A/N: Hey everyone! So glad you guys are enjoying this week so far! See the note at the end.
Lucy, Macbeth, and Erik are 16.
Day 5: Silence
(High School, Year Two)
The nurses left the room with both police officers; one a rather thin, bespectacled man by the name of Lahar, and the other with short hair and an odd cross-hatched scar on his left cheek, named Doranbolt. And now, Lucy was alone.
Doranbolt and Lahar had taken her statement, and they seemed a little alarmed that she wasn't bawling or screaming, or emotional in general. She just answered their questions to the best of her ability, her voice flat and even. She gave them a description of the man: white shoulder-length hair, slicked back away from his face; tan skin and strange line tattoos on his face and down his arms; a strong, square jaw and no eyebrows; well over six feet tall, muscular build, wearing black slacks and a silver dress shirt. His voice was deep, but he only asked if her name was Lucy. She had never seen him before in her life.
There were scratches along her arms, legs, stomach, and face from the pavement she'd been scrambling over while she tried to get away. A black eye was forming where the attacker had punched her, with a split lip to complete the battered look she was sporting. There was a long bandage across her throat from where the knife had been pressed to it. Another was wrapped around her head to cover the stitches in her scalp from the empty whiskey bottle he'd hit her with before leaving her to die.
The nurses were asked to take pictures of her injuries, including the bruising on her thighs from where his hands had forced them open. The rape kit was already being taken down to the lab for testing, but she already knew they wouldn't find anything. He had used a condom. There was no DNA for them to find, even though they had taken samples of the grime from beneath her nails as well. She hadn't scratched him though.
Lucy didn't know what to think or what to feel. There was no way it could have actually happened though, that was something she was sure of in that moment. She had been walking home from her part-time job at the library, and had left a little later than usual because she had wanted to finish putting away the returns. It was just after dark, but she had still been able to see the last remnants of sunlight peeking over the horizon while she made her way back to the orphanage. Erik hadn't answered when she called to see if he would walk home with her. Macbeth was already at work, since he had picked up late shifts as a busboy at some fancy restaurant, so he couldn't walk her home like he usually did. Sorano, Sawyer, and Richard were all off doing their own things in the new lives they had made after being adopted, and she couldn't have called Seilah or Kyouka to come get her. She was sixteen, after all. Surely, she could walk five blocks to get from the library back to the orphanage she and the others lived at.
Just five blocks. In what should have only been a thirty minute walk, and that's if she was taking her sweet time, everything had changed.
The man had bumped into her on the sidewalk just as she'd finished crossing the street. She had gone to apologize to him, giving the same sweet smile she gave to everyone she met. He had asked if she was Lucy, and she had denied it. She didn't make a habit of telling strangers her name, especially not when she was alone at night. He had smiled down at her, and just as she went to continue on her way home, he'd grabbed her by the arm and pressed a knife to her throat, then dragged her into an alley. She had fought him off as best as she could, hitting him with her bag and kicking at his legs. It only made him press the knife to her throat even harder. He had thrown her to the ground, and she tried to get away, but he'd pinned her down in the nearby alley. Her clothes were shredded, but she still tried to get free. He'd beaten her, pried her legs open, took her, then hit her over the head with a bottle to knock her out for him to make his escape.
When she came to, there were paramedics and police all around her. She was still lying on the ground, and they were just about to put her on the stretcher to take her to the hospital. They had told her not to move, that she could have a serious injury that they might not be aware of and it could get worse if she didn't listen to them. But everything was just a blur at that moment. She hadn't been concerned with her attack, or the fact that a girl around her age had noticed her purse had been dropped on the sidewalk and came to investigate. She was grateful that the girl had called the police, instead of just leaving her there. But there was no way to make out who she was in the throng of unfamiliar faces. She did catch a small glimpse of a girl with wide, nearly vacant, orange-red eyes and red hair that hung down to her waist before she was put in the ambulance though.
She couldn't remember much of the ride in the ambulance. It was just a vague recollection that it had happened, but there wasn't anything that stood out to her. She did remember having a blanket put over her, but that was still in the alley before they'd put her on the stretcher. There was a flash of a memory of her bag being set down on the foot of the stretcher. Apparently, she'd been asking for it as soon as she woke up. Just bits and pieces of memories came to her until she was in the hospital. The constant thought that she needed to call the police and report the attack kept circling back around at the time, but she had to remind herself that it had already been handled.
Now she was stuck in a hospital bed, waiting for someone to tell her that she could go home. She didn't want to believe that it had happened, that her innocence had been stolen by someone that the police would most likely never find. Just the thought of the man that took everything from her being out there had her fear spiking. It faded into the background though. Just as quickly as it came. Maybe she just wasn't ready to deal with everything yet. Maybe it just hadn't had time to sink in. She knew it was true, that she'd been violated and left for dead. There was no way to deny that when the proof of it was covered by bandages all over her body, or the burning pain between her legs. She ached all over. Her scrapes and cuts stung as though there were millions of tiny blades dancing just beneath her skin.
How could this have happened though? She was careful. She was a good person. She got good grades in school; not quite straight A's, but she was still doing pretty well. She was nice to everyone, and did everything she could to make others smile and laugh. Didn't that count for something? She wouldn't wish what she went through on anyone, but… Why her? Why did he come after her? What was it that was so special about her, that made that man so determined to force himself on her? Was it the way she looked, how she dressed, something else?
Aside from the why of things, Lucy wondered how. How had he known her name? She couldn't remember that man ever having been in her life before. Was it possible that she had forgotten meeting him? She didn't think so, considering just how much he would stick out under normal circumstances. Those tattoos alone made him a pretty noticeable guy. But what if... What if he had been a friend of her parents? What if he knew who she was because they had met when she was too young to remember him? When she thought long and hard, he did seem vaguely familiar. Maybe he looked like someone else she knew? A relative of theirs that she had never met, perhaps.
She could ask herself all the questions in the world, but she knew that she would never find any answers. Lucy wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to know any of them. It was strange, thinking of all the things that she had done wrong that led up to her attack, and still not wanting to know the answers to her millions of questions. She was curious, analytical to a fault, and she already knew just what she should have done differently.
She should have called Erik again, or texted him to see if he would come by the library and walk her home. She should have just sucked it up, swallowed her pride, and called Seilah or Kyouka. They wouldn't have judged her for not wanting to walk back by herself at night. Lucy knew the risks of an attack on a woman walking alone through town at night were high; they made sure to add that to the curriculum in Sex Ed, since it was a real possibility that one of the girls in school would be attacked. Lucy should have screamed, because maybe someone would have heard her and helped. She should have tried to scratch him, just so that the cops would have some DNA to go after the guy, some piece of evidence that was tangible. Maybe she could have asked the librarian, an older woman with a car, for a ride. Sure, Ms. Babasaama was a little eccentric, and would have probably threatened her with 'being spun' (whatever that meant) for asking, but Lucy knew that the little old woman would have done it. If she had gone the other way, and just headed over to Macbeth's job, she could have waited for his shift to be over, then they could have gone back to the orphanage together. It was only a block away from the library, and she could have waited at a table and done some of her chemistry homework before asking Erik (as usual) to help her with it.
There was just so much that she had done wrong, but some part of her was adamant about the fact that she wasn't to blame in this. Lucy hadn't come onto the guy, she hadn't been flirting with him or dressed in a way that would have hinted at her being a slut. A turtleneck sweater and a pair of long jeans, she was completely covered. But what if just bumping into him had been enough to trigger something more violent?
All Lucy knew for certain was that she was numb right then, and that was probably for the best. There was no telling what she would do if the emotions that should have been overwhelming her finally bubbled up to the surface.
Not if she was alone like this.
Lucy hated being alone. She always had, especially after her parents were murdered when she was five. When she came to the orphanage, she'd been so lonely and scared and confused. Just like she was right then as she sat on the hospital bed, doing everything she could to ignore the bustling of hospital staff that rushed past her door, the smell of sterility in the air, the sight of those bandages wrapped around her arms and disappearing beneath the hospital gown.
Was she scared? Of course. That psycho could come busting through the door any minute just to kill her, or rape her again. Except, it wasn't overwhelming fear; she was just aware of the possibility that it could happen. She was definitely confused, but there wasn't anything she could do about it. She was just stuck in limbo with a vortex leading into a black hole in her head. She considered the possibility that the answers she was looking for weren't so far off, that maybe they were just beyond her reach right then. She was stuck staring into a black abyss, floating in space only meters from the event horizon. Just one solid push, and she would break through it and disappear into nothingness. Maybe she could find the answers she needed if she just pushed a little harder, delved headfirst into that black hole within her and searched for what she wanted to know. They always say there's no coming back from something like that, but what if she could? What if Lucy was able to stretch herself, keeping one foot just outside of that deeper darkness while the rest of her reached down to wade through its inky depths?
Lucy wondered just why she wasn't feeling anything at all concerning the attack. She should be terrified, crying, screaming, or hiding. She should have been trembling and unable to form a single sentence. Right? The speakers that had visited her school, women who had been sexually assaulted and were willing to tell their stories so young girls would be aware of the dangers out there, had said that they were a total mess in the hospital. One had to be sedated just so she could calm down enough for the hospital staff to do their job, and the police had to go through a psychologist just to get her testimony.
That wasn't happening though. None of it was. Lucy was just… Empty. She didn't like feeling this way, and she decided that, since she had time, she might as well try to get something to come out. Anything, really. She forced herself to go through the attack again, to think about what had been going through her head, how terrified she had been and how much he was hurting her. She could see herself inching closer toward that barrier between herself and the blackness within. She needed the answers, and she would only find them there.
She remembered feeling dirty and ashamed, and how much worse it was when she had woken up to those paramedics surrounding her. Things were a bit clearer now that she was going through it again, but it wasn't affecting her. She could see it all from a third person perspective, watching the memory of herself being attacked, and lying in that alley, being taken to the hospital, getting those tests done. Everything up to where she was right then.
Everything up to sitting alone in a hospital bed just like she had done a decade before. Hospitals were terrifying to her, so shouldn't she have been more afraid? Why wasn't she having a panic attack like she usually did when she was in a hospital - even when it wasn't for herself - and waiting for someone to come for her? Nothing was coming, no tears or pain or screaming. It made her a little apprehensive, and the more she tried to push past whatever blockade had manifested itself in her subconscious, the more she started to worry.
What if something was wrong with her now? Had he broken her in some way aside from what he'd done to her body? Why wasn't she afraid? Why couldn't she just shed a single tear? Maybe she could smile though. No, then people would think she'd lost her mind. Smiling after being raped wasn't exactly a normal thing to do. But… No one was there with her. No one would see it. It wouldn't be a genuine smile, borne from happiness. No, it was just a test to see if maybe she was more messed up than she'd thought before.
It took more effort than she would have thought, making those muscles in her face move into the familiar position. Pain burst across her cheek and lip, and when she brought a hand up to her lips, she knew there was something wrong. Her smile wouldn't come out. There was a small quirk to her lips, but it was as if something was holding it back. Lucy opened and closed her mouth, and found that she wasn't injured to the point of not being able to move. She tenderly touched her cheeks, and the corners of her mouth, and found that she hadn't lost feeling in her face. The nerves weren't dead, so why couldn't she just make that one facial expression? Was it all mental, maybe?
There was definitely something wrong with her. She wasn't okay at all, and she knew that better than ever. But, she just couldn't deal with it right then.
Lucy was brought from the blank space her consciousness had slipped into when she heard loud voices in the hall just outside her door. Her gaze snapped over to the door when it was thrown open, and she saw Seilah and Kyouka yelling in unison at some poor, mousy nurse who looked to be on the verge of tears. It was odd in and of itself, since Lucy had never seen either of the women that ran the orphanage raise their voices, even in anger. They were always so calm, but the two women that had become Lucy's parents in a way looked as though they would tear anyone in their path to shreds. She couldn't make out much of what they were actually saying, but she did hear something about how she shouldn't have been left alone. They knew what that did to her from experience - from when she was first taken to the orphanage - that it would be even worse in a hospital just like this one.
Kyouka paused while Seilah continued berating the nurse and hospital staff, and her blue, piercing gaze softened once it met with Lucy's dulled brown eyes. It was only for a moment, but Lucy was sure she saw more than what should have been there. Understanding that went deeper than knowing about what happened. Personal experience, maybe? But how could someone as strong and resilient as Kyouka, of all people, have experienced something like this? It just wasn't possible. It was only a moment, just a second or two, but it disappeared just as quickly when Kyouka was knocked to the side. And that was when she saw him.
Macbeth. Her best friend, her surrogate big brother, everything that Lucy wanted and needed.
His eyes bored into hers as he froze in the doorway, and she sat perfectly still while he quickly looked over her. She could practically feel him counting each and every bandage. The sounds of the hospital and Seilah's voice faded with every step he took into the room. Long strides that covered the distance from the door to her hospital bed in no time at all were slowed to a crawl, right along with time itself. Those crimson eyes of his that had always intrigued her were wide and scared. His thin pencilled brow was pushed together in worry, and every muscle in his body was tensed in anger.
She wasn't afraid of him as he came closer to her. Rape victims were supposed to be scared of letting people touch them, right? Of people being anywhere close to them? She wasn't though, and she knew that it was from more than just the barricade around her emotions. She could still feel, after all, it was just… Dull. Anything about the attack was there, and she knew it was waiting to come crashing through her, but there was something else entirely when she looked at him. Macbeth was her best friend. He was her hero. He had been there for her through everything as soon as they got to know each other. He gave Lucy a home in a place that was really only meant to be an in-between.
Lucy never looked away from his face, watching and hoping with everything she had that he could make it all better. That Macbeth would be the one that could help her when she finally broke. She knew it was coming, that the wall holding her fear and anxiety and pain at bay was going to crack any minute. Maybe it was because he was there that she finally felt like she was safe enough for it to happen. Macbeth meant safety. He was the person she needed most, and every step he took made her feel just a little more like herself. A little more like the person she was only hours before. She needed a safe place, and Macbeth was always just that for her.
The soft sound of the door closing barely registered while they looked at one another. Once it did, time seemed to start back up. He shot forward and wrapped his arms around her, and Lucy bit her lips to hide the pain she was in from just that single touch. He was trembling, something she hadn't noticed before, but he pulled away in an instant when her body tensed. She didn't want him to pull away from her. She needed that safe feeling he gave her, because now that the cracks had started forming, now that she'd been able to feel his warmth, there was no stopping it from happening.
She could see the worry and questions swimming in his eyes, and felt another crack in that wall she'd made. She didn't want his warmth to disappear. She needed him with her. She would always need Macbeth. He was the one person in her life that could help her heal the wounds that man had left. She already knew Macbeth would be there for her, but she needed his arms around her again. Lucy needed him to hold her like he did when she had a nightmare; or when everything was just piling up, and she couldn't take it all anymore; and even when she started thinking about her parents, and ended up having a panic attack because of the memories that were dredged up of buckets of blood on the walls of their dining room.
Those silent questions danced around the room, and the fact that he wasn't saying anything at all somehow made it easier for her to let the wall crumble. Tears welled in her eyes when he tenderly cupped her undamaged cheek, and she let out a shuddering breath, too afraid to break the silence between them. She could tell just how much he wanted to know, what he refused to ask her. They were two sides of the same coin, as the joke from their childhood went. Was she in pain? Yes. Definitely. Lucy nodded minutely.
He wanted to know if she knew the man that had attacked her, and Lucy shook her head slowly.
He needed to know if she was okay. Lucy didn't think she would ever be okay, but she hoped he could see just how much she needed his help. She wanted to be okay. Her lips trembled as she shook her head again.
His eyes saddened considerably, and she could see just how hard it was for him to hold back from wrapping his arms around her again. She hadn't wanted him to let her go in the first place. It was why she had refused to make a sound to let him know that she was in pain. Macbeth's arms were the safest place on Earth, and they always had been for Lucy. He took away her nightmares, he made it okay to cry, he helped her remember how to breathe. Those pale, slender appendages took away the black hole every time it showed up. They pulled her back from that precipice, reminding her that it really was a point of no return. She knew he wanted to hold her, and that Macbeth could see just how badly she needed it. But he wouldn't push her. That just wasn't who he was.
She looked at him for another moment, watching as he blinked rapidly to try and stave off the tears that had pooled on his lashes. He felt her pain, in a way at least. When Lucy was hurting, so was he. Her mouth thinned into a line as she forced her body to move, slowly scooting away from him in the bed and making as much room as she could for him to lie down with her. There was a small spark of hope that glimmered in his teary eyes, and an even smaller bit of apprehension. He probably thought she might be pulling away from him. She would never do that though. Instead, Lucy carefully turned down the blanket, then folded her hands in her lap while she waited.
Between one breath and the next, Macbeth had kicked off his shoes and was crawling into the bed with her. He didn't even bother with pulling the blanket back up, and instead just wound his arms around her when she lunged at him. Lucy's head was tucked under his chin, and she was finally able to feel just how badly he was shaking. It only made her hold him tighter though. There, with her best friend by her side, she was safe. That wall crumbled, falling between herself and the black hole, pushing her further and further away from it and back into the light. Each tear that careened down her cheeks was just another piece of the debris that kept her from that abyss.
The sight of a box of tissues being settled in his lap had Lucy's tears coming more forcefully. She cried silently, not willing to let a single sound out for fear of something horrible happening. There was nothing she could say to him, even if she had the words. Her throat was clogged with so many rivalling emotions that she felt in that moment, nothing would have come out anyway. Everything hit her all at once. Hopelessness, joy, desperation, contentment, confusion, pain, safety, anger, affection, sadness, and buckets of shame. And her fear. From the attack to thinking she was going to die. From the tests they had to perform on her that left her feeling violated all over again to the pictures that were taken for evidence. From the thought of never being safe or whole to being left alone in the room.
Lucy seized up and clutched at his shirt with every ounce of strength she possessed as her breathing became harder to control. She had to remember that she wasn't alone, and that Macbeth wouldn't hurt her. She had always been safe and happy with him. His hand tipped her chin up, and she saw that his makeup had started running while he held her. A feathery swipe of his thumb over her cheek was followed by him taking a deep breath in through his nose, then out through his mouth. She tried so hard to focus on what he was doing, how slow his breathing was and that he wanted her to copy him, but she couldn't. She was terrified, and seeing just how much it was affecting her best friend was only making it worse.
Macbeth wasn't supposed to cry. She wasn't supposed to be the reason for his tears. His father, the one she'd only heard about that had tried to kill him when he was just a small child, was the only reason Macbeth ever cried; the reason he could never sleep at night unless Lucy was with him.
His forehead rested against hers, his eyes never wavering, and Lucy felt his finger press lightly to her nose. She inhaled sharply, as she had been doing up until that point, then let out a slower breath when he touched her lips. Again and again, he helped her remember how to breathe, and the small black dots that she hadn't realized were beginning to fill her vision started to dissipate after several long minutes.
Her eyes closed when she felt his fingers threading lightly through her hair, being extremely careful of the bandages on her head, and she continued forcing slow breaths into her lungs. Before she could even try to sniffle and get rid of the mucus that was building up in her nostrils, he pulled a tissue from the box and wiped her nose for her, then used another to try and clear away some of the salty liquid that was staining her cheeks.
She felt his warmth enveloping her as he helped her lie down, and Lucy curled herself around him, refusing to allow a single inch of space between them. She had no clue how long it took for her tears to finally stop, or if they really had stopped by the time she felt exhaustion beginning to overwhelm her. His fingers danced along her scalp in soothing circles, and she allowed herself to be pulled under by it. Her eyelids drooped, her vice-like grip on his shirt lessening ever so slightly. Macbeth was everything she needed, her safe haven. For her, he was the one thing she had lost over a decade before. He was family. He was home. She was free to cry her eyes out until she finally fell asleep, because she knew that he would protect her. So that was exactly what she did.
Macbeth laid in bed with Lucy for the next hour, not caring in the slightest that his boss had been yelling at him for being on his phone during his shift, or that he most likely didn't have a job since he'd clocked out and left without a word once he got the news. Once Seilah and Kyouka found out that Lucy was in the hospital, since they were her emergency contacts, they had called him. Just hearing that Lucy was in the hospital was enough for him to start rushing out of the restaurant, but he knew it was even worse by just how scared Seilah had sounded. Lucy had been attacked while walking home from the library. It had made his blood run cold as his feet had pounded against the pavement toward the hospital.
Just the sight of the most important person in his world sitting in that hospital bed had nearly shattered his heart, and that dullness in her eyes had his head swimming. It took everything he had to slow himself down to a walk once he saw her. Granted, the walking that he'd done had still only taken a few seconds. He'd been able to see just how frightened she was, how she needed him to be there for her because she just couldn't handle what had happened on her own. The mild panic attack she'd had once he was sitting next to her in the bed was proof enough of it.
He had already spoken to Kyouka about what happened to Lucy, but the hospital hadn't been willing to give more information than Lucy being brought in after someone found her and called the police, and that her assailant had raped her. Lucy couldn't handle being alone most times before that day, but he knew it was only going to get worse. It didn't matter to him if she needed to have him with her every second of the day, because he would do it in a heartbeat. When he'd told Kyouka as much, she had said that they would overlook the rule of girls not being allowed to sleep in the same rooms with the boys for as long as Lucy needed. Everyone knew that Lucy snuck into his room nearly every night anyway, so it wasn't much of a change; with one exception, she didn't have to sneak away first thing in the morning to avoid getting in trouble. Just one look at the blonde lying in his arms had been enough for the woman to give in, apparently.
The hospital staff had tried kicking him out after Lucy was asleep, saying that only her family could be there with her after visiting hours were over. That had been an interesting conversation to watch. Kyouka had quietly ripped into the doctor while she was in the room with two hulking security guards that had been called to try and get Macbeth out of Lucy's bed. They had said that she could wake up and have a panic attack when she found a boy in bed with her, and that he never should have been allowed in the room in the first place. Luckily, Kyouka had pointed out the fact that Lucy was asleep in Macbeth's arms, how she was holding him just as tightly as he was holding her, and that legally she didn't have a family. Macbeth was the closest person Lucy had to family, with Erik - whose whereabouts were unknown at the time - coming in a close second. Needless to say, the doctor had said that there was no point in arguing over it, since Lucy was going to be released as soon as she woke up. Apparently, they had been ready to release her once Seilah and Kyouka showed up, but no one was willing to wake her up and tell her to leave; especially not with the way Macbeth was glaring at the hospital staff when they came anywhere near her.
He just didn't understand how this could have happened to her, of all people. Lucy was perfect, sweet, kind, and caring. She was everything that was good in the world. He didn't want to believe that something so horrible could have happened to the beautiful blonde, but he knew it was the truth. He didn't know all the details of her attack, where it had happened or what the guy looked like, but he hoped that she would be willing to talk to him about it. No, he knew she would. When she was ready.
The door to Lucy's room was quietly opened, and Macbeth looked over his shoulder to see Erik slowly walking into the room with Gajeel right behind him. He was definitely surprised to see Gajeel there, but he already knew that Erik wouldn't bring anyone to the hospital unless he trusted them. The only reason Erik knew what was going on in the first place was because he'd tried calling Lucy, after having missed a call from her earlier that night, and she didn't answer. So he'd called Macbeth. Needless to say, Erik was furious when he found out. As soon as Macbeth had said she was in the hospital after being raped, what could only be described as a roar erupted from the other end of the line before the phone disconnected.
He watched as the pair made their way further into the room, then stood at the foot of the bed. Gajeel set a pile of clothes down on a table, ones that he recognized to be Lucy's, then looked down at Lucy. It was strange to see tears gathering in Gajeel's eyes as he looked at her. He'd been quite the bully a few years before, and had even beaten Lucy up before he was transferred to their school. And to the orphanage they lived at. His first day there, Lucy forgave him for what happened - much to everyone's surprise - and Erik beat the hell out of him for hurting her in the first place.
As it turns out, Gajeel had been going through a pretty rough patch, because his father had abandoned him, leaving Gajeel completely alone to fend for himself. It took three years for anyone to realize that Gajeel was living alone, and that he was making money to live off of by using his father's piercing equipment. Once the police found out, they took him and dropped his ass off with Seilah and Kyouka, and the rest of their little fucked up group of kids. It seemed like those two women only got the worst of the worst juvenile rejects. The kids that had some fucked up past, were a little on the mental side, neurotic, depressed, bipolar, schizophrenic… Macbeth's own father had tried to kill him. Lucy watched her parents get murdered. Erik was brought in after the police broke up some underground slave trading ring. Sorano, Richard, and Sawyer were the only ones that had been relatively normal, and they'd gotten adopted.
Macbeth's eyes shifted to look at Erik, and widened when he saw tears streaming down that tanned face. No one had ever seen Erik cry. Over anything. It just wasn't what he did. When he was upset about something, he tended to beat it into a pulp. Or… Or he would go talk to Lucy. She was the light for their little fucked up family. She had this ability to make anyone smile with just a look, and if that didn't work, then she would make sure they were smiling by the time she was done with them. Erik was no exception.
Erik slowly walked around the side of the bed, then hesitantly lifted his hand to brush a few stray strands of Lucy's golden hair from her face and behind her ear. His fingers toyed with the ends of her hair for a moment, his saddened indigo eyes slowly hardening and growing darker by the second. Macbeth watched and waited as Erik looked over her body at the bandages he could see. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Erik's eyes lifted from the sleeping blonde to Macbeth's face. They were cold and unforgiving in a way that he'd never seen before, but he already knew what it meant. A single nod was all Erik gave him before pressing a tender kiss to Lucy's hair and leaving the room with Gajeel.
Macbeth sighed softly and nestled his nose in Lucy's hair. His eyes slid closed, even though he knew he wouldn't be sleeping that night, and he tenderly kissed her forehead. His makeup was long gone by that point, with most of it having been cried off while he held Lucy. He couldn't help but think of the silent agreement with Erik. The maroon-haired teen was going to find whoever did this to Lucy, and he was going to make the bastard pay with his life. No one would get away with hurting her like this.
Lucy and Erik were really the only family Macbeth had. While he didn't want to believe that Erik was capable of killing someone, there were just some things that he'd been able to come to terms with because of his past - one of those things being that sick bastards needed to be taught a lesson. It was one of the few times that Macbeth really thought of Erik as Cobra. He went by that nickname with everyone they met after Lucy gifted him with it, and only Lucy, himself, Seilah, and Kyouka had the honor of using his birth name. But now? The look he'd seen in Erik's darkened eyes made him think that Cobra wasn't enough. Something darker and much more sinister lurked in him, like a dragon that had an adventurer trying to steal his hoard.
Macbeth would have loved to join Cobra and Gajeel - because he knew that the big, pierced teen was going to be helping in the search and disposal - but Lucy needed him more. He knew that those two would stop at nothing to kill the fucker that dared to hurt their sister. No one hurt their family and got away with it. Especially not his Lucy. She was the Dawn to his Midnight, and he refused to let her light leave because of this.
So, he sat in silence. Holding the girl he had loved for years as closely as possible. She would need him now more than ever. She would need support, a shoulder to cry on, a safe haven from her fears. He would be that for her, just like he had been since they were kids. And maybe one day, when she was ready to let someone in, he would finally find the courage to tell her how he felt. Until then, he would be her brother, her best friend. He would protect her with no ulterior motive, just the conviction of someone who had fallen in love, of a best friend looking out for her, of a brother through the bond they had built over the years.
He had so much he wanted to say to her, and so much that he knew she wished she could vocalize. It was too soon for that though, for both of them. When she was ready, Macbeth would listen. Until then, he would sit with her in silence.
There's something that I posted on my profile, and I want people to be aware of it in regards to my writing. I won't post the whole thing here, but I strongly urge everyone to read it. Essentially, I DO NOT believe in trigger warnings. You won't see me using them at the beginning of a chapter. Ever. I don't like it when I read them, because it just lets me know that this particular thing is going to happen. And I want you guys to be surprised. There's a lot more to this, but just know that I'm not gonna warn you guys when something like this chapter (as in, what you just read) is coming about. I will occasionally put a trigger warning at the beginning of a story, maybe. But... That's more of me saying, "This one's gonna be dark. So be ready for not nice things of any sort..."