Everyone's back, and it's almost like they never left. The apartment feels right in a way it hasn't in seven years now that Gray's in it. He's even managed to dump a shirt on the floor already.
So why do I feel so nervous? Like Gray's judging me for not being thirteen anymore. And he doesn't even know the worst of me yet either.
And Gramps won't reinstate Laxus, so he's gone off again, even though I haven't seen him in years, and that's getting me frustrated. Does he even care about me? I'm his sister but I've changed a lot and even before we didn't see each other that often. I was hoping we'd go out together, maybe go for coffee and talk. We don't know each other as well as we could, but it'd be a start. Maybe he's annoyed at how much our age difference shrunk? Well, it was a surprise for me to find out he wasn't 30.
Gray must be in his room sulking, because Lyon told me about the break up when I ran into him on the way here, and although I could see this was coming, it's hard not to feel for Gray. From the way Lyon described it Gray took it hard too. Oh well. What was Lyon supposed to do? He's been over him for a long time. He can't just act like nothing happened. He's in a totally different frame of mind. He's ready to get married and increase the Vastia population. He's 26 and let's face it, Gray's a young 18.
It's hard to wrap my brain around seven years not being even seven days for everyone missing, and it's so wild. It's going to be an adjustment for everyone. Still, they're here. This is what I wanted for so long and I'm not dreaming this. They really came back. I keep looking over at Gray's shirt to check that it's there.
I'm in the kitchen not quite focusing on a cookbook, trying to think of something to throw together quickly, and since I barely ever cook, I'm not doing so well, when Gray's finally coming out of his room dressed in a nice buttoned-down shirt, dress pants, and smelling of the cologne he used to put on for Lyon, except it's seven years old, and really should have been thrown out years ago. I don't remember it being that nice when it was new for that matter.
"Hey. Forget cooking. Let's get dinner somewhere and go to a club."
"What sort of club?"
"A club where you pick up women." Ah. Well, he's direct at least although he's blushing too. He's so funny that way. He's clearly deluding himself thinking this is going to magically help him forget about Lyon. Not that I can talk. I's a little different, but what else was behind my decision to spend time with Hibiki at last year's games? Okay, so I was friends with Hibiki already, and I've always enjoyed his company, but I wanted a cute guy to take my mind off Sting, and to shove it in his face, as if to say, 'Look, Sting! I'm so over you!' Which just goes to show how little I was over him at that point. Am I completely over him even now? It's hard to get over somebody like him. Okay, don't go there.
There's no point in telling Gray his plan is not going to work. I wouldn't have listened to anybody either, and Gray can be ten times as stubborn as I am.
At least I know what I'm getting him for his birthday, or maybe even a welcome back present, because that scent is horrid. Can colognes go rancid? I'll have to find the bottle, chuck it out when he's not around, and replace it with a better quality one that should last longer. He won't know the difference.
And I do know a club, because I perform at dance clubs often, and the Cerise Flamingo is well known for being a pick up joint.
And after getting dressed up, and semi successfully made up, we've had a light meal at a café, and now we're at the club. I'm not used to going to clubs except for jobs, so I'm feeling restless sitting here without my guitar, bar stool and microphone. I wasn't sure how Gray was going to pick someone up if he's with me, so we're not sitting together. Why I'm going along with this dismal idea of his I don't know. Okay, I do know. Sometimes, people need to go through the experience themselves to really understand just how bad an idea can be. And hey, you never know. This could be the day he meets the love of his life. Yeah, right. Like that ever happens, especially the same day as a breakup.
The music's good at least, and I've worked with the keyboardist. I'm having fun socializing and dancing, and doing a little guest singing here and there so the singer can take a break, while looking out for Gray every so often to see how he's getting on. He was looking a little out of it and so young. Well, he is only 18, which is weird for me to think. I used to think he was so mature, because he was already 18. It's amazing what two more years does.
I'm glad I've managed to have fun. Last time I checked for Gray, he was talking to someone who looked a few years older than him, and there he is swapping spit with her in a darkened booth in the back. It's hilarious how much she looks like a female version of Lyon, but seeing he's doing well, I figure I can head back home. Especially, because there's a man here who's been eying me, and I really am not in the mood to explain why I'm not interested, while trying to be nice about it, so I don't hurt his feelings. Luckily for me, he was too shy to approach me.
That was one thing about Sting. Nobody would ever accuse him of being shy. What's he doing now? Are he and Rogue together? What's the likelihood of me ever finding someone like him ever again? Practically zero? I'm starting to be self-pitying and pathetic again. Why did I mess things up so badly? Why did I break up with him? It's obviously time to go home to sleep, because I know why I broke up with him, and sleep always makes things better.
Maybe I'll be wrong about Gray. He really could have met the love of his life. I'm fine with that, as long as he goes back to her place, like we arranged earlier.
And just great. I'm only a few blocks away from our apartment and Ivan has decided to make yet another unscheduled appearance, randomly out of the darkness as usual.
"Ivan." because he hasn't been entitled to being called father or dad for years now. Mister Dreyar would be ridiculous, and no way am I referring to him as Master.
"Alexa."
"Have you seen Laxus?"
"No. He's ran away again." No, he isn't running away, and you don't even care about him, you jerk.
"Okay. Why are you here?"
"You're becoming ruder each time I see you. This is how you speak to your father?"
"You're right, it isn't." Implication which will go over his head: I don't consider you my father.
"I'm usually right." Except for when you're totally in the wrong, which is almost all the time.
"Okay, Dad, I'm in a hurry, so why don't I help you out. 'Alexa, you're a useless weak traveling singer, and I should never have put that lacrima in you.'" He's looking at me blankly. Oh right, like that isn't what he says every time he sees me. "That's what you wanted to say to me, isn't it?"
"Let's move on from such petty squabbling." What does that even mean when I'm quoting him verbatim from every visit he's had with me since I was 13?
"What do you want?"
"Just some information."
"Oh. You're back to asking me to spy for Fairy Tail? The answer's still no, but I'm friends with Jason from Sorcerer Weekly, so maybe I can get you a discount."
"I just want to know about one thing. Where is the luminous twar?" Okay. He's moved on to speaking gibberish. Is this what happens when megalomaniac psychopaths get dementia? And isn't he a little young for that?
"I have no clue what you're talking about. I've never heard of it."
"Are you absolutely sure?"
"Yes." Not like I'd tell him about it if I had. Is he for real?
And that's it. Mega weird, but as visits from Ivan go, about as reasonable as you can get.
So after a quick trip to a corner store to get some basic groceries for tomorrow morning, I'm home at last, and I'm about to take off my shoes and contemplating a nice long bath, when I'm hearing sounds from Gray's bedroom. Happy sounds which nobody else is ever interested in hearing. And I'm annoyed, because he told me if he found someone, he'd go to her place. Never mind the bath. There's a few inns nearby. Hopefully one will still be open.
FYI: I know it's spelled lumen histoire, but I'm figuring Alexa would have no clue how it's spelled so I went for a phonetic spelling.