perplexed. If not completely aggravated.

"Well," Gray shrugged again, turning towards her for a second before sitting onto the couch and stretching his legs out. "I had the choice of ignoring your question and continue to be bored, or tell you and have something to talk about. Side effect: your psyche getting a little bruised."

Yes, completely perplexed and aggravated.

"You have a very sick way of making decisions."

"Yeah, well."

Silence resumed and Juvia stared at the coffee table, sliding down to the couch and hugging her knees to her chest. They remained like that for what seemed like hours; at some point, Gray resumed his book an Juvia curled up at the corner of the couch. The drizzle outside turned into harsh rain and lightning soon followed.

"I can take you to the library," she said, a bit shy, her eyes still on the coffee table and never meeting Gray's even as he turned to look at her.

"Che?"

"The library," she repeated, shrugging. "You can get more books to read."

For the third time, silence fell over them and Juvia slowly turned to look at him from under her forelocks.

He was staring at the wall, as if putting it all together—or maybe making one of his ridiculous decisions. But he nodded, looking down to the book, and said, "Cool."

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At some point, Juvia fell asleep, her head on the couch's arm and her legs on Gray's lap.

She was asleep but she was sure she felt someone throw a blanket over her and in her dream it translated to a sunny day, holding hands with a shadow.