A/N: This chapter made me cry…multiple times. Sorry not sorry.

Chapter 10: Dogeza

The next morning, it was Bickslow who came to find him. Freed almost suspected them of scheduling check-ins, except Bickslow was blissfully oblivious to Freed's state of mind.

Freed had dragged through the morning routines of hygiene today and looked far nicer than he felt. Ever had lied: it hadn't made him feel better.

Just angry.

Despite how grating cheerfulness felt, Freed invited Bickslow in and offered to add a bit more to the breakfast currently cooking. They were exchanging mundane opinions on edibles when Freed turned to the side and Bickslow smirked.

"Someone had fun."

"What?" Freed blinked.

Bickslow gestured to his neck, making Freed clap a hand over the forgotten bruise. Too late.

"The bite marks look like you were attacked by a wild beast." Bickslow's eyes widened. "Don't tell me you and—"

Freed slammed his palm down so loudly Bickslow fell out of his chair.

If he said that name aloud, Freed was going to murder someone. He wanted to weep.

One look at Freed's face and Bickslow started talking.

"So hey, um, if we're not going on a job, I could use your help today, because my babies have a new formation to try. You game?"

"What do you need?"

"For you to fight us," Bickslow chuckled, still nervous. "What else?"

"Sounds nice." Freed grinned in a way that made Bickslow shift.

At a knock, Freed ignored Bickslow's startled jerk and strode into the hall. He opened the door with a cool, "Yes?"

The orange gaze hit him like a cold wind.

Laxus.

Freed flung the door shut, but Laxus caught it on his arm and pushed. Fighting against him, Freed considered his options: Laxus would win in a battle of brute strength, but if Freed drew his sword…

He might be able to get in a good strike. It was about time someone showed the bastard what true pain felt like.

"Please hear me out," Laxus said.

Freed shoved harder.

"I'll be quick," Laxus begged, still holding the door open. "Please."

Freed glared at him with every ounce of venom stored inside. The man didn't deserve a fucking thing.

Freed stopped trying to force the door, standing in the crack to block Bickslow from overhearing. He motioned rudely. "Well? Get the fuck on with it."

"You're going to make me do this out here, aren't you?" Laxus sighed.

"I don't see how I owe you listening, let alone access to my house," Freed spat.

Nodding, Laxus closed his eyes and inhaled.

He was still everything Freed had loved, from those broad shoulders and that steady body to that beautiful, scarred face. Freed wanted to rip him into unrecognizable pieces.

Laxus knelt and put his forehead on the ground and Freed's jaw fell open in shock.

"I'm sorry for everything I said," Laxus said into the dirt. "I'm sorry for treating you so poorly and putting you in an awful position. I'm so, so sorry I hurt you."

Muscles stiff, Freed stared at this pillar of strength bowing to him. The indomitable Laxus without his arrogance. Laxus humbling himself enough to apologize.

"Stand up." Freed seemed to be breathing through shards of ice.

When Laxus rose, Freed saw another thing he wasn't used to: Laxus scared and waiting.

Freed punched him in the eye.

Laxus stumbled backward. The force was much harder than when Freed had hit him in the forest—this time he wanted to wound and break. Laxus gripped his nose, blood slithering between his fingers, and stared at Freed.

Freed gave him a nasty grin as he stepped out onto the stoop, pulling the door shut.

Fury; fury tore his heart open; fury made him strong. Despair was easy to dish out to others when you'd experienced it yourself, and Freed had so much to spare.

"You think you can come here, bow out an apology, and things will magically move on?" Freed took a painful breath. "Did you really think I would forgive you?"

As he continued forward, Laxus backed warily toward the street.

"Did you think my forgiveness would be here for you to take advantage of forever? You're wrong, Dreyar," Freed sneered. "I guess when you're an asshole who's only ever loved himself, you don't realize other people have limits. Love has limits. I won't let myself be abused."

"Freed." Laxus swallowed.

They said revenge never made things better, but it wasn't like Freed's life could get any worse. Hurting Laxus sounded like the best way to murder what remained of Freed's soul. Maybe then the pain would stop.

And if breaking Laxus made him feel even worse afterward? Freed didn't give a flying fuck about his heart anymore.

Another step brought him in range. Freed made as if to punch Laxus's nose again, and when the Dragon Slayer blocked, Freed brought his other fist up into Laxus's gut.

Laxus gasped and hunched over.

The Dragon Slayer's expression was desperate and human and scared.

Freed didn't want to see it—didn't want to care. He drew his sword.

"Shit, Freed! What the hell?" Bickslow shouted, running out of the house. He tried to get between them, but Freed pointed his sword at Bickslow before he could take three steps.

"Stay the fuck out of this!" Freed yelled.

Yelping, Bickslow ducked, but Freed didn't throw any runes at him. He focused on Laxus.

After a second's assessment, Bickslow sprinted away down the street, footsteps disappearing toward the guild.

"Freed," Laxus said quietly, raising his hands in surrender as blood spilled from his nose, "I know I deserve this—"

"Deserve this?" Freed shouted. His heart was pounding and he was nothing but rage. "This isn't close to what you deserve, you son of a bitch. You think offering an apology could be enough to make up for all the things you've done to me? All the ways you've humiliated me?"

"I know." Laxus lowered his hands, eyes closing. "Shit, I know. I don't know where to start making up for it."

Freed's anger turned blacker than storm clouds. Hadn't Laxus figured out by now all he wanted was to be seen? To be known, and not called dirty things?

Laxus didn't know him at all.

The truth was cold and terrible. Their friendship, which Freed had treasured for so long, didn't matter. The Dragon Slayer wasn't here to heal the breach between them: all Laxus wanted was to be comfortable.

Even though Freed was disgusted and aching, the realization was agony. Laxus was here for his own sake. Again.

"No idea how to make up for it?" Freed asked, gutteral. "Your fucking loss."

Laxus whipped his eyes up in shock. Freed wanted to break that perfect face.

"I don't want to see you again," he said, trembling as he pointed his sword at the Dragon Slayer's chest. "Leave now and don't you ever dare come back. I'm off your team. Permanently."

Horrified, Laxus's eyes widened. "But Ever and Bi—"

"Can choose between us. Hell, I'll let you keep your fucking team if you've actually found it in you to take care of people besides yourself. At this point, I don't care about anything as long as I never have to see to your face again."

"But we need you." Laxus's voice was thick with blood and pleading.

"Find someone to replace me," Freed hissed. "Knowing you, it won't be difficult."

Laxus choked.

"I need you, Freed."

Gods, why did that hurt so much?

"I don't think you do." Freed's throat felt cold, the words dead. "Honestly, I don't care. I lived the last few years without your respect and I managed to survive, so I think you can learn to handle my fucking absence. It'll be good for you. If you even notice I'm gone."

Turning around, he sheathed his sword.

"Get lost or I'll hurt you for real," he called without looking back.

I wash my hands of you, you loveless piece of shit. Laxus would never break his heart again. Freed would make sure of it.

Freed walked back toward the house, leaving Laxus in the street.

"Freed, wait two fucking seconds."

A hand grabbed his arm.

The touch burned him. When Freed tried to hit him, Laxus blocked and grabbed his wrist. He had Freed captive—was touching him, skin on skin. Fear hit Freed's throat and everything exploded.

"Let go!" Freed screamed, tearing out of Laxus's grasp. "Don't touch me! Don't ever touch me again!"

The sheer panic on the Laxus's face was the best thing Freed had seen all day. He felt sick.

"I-I want to explain before you throw me out on my ass," Laxus stammered. "Can we go inside before I start talking about our sex lives in the middle of the street?"

Quivering, Freed glared. Laxus moved toward the house with back hunched and arms held close, as if scared he would set Freed off.

Freed followed him after a moment, slamming the front door so hard the frame cracked. Laxus flinched.

"I, um," the Dragon Slayer said.

"Something about being raised to hate gays, blah blah. I'm so sorry for you," Freed spat. "Are you still looking for pity? Because you're not getting any. You've been in Fairy Tail your entire life: you can't tell me you never saw two people of the same gender in a relationship before. I know how terrible Ivan was, but you defied him a hundred different ways in the years since. There's no excuse for the hatred you've spewed at me, and there's definitely no excuse for you to keep me by your side when you hold zero respect for me."

"Shit." Laxus scrubbed a hand across his red-streaked face.

Crossing to the kitchen, Freed threw a towel at him. "Don't bleed on my floor."

"Thanks."

"Shut up, Laxus." Freed tightened his hands on a chair back, trembling with a thousand emotions and tears he hadn't shed. "So have you always thought so little of me, or is it only since you stopped being able to deny I was gay?"

"I don't…think little of you," Laxus whispered.

"Really? What am I to you: something to masturbate to? You imagine fucking me and giving the middle finger to all the so-called fags?"

"Shitfuck, of course not." Laxus looked appalled. "You make it sound like I'd assault you."

"It's not much better if I'm the subject of your sexualization," Freed spat. "Or the object of your hatred."

"You're not."

"Then what is it? You're not into guys, but you go looking to sleep with one and cry out my name when you come. What the hell? What the fuck am I missing here?"

"I'm," Laxus took a breath, "…not straight."

Freed's eyebrows tipped upward.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I might be…that."

"Queer?"

"Maybe."

Freed's voice rose. "Is that what this whole fucking thing was about?"

"I don't know." Gazing at the floor, he pressed the bloody towel to his face as if he could hide in it.

Freed let out a cry of frustration that made him jump.

"I don't understand you! You want to fuck with a guy to see if you like it: fine! But why the anonymity and secrecy and 'this is a one-time thing'?"

Freed shook his head, his fingers practically embedded in the chair back. His whole body was tense.

"I thought you were getting better. I thought after all these years you at least respected me—maybe my sexuality made you uncomfortable, but you didn't hate me. You were the one who outed Natsu and Gray's relationship to the guild. Ever tried to set me up with people a few times and you never said anything. You glared at her, but I thought it was getting to be…okay. Maybe we could even b-be equals again."

His voice hitched pitifully, and goddamn Laxus watched him with sad eyes. Freed's stomach did a sickly flip.

"I'm sorry," Laxus stammered. His mouth opened to say more, but he stopped and shook his head.

"Sorry isn't an explanation," Freed said. "I've had enough of your empty apologies. You said you wanted to explain. Hurry up so I can kick you out."

Laxus swallowed.

"The secrecy…was because I didn't want to like it. I figured I'd try it and hate it." He raised his hands. "I know: I'm disgusting. You can say it."

"Just tell me one thing," Freed said, voice shaking. He was so exhausted of being angry. "Why did you prefer a fucking stranger over me? I would've… I think it's pretty obvious I would've said yes."

"I couldn't." Laxus squeezed his eyes shut. "I didn't think you could forgive me. I said a lot of terrible things to you back then, and I never apologized for them."

"Really?" Freed's voice went deadly soft. "Despite working together and repairing our friendship and rebuilding our trust, you didn't think I could move on from something you said years ago? If you'd told me you'd grown and were sorry, I would've forgiven you in a heartbeat, Laxus. I've wanted to clear the air for so long. Instead, you thought it'd be better to fuck me over a dozen ways."

"It's fucked-up, Freed. I won't say it isn't."

"Damn right it's fucked-up! If you want to drag your homophobic baggage around with you, that's your prerogative. But if you take advantage of your anonymous fuckbuddy, which hurt like fucking hell by the way, and then mock the real me—mock me through your fucking orgasm, you bastard—to avoid dealing with your shit… Fuck you. Just fuck you."

Freed was trembling, eyes growing wet.

"You're a disgraceful piece of work."

Laxus jerked when he saw the tear escape down Freed's face.

"Freed." His low voice was infinitely sad.

Sad, like he was a fucking saint overflowing with empathy. Like he was so big-hearted, ready to pity Freed's suffering.

Like he cared.

"Fucking hell," Freed cursed, "does anything I say even touch you? Why am I the only one hurting?"

"I feel terrible!"

"Sure," Freed said thickly. "Whatever you say."

He couldn't see Laxus anymore. Too much water in the way. Hanging his head, Freed pressed his fingers to his eyes and held his breath. He refused to make a sound. He couldn't let Laxus see what a mess he'd made of him.

But he couldn't stop his shoulders from shaking. Despite everything, a sob jerked out of him.

Why did it have to hurt this badly? Why did it have to be heartbreak and betrayal? Losing love…and losing basic human decency too.

Laxus had ripped everything from him.

As dizziness assaulted him, Freed had to inhale. The ragged sound cut through the room, his uneven breaths choked, like someone dying. Every pain poured out of him, and he wept.

He'd always been able to keep himself in check, but now…the man who betrayed everything stood before him. He couldn't stop his heart from breaking over and over. Emotions rose to the surface no matter how hard he pressed them down: it was his worst nightmare, no longer in control.

He heard an indrawn breath across from the room. That hurt worse, knowing Laxus was right there and in any other world, Freed would beg for his embrace. In another world, Laxus might give it.

"If you d-dare touch me…" Freed gasped, shuddering.

"I won't." When Laxus's voice sounded usually deep, Freed looked up. The Dragon Slayer had turned to the side, face pale.

There were tears on his cheeks.

Against his will, Freed's heart pounded, particles of his being rebelling against his anger. Worry, concern, a desire to take care of the man he once loved.

Fuck you.

Why couldn't he just hate Laxus and be finished?

Because I still care about you after everything you've done to me.

Freed curled in on himself, soaking his palms with the thousands of feelings he'd never expressed. The things he never said, the things he never admitted to wanting. He cried that life had to be so fucking hard: it would be fine if he didn't have a heart, but life wasn't decent enough for that. He couldn't logic his way out of this. There was only aching and hurting and waiting for it to end. Forced to see himself the way Laxus must: an unattractive, overbearing excuse for a friend. A stupid child craving the unattainable.

Gasping in another breath, Freed wiped his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to find composure.

Calm words would end this torture sooner. Calm words would get Laxus out of the house, and then he could fall apart. Then he could stop feeling anything.

Wiping his face, he collected himself with a great effort and faced his worst enemy.

"You know you can't ask me to help put your pieces back in working order," Freed said. "Not this time."

"I know. I'm not asking you to." Laxus looked down. "I'm going to figure my shit out myself. I actually am; I promise. I just…want you to be there. I want your friendship while I do this. If it's still available."

Freed leaned over the chair back on his elbows, resting his face in his hands and swallowing a hiccough. The warm darkness of his palms was comforting.

If it was still available...

Everything had drained out of him with his tears, leaving him like the bloody, worn-out cloth in Laxus's hand.

"I still despise you," Freed muttered, hating himself for not having the strength to stay pissed.

"When you hate someone, you usually have a right to. You don't hate without good reason."

Freed shook his head. Laxus being the mature one. Laxus being kind.

With Freed's anger in embers now, he wanted explanations. He wanted this constant ache out of his chest—maybe even the ability to sleep again. Gods, he would love to sleep. For a thousand years, until this pain was a distant memory.

"Say your piece," Freed told him wearily. "I'll hear you out."

Glancing at him, Laxus dabbed at the red mess that was his face.

"This." Laxus pointed to his nose and eye socket swelling with black. "Ivan used to do this when I looked at...pretty boys for too long. Actually, Ivan did worse."

Shocked, Freed jerked his head up to meet Laxus's eyes. Freed's pale, bloodless face made him ache. I did that to him.

"What?" Freed asked.

"Ivan," Laxus repeated, picking at his scarred fingers. "Boys that were pretty meant…beatings."

"Gods." Freed hung his head, hair swinging in front of his expression. "Let's sit."

They arranged themselves at opposite ends of the sofa, effortless and awkward at the same time. Laxus kept searching out Freed's eyes. The rune wizard finally seemed calm—a stark contrast to the rabid, uncontrolled Freed of a short while ago. Laxus never wanted to bring out that side of Freed again.

"I'm listening," Freed prompted.

Laxus's stomach knotted, acid in his mouth. He could say this.

"Two men together was pretty high up the list of things Ivan hated. He said people should only get married to have offspring," Laxus recited. "Falling in love is a waste of time. You can't trust people—everyone will hurt you eventually. So being gay is pointless: you can't reproduce and you're just weakening yourself for an alliance that will come back to bite you."

"Damn," Freed said.

"No shit," Laxus said, breathless. It was hard to replay Ivan's words. "He was a messed-up son of a bitch. I still tried to do it, though—be like him. Tried to be the strongest. Didn't have time for relationships. Still thought gays were weak."

"Why?"

Laxus shrugged. "I may hate him, but I've always wanted to be strong. He taught me to hate other boys as competition. To keep my distance or I'd end up the bottom rung, I guess. You know I didn't have many friends. Kinda distances you from your peers when physical contact is punishable by fist."

Freed's hand flew to his mouth.

"He hit you for—"

Laxus frowned, stare hawklike. "You knew about that."

They both knew Freed was aware where he got so many of his childhood injuries. The most Laxus ever said about it in adulthood was, Not all my bruises came from missions, but he knew Freed figured it out long before. So they never had to actually say it. Even when Laxus told him the story of his lacrima…he couldn't admit to the beatings. It was an admission of weakness. He couldn't.

"Yes," Freed said softly, "I knew it was going on."

When Freed hung his head, it hit him: Freed was ashamed.

Of what? He couldn't have stopped it. Ivan would've torn Freed to pieces.

"He did it because you liked boys?" Freed whispered. "That was the reason? All this time, and I never…"

Freed didn't say I'm sorry, but Laxus could read it in every line of his body.

In the ensuing silence, Freed's hand landed on Laxus's arm, the touch natural after so many years as friends. Freed cared about him far more than anyone should. Far more than anyone else ever had. Laxus hunched, trying not to notice every point at which Freed's fingers connected with his skin.

"Liking boys was one of many reasons. I think he maybe knew I was…not straight. Probably showed on my face every time—"

Laxus winced. Every time he saw Freed or Wan or some of the other boys…his face probably lit up like the moon.

"Master never knew?" Freed whispered.

"No. But Ivan was exiled eventually. Took care of the problem."

Freed bit his lip hard, and Laxus could see him restraining furious words: he got put out of the guild when he almost killed you.

"Jijii raised me a lot of the time," Laxus went on. "Ivan was busy with work. Maybe Jijii suspected what was happening and took care of me to protect me. I don't know. But there were lots of good times; I'm not a sob story."

Freed squeezed his arm. "I know."

Laxus's heart trilled. He was way out on thin ice here. He didn't know what to do so far from solid land—how to stay safe in this minefield, or if safety was even what he wanted. But Freed was beside him, like always. It made him able to suck in a breath, exhale, and be strong.

"I never knew you were beaten for this," Freed said quietly. "Gods. So when we hung out, if I touched you at all and he saw…he punished you later?"

Cold crawled up Laxus's throat.

"Pretty much."

"Was it just for bigger things?" Freed's voice was high. "Hugs or…big things. Right?"

"It was for anything." Laxus fluttered his fingertips over Freed's arm, satisfied at the way Freed shook. "Any kind of touch."

Freed's eyes widened.

"That was why you never— why you always—"

"Yes."

"You never got too close. Never joined the fights, never…"

As light dawned in Freed's eyes, relief flooded Laxus's system.

"I'm so sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry." Freed gripped tighter. "Getting slapped around is bad enough. But when your only method for survival isolates you from other people…"

"...Yeah."

Freed almost looked like he would cry again, and Laxus panicked, but the rune mage sucked a breath.

"And if you liked boys… I can't imagine having to lock part of yourself away from that kind of violence."

"Part?" Laxus's voice cracked. "I don't think this is just a part."

Freed met his eyes, careful and scrutinizing. Laxus was aware of every centimeter that lay—and did not lie—between them.

"What do you mean?"

"I never felt before what I did with you," Laxus whispered, looking down at Freed's hand.

"Maybe I'm just that good." Freed's lips turned up, but his eyes were still sad.

"Possibly."

Laxus put a hand over Freed's. Gods, was this allowed? Could Laxus have his pathetic little touch? He needed this, needed to hold Freed's hand so he could say this. He looked up into Freed's eyes.

"I always thought about men when I shagged women. That's not normal, is it?"

"Of course it's normal."

Laxus jerked. "It is?"

"Yes. I've known plenty of gay men who felt the same way."

Gay.

"Freed," Laxus shivered, "don't hate me for this…"

"I won't," Freed said confidently.

Laxus stilled.

"But you hated me—rightly—just minutes ago."

"Wrongly," Freed corrected, lips twisting. "And I stopped being angry before you explained. I can't stay mad at you, Laxus. I'm no good at it."

The exhaustion dragging at Freed's features broke him. He'd hurt this man so much.

"Nothing you say right now will make me hate you," Freed promised.

Doubt still crept around the edges of Laxus's heart. Fear. Fear of Freed—and of his own emotions. Fear of getting hurt. Of breaking.

Freed caressed Laxus's cheek, abruptly halting Laxus's brain. The touch was too good to be true; Laxus couldn't fully process it. Selfish as it was, he leaned into Freed's palm, drawing courage from it.

"Freed, I don't want to be gay."

"That's okay. You can call yourself whatever you want, Laxus. You don't have to use a label. You don't have to tell people if you don't want. Although you shouldn't lie to your sexual partner next time."

Swallowing, Laxus closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Freed's fingers found his scar, gliding up and down in soothing strokes, and all of a sudden, it was a lot easier to relax.

Next sexual partner. What did that mean?

"I'm sorry I didn't understand," Freed whispered. "Fuck. This was partly my fault. When you didn't communicate, I assumed. I assumed you were using me and…I'm sorry. I can't believe I was so callous."

"I'm hard to live with," Laxus rumbled. "I know that."

He was always being an asshole to someone. He knew he wasn't nice.

"No, Laxus. You're just fine."

They both inhaled.

"You're magnificent," Freed whispered.

Warm breath kissed Laxus's face as Freed put their foreheads together. A tornado blew through him, whipping up his insides, unwinding the knot his gut had settled in.

"Laxu—" Freed began.

"I'm sorry, Freed," he interrupted, not wanting to break the moment with reality. Not wanting to hear whatever awaited on Freed's tongue—to be pushed away when he had finally admitted what he wanted. "I'm so sorry."

"Laxus…"

The Dragon Slayer tried not to tense, but he couldn't help it, jerking away to wrap his arms around himself. He shivered. Something bad was about to happen.

Freed leaned in and put his head in the crook of Laxus's shoulder.

"It's okay," Freed said.

Laxus unraveled. He pressed closer to Freed, that green hair against his cheek, Freed's scent surrounding him. The smell held relief, a final easing of all the pain he'd carried for so long. Suddenly brave, Laxus wrapped his arms around him and Freed sighed contentedly.

It was actually real.

He almost said I'm never letting go, but the moment was too precious, too fragile. He couldn't break it with promises regarding a future he wasn't even sure Freed wanted. Screw tomorrow: he had Freed right now and that was enough. It was more than enough.

He put his affection into the embrace instead, holding Freed tight enough that nothing could drag him away.

They were both angled across the sofa toward each other, which wasn't exactly comfortable, but Laxus wouldn't have moved for all the world. His world had finally stopped moving—had come to a resting place for the first time in his life.

Freed saw him, his true self, and everything was okay.

Chapter 11: The G Word

A/N: See, I didn't end on a bad note. I'm not completely evil.

Show of hands, who cried? *raises both hands*