Lucy didn't get a response that night.
Or the night after that. Or the night after that. Or the following night. In fact, she didn't get a response for many nights—so many nights that she'd lost count. Days, weeks, months passed. Nothing. Not a single dot of ink from her soulmate. No drawings, no sense of being together, no magic. Just silence. Years trickled by.
The girls began to grow up. They'd moved from grade one to grade two in no time; from grade two to grade three just as quickly. The excitement and curiosity about soulmates began to wane and wear off; slowly, bit by bit, the concept became a part of everyday life for them. They didn't rush to each other in the morning, demanding to know if anyone had gotten a response from their soulmate. They didn't spend every waking moment chatting about what they hoped their soulmates were like. Slowly, day by day, the girls began to grow out of their wonder.
Except for Lucy, of course.
Lucy was as determined as ever. Years passing by with no response didn't seem to phase her much; she was frustrated, sure, but her dedication never wavered. She would come home from school and scrub all of the ink from her skin and start again, drawing beautiful new pictures for her soulmate to admire.
And Jude watched as his daughter continued to draw, continued to be absolutely in love with the idea of love. And god, he was terrified—but he admired her for it.
She still asked a lot of questions. Sometimes, she'd ask the same questions over and over, trying to make sense of everything in her brain. She was like her mother in that sense—they wanted to compartmentalize every bit of information they received. Lucy seemed mystified by the idea of her soulmate being out there—and even more mystified by the fact that this supposed soulmate was out there and simply decided not to reply to her.
Jude initially wondered if he should be worried. Would Lucy's focus on getting a response from her soulmate distract her from her current, everyday life? Would she be too caught up in what could be rather than what is?
But he'd look at his little girl, and he'd see that fierce determination in her eyes—nearly identical to the same look on Layla's face when he'd first met her, and he couldn't force himself to intervene. That was his little girl, and this was who she was. Fierce, headstrong, stubborn…she'd force her soulmate to reply if she had to. She'd pester that boy until he broke.
And Jude absolutely adored her.
He knew if Layla was here, she'd be laughing. She'd watch Lucy draw carefully, watch her put her entire heart and soul into that ink. Layla would praise their girl, tell her to chase her dreams and follow her heart. Layla would support their girl no matter what.
And so, Jude would too. He'd be there, all the way. Even when the other parents gave them funny looks because his daughter was in the middle of a restaurant using the children's crayons to draw a butterfly on her forearm, he'd be there. He'd smile and he'd help in any way he could.
Because Layla would've wanted him to.
Things settled a little as Lucy grew older. She still drew pictures all over her arms and legs for her soulmate to wake up to, but she wasn't as obsessed with the concept. By grade seven, she'd stopped pestering Jude with questions. She'd taken every book about soulmates from the library and read them several times; once she'd finished, she'd go through them all again and reread them. Her frustration had become more internal; she didn't go to bed moping about anymore because she hadn't gotten a response.
But, even after all of these years, she hadn't given up. She'd decided to be an absolute constant force, one that wouldn't desert her soulmate despite his silence. She would be there, through thick and thin. She figured, as his soulmate, it was her job.
But even the strongest fall down sometimes—and there was bound to be a moment of weakness for Lucy.
That moment of weakness occurred in eight grade.
It had been a normal day. Lucy had woken up to her alarm blaring in her ear. Exhausted, she'd made her way downstairs for breakfast with her dad. She'd shoved her blueberry pancakes in her mouth, chugging back some milk while chatting with her dad, as per usual. And just like she did every day, Lucy finished her meal and headed up to her room, and checked over her arms and legs, looking for any signs of a drawing from her soulmate.
Of course, there was nothing. She'd known that. She'd been expecting that. She'd gone through this ritual every single day for years, and nothing had changed. Besides—she hadn't felt the magic. The magic Levy described, the sensation every single person who'd ever communicated with their soulmate talked about. There hadn't been any magic, any connection today. And so, when Lucy didn't find any new, unfamiliar drawings, she simply got up and got changed for school.
She'd gotten on the bus, her headphones in her ears. She'd watched the town whirl by as she stared out the window, just like every other day.
But when she'd gotten to school, everything had changed.
"Hey, Levy," Lucy had mumbled as she walked into class, dumping her bag on her desk. She flopped into her seat with a heavy breath; she'd had a terrible sleep and was far too exhausted for the school day. "What's up?"
"Not much," Levy had murmured. She was distracted; she was busy finishing up a detailed little drawing on the inside of her palm. "Just talking with him. How's your morning going?"
"Meh," Lucy said, opting to watch Levy draw rather than stare glumly at her textbooks.
It had been several years now that Levy had been communicating with her soulmate; they'd gotten to the point where they sent each other a drawing every couple days, just to check up on one another. Levy swore every drawing felt just as magical as the first one, but it had become a happy little routine of hers.
Her soulmate was an extremely intimate topic, and she didn't like to talk about him much; she equated speaking about him to sharing her most important secret. But, Lucy was her best friend, and Levy had been communicating with him for so long…this was normal. Lucy had seen Levy draw several pictures for her soulmate.
Before Levy had the chance to complete her drawing to her satisfaction, the classroom doors flew open and two bodies walked through: Juvia and Erza. The pair made their way over to Levy and Lucy, joining them.
"Something's wrong with Erza," Juvia noted, taking a seat beside Levy and crossing her arms.
Lucy frowned. "What do you mean?"
Erza rolled her eyes. "Nothing's wrong with me."
"Look at her!" Juvia muttered, shaking her head as she ignored Erza's words. "She spent the entire bus ride all quiet, with this moody look on her face. Something is very wrong."
Lucy and Levy peered up at Erza, searching her face.
She looked like she normally did; her stark red hair was tied back into a long ponytail and her clothes were crisp as per usual. Her expression was flat, giving Juvia a look of annoyance.
Levy sighed. "She looks fine to me, Juvia."
"See?" Erza sneered. "I look fine to her."
Lucy's eyes searched Erza's face as she playfully bickered with Juvia. Levy was right—everything appeared to be in order, just like they normally would. Her expression, her voice…the same as they always were. But Juvia was right—there was something off about Erza. Lucy wasn't quite sure what it was.
She narrowed her eyes, staring at Erza.
Erza flicked Lucy on the nose; Lucy flinched and let out a little cry as she rubbed the tip of her nose.
"Ow! What was that for?"
Erza glanced at her, smirking. "Quit staring, dummy."
Lucy looked at Erza, about to throw back a witty retort, but something about the redhead made her freeze. Lucy's brown eyes landed on Erza's, instantly recognizing a look of…something strange inside of them. Lucy gasped, realizing what about her friend was so different.
Her eyes. Behind them was a strange look, one that Erza didn't have yesterday. It was a look of maturity, like Erza understood something that Lucy had yet to figure out.
"What's wrong?" Juvia asked, alarmed by Lucy's gasp.
"it's—" Lucy began, stuttering, still staring at Erza's eyes. "You—Erza, did you get a drawing?"
Levy gasped, then followed Lucy's lead and turned to stare at Erza. Juvia blinked, a little confused for a moment, before ultimately turning to Erza and asking, "Is that what's been going on with you today?"
Erza rolled her eyes, cheeks going red hot. Maybe it was the pressure of having her three best friends staring at her, demanding answers—or maybe it was the specific topic they were questioning her on that was making her blush. Either way, Erza blushing was very telling—throughout the years Lucy had known the redhead, she'd never seen her blush.
"Maybe."
"I knew it!" Lucy sputtered, lips spreading into a wide grin.
Levy clapped her hands together. "So? How was it?"
Juvia tucked her hands under her chin, leaning in. "Oooh, tell us."
"Relax," Erza mumbled, rolling her eyes again. She pulled up her long sleeves, revealing a little cluster of stars beside her elbow. "Happened last night, out of nowhere."
"What did it feel like?" Lucy asked, interest piqued. She'd been desperately waiting to meet another person who'd communicated with their soulmate so she could hear what it was like—she wanted as much information on it as possible.
Erza's cheeks grew to a darker shade of red. "Like…nothing I could've imagined."
"In a good way?" Juvia asked.
"In the best way." Erza paused, struggling to find the appropriate words. "It was like nothing else existed but him and me, and…" she trailed off, shrugging. "Magic."
Lucy swallowed, peering down. At the edge of her sleeves, she could just see the start of one of her drawing peeking out over the fabric. Her heart skipped a beat.
"Did you draw anything back?" Juvia asked.
Erza shrugged. "Not yet."
Lucy frowned. "Why not?"
Erza made a face. "I don't know what to draw."
Levy shook her head. "Well, you've gotta draw something!"
"Like what?"
"Maybe some stars back?" Juvia offered. "But something more personal might be best."
Erza swallowed. "Personal?"
"Here," Levy said, offering the redhead a pen. "Draw from the heart."
The three girls watched Erza mutter out nonsense, put the pen to her skin, and freeze. She stood there, still as a rock, for at least thirty seconds. Then, she scribbled out a small drawing before peering back up at her friends. She flashed them her wrist, showing the drawing. "Is this okay?"
Levy put her head down; Juvia let out a groan.
Lucy ran her eyes over her friend's wrist, letting out a snort when she realized that Erza had just sent her soulmate a tiny little sketch of a knife.
"Very romantic," Lucy murmured sarcastically. "You'll knock him right off his feet."
Erza shot her a glare. "Don't make me hurt you."
The bell rang, signalling class would begin soon; the girls got settled into their seats, halting the conversation for a more private moment later.
And maybe she would've been okay, if that was all that had happened. She could've gone on with her life, been disappointed by her silent soulmate—but she would've been alright. She would've gone home and talked with her dad and run up to her room to draw on her arms again. She would've gone to bed hopeful for something more.
But Erza wasn't the only one to get a drawing that day.
In the middle of class, Juvia let out a little gasp. Lucy, who sat beside her, frowned and asked if she was alright. But Juvia seemed confused, in a daze; she frowned and peered down at her wrist, touching it with her other hand. And then, before either girl understood what was happening, little black lines began to appear on Juvia's wrist.
When Lucy looked back up at Juvia, the blue haired girl was silently sobbing tears of joy.
She'd said the same thing—magic. Utter magic.
Lucy went home early, right after that class. She'd walked home with tears in her eyes, her heart shattering to pieces.
She was the only one out of the girls who hadn't received a response. It had been years and he hadn't replied. She'd been so excited to communicate with her soulmate, but he clearly didn't feel the same.
When Lucy walked in the door, Jude was already home.
"Lucy?" He called, rushing to her when he noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks. "What's wrong?"
"Dad," Lucy sniffled, begging for answers, "Why doesn't my soulmate love me?"
He tucked her hair behind her ears, petting her head. "He does, my girl—he does."
"Just not enough," She whispered, bursting into tears and throwing herself at her father, crying into his shoulder.
Jude hugged her to him, pressing his lips together, trying to hold back tears.
Lucy closed her eyes.
"He doesn't love me enough."
