Hi all. This is something I've been working on for a little while, and I'm quite happy with how it turned out. It started out as a shameless excuse to write the two of them wearing suits from the 1930's and spiralled out of control. The second part should be coming out on Monday.
As always, thank you so much for any comments and kudos you leave. They mean so much. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading. ^.^
Eight Days in Transit
Day One: Morning
Keep his head down, cover his eyes with his cap, and make as little noise as he could. That's all he needed to do to get through this.
Laxus walked beneath the stone arches into the grand train station, merging as best he could with the dense crowd of travellers. He did his best to look inconspicuous, though his heart was beating fast and his eyes scanning his surroundings as quickly as he could. It was inevitable that the police would be here soon, and if they were to see him then they would zero in on him instantly, so he needed to keep moving.
Through the miasma of steam and smoke from the trains, Laxus glanced over the listings and departure times. The panic was setting in, not allowing him to focus properly. He tightened his grip on the bag he had slung over his shoulder, anxiety growing as he looked for a train departing soon that would get him anywhere near where he needed to be.
Taking a breath, he saw it. Paris, departing at 8:35. Twenty minutes.
He turned his head, looking for the platform. It was at the right of the station, the train already stationed with people boarding it. He had to move fast but tried not to push anyone out of the way where he could avoid. Pushing the wrong person could bring attention to them, which he couldn't deal with. Because even when he was trying to blend into the crowd, a man of Laxus' stature, with bright blonde hair no less, was obvious. He hoped the murmured apologies to anyone he bumped into would be enough to keep anonymity.
As he got closer to the ninth platform, he glanced over his shoulder. Police had entered – four of them, at least – and were speaking with a person dressed in a uniform. Laxus clenched his jaw at the sight, his pace quickening. When he saw one glancing in his direction, he covered his eyes with his flatcap and kept his gaze to the floor.
All this for a stolen wallet. How was he to know he was pickpocketing a visiting lord?
Having left the heavy crowd, he walked faster to the train leading to Paris. He didn't have a ticket, nor could he afford one if the lavishness of the train was reflective of the price, but he was too far along to stop now. He looked up and down the vehicle, hoping that there would be an obvious luggage carriage that he could climb into. If anyone found him, he would have to convince them he worked for the station as someone who loaded suitcases. A believable lie, hopefully.
The passengers seemed to be boarding from the back of the train, so luggage would likely be at the front. He walked with a quick pace, occasionally looking back for police. There was none near him, and he soon found what he guessed was the luggage carriage.
He tried to open the door, but of course it was locked. He pushed a little harder, but still nothing. He walked a little further to down and was faced with another door. He pulled it, and although it wasn't locked, it seemed as though the rust had made the hinges stiff. He grabbed the handle with both hands and started to pull with a grunt of effort. It moved half an inch but was nowhere close to being open.
By the third sharp pull, he saw the door to the engine room opening.
A man walked out, and Laxus froze. The driver lit a cigarette and started to smoke, thankfully looking in the other direction. Laxus couldn't pull on the handle again – the metal scraping was loud – so the luggage carriage idea was bust. He turned around to see the police spreading out, still not having seen him.
He walked beside the train, unblinking and tense as he did so. He needed to get on this fucking train, but apparently even the Greek transportation system was against him, not just it's policing system.
The police were now looking down some of the platforms, and once they saw him he would be trapped. He looked up at the large vehicle and was forced to make a decision: either quickly make his way to the next door onto the train and hope it opened, or try desperately to get out of the station and lie low for as long as he could. The latter was probably easier and safer, but he needed to get to France as quickly as he could, and this might be his only opportunity.
Trying not to second guess himself, he climbed up to the small metal walkway between two of the cabins. He tried both doors, the second mercifully being unlocked. He entered it before he could talk himself out of it and took a breath.
The difference between inside the rain and outside was palpable.
It was calmer now, with a corridor of exposed wood and immaculate red carpets. The smell of train smoke was a lot less pungent, a welcome release from the station. Laxus leant against the back of the door, panting.
"What the fuck are you doing, Dreyar?" He asked himself with a whisper.
What was his next move? The conductor was going to figure out that he hadnt got a ticket, so if he didn't want to add being a stowaway onto his list of crimes, he was going to have to hide for however long this journey was. But he couldn't hide anywhere because he was on a damn train.
This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea.
His chest heaved a little as he tried to catch his breath. His cheeks were flushed red and sweat covering him slightly, and he wanted nothing more to close his eyes and allow himself to relax. But he couldn't, because he stupidly boarded a train he hadnt paid for – and a pretty luxurious one by the look of it – and now had to deal with the consequences of that.
Maybe he could break into the luggage carriage? If there were doors between each carriage, he could pull it open and wouldn't have to worry about the sound once the train was moving. That was the best option, but even if that did work, he needed to wait until it they had left the station, and that was difficult in and of itself. He needed to hide until that could happen. With that in mind, he started to walk down the corridor in hopes of finding somewhere he wouldn't be noticed.
Half way down the corridor, the door was opened by someone in a uniform.
Fuck.
They were wheeling a trolley of some kind, thankfully with their back to Laxus. Not giving the man the time to turn, Laxus looked back and saw the corridor was lined with doors. He pushed open the nearest one and walked through it, shutting it with a soft click. He rested his forehead against the door, listening with bated breath as the squeaking wheel of the trolley passing by without hesitation. Laxus let out a quiet breath, eyes closing with a relief.
"Excuse me Sir," A smooth voice said from behind him, and Laxus' eyes shot open. "May I help you?"
Laxus turned slowly, looking at the room he had entered. It was a sleeper cabin, with two beds one above the other pressed against the left wall. At the foot of the beds was an open door that lead to a small, but functional washroom. A large desk was pushed against the right wall, somewhat cluttered. None of that mattered, because sitting at the desk was a man.
Fuck.
The man was clearly wealthy, with a crisp white shirt, fancy looking trousers and a decadent coat hanging from a coat hook. He was young, perhaps a few years younger than Laxus, and with sharp features and long green hair. His eyebrow was cocked up as he looked back at Laxus.
He couldn't speak. What could he say to get out of this?
"I made it quite clear that this was to be a private cabin," The man continued, standing up. "And if you believe this is your room, then I can assure you it isn't."
"No," Laxus managed to speak, voice slightly croaker than normal. "I know this ain't my room, sir."
"Then would you mind explaining to me why you're…"
The man trailed off on his words, and Laxus tensed. He could only watch, standing dead still, as the man turned fully towards him and looked him up and down. It was an unsubtle action, and the man seemed uncaring for Laxus' obvious discomfort. The eyes flickered all over him, and Laxus could tell that the man was putting everything together. With tattered clothes, a bulging bag containing almost everything Laxus cared for, scuffed shoes and a less than well-presented manner, it was obvious that he didn't belong here.
With slow, purposeful movements, the man stood up from his desk. He continued looking Laxus with an analytical eye, and the blonde felt he couldn't even move for fear of being found out. Even though it was plainly obvious that this man had an idea of what was happening.
"Would you mind showing me your ticket, sir," The man said, eventually. "So I can help you to your cabin."
Fuck, even though he knew it was coming it felt like a punch to the gut. At the very least the conductor would be called, he'd be dragged into some office in the train station and probably be charged for attempting to be a stowaway. Of course, then the police would inevitably find him and make sure his robbery charges were included, and he would be fucked. Brilliant.
"I thought not," The man continued after a moment. "May I ask your name, sir?"
"Laxus. Laxus Dreyar," He said, voice hoarse. Hopefully, being polite might make the man show leniency and he would be allowed to leave the train without the staff knowing.
"A pleasure," The stranger smiled. "Just to be clear, you're a stowaway, correct?"
"I suppose so, sir," Laxus muttered. "I can leave, sir. I don't wanna cause trouble, I can just go."
"That's hardly necessary," The man continued.
Laxus watched as the man sat back at his desk but was still looking at Laxus. The expression of suspicion was replaced with one of faint amusement, and Laxus couldn't understand why. He continued to stay as still as possible, as if a movement would spook the man enough to call the conductor in.
"Tell me Mr Dreyar, and please don't take offense to this," The man continued. "What would drive you to do something so stupid as to stowaway on a train journey that lasts eight days?"
Eight days? Of course he had managed to get on a train that would take eight damn days to get to its destination; that was just how luck worked with him. He had guessed that it wouldn't be a short journey, but not this long. It was far too long for him to remain hidden. Shit.
"Because, if I'm honest with you, Mr Dreyar," The man continued. "I find myself oddly fascinated by you?"
"Excuse me, sir?" Laxus asked.
"Call it intuition, or perhaps delusion, but you seem as though you're someone with a story to tell," The man glanced at his desk for a moment, before looking back to Laxus. "Would you agree?"
"I ain't any more interesting than anyone else," Laxus said before he could stop himself. The man smiled.
"Perhaps. But you're the first man I've met brave, or perhaps stupid, enough to stowaway on a luxury rail service lasting over a week. That's interesting to me," The man smiled. "I have a proposition for you, Mr Dreyar. But first, I should introduce myself. I'm Freed Justine."
"Nice to meet ya, Mr Justine," Laxus took the man's hand, somewhat tentatively. "I don't understand what you mean by proposition, though?"
"I'm a writer. I'm currently working on an anthology of short stories. With varying degrees of success, I must admit. Which is where I think we can help one another," The man, Freed, smiled a little. "I believe the happenstance that brought you here would make for a good story. I'd like you to tell me it, so I can write and publish it. In return, you can stay in here throughout the journey and I'll do what I can to make sure you're undiscovered."
Laxus felt his breath hitch.
This wasn't a normal situation, but Laxus couldn't dwell on that. This was almost definitely the best opportunity he would have to get into Paris, and everything in him wanted to take it. Explaining why he was there wouldn't be pleasant, but it also wouldn't be difficult. And he didn't need to tell the man everything, he could hide whatever he wanted. But still, he had doubts.
"I'll be found," Laxus muttered before he could stop himself. It was more to himself than to anyone else.
"I made it clear that nobody is to come into my cabin under any circumstances, I've requested breakfast to be delivered to me rather than taking it in the dining cart so I can feed you at least to some extent, and if someone does need to come in here you can stay in the washroom," Freed said, with authority in his tone. "It rather seems like fate has smiled upon us."
Laxus took a moment before speaking. "You're really sure about this?"
"Of course," Freed nodded slightly. "As I said, you interest me. The choice is yours."
"Fuck, then yes. Definitely. Thank you so much," Laxus breathed out, as if a weight had been lifted off his chest. He knew he had no way of trusting this man, but he was desperately hoping that maybe this could work. "Do you want me to tell you now or?"
"Not now, you should have some time to acclimatise and calm down. You look as though you've ran a marathon," He laughed a little, and Laxus flushed. He was sweating a little.
"I guess I do," Laxus admitted, more out of fear for upsetting the man than anything else.
"You can relax, you know. I'm a man of my word, I won't suddenly change my mind if you disagree with me," Freed laughed again, looking to the small clock sitting on the desk. "I'll leave you for now, so you can settle. It's polite to introduce one's self to other passengers when on a journey like this, I suppose."
Laxus laughed a little at the reluctance in Freed's voice, watching as he adorned a red waistcoat and jacket. He stood to the side, allowing Freed access to the door. The writer paused for a moment, looking both at Laxus and then the bag over his shoulder. Laxus tensed, and he sighed.
"I mean it, Mr Dreyar. I won't hold anything against you, this room is as much yours as it is mine from now on. So you can relax, and put the bag down while you're at it, it looks as if it's filled with rocks" Freed joked, and Laxus laughed a little. "Although I would prefer the bottom bunk, I must admit."
"Yeah, that fine," Laxus said instantly. Climbing to an upper bunk was the least he could do.
"I'm glad," Freed said, straightening his jacket while looking in the mirror. "I expect meeting these people will drag out for an eternity, so I don't know when I'll next see you. So, until that time, good day Mr Dreyar."
"Good day, Mr Justine," Laxus nodded, and a moment later Freed had left the room.
Laxus looked around the room, taking in all that had just happened. He walked to the seat and collapsed into it, a large sigh leaving him. He glanced to the bed that he would be sleeping in for the next week, then to the door that kept him from being discovered and reprimanded. This small cabin was to be his home for over a week, a small but pleasant safe haven for the time being. As stressful as this may be, perhaps this could work out.
Against all his instincts telling him to stay alert, Laxus found himself relaxing.
Day One: Evening
Laxus lay in his bed, above the soft covers, looking at the curving ceiling less than a few feet away from his head. He had been doing this for almost an hour now, and despite knowing it sounded petulant, he was bored out of his mind.
Hungry too. His stomach kept reminding him of that.
He had hardly eaten today; due to the rush he was in during the morning he had forgone any breakfast. Freed hadnt been able to give him a real meal, meaning the blonde was forced to make do with a singular apple taken from a fruit bowl, and three shortbread biscuits that had been served with a coffee. Freed had brought them both to him, and as small as they were Laxus had been incredibly thankful.
He was still hungry though.
Worse still was the fact it was dinner now, and on a Sunday no less. Laxus could smell the intoxicating aroma of gravy and cooked beef, and cursed God that Freed's cabin was placed near to the dining cart. It seemed comparable to kicking a man when he was down.
Freed had left nearly half an hour ago, meaning he must be close to completing his meal now. He would return soon, which Laxus was looking forward to, as conversation would at least alleviate some of his boredom.
The two men had seen each other periodically throughout the day, and Laxus couldn't get a read on him. He was clearly of a higher social class, something Laxus couldn't ignore despite how pleasant the man seemed to be. But he did seem true to his word, in that Laxus hadnt yet felt patronised or in the man's debt. In some ways, Laxus would have preferred that, because then at least he would know where he stood. But now, his relationship was a question mark, and one that Laxus couldn't figure out no matter how hard he tried.
And apparently the roof of the train wasn't willing to give him answers.
By the time the door to the cabin opened again, Laxus had resulted to throwing a pair of balled up socks from hand to hand. Laxus glanced down to see Freed walk in, shrugging off his jacket and waistcoat.
"Hey," Laxus greeted, and Freed looked up.
"Evening," The man greeted, smiling a little. "My apologies for taking so long."
"Don't," Laxus countered. "You don't need to focus on me, not like you asked to have me in here."
"Well, technically I did, actually," Freed corrected, smirking a little. Was the man teasing him? Laxus couldn't tell. "Hopefully you weren't too bored on your own; I expect you didn't have much to do."
"Not really, but I can't exactly complain," Laxus sat up, leaning against the wall of the cabin and looking towards Freed. The man had removed his tie and undone his top button, now sitting at the desk again. Seeing this, Laxus continued. "I've erm, I've been thinking. I thought maybe I should tell you everything now, rather than putting it off."
This had been on Laxus' mind throughout the day. He couldn't tell Freed the entire truth – partially because he was a private person, and partially because this wasn't entirely his story to tell – and had been considering what aspects of his day to confess.
"It ain't really interesting. Not enough for a short story, I don't think," Laxus continued. "Which is why I wanna do it now, so if you decide it ain't good enough then you can ask for something more."
"That's considerate of you," Freed nodded. "Although, I should remind you that I offered you this room for that story. That's all I want. And I can embellish it as much as required."
"If you're sure," Laxus said, voice a little low.
Laxus watched as Freed turned to face the wall, pulling out a lavish looking pen and a notebook, rather than the typewriter that was still in its case. The blonde lazily followed the other man's actions, noticing how purposeful his movements were. Perhaps he was just grasping at straws in trying to understand the man, but the small actions told Laxus that Freed was a practical man. Despite his status, he didn't have much flash and pretention.
Maybe he really was just doing this because he wanted to help Laxus. And for the story. If that were true then maybe Freed was just an honest man, who put all his cards on the table without any pretence. Laxus wasn't really used to that.
"Whenever you're ready," Freed prompted.
"Er, okay," Laxus took a moment. "So, like I said earlier, I needed to get to Paris as soon as I can. I'm not exactly… I ain't got much money. Not enough to get in this train, probably not enough to actually get in the commoner's train either. Doesn't help I lost my job a couple days ago either, so I was pretty fucked."
Although he was looking up at the ceiling again, Laxus knew Freed was writing. His pen scratched against the paper; it was pretty therapeutic, and Laxus felt his eyes closing.
"Sorry, that ain't important really," Laxus continued. "But I needed money, and I did something I ain't proud of. There was this guy, he had his wallet in his breast pocket and seemed rich. I purposefully walked into him, brushed his clothes off as an apology and took the wallet. Turns out, he was some kind of duke or lord or something, and the police weren't best pleased that some street scum had taken a pretty big amount of money from him."
Laxus laughed at himself, somewhat bitterly. Having to confess all of this out loud made him feel somewhat pathetic. He had resulted to stealing; the reality of the situation was almost devastating.
"So I just pissed off a load of the police, and they started to chase me. Ran through the streets for a little while, managed to avoid them and ended up in the train station. Saw that this was going to Paris, so managed to get on before anyone saw me. Then some guy nearly caught me, so I went into the nearest room before they could catch me. And you know the rest."
Laxus opened one eye to look at Freed. He had stopped writing.
"Told you it ain't as interesting as you thought it would be," Laxus smiled a little.
"I can easily write something based off of that," Freed countered, placing his pen on the desk. "And if at any point you feel comfortable enough to finish the story with what you left out; I'd be happy to hear it."
Laxus paused. His story had been almost everything, and it wasn't as if there was anything obvious missed out. "Who said I'm leaving something out."
"You've yet to tell me why you need to go to Paris. Of course you don't have to, that's your prerogative, but it's a big part of the story you left out intentionally. I won't deny that I'm curious," Freed stood up, and walked to his suitcase. "I think I might retire for the night, if you'll excuse me for a moment."
Laxus watched as Freed walked into the small washroom, his sleeping attire in hand, and didn't speak as the door was closed in front of him. He felt as though he was starting to understand Freed a little more. Not only was he honest, but he was brutal in doing so, and vigilant too. It seemed that, if Laxus tried in any way to bullshit him, he would be called out on it without hesitation. Freed would do so politely, as befitting a gentleman, but he wouldn't hold back.
Closing his eyes, Laxus felt the train moving along the tracks below him. He thought of Freed and felt relaxed by the realisation. Having a man so honest sounded appealing, everyone else around Laxus seemed to have their own agenda or politics behind what they did. To have a break in that would be welcomed.
With that in mind, Laxus felt himself lulled to sleep.
Day Two: Morning
Laxus had never been so glad to eat breakfast in his life. The meal consisted of four slices of toast, and a bowl of porridge mixed in with honey. Freed had taken a single slice of the toast for himself, assuring Laxus that he didn't need anything more, and the blonde hadnt argued. After a day without anything substantial, this meal was heavenly.
He brought the toast, which he had lathered with butter and marmalade, to his mouth. The crunch was almost as satisfying as taste.
Freed was sitting at the desk, though with his chair facing Laxus. The writer had already eaten his part of their shared breakfast and was occasionally sipping at the cup of tea in his hands. It was weirdly relaxing, and Laxus enjoyed it.
"Satisfying?" Freed asked, resting the teacup on its saucer.
"You have no idea," Laxus said after swallowing his mouthful.
"I'm glad," Freed nodded a little, before picking up a newspaper and opening it.
Laxus looked towards him for a quick second and found himself oddly comforted by the situation. His life over the past few months had been rushed; his rent had gone up and the tavern he worked at got a new boss who cut his pay, meaning his work hours had increased significantly. Thinking back, Laxus couldn't quite remember the last time he had enjoyed a breakfast. He had either rushed through it to get to work on time or skipped it all together. So this was pretty nice, even if the situation was a weird one.
Strangely content with the situation, Laxus continued to eat his breakfast with the silent company. His stomach was slowly starting to ache less, and the taste of the marmalade was amazing. It was something of a luxury, and Laxus was intending to make the most of it.
"Tell me about yourself, Mr Dreyar," Freed said suddenly.
"What d'you wanna know?" Laxus said, brow furrowing.
"Anything you're willing to tell me," Freed smiled a little, folding the newspaper closed and putting it on the desk. "As I said, you really do intrigue me. And if it makes you any more comfortable I'll be happy to answer any questions you have for me."
A small spiteful part of Laxus wanted to test that offer by asking the most intrusive questions he could think of, but he stopped himself. Despite Freed's assurances on the contrary, Laxus didn't yet believe that they were equals in the situation. If Laxus showed a side of himself that Freed didn't like, or one that was openly antagonistic towards him, all Freed needed to do would be to go to a member of staff and rat him out. And it would be worse now, that they were actually in transit, rather than staying in the station.
"Right, okay," Laxus thought for a moment. "Well, you already know my name. I'm twenty-six. I work at a tavern – well, used to at least – moving barrels to and from the cellar mainly. Used to work at the bar as well when they let me, but not so much over the last few months. Born and raised in France for most of my life, moved to Greece with my father when I was sixteen. That's it, really."
It wasn't, but Freed didn't need to know his life story. Probably didn't want to know, really.
"I thought I picked up a hint of French in your voice," Freed commented.
"Most people seem to think I lost it, really," Laxus laughed. Even he thought it was more Greek than French now. "You French?"
"Yes, born in Le Mans and moved to Paris when I found a publisher interested in my work," Freed explained, taking another sip of his tea.
"Why're you in Athens?" Laxus asked, before realising what he said. "If you don't mind me asking, of course."
"Not at all," Freed placated. "It was the end of a book tour throughout Europe, actually. Personally I don't see the point in them, all I do is sign books and talk to people in bookstores. It's meant to bring attention to my work, but I still think it's unlikely someone would come to speak with me if they weren't already interested in my work."
"I don't know," Laxus shrugged. "I think it'd be interesting to meet an author, even if I didn't read their stuff. And publicists won't send you of a trip if it ain't profitable, right."
"I suppose they wouldn't" Freed agreed. "And I shouldn't complain, not many people can travel the continent without having to pay."
Laxus agreed, but didn't want to say anything, so remained silent. Freed didn't seem off put by this, instead taking a final sip of his tea before placing it on the saucer again. Seeing this as a way out of the conversation – he was willing to talk a bit about himself, but not too much – Laxus picked up the remaining half slice of toast and began to eat again. This was a much more comfortable situation for the blonde, and Freed didn't seem to be bothered by it.
After Laxus had finished his meal, he watched as Freed started to dress himself in his waistcoat and jacket again; apparently he only wore them when meeting other people of his status, rather than all the time. Laxus didn't know if that was relevant to his personality, but he thought it was odd.
"I'm afraid I have to leave you again, Mr Dreyar," Freed said, sounding resigned. "I made the mistake of revealing what I did to a bored, unhappy housewife. She hung onto me all afternoon and insisted that I explain my writing process to her."
"Sounds like she's interested in more than your work," Laxus chuckled.
"I certainly hope not," Freed sighed. "She was handsy enough as it was yesterday."
"Well, good luck with her," Laxus grinned, and Freed gave him an unimpressed look. There was no malice though.
"I appreciate your concern," Freed replied, voice droll and sarcastic. "The maid will come to pick up the plates, so if you hear someone moving around the door then it will be her, so don't worry."
Laxus nodded, placing the plate, teacup and saucer, and empty porridge bowl onto an ornate serving tray. Freed thanked him and picked up the tray, walking to the cabin's door. He waited for Laxus to move onto the bed, so that if anyone happened to be walking past, they wouldn't notice him there. Once he did, he gave Laxus a nod in place of a goodbye and closed the door behind him. Laxus could hear him placing the tray of food beside the door, before walking off to another part of the train. Once again, Laxus was left alone.
He looked around the cabin again, to see that Freed had taken the newspaper off his desk with him. With a small sigh, the blonde stood up and tapped his fingers against the desk as he scanned it. It was more cluttered now, with a closed pot of ink, an unopened letter, and a book.
Given there was nothing else to do, Laxus picked the book up and started to read.
Day Two: Evening
The book was good. Surprisingly so, actually.
He was only a few chapters in, but it was great so far. It was a fantasy novel named Fairy Tail, focusing on two characters named Mavis and Zeref. So far, they were the only two people in the world, and seemingly were polar opposites, who were only joined together out of loneliness and solitude. Laxus wasn't a big reader, but he found himself unable to put the book down, it was just… just really good.
Part way through the first chapter, Freed had returned for his cigar case. For whatever reason, Laxus had quickly hid the book before Freed could see him. He didn't know if Freed would want him reading a book he owned, and again wanted to make sure his relationship with Freed was good.
When he removed the book from his pillow after Freed left, Laxus ran his hands over the leather bounding. The book had been written by someone named Albion Raijin, a name that was weirdly familiar to Laxus in a way that he didn't know. He had lived by a bookstore in Athens, though, so maybe he had walked past a copy of this book without realising and the name had been plastered into his mind without him knowing.
He hadnt thought much about it, instead finding his page again and continuing to read.
The afternoon went a lot quicker than it had the previous day, and his hunger wasn't quite as noticeable. It wasn't as if the time flew by, he was still trapped in a small room, but it was significantly better than it could have been. Certainly more entertaining than throwing a balled-up sock from hand to hand.
Sitting cross-legged on his bunk with the book resting in his lap, the blonde scanned the pages. The book seemed to be reaching one of its first action pieces, with some fantasy creature forming before the two protagonists. They were rushing to fight it, their actions desperate and lacking any planning, but Mavis insisted that they needed to defeat the creature before it could wreck the landscape as it did once before. This was something Laxus had started to realise; Mavis knew more than she was letting on. Zeref did too, though his secret seemed to be darker and evil in nature.
Just as they started to climb a mountain to better reach the creature, Laxus heard the door to the cabin click shut.
His eyes shot to the side, where he saw Freed standing. Relief hit him – thankfully it wasn't someone who didn't already know it was there. But almost immediately after, Laxus realised that the book was still in his hands, and Freed had undoubtedly seen him reading it.
"Sorry," Laxus said immediately, closing the book. "I shouldn't have taken it without askin'."
"You really need to stop treading on eggshells around me, Laxus," Freed said with a sigh. "You're in here alone, for hours, without any form of entertainment. I'm not going to get angry at you for reading."
"So you don't mind then?" Laxus wanted to be sure.
"Of course not," Freed removed his jacket. "How far in are you, may I ask?"
"Chapter seven, I think," Laxus opened the book, flicking through the pages. He showed a little bit more care now that Freed was in the room with him. "The creatures starting to form and they're starting to climb the mountain. Don't exactly know what they're gonna do, but Mavis seems pretty intent she's got an idea."
"That's quite a good part. Wait until they reach the summit," Freed smiled. "It was… incredibly stressful."
"Didn't think you were the type to get stressed when reading," Laxus commented, raising an eyebrow. So far, Freed seemed pretty unflappable. He had a stowaway in his room and was acting like this happened to him every day, after all.
"I like to emotionally invest in a novel," Freed explained. "Are you enjoying it so far?"
"It's good. Don't normally read a lot, but this is pretty good," Laxus nodded
"Well I'm glad you've found something to keep you occupied," Freed smiled, swapping his jacket for a different jacket. Laxus guessed this was his dinner jacket, as he had yet to go for his evening meal. "If you finish it, I've got copies of the rest of the series in that suitcase."
He nodded to a particular case, and Laxus eyed it. "You read a lot, then?"
"I try to, and I need to keep an eye on my rivals," Freed chuckled. "Particularly him, he and I are practically identical in many ways. He's an arrogant sod, though. Rather intolerable, I must say."
"Yet you brought the entire series," Laxus laughed.
"Who said I paid for them?" Freed raised an eyebrow with a challenging grin. Laxus was taken aback for a moment, looking at Freed with disbelief. Freed wasn't a thief, was he? "I'll let you ponder on that while I eat. I don't know how long I'll be, so don't feel as though you need to wait up for me to come back. I'll be quiet if you're sleeping."
"Thanks," Laxus said, still somewhat dazed by the revelation Freed might be a thief.
He was gone almost instantly, and Laxus was left in the room again. The book was in his lap, and he gazed at the door to the cabin with a slight frown on his face. So, Freed may have stolen books. That wasn't something Laxus had expected at all – he seemed to be someone who followed the rules of law perfectly – but the potential revelation gave him a new light. Honestly, Laxus held a greater amount of respect for him if it were true.
Although, now Laxus didn't know where he stood with Freed. Yet again, the man was an anomaly to him. One he was determined to find out.
Day Three: Morning
Patting down his bare chest with a towel, Laxus felt like a new man. It was perhaps an exaggeration, but the wash he had just had made him feel refreshed and less, well, disgusting. He had a clean shave, had managed to rid himself of the smell that had begun to form and felt invigorated by the cold water that he had splashed against his face.
It was a lot better. He should have asked Freed on the first day.
Of course, it had been Freed offering him the water to wash rather than Laxus asking. The blonde side eyed the man from the washroom, watching as he tied his cravat in front of the mirror above the desk. It was comfortable, and that bothered Laxus.
Laxus had always prided himself on having a good sense of how people acted. It had become somewhat necessary in his life; he lived alone in a city that – at least at the start – he knew nothing about. Finding out whether someone could be trusted was something he needed to survive; if he trusted the wrong person then they would take advantage of him, and that was something that Laxus wouldn't allow to happen to him. As such, he had quickly developed a sense of what someone wanted, and if they were to be trusted.
But with Freed, he didn't know. He didn't know anything.
He kept getting close, or at least he felt like he did, but then something came up and the man just lost all sense. What bothered Laxus the most, however, was that he wasn't actually bothered by it.
Laxus had always been slow to trust, slow to allow himself to be at all vulnerable around someone he didn't know. But right now, he was standing half naked in a small room with a man he didn't really know or understand, having just washed in a room with little privacy. This was… intimate. Not to a ridiculous degree, but it was still something Laxus would have rather done in private.
And yet he hadnt. He had done it knowing Freed was there, and it hadn't bothered him.
He shouldn't trust Freed. He didn't know him, he couldn't read him, and that was something Laxus avoided. And yet he felt at ease around him in an inexplicable way. He couldn't understand why this was, and it was starting to annoy the blonde.
One thing bothered Laxus more than anything else. And he needed to fix that.
"Why are you helping me?" Laxus asked, just as Freed sat at the desk. "Because the idea you find me interesting… it's bullshit."
The writer looked a little shocked by the sudden question, watching Laxus for a split second with a frown. Laxus couldn't exactly blame him, it wasn't the type of question that you expect from someone still drying themselves after washing. But Laxus needed the answer and didn't know how long it would be until Freed eventually left for the morning.
"I mean, I really do appreciate it, don't get me wrong," Laxus continued, quickly. "But, you don't exactly have to do this. And if we get found out and the police are called, you could get in trouble too."
Freed seemed to consider this for a moment. He closed the notebook he was working on, turned towards Laxus so that he could better maintain eye contact, and had a small look of seriousness on his face. Seeing that this was going to be a real answer and that he would need to pay attention, Laxus quickly reached for his shirt, buttoned it up and sat on the bottom bunk of his bed. Freed let him do that before he started to speak.
"Laxus, what is your opinion on the legal system?" Freed eventually said.
"Well," Laxus begun, blind sighted by the question. "I don't really think about it."
"I've spent a lot of time thinking about it, and I've concluded its god awful," Freed said with certainty, and Laxus didn't reply. He hadnt expected such a strong denouncement. "The principles work well, but its flawed. Inherently so, and I have multiple objections as to how it works.
"From what I've seen, men are judged on things that are trivial. Be it influence, money, the family they come from; it's all relatively insignificant to how good a man really is. Society disagrees with this, and these judgments are somehow implemented into law. If a man has influence, they can talk their way out of punishment. If a man has money, they can buy their way out of repercussions. If a family has power, the child can do whatever they want. It's ridiculous."
Laxus glanced up at Freed, a small frown on his face. Freed sounded genuinely angered by his observations, and it was a side of the writer that Laxus had yet to see.
"These petty prejudices somehow amount to crime, and it is unfair. Punishments greatly outweigh crimes," Freed sighed, calming himself. "What you've done amounts to stealing, nothing more. Yet if you were found, the authorities would disagree. Whatever punishment they gave you would outweigh your actions tenfold, and they would justify this via a flawed legal system. I didn't see this as fair.
"Furthermore, and please don't take offense to this, the inevitable debt you would go through would have crippled someone of your financial stature," Freed glanced down. "They would disguise revenge through repercussions. Not only would they insist you go to jail, but they would also write up a bill for everything you hadn't paid for. They wouldn't have any records of everything you've eaten or interacted with, and they would use this ambiguity against you. The debt would be astronomical, and unfair. I saw a way to avoid that happening to you, and I did."
Laxus was stunned into silence.
Honestly, he hadnt expected much of an answer from the writer. And he certainly hadnt expected the answer to be that! He thought maybe Freed was some form of socialite, and this was something he could use to brag to his high-status friends: the whole thing would be an act of pity to make him look charitable. It sounded ridiculous in hindsight, but at least it made sense.
But this also made sense. Freed was a man of principles, as Laxus had expected, and was honest with them. He saw an injustice and corrected it. And Laxus was more than happy with that reason. Furthermore, the nagging sensation that came with not understanding Freed lessened slightly.
"You erm, you seem pretty…" Laxus began, frowning. "You seem pretty pissed off about it, honestly."
"I suppose I am," Freed laughed, and a hint of bitterness snuck into his voice. "I've had instances with the law myself, from time to time. I was lucky enough that, as I stated, money and influence can help in such a situation. But not everybody is so lucky, and I think that is unfair."
"I ain't gonna disagree with that," Laxus grinned a little. "Sounds like you get in trouble with the law more than I do. Didn't expect that."
"I'm a man of many layers, Laxus," Freed laughed a little. "And one such layer is getting incredibly tired of a housewife who seems insistent on touching my upper arms and chest whenever possible. Including when her husband is around, who seems to have taken a disliking to me."
"Can't guess why," Laxus smirked. "Just tell her to fuck off if it's bothering you."
"I've considered it, but I'm trapped here with her for the rest of the week. It's best not to ruffle feathers," Freed sighed a little. "And in the spirit of that, I shouldn't keep her waiting. We have coffee scheduled together, which will be divine."
Laxus laughed at the sarcasm. "Have fun."
Freed made a non-committal noise, straightened out his clothing, and left the cabin. Laxus reached for the book that he had nearly completed, which was left on the desk. He opened it and started to read, taking note of the lightness on his chest now that he had a better understanding of Freed. He wasn't being patronising, he didn't have some kind of hidden agenda in his actions, he was just a man who had strong opinions and stuck by them.
That was a man Laxus could respect. And certainly one he could trust.
Day Three: Evening
Laxus sat at the desk, tapping his fingers against the oak with a contemplative look on his face. Sitting before him was the first novel in the Fairy Tail series – which Laxus had finished – alongside the unopened letter addressed to Freed. It was the latter item that was bothering Laxus, causing him to chew on his lower lip.
He had taken notice of the letter after he finished the novel. He had placed the suitcase onto the desk so that he could better see the titles of the other books in the series – he wasn't sure which was the second book in the series, after all – and it was then he saw the letter.
The fact it was still sealed bothered Laxus.
Freed didn't seem like the man to prolong things when he didn't need to. He had clearly received this letter before boarding the train as it was addressed to a hotel in Athens, and yet he had left it untouched. It wasn't as if Freed could have forgotten about it, either, as it was in the middle of the desk that Freed sat at almost constantly. The only way it could be more obvious to him if it were hanging above the doorframe every time he went through it.
It was none of his business, but Laxus was bothered none the less.
"If you thought any harder, I believe I could actually hear your brain working," Freed commented from the washroom, carefully sliding the razor against his neck.
"Just thought it was nice how much effort you're putting into your date with the old woman."
"I wrote a murder mystery once, Laxus. The weapon was a razorblade. I could recreate the murder quite easily if provoked enough, so don't push me," Freed said, and Laxus barked out a laugh. "And she is no longer an issue, I hope. Her husband seems to be hovering around her too much for her to corner me anymore."
"So what have you got planned for tonight then?" Laxus asked, leaning back against the chair.
"An elderly gentleman asked to have a drink with me. I thought it rude to turn it down," Freed explained. "And as subtle as that was, I did notice how you tried to guide the conversation away from what was bothering you to what I was doing."
"It's honestly not something you need to worry about," Laxus assured him.
There was no reply, and Laxus glanced to the washroom where Freed was patting his clean-shaven face with a hand towel. When he was done, he looked towards Laxus with a slight hitch in his eyebrow. Laxus kept the gaze, almost challenging him, to which Freed turned to face Laxus front on. They stared at each other for a moment later, until Laxus broke. He blamed his lack of a regular meal for his failure. Also, Freed's regular clothing made the man look deceptively slight, whereas looking at the man sans shirt revealed a rather strong physique.
The difference of his expectations and the reality created something of a distraction.
"If you must know, it's about this," Laxus raised the letter so that Freed could see it.
"And that's been bothering you? May I ask why?"
"You just don't seem like the kind of man to put off reading a letter. And you clearly know about it, so…" Laxus trailed off. "Just ignore me, it's not like I'm gonna read it so there's no need to concern yourself about it."
Freed chuckled a little and reached for the shirt that was handing over the clothes horse beside him. Laxus watched him with curiosity as he dressed himself, knowing that he would eventually speak again; the chuckle was one way that Freed continued a conversation. Laxus wondered when exactly he picked up on that piece of knowledge about the man. He supposed it was natural given the close proximity they were forced into. Especially when Laxus had spent so much time trying to understand him.
"The reason I haven't opened it is because I know exactly what it says," Freed explained. He didn't elaborate, which seemed unlike him.
"You psychic or something?" Laxus commented, hopefully prompting for a further response.
"I'm afraid not, I just recognise my publisher's handwriting," Freed sounded resigned. "Before I left, I sent him the draft manuscript for one of the short stories I wish to publish. That is undoubtedly his rejection letter."
"You don't know that," Laxus frowned. "Not unless you've read it and resealed it, for some reason."
"I can assure you, I do," Freed insisted.
Laxus didn't like this side of Freed. It was oddly resigned, as if Freed had accepted some fate that he wasn't happy with. From what he had seen of the man, Laxus didn't think Freed would ever sit back and accept something he didn't think was fair. Hell: he had essentially assisted someone in breaking the law just to act on his own opinion on the law. So this side of him was… unpleasant to view.
"Open it," Laxus demanded. "If you don't, I will."
Freed thought for a moment, before taking the letter from Laxus' hand. "I regret telling you to treat us as equals."
Laxus smirked a little at the joke, watching as Freed pulled a letter-opener from the desk and slid it through the envelope. He pulled the letter from the envelope and quickly read it, eyes flittering from side to side pretty quickly. Although it was a small action, Laxus could see Freed's posture get slightly less strict. His shoulders hunched a fraction, his face tilted down into a small frown, and he lowered the letter and placed it on the desk. Laxus felt a pang of guilt in forcing the man to read it now.
"As I assumed, it was rejected," Freed said, voice a little downtrodden.
"Did the guy at least give you any notes so you can change what he doesn't like?" Laxus asked, frowning again.
"In a way. He essentially said that he wouldn't publish anything of the sort, and that if I wished to maintain my contract with him I will write a replacement novella to his taste, and I would do so quickly."
Laxus' brow furrowed; although he hadnt read anything of Freed's he must be good at what he did if he had a tour around Europe celebrating his writing. To have a publisher so openly deny some of his writing seemed unlikely. Even a bad story could be made good if written well enough, and Freed must be good at writing to have made such a name for himself.
Without thinking, he glanced to the letter sitting on the desk. Although he didn't intend to read all of it, quite a few words had stuck out to him. Disgusting, perverse and blasphemous were the most obvious; all scrawled in ink. He looked to Freed with furrowed brows.
"It was my first attempt at writing a romance," Freed said as an explanation. "Apparently he didn't enjoy that."
"Did you write the woman trying to fuck a rat or something?" Laxus asked; who could be that offended by a romantic story?
"Given his reaction, I can see why you might think that," Freed sighed, folding the letter and placing it in the envelope again. "Nothing that controversial, at least in my opinion. I imagine his objection comes from the fact it is a relationship between two men, rather than a man and a woman."
Laxus froze a little at that, eyes flicking back to Freed. He had adorned his jacket again and was looking at himself in the mirror; Laxus felt as though he was purposefully avoiding his eye. He didn't say anything, not exactly sure what he could say.
That explained why the publisher was so against the novella, then.
"Well, I should go and meet the gentleman for a drink I suppose," Freed sighed, voice still somewhat downtrodden. "Fair warning, I intend to get drunk. I apologise if I bother you when I return."
Freed was gone a moment later, and all Laxus could do look at the door that was closed behind him.
Day Four: Morning
Sleep had somewhat alluded Laxus throughout the night.
There had been a few reasons for that. One being that, true to his word, Freed had gotten drunk throughout the night. He had returned to the cabin late, knocking into something that had awoken Laxus with a start. Freed must not have noticed, as he followed his actions with a slew of cuss words that could make a sailor blush. If he weren't so tired and groggy from the sleep, Laxus would have found it pretty funny.
The other thing keeping him up was Freed's rejected novella. A romance between two men wasn't something many men would write; not unless they wanted to be in such a relationship. Which of course suggested Freed wanted to be in such a relationship.
A fact that should bother Laxus. It didn't.
But it really should have! He was sharing a cabin with a man who… a man of his persuasion. He had stood half naked in front of this man, and Freed had done the same. The two had entered into something of a routine that, if performed by a man and a woman, could perhaps be considered domestic. Despite barely knowing each other, they had gotten close to each other.
He had gotten close to a man who perhaps was interested in… in buggering other men!
It should bother him. Some people would say it should repulse him. It didn't.
Perhaps it was because he was indebted to Freed for keeping him here without causing any trouble. Perhaps it was because he and Freed had become something of friends, and he didn't see his potential preferences as something important. Or perhaps it was just because he couldn't yet be certain if Freed did feel that way towards men or not, and Laxus allowed himself to be in denial.
He needed to speak to Freed about this.
"Hey Freed," Laxus said before he could stop himself. "Can I ask you something?"
Freed looked up from his desk, where he was cupping a mug of steaming coffee. That, and the barely visible bags under his eyes, were the only things showing that Freed had drunk himself into a stupor the night before. If he had a hangover, he was hiding it pretty damn well.
"Well, it's about what you told me last night, I suppose," Laxus said, voice awkward. He hadnt planned what he was going to say. "Are you, well, are you a…"
He made a tilting motion with his head, hoping that Freed understood was the gesture meant. Freed seemed to tense up at the question, his jaw clenching a little and his grip on the mug tightening. The blonde didn't dare say anything else.
"Yes, Mr Dreyar, I am a homosexual if that's what you're so subtly trying to indicate," His voice was suddenly sharp and had an edge, much like it did when they first met. Only this time it had acid behind it.
Laxus didn't like that. Nor did he like the use of his surname. But he couldn't say anything.
Freed had just admitted it. There was no pause or hesitance, he just said it. Being, as Freed stated, a homosexual was something that was usually kept behind closed doors. As Laxus understood it, men of that ilk would frequent bars hidden deep in cities, and act with subtlety as not to be seen by those who didn't believe they should act how they did. But Freed hadnt done any of that, he had simply said it, as if it were an everyday occurrence.
And, as much as Laxus wanted to reply in some way, no words could be formed.
"And if you have any issue with that, Sir, then I should remind you of the very reason I chose to harbour you here rather than contacting the authorities," Freed continued, voice now almost venomous.
Laxus wanted to say something. To assure Freed that he didn't mind who's bed he decided to lie in. But again, his throat was dry, and any hope of speaking died.
His silence seemed to antagonise Freed.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I should go," Freed snapped, now looking back to Laxus. "And if you find yourself at all repulsed by what you have found out, then please speak to the conductor and see if you can find a room more comfortable for you. I'm sure he'll be most accommodating."
Freed stood up and left the cabin a moment later, saying nothing else. Laxus stared at the door, before letting hie eyes stray to the waistcoat and jacket resting on the clothes horse. This was the first time Freed had left the cabin without wearing them; the realisation left a dull sense in his stomach.
They didn't speak for the rest of the day.