Hello all you wonderful people!
Okay, okay, who sucks? *raises hand* That's right, me. I was planning on finishing this by the end of July…. But that, um... obviously didn't happen... We can all blame summer vacation and my horrible attention spa- uhhhh butterfly!
'Thank you's and digital muffins to: AsDarknessSpreads, PokeTail, frozen-in-wonderland, MiniMcGiggles, dragonlover89, beTum, G-Juicy, dyingmockingbird, hakuryuusscar, Koori Fullbuster, Koutei's Empress and Akame-Ookami; you guys motivated me to update somewhere within this century.
ANYWAY! Would you all believe me if I said that this was far from a short and simple story that only dealt with Gray's death? I bet you're wondering: but how? What else is there beyond the angst, drama and sobby feels? Welp just keep reading!
Name: Sole Duty (Fairy Tail fic)
Summary: What is called a reason for living is also a reason for dying. Now if they could all just remember that. [Chapter 334. Alternate Timeline]
Genre: Tragedy, Friendship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama;
Chars: Gray F, Mavis V, Team Natsu;
Rating: T
Beta: LovelyWeather; (bless you everlasting patience with me… now go write your fanfic!)
Chapter 4
It was that moment of day, when the sun rests just in the right spot and turns a seemingly ordinary kitchen into a gorgeous sight. Warm hues of yellow spilling over the table through the dusty windowglass and curtains. Sunlight getting caught in glasses neatly aligned on the counter and reflecting shiny abstract shapes all around the walls.
It was beautiful.
It was the kind of sight that was best suited with a slow and casual piano piece, a cat flopped on its side, lazily napping in the sunlight and occasionally stretching. Or a silhouette, slim and delicate, drying dishes skillfully with a cloth, humming a melody light as air and just as uncatchable.
He had seen that scene somewhere. That homey, domestic picture of a life that had no place in his house. It was hidden somewhere deep within his mind. Buried underneath piles of debris and memories of fire and ruin, like a holy relic stashed away to preserve its purity.
Sometimes, he would lie down there on the kitchen floor. Stretch in that little patch of framed sunlight like the cat he imagined, and close his eyes, pretend he could hear that ghost of a lullaby and drift off.
He wished it was sunny.
Gray lay on his back on the tiled floor, staring up at the dreary clouds through the window weaving into each other and forming a thick complicated web. Rain pattered against the glass in irregular patterns. The entire room was pouring over into colorless depressing shades.
It was horrible.
Trying to take refuge like this. Trying to act and do common everyday things. Unlock the door to his house, turn on the light, take a book to read. And then act like his hand never slipped through any of them like through water. Pretend that this was just another lazy day off he took from doing demanding jobs all across Fiore. Pretend that he truly felt the coldness of the tiles on his back. Pretend that days hadn't flown by. And just pretend and pretend and pretend-
Pretend that he didn't die.
That none of it was real. Ultear's attempt at sacrifice, the earth-shattering reality, and every goddamn moment that followed never happened. That life didn't suddenly disqualify him, kick him out, and leave him without an explanation, but with the front-row seat to everything he didn't want to see.
Natsu. That fire-breathing dimwit that was his rival. That loud knucklehead of a teammate who handled everything with his fists. That idiot who needled his way under his skin. That moron of a friend… gently wrapping up that messy pile of limbs. Picking it up. Carrying it as if it were a sleeping person, easily woken up by even the slightest of jolts.
Erza and Lucy. Hurt and limping, holding onto each other and searching for them in the dark rainy streets with everything they had. And then suddenly stopping at the sight of them.
The familiar crowd of Fairy Tail members, worried and uneasy. Their heads turning to look at them. Faces either crumbling or hardening, one after the other. Whimpers and close-knitted hugs. Soothing words and muffled hiccups.
And he just stood out of that circle.
Isolated. Alone. With reality crashing all around him.
That was the moment when he ran away.
Turned his back to them with such ease he felt he should be reprimanded for it.
It felt like the best thing to do. Just walk away. Curl up into that little spot of sunlight like a child and just daydream of better times. Cover himself with lighter and sweeter thoughts and just… pretend it never happened.
He really, really wished it was sunny.
To not have this unfamiliar type of chill breathing down his neck. Not have this unwelcome weight nauseatingly roll around his stomach. To not think, rationalize, find a solution, or do anything that would lead him to acknowledge this.
A gentle click made him flinch. The sound of a key being nudged into a lock
Was he just imagining it or-?
The low creek of his front-door had him holding in a shaky breath. He stayed still, tense and dreading the sound of multiple feet shuffling and moving around.
With the first sound of a voice, something shifted inside him. "Um, where do I put this?"
"Just leave it there, Lucy," another voice said dismissively.
A third one firmly interjected, "There's an umbrella stand over there."
Gray bit his lip and begrudgingly got to his feet. Every step he took felt heavy, like he was dragging a ball and chain on each foot. He stopped in the kitchen's doorway. Watching as Erza, Lucy and Cana hung up their coats and let themselves in. Uninvited and bringing in what he'd been avoiding all this time.
The irrefutable truth he could no longer hide from.
~~ ( O ) ~~
"Alright," Erza stood up, leveling the crinkles on her skirt. "Let's do this," she said with a straight face. "Two will look for the picture and one for the suit."
"Will you forget about the damn picture?" the card-mage said offhandedly, sounding tired, "Just grab the suit and let's go."
Lucy glanced up amid taking off her shoes, eying the two carefully. The redhead frowned in response. "We need one. We're not using the one from the guild."
"Why not?" Cana pressed, "What's wrong with it?"
Erza didn't so much as bat an eyelash. "It's unfitting,"
"Well," she replied matter-of-factly, crossing her arms, "There aren't any others."
"That's why we're here Cana," Lucy gently piped in, trying to sound comforting and understanding. "To check."
This however had the opposite effect. Cana gave a sharp look. "He doesn't have any," she insisted, nearly growling it out.
"We won't know until we look," Erza cut in. "Besides, I refuse to use his profile picture from the guild's registry at the funeral."
There had been something in her voice. Final, yet challenging. Something that Cana met with her chin slightly tucked in, lips pressed tightly and eyes fixed on hers, shimmering angrily like the thunder outside.
"Does anyone know where his photo-albums are?"
Lucy suddenly stepped between them, "I haven't been over here too often, so I don't really know. And umm, I'm not really comfortable with the idea of rummaging through-"
"Lowest shelf next to the writing desk," the card-mage spat, pushing past the two girls. She flipped on the light-switch and walked inside, "I'll find the suit. Let's get this over with and go."
Lucy chewed on her lip and gave the redhead a nervous glance.
Erza said nothing.
~~ (O) ~~
Gray sat in his armchair, hands folded and silently simmering. He was not upset. Nope. Not in the slightest.
"What about this one?"
"No, not that one."
Why would he be upset that the girls were going through his damn stuff? Che, it wasn't like they could ask him or, hell, like he could stop them. So in light of balancing the unfairness of this situation, Gray had decided that if they were gonna go rummaging through his house, then they'd do so under his supervision. Erza and Lucy sat on the floor amid scattered photo-albums and neat little piles of pictures as they went through them. Long metallic scratching could be heard from his room. If he craned his neck a bit, just between the odd angle and the door, he could make out Cana fiddling around his closet.
"This one?"
He pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes drawn back to yet another picture with him surrounded by his friends.
A small pause while Erza inspected it. "No," she shook her head, "Not that one either."
Lucy gave a small nod, held onto it for a few more seconds and then put it on a nearby pile. Her eyes grew sad again. Gray shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Folding his arms just a bit tighter and tucking in his chin, he tried fighting against this lousy cycle of bitter frustration coiling in the pit of his stomach and empathy wringing his heart. The two emotions swung back and forth in him like a pendulum.
Time passed too slowly like this. The ruffling of papers, shuffling of clothes, short whispered sentences and the silence. It all got under his skin.
Another photo-album was closed. Lucy sighed and gently ran her fingers along its cover. So many pages filled with his life. All of them together smiling, arguing, fighting, drinking, growing up. It was always with them. Not a single picture of just him or of him before the tender age of nine. Before he had stumbled into Fairy Tail.
This made her recall that with his family dead and no other known blood relatives, they were the only family Gray had.
And that suddenly brought a sting to her eyes. More intense and more hurtful than all the other times she fought back her tears, because she wondered if they were ever enough. She hoped they were. She really did. Lucy could remember all too well how losing her mom felt at such a young age. The hole that was never fulfilled. But losing both parents so suddenly in the midst of all that chaos?
Unconsciously her fist curled up and Lucy screwed her eyes shut. She tried recalling as many pictures as she could, try and plaster them over her heart like band-aids. She carefully listened to the crinkle of pages being turned beside her, the shuffle of feet in the next room, the patter of rain and low hum of thunder. And suddenly it occurred to her...
"Erza?"
"Hm?"
"What's going to happen to his house?"
~~ (O) ~~
For a person who regularly lost his cloths, he sure had a lot of them.
Cana idly flipped through the cluster of hangers. Jackets, vests, coats, but not a single goddamn suit.
It was beyond her why they even insisted on one. But leave it to Erza to get everything right and even have it in her to nitpick. The casket wouldn't even be open during the funeral! At least it shouldn't be. She had seen Gray's body. What was a fucking suit even supposed to do?
A memory flickered in her eyes. Holes on deathly white skin. A face that wasn't there.
She shivered.
No suit could cover those up.
With a shake of her head Cana continued her search, a little more edgy than she would have liked. It showed in the jerky movement of her hands and that bothered her. For a moment, she considered pulling out the wine bottle stashed in her carrier bag. However, the promise of a scolding and tedious lecturing from a certain person, had her rethinking that option. She didn't have the patience for it now.
The sooner she found the damn thing, the sooner she could get out of there and leave Erza and Lucy to do whatever the hell they were doing. Because between the Titania expressionlessly obsessing over every little detail for the funeral and Lucy constantly acting like she was walking on egg-shells, Cana was all but ready to start throwing things. They were, honest to God, pissing her off.
Like an answered prayer, the card-mage spotted a protective see-through layer on one of the hangers in the back. She pushed a few articles aside and pulled it out. A breath of relief washed over her. Neatly folded pants and a formal suit and tie inside. She all but hugged it. And not a moment too soon-
"What's going to happen to his house?"
Silence followed the words. Like a dark heavy fog it wrapped around her, making her still and tense. She measured it in heartbeats.
A flip of a page. "It will probably go to the government."
Something tightened in Cana's chest, something hot and violent, when Erza continued without a moment's hesitation, "Depending on what the City Council decides, it will either be put on sale or given to a-"
She slammed the closet shut with a loud bang.
"Found it!" she yelled, leaving the room in a fast heavy stride. She bundled up the suit in a fast roll and stuffed it into her bag, already aiming straight for the door. "I'm off."
But before her hand could grab the knob- "Cana!" Her hand paused just above it.
Slowly she turned towards them, glancing over her shoulder. Lucy stared at her with startled eyes, and Erza with a steely gaze.
She waited. So when all Erza did was nod and say, "Tomorrow at noon," Cana tried not to slam the door on her way out.
~~ (O) ~~
Lucy winced.
The room thrummed after the angry rattle. It shook something in the atmosphere. Something already wound up so tight that she could actually hear its threads crackling. At least, she thought she had. Because when she looked to the side, Erza was already back to scouring the photo-albums. Cool and passive, seemingly undisturbed by Cana's latest passive-aggressive act.
"Keep looking, Lucy."
She almost flinched when Erza spoke up. "R-Right," she said grabbing the next album and flipping it open.
A doodle stared at her.
Lucy blinked. She flipped a page. And then another and another, both fascinated and uneasy at the sight of hand-drawn scribbles, magic circles, arrays and weapon designs. "Um, Erza..."
"Yes?"
The stellar-mage licked her lips before she said anything, "I, um, I don't think there are any more albums."
Erza's eyes were instantly on hers. "What?"
Without waiting for an answer, she took the book out of Lucy's hands and scanned the first few pages. Frowning, she put it aside and grabbed the next one on top of the pile, flipping it open. And then the next one. And the next. And so on until they were sitting in a messy nest of sprayed out sketchbooks and journals.
The bottom shelf was left bare and empty.
Lucy shifted awkwardly on her spot, pulling at the rims of her long-sleeved sweater and tugging them over her knuckles. Erza chewed on her lip like mad, staring at the floor in such intense concentration that it made the blond uncomfortable.
"Maybe," Lucy softly spoke up after a moment, "Maybe... we can ask Reedus to draw us one?"
She didn't get an answer.
"... Erza?"
The girl in question slightly shifted her shoulders, before she sighed. "You're right," she mumbled out, slowly straightening up. "That's a good idea," she said, already back to her poised self and delicately gathering up a few photos. "Here," she handed them to her, "Take these to him and ask him if he can make something for tomorrow."
The blonde dutifully nodded, already taking the pictures and sliding them into her purse. On her way towards the door, she picked up on the lack of steps behind her. Slowly she turned around, eyeing her friend, "You're... not coming?"
Erza shook her head. "I'm gonna clean up here," she said, already piling up the pictures they've taken out. "I'll be there shortly, don't worry."
Her dismissal was as obvious. But so was Lucy's reluctance to do so. The blonde was sure it showed on her face. That uneasy feeling was back, slowly threading under her skin and making her jittery. Making her read into every word and movement like a scheming manipulator and plan ahead her actions so they'd correspond with the people around her. She hated this anxiety. It felt like she was walking on a minefield just waiting for the inevitable click.
Her choices were presented to her. And despite every muscle in her body urging her to step into the zone of no return-
"Okay," she said, a sense of shame enveloped her in a tight embrace, "See you there."
She slipped on her shoes and left Erza alone in that cluster of memories. A voice in the back of her mind screamed of betrayal. She tried her best to snuff it out and banish it to the back of her subconscious where voices grew silent. But its echo remained, lingering in the halls of her mind like a ghost.
~~ (O) ~~
It didn't take long for each picture to be put back in its rightful place. Nor did it take long for each album, sketchbook and journal to be returned to its exact spot on the shelf.
She made sure to remember the order in which they were placed before Lucy and her started taking them out. So now that they were back, Erza made sure to check again, and then double check. With nothing misplaced, she leaned back, pacified with her work.
A clock relentlessly ticket somewhere in the background, reminding her that she was wasting time. There was so much to do ever since the world settled down from its last uproar. She needed to stay on top of everything. Handle details and arrangements with composure and swiftness only she possessed.
There were victories that Fiore wanted and deserved to celebrate. There were reconstructions people needed to do in Crocus. And then there was a funeral that needed organizing.
The king and his daughter understood. So did the other guilds and citizens. They have all shown their condolences and given their sympathy. And while they were all greatly appreciated, those people wouldn't grieve like Fairy Tail would for their teammate. They couldn't feel the loss they do or the consequence of a spot left empty, of a vacant seat and a voice gone silent.
They wouldn't feel the weight of a headstone staring straight at them instead of two dark blue eyes.
Loss wasn't unknown to Erza. It wasn't unknown to any of them. But she knew best how to deal with it. That's why she took it upon herself to arrange the body transfer, funeral and the wake. Others have offered to help and she had politely accepted, letting them help out here and there with small tasks. But the reins? They remained in her steady grip.
This was her job. No one else's.
Standing up, her eyes landed on one of the few pictures Gray actually had displayed. Gingerly she picked it up by its frame. Their little family of seven at their usual table. Her in the middle holding Gray and Natsu with both hands in a choke-hold on each side. Lucy hugging Wendy in front of them, both laughing and holding peace signs. Happy on one side and Carla on the other, waving at the camera and smiling.
It always took her by surprise how happy memories could bring pain. Just as she was about to place the frame back, something caught her eye.
A smudge.
Just near the edge of the frame.
Erza frowned and blew onto the glass; rubbing it with her sleeve until the offending spot disappeared. Content, she reached to place the picture back and then stopped midway.
With her eyes narrowed, she ran a finger along the shelf, gathering a fine layer of dust on it. Unconsciously, she pressed her lips into a thin line before turning and scanning the entire room. Cobwebs stretched in the ceiling corners. Dust gathered on almost every surface. A basket of unwashed clothes next to the bathroom door, waiting an owner that wouldn't return.
Her throat tightened.
'This won't do,' she thought, putting the picture back. 'This won't do at all.'
~~ (O) ~~
A fine number of cleaning supplies was lined up like a row of soldiers.
"What are you doing?"
He had to ask. When she rolled up her sleeves and gathered the cleaning products she found around his house, Gray pinched the bridge of his nose, "You have got to be kidding me. Really?"
Oblivious to the person standing just an arm-length away, Erza poured a bit of antiseptic into the washbowl; with a rag in hand, she carried it over to the shelf.
"I can't believe you're doing this," he followed right behind her, irritated, "Erza, you're being ridiculous! Just leave it alone, Jesus. It's one thing to break into someone's house, it's another to clean the whole damn place up."
This, of course, accomplished nothing. She kneeled down and started removing objects from his shelves, one after the other, and sorting them into separate piles. He crouched down next to her, close enough to get a good look at her face. The faint outlines under her eyes. The colors in her cheeks dulled. The tightness in her jaw. And every other little tell she could never hide from him.
"... Hey," he mumbled, voice going soft and troubled. "Erza... You need to stop," he reached for her hand, intent on gently leading it away. But instead of his fingers wrapping around hers... they just went through. They only grasped air and curled in on themselves.
Gray held his breath, stunned and thrown off at the sight of two limbs going through each other. Eventually, the shock began to wear off. His fingers slowly curled all the way into a fist he pressed against his forehead.
...right.
He was dead.
Seconds ticked by him, faster than ever.
"Okay," he ran a hand through his dark locks and sat down with his back against the wall. "Whatever. Do what you want," he said, chin up and staring up at the ceiling like a teenager set on ignoring the world around him. "Not like I can stop you anyway."
He managed to keep that detached persona very shortly. The silence made him fidgety like an intrusive stare you'd pretend not to notice. He felt the need to sigh, click his tongue, tap his foot against floor, or just do all three altogether. The only other noises besides the ones he was making, and yet fell on deaf ears, were the occasional thumps and bumps of various doo-dads Erza moved around. He felt compelled to express his opinion on this.
"You know you're not helping with all of... that," he gestured lazily towards her. "You wanna keep yourself busy? Go help Natsu clean his house." Gray snorted, pulling his knees closer. "That idiot needs all the help he can get. I'm sure it will take you a week just to open the freaking door."
It was awhile until Erza finished, suddenly standing up. He peered at her from under his bangs. "You done?"
The ice-mage watched from his spot as she disappeared into another room with the washbowl. He - honest to God - dared hope she would walk back now and start packing up her stuff to leave. He felt tired. The kind of tired that wasn't fixated in the bones and muscles, but the kind where he's too weary and confused and numb to handle all this angsty bullshit from the girls. So when Erza returned with a freshly filled bowl of water, a renewed wave of depression and frustration hit back.
Gray hung his head, "No... Of course you're not." He should have known better. And that thought made something curdle inside him; something sour and hateful and yet, at the same time, heartachingly hurtful.
"You know what? Screw this," he snarled suddenly, having had enough of this shit. "I'm going for a walk," the teen stood up, steering himself right for the door, "Do yourself a favor and stop wasting your time here."
Gray reached for the handle, only to miss it. He winced in surprise, before glaring at the door with enough vigor to burn a hole through it. His whole stomach convulsed, clenching like it was trying to drive out every shred of anger and denial he repressed and left to boil inside him. He was ready to erupt. And so as the last resort to prevent it, Gray closed his eyes. He forced his lungs to take in a single deep calming breath... and then he stepped through the door.
He only opened his eyes when he was sure that he was out. When he was positive that the damp and colorless street would be the first thing he saw.
He took a moment to map out his route, make sure it would take him a while before he returned. Once he had decided on one, he set off, trying his best to forget everything that just happened. The only problem with that was that pretending was becoming harder.
~~ (O) ~~
He didn't go back home that night.
Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew that he wouldn't. Gray walked for a long time. Long after night fell, and long after the sun rose. He just walked. Sometimes several times down the same streets, past the same houses and same shops that were by this time around opening up. People were creeping out of their homes, opening stalls, prying their windows open to check the weather.
And as more and more of them came into sight, walked alongside him and went about their ways, it increasingly became obvious that he could no longer limit his world to just himself. That's the moment when the thoughts he had avoided started creeping up on him, one by one, each depressing in their own way. Their daily routines made him want to get back to his own. Back to the guild, to see his friends, do something routine, something simple. Something normal.
But he couldn't. And that fact hanged around him like a red tape securely wrapped around anything he wanted to interact with. Like a rueful reminder everywhere he turned until it drove him into acceptance. And there was... a lot to accept. A whole new level of bizarreness he wasn't ready to come to terms with. It was too surreal and terrifying.
That's why he was more than a little perplexed to what, on both heaven and Earthland, possessed him to come here.
The maker mage wasn't sure if this counted as being brave or bordering on Natsu's level of stupidity. Charging in without any forethought was the Salamander's way of doing things, not his. And yet, here he was.
The emblem of Magnolia's cemetery loomed above him, grim and colorless like everything else around him. Because from the moment he opened his eyes, the rain came and went, but the sky never actually cleared up. It clung to its gray colors and it was like reality itself drank them up like a sponge.
A bell chimed somewhere from within the graveyard, signaling noon, and suddenly Gray didn't feel too sure about this anymore. Anxiety hit him like a punch to the stomach at the thought of passing through here. For a moment he seriously contemplated a plan of action only to remembered that he was pretty limited in the actions department since his... passing.
His fists tightened.
He needed to do this. He needed to see his friends. Needed as in 'I'm about to flip my shit' kind of need. He needed the familiarity. The voices and faces, their habits and mannerisms. He was willing to take anything at this point. Anything to help him suppress and swallow down the scream building up in his throat.
Gray swallowed, and with the first step he took, tried very hard to make himself keep walking. Maybe if his mind wasn't so sullen, he would have found it ironic that something with no apparent body mass could feel heavier than lead.
A prick started at the back of his neck, a herald of a still unnamed emotion that gradually trickled down his back like cold water. His muscles involuntarily clenched. Gray slipped pass unnamed tombstones on either sides of him, all of a sudden mortified to brush against any, even though he knew that he couldn't. It was irrational, paranoid even, but a fresh breath of fear rose up his spine at the thought nevertheless. There was something binding about the stone; cold, solid, and frighteningly real. Something that felt like a trap.
It was unnerving how something so plain could look so unreasonably menacing within moments. Like simply touching one would ultimately suck him away into the earth, into fragmented nothingness.
It was getting harder to stay focused. That little semblance of calmness he had was falling away in pieces and his mind was suddenly urging him to turn away, that this was a bad idea, that he wasn't supposed to be here, and yet Gray sped up. His steps grew longer, faster, more frantic, because what he needed, what he craved so badly were-
People.
He let out a lungful of air and straightened up. There. Under the milky light of cloud cover, a mass of people gathered outside the church. He started towards them in lighter step. The closer he got the more he could make out friends, acquaintances, allies, faces he only ever got to learn in passing. It seemed like everybody he had ever known in his life was shuffling about at the same dozen meters of ground. It was like the most colourful threads of his life were coming together in front of his own eyes to weave a black tapestry to honor his death.
He didn't know whether he should feel amazed or disturbed by this.
People still kept pouring into the graveyard. Guild members and allies. People he wasn't quite sure he knew and familiar faces whose names he couldn't pin down. It was overwhelming.
Gray stopped a few short feet away from all of them, observing them for a long silent minute. A lump formed in his throat. He felt like an intruder, which was, when he thought about it, just ridiculous. It wasn't like he was crashing a wedding. Quite the contrary. Besides, it was his funeral. He was allowed to crash. Expected even.
That's when he saw them there, his closest friends and guildmembers huddled together a bit to the side inside the chapel. He couldn't help but pick up on how no one seemed capable of looking at each other. Or how no one spoke unless it was to utter a 'thank you' for an offered hand in condolences.
It took him a while before he gathered enough courage to step closer.
~~ (O) ~~
His hands moved mechanically. Cross and wrap, through the loop, and adjust the… and it looked like crap. Again.
With a sigh he tugged the tie loose and adjusted the material to start all over again. Cross, wrap, loop and- goddamn it! He was doing the exact same thing all over again.
Natsu was seconds away from ripping the damn thing from his neck. He knew how to tie a fucking tie. He knew he knew becau-
"-se I'm surprised you can even tie your fucking shoes. Oh, wait! You don't wear any! Now it all makes sense."
"Urgh, piss off! I got it! Look!"
"… Oh for the love of-! Give it here before you choke yourself to death."
"Fuck off Gray! I don't need your help!"
"Zip it ashbreath and pay attention. I'm not showing you again, got it? Just do what I do. Cross it like this, then wrap this end around, good, pull it through the loop, then through the knot and adjust it like- so! There. See? Even a dimwit like you can do it."
His eyed widened.
The knot properly rested at the base of his neck.
His fingertips tingled from the movements he thoughtlessly mimicked. He swallowed, fingers running along the material and toying with the knot. He looked somewhere pass the mirror and his reflection. A deep troubled frown settled on his face.
"Natsu..."
Startled, he blinked out of his daze.
Happy stood in the back, wearing a little black vest and clutching a small bouquet of daisies. "We're going to be late," he mumbled out, lowering his ears.
Natsu stood still, lingering in front of his reflection, before slowly nodding. "Right," he said, tugging the tie until it came loose. "Sorry. Let's go."
He hated wearing ties anyway.
~~ (O) ~~
She wanted to go home.
This feeling intensified with every extended hand Lucy shook and every practiced smile she offered in return. There was a certain weight in the action that took a toll on her mentally.
"Are you okay?"
She looked up at the Celestial Spirit by her side. Loke eyed her carefully through the rims of his sunglasses, face blank and guarded to all but the ones who caught the occasional flicker of grief in his eyes.
"Yeah," she mumbled with a small nod, turning back to the crowd of sad and sympathetic faces, "There's just… a lot of people here."
She scanned the entrance of the chapel, trying her best to avoid any more eye contact. Still no sign of Erza and Natsu.
That uneasiness was back, winding her up with a string of skin-biting worries; slowly and easily just like a music box until its ready to play. They should have been here by now, she thought, trying not to worry her bottom lip too much. This concern hung around her like an unshakable chill, clinging to her skin and slowly spreading until it reached into her bones. Until it started to sound more like an accusation than worry.
They're late, she told herself and the few who actually inquired. They'll be here any moment, now.
And while they accepted this answer with a solemn nod of understanding, her subconscience, the judge sitting in the back of her head, had yet to be persuaded. They're just a little late, the sermon hasn't even begun yet, she tried to justify it, yet it sounded way too much like an excuse than a reasonable defense. She didn't know what else to offer. She didn't know where they were (on their way or at home was her best guess), nor could she conclude why they weren't there to begin with, the funeral mere minutes away.
Erza suddenly flashed in her eyes. Smile too composed and body way too still, sitting in that mess of paper and stinging memories. Natsu, on that cold and rainy night, with a body wrapped up in his arms and passing right by them like they weren't even there; hiding it away and sheltering it from the world, from prying eyes and anyone who dared to try and see 'what the damage was'.
Lucy swallowed thickly, all too suddenly reminded of another funeral. Of a man crying over a casket and a girl too young to wrap her head around life and death. Of those moment when she had nothing to offer the people around her and thus in return gained nothing she needed; pitiful and sympathetic looks, a few condolences and hugs from people she didn't know.
She shakes another series of hands. Smiles were becoming harder to share. Natsu and Erza still weren't there and the others were starting to glance at the door frequently. A spike of fear went through her. Like the guilty suddenly hearing the jury's scandalized and hushed whispers behind them. Because she felt that if she had done something, they would've been here from the start.
Something shifted inside her, slowly and gradually, wedged right between her heart and ribcage, troubling her lungs. Something she had long forgotten about. A seed.
Someone's eyes met hers and the flash of recognition snapped her out of her daze. Jura Neekis and Lyon Vastia walked through the double doors, Lamia Scale members and guildmaster in tow. Lucy held her breath.
"Miss Heartfilia, was it?" the burly man asked. She nodded in answer before he extended his hand to her, "I'm... sorry for your loss."
She shook his hand with a low "Thank you." The man nodded before moving down the row of Fairy Tail's members. Lucy turned to the ice-mage, their eyes locked and nothing was said. There was an unspoken understanding there as they shook hands. He moved along, down the row and then came back to stand next to her, grieve for the fallen Fairy just like the rest of them. Grieve for the brother he watched die.
They stood beside each other, backs straight and suspended in silence. Until she decided to break it.
"Lyon..." His name escaped her in a rush of courage before she even knew what she wanted to say. She looked up at him, staring him in the eyes for a long moment, before the words formed in her mouth. "Thank you…" A pause. "Thank you for helping Juvia."
He didn't look away from her. But she knew he wanted to. She could see it in the tautness of his face, somethin between being surprised and in pain. A moment later his eyes grew sad, reminding her of melting ice-cubes.
"It's nothing," he mumbled, shoulders sagging and looking away. He swallowed once to clear his throat. "Is she...?"
"No..." She said, eyes going distant and words lingering on her tongue, "She's still sleeping."
They're both silent again and she hears him sigh.
"I'm sorry for..." he muttered, pausing to lick his lips and sort his words, "For back in Crocus. I… I should have handled it better."
The images were still fresh in her mind's eye. The words still raw and sharp and Lucy needed to interrupt him before they could bite her again. "It's alright, I… We know."
Lyon nodded. A moment later the ice mage frowned, eyes scanning the room and Lucy braced herself. "Where are-"
As if on cue, long fast steps crossed the threshold of the chapel. Erza, the blonde breathed a breath of relief. The redhead greeted them all with a firm nod and steered herself straight for the priest who patiently stood at the far end of the room.
A few hushed words were exchanged before the elderly man nodded at her and stepped forth.
"The service is about to begin," he said, opening a small book in his hands. The murmurs quieted down as he began, "We are gathered here to say farewell to Gray Fullbuster and to commit him into the hands of God..."
As he spoke, Erza scurried back, taking the empty space next to Lyon. Lucy glanced her way, worry palpable in her eyes. In a daring split second, she nudged the ice-mage into switching places with her. "Hey," she whispered once she was next to her teammate, "Where were you?"
"Sorry," Erza whispered back, eyes never leaving some spot between the priest and coffin while she took off her coat. "I got caught up in some work."
Lucy opened her mouth, a fine number of question ripe in her throat and ready for asking... but promptly closed it. Not now, she thought, pressing her lips tighter. It wasn't the right moment to ask. Not yet anyway.
It took her a considerable amount of effort to convince herself that it was bad timing and not hesitance that was stopping her from inquiring why Erza never showed up at the guild the night before. Or why she never answered her communication lacrima that morning. Or point out to her that she was wearing the exact same set of clothes from yesterday afternoon.
The service continued on. The chapel vibrated in mesmerizing hums of sung words and ear-pleasing chants. Sometime during the sermon two familiar shadows appeared in the doorway. The remaining members of Fairy Tail.
Natsu and Happy threaded silently towards the center, towards the wooden casket bundled in colorful flower arrangements. Happy placed the daisies at the base of the display before turning to Natsu and following him to the side where Erza stood with the rest.
"You're late," she mumbled out. There was no conviction in her voice, therefore Natsu didn't feel obliged to offer anything other than a simple grunt as a reply.
The rest of the ceremony passed without interruptions. When the priest closed his book and the last echo of his voice died down, he politely asked the chosen pallbearers and other attendees to help with transferring the flowers and casket.
Natsu and Lyon stepped forth, closely followed by Loke, Gajeel, Laxus and Elfman. The girls crowded around the center, taking the flowers and leaving the casket grim and bare, surrounded by loose flower-petals. Once the casket was carried out and everybody fell in line, the priest led them down the concrete path.
Gray followed behind them.
His feet faltered with every dozen steps, conflicted between keeping his distance and keeping up. The more ground they covered, the more he felt his chest tighten, like whatever it was that was supposed to be sending him oxygen suddenly broke down to bits and pieces. His breaths turned heavy and ragged and he didn't get why breathing suddenly hurt so much but it did even if it shouldn't have. Devastation was overcoming him strongly and painfully like a panic attack. Because beyond the rows of headstones they passed and the names that no longer mattered to the world, there was a bed carved into the ground waiting just for him. A new polished gravestone with his name ready to seal a deal he never willingly agreed to.
It was so unfair and cruel and too frighteningly final that he couldn't make himself step any closer.
He watched from afar how the coffin was lowered with deliberate slowness as if to torture him. How his friends' faces twisted and clouded over in grief. How Erza stood in front of them all, saying something he didn't hear because the stone beside her read 'Gray Fullbuster x766-x791, an irreplaceable friend and ally' was ultimately the last drop.
His death was suddenly as real to him as it was for them.
His whole world was gone.
Just like that...
Everything he knew.
Everything he was.
Gone.
The friends he wanted to spend more time with- They can't see him. He can't tell them that-The future he never figured out- He no longer has it. He'll never know- Every today he lost because- There were so many and he didn't- The time he wasted- The words he never said- The heart he never gave away- The life he didn't live- gone gone gone gone gone goNE GONE GONE GONE!
Everything. was. gone.
The back of his throat burned. His whole body trembled. His bones shook into a million little pieces and it hurts, it hurts, everything hurts, he opens his mouth to scream and all he hears is-
"That was beautiful."
He went rigid.
All the pain and agony rampaging within him froze in one cold stab of surprise.
Someone was beside him.
The rain started up again. Driblets of water pelted the ground in a slow rhythm. Anxious breath tickled his lungs and Gray hoped, really, really hoped, that the rule for vomiting applied to crying as well.
He turned around slowly, momentarily afraid of the shape he'd encounter, until he was met with wide green eyes instead of the hollow eye-sockets he expected.
The First smiled at him, "She really has a way with words, doesn't she?"
I hope you liked this chapter, otherwise I'll just curl myself up into a burrito of sadness and never come out. I have put a LOT of time and effort in this, okay? And now that Mavis has entered the picture things can start getting serious. How serious? Seriously SERIOUS. O_O (that's my serious face)
Oh, and I simply have to ask, did anyone pick up on the word play in the title? Yes? No? It's okay, I wouldn't have noticed either. My puns are horrible. (What happens when a clock gets hungry? It goes back four seconds! :D )
… yeah, still horrible.
Oh, oh! One more thing!
Please, PLEASE, refrain from posting any comments, both hateful and overly pushy, regarding your opinions on religion. This is a work of fiction, not a debate blog... or youtube's comment section (*shudders* now there's a thought). If you feel the need to share, then please do share your opinions on the story itself, characters, developments or favorite parts.
Anything will do, all of your inputs are wonderful motivation. :)
Until the next update!
xMF