I keep on hoping, pray you're changing
But we both just keep on doing the same things
The club sprawls out in front of Juvia like a black waste, alight with sparks of coloured light, throbbing with music like a heartbeat. There is a girl on stage that twists around a pole in a provocative dance. Everyone is watching her; even Juvia looks because focusing on that seems kinder to herself than focusing on what she let happen to herself. His hands. Jose's hands, sliding down her front. She can still feel his fingers scraping where they shouldn't.
It's over, she tells herself. You survived. It never has to happen again.
Somewhere in her mind, she knows that's not true, but she buries the thoughts in the same place she buried the night she spent drugged and fucked against her wishes, and the thoughts that might happen again, too.
She rubs her hands against her pants, scrubbing away the memories, and takes in a deep breath. The air is soaked in sweat and alcohol and lust. This place is so many things, but mostly everything Juvia doesn't need at this moment.
For Meredy, she thinks. For now. And then, how much longer am I going to keep doing things for other people?
She pushes that thought away, too, because Juvia Lockser is a giver, and she will give all she has for the people she loves if that's what she thinks they need.
It will destroy her someday. She knows that, too, but like an addict, she cannot stop.
More pills. More therapy. More love for myself. Maybe then she'll be free. But all those things seem impossible. Especially when she hates herself so very much right then, with the ghost of Jose's fingers still scratching her breasts, and Jackal's bruises still blooming in spectacular colour on her ribs.
A man and a woman push past Juvia, an employee and a patron. They're laughing, though both of their smiles seem hollow and there are shadows in their eyes. They take the stairs to the lower level where the bar is and nestle up to the live-edge wood, the nicest part of Phantom, Juvia's sure.
A blonde girl steps into the space behind the bar and takes a tray from the bartender. Juvia watches as she then exits onto the main floor and goes to a table full of men. One of them hands her money with a smile and she lifts her skirt a little for them as she walks away, winking. Back to the bar, she goes for another platter of drinks to do it all over again.
Juvia wants to storm back into Jose's office and quit. She cannot be like that girl. She cannot flirt like that, or lead men on, or do any of the things the blonde is doing.
But then the front door opens and in walks a group of people Juvia recognizes all too well, and her thoughts are sidetracked.
Mard is in the front, and Meredy is behind him. Trailing behind her is Jackal, who looks worse for wear with a swollen and blue nose. Mard, despite his bruises, is grinning ear to ear. Jackal looks a little more murderous. He wants to hurt someone this evening.
As though he can feel Juvia's eyes on him, he lifts his gaze and finds her on the level above without a problem. His gaze gets darker, more sinister, and his intentions are clear—he'll be happy only when he hurts her. Juvia isn't sure when she became his punching bag. Maybe when she yanked him off his swing and began this war, but she hates him just as equally and is ready for a fight, if that's what he wants.
She barely knows herself. When did she become so quarrelsome?
Meredy glances up once. Her face is bruised, too, from Jackal pushing her aside, but she's covered the trauma with makeup, and it almost looks fine. She doesn't smile at Juvia.
Juvia wants to fly down the stairs and apologize for last night, and for calling so often, and for all the decisions she's made recently that's driven her and Meredy apart. But when she thinks about how she will do that, and how they can move on from this great divide, she doesn't understand how.
Jose's door opens and he pokes his head out. "Do you need directions to the bar?"
It's like an electric pulse has rushed through her. Juvia hurries off without acknowledging his words.
"You can't just walk into the staff room," Ultear scolds Jellal with less temper than she would normally. He looks more lost than usual in the gullet of Phantom, sitting between Ultear and Gray, hoping their gravity will hold him to the small and round table they've chosen as their own. His eyes move back and forth, taking in all the familiar sights, reliving all the memories that must feel like they belong to someone else. His gaze lingers on the Men's, where he lived through one of the worst nights of his life, topped, Ultear's sure, only by the day he watched men beat the eye out of Erza's head for mistakes that he made, fees he couldn't settle with his devil-may-care grin. All the tricks that used to get him by had worn thin.
Jellal turns his head on his palm to look at her. He doesn't explain his actions—doesn't really need to. Ultear knows who he was looking for, single-minded for a moment. He and Erza are drawn together into an exothermic reaction, they cannot help themselves, and every time they meet, it's volatile.
Ultear sighs and waves down a waitress. She orders a lemonade and wishes it were something stronger. If she didn't have her mom's car, if she didn't have Jellal to think about, if she didn't worry Juvia was going to tear herself apart doing stupid things to get Meredy's affections, if she didn't think Gray would throw himself into a battle nobody asked him to fight.
"Why do I surround myself with you people?" Ultear mutters.
"Because you love chaos," Jellal responds without missing a beat.
"I like being chaotic. I do not like chaos."
"When was the last time you did anything chaotic?" It sounds almost like a challenge.
Ultear thinks of the night she followed Meredy to Phantom, sitting outside between Jellal and Gray with the pier at their backs, and watching Mard push his way into Meredy's life. It wasn't so long ago. If she touches her knuckles, she can still feel the bruises from where she punched Mard in the face. And how afterward, she languished in her bed, wondering if this whole thing isn't her fault and if somewhere in her heart, she didn't like that.
"Chaotic Ultear is a menace and gets herself into too much trouble."
"Which you like," Gray tags in with a deadpan voice. Unlike Jellal, he is not amused by this whole thing.
Jellal's grin is as wide as it is challenging. "Why not find a little trouble, then?"
Ultear nudges him. "I have already and sometimes, I think he's more of a headache than he's worth."
"Gray can be a lot to handle at times, I agree," Jellal says without missing a beat and earning himself a withering scowl from Gray.
"Yeah," Gray says, "If only he didn't try storming into the change room with all Phantom's girls, looking for a berating and beating. What are we going to do with that guy?"
Jellal turns his mouth to the side. Ultear expects him to argue—he always seems to have a way of rationalizing all his frantic movements, but to her surprise, this evening, he doesn't try to defend himself. She doesn't know if she should be pleased, or worried he seems to know his behaviour is erratic.
Worried, she decides. Always worried for Jellal.
Ultear looks around the room, hunting for the source of Jellal's absurd behaviour. The last time they came to Phantom, they didn't go inside. No inside, no Erza. Now though… Ultear can't even find her. She can find her waitress, though. She's at a table pampering a woman in an expensive dress. Ultear sighs.
"Want anything from the bar?"
Jellal lights up like a candle, though Ultear doesn't think it's the prospect of alcohol that's interested him, merely the absence of what Ultear has come to think of as her oppressive presence. "Whiskey."
"Make it two," Gray agrees. "This place is giving me a headache."
"Then you're doing it wrong," Jellal answers.
Ultear misses Gray's reply, already up and crossing the room. She spots Juvia on the top floor looking down upon the patrons. There is something about her expression and the way she holds her arms crossed over her chest that cements itself in Ultear's mind. This is how she'll remember her, Ultear thinks when she pulls this memory from the dregs of her mind—skin too pale, eyes too wide, like it's man-eaters stretched out below her looking for her blood, not a club where she works.
Juvia is looking elsewhere and Ultear cannot catch her eye to throw her a supportive smile. She moves on toward the bar. There will be another chance to speak to her.
The woman at the bar almost makes Ultear freeze in her tracks, though she told herself what to expect.
Mira hasn't changed very much. She still wears her hair long and down, still squeezes herself into leather too tight and too revealing, still smiles like she can cut you with it, though when she looks at Ultear, it falters for just a beat. It's back again before Ultear can comment.
Mira leans into the purple-haired bartender that's helping her and says something in her ear that Ultear cannot hear, then she slides out from behind the bar and heads through the hallway at the back and out the door marked Staff Only. The irony isn't lost on Ultear as she follows the woman out. She hopes Jellal can't see her walk through this part of the club with the confidence of someone who is not supposed to be here.
The exit door bangs closed just in front of Ultear. She pushes it open again and steps out into the cool night. She's ready to search the parking lot. She isn't ready for the Mustang that's pulled up just metres from the door with Mira sitting on its hood, smoking one of her herbal cigarettes.
"Why do you bother if it's not tobacco?" Ultear asks.
Mira exhales a cloud of smoke. "Why are you here?"
"Well, hello to you, too," Ultear mutters.
"Hello. Why are you here?"
Mira's coldness used to throw Ultear. Not any longer. "There's a new girl here. I'm keeping my eye on her."
"Juvia."
"You've met?" Ultear asks.
Mira shakes her head. "Jose gave her to me to train tonight."
She shouldn't feel relieved at the prospect, but she is. Mira can be cold, but she can also be welcoming and protective and supportive. "Good."
There's a brief lull before Mira shakes her head. "Seriously, Ultear?"
"What?"
"We both know you didn't follow me out here to talk about the new girl."
"Actually—"
"You're here to bother Erza again, aren't you?" Mira's eyes flash with that protective fire Ultear admires and, yes, fears.
"Harass is a stretch. Last time I just asked if she could settle things up with Jellal and—"
"You won't bother her again."
"Can I finish my sentences? Please?" Ultear snaps.
Mira settles back on the hood of her car. Moonlight limns her hair and makes her ghostly. She's beautiful, and mean, sometimes, but so is Ultear.
"I came to ask about a different girl. Jellal and Erza can figure their own shit out." She's been reduced to clean-up crew. She can do no more for Jellal but watch to see if he pieces himself together again or tears himself, and everyone around him, apart.
"Can't you leave anyone alone?"
Do you have to save everyone? Or do you like to watch them fall apart? "I'm her mentor," Ultear says against the voices in her mind. "And I'm doing a shit job. I just wanted to ask if you could keep an eye on her while she's here at Phantom."
Mira doesn't need Ultear to explain who. "Meredy."
"She's young."
"She's trouble."
"She gets herself into trouble. It's different."
Mira bites her lips together to hold back what she'll say next—it won't be charitable, Ultear's sure.
"Thanks," Ultear says without Mira's affirmation. She knows Mira is a bleeding heart. She'll try her best to look after both Meredy and Juvia.
"Hang on," Mira says at Ultear's back and there's something in her tone that makes Ultear stop, turn around and return to Mira when she waves Ultear closer.
When they're shoulder-to-shoulder, Mira takes Ultear's hand as she hasn't done for months and leads her past her Mustang and around the side of the building to where the pier stretches out into the lake like a decaying finger, the land its withered hand.
They've been here before, in the dark, where words are said in different ways, and Ultear is dizzy and high from it all, and she tells herself it's a crash that waits at the other side. Mira is volatile, yet twice as forgiving as Ultear, and this is awful for them both, they can't do this any longer, but still, she puts one foot in front of the other, more than willing to weather the comedown because she's missed this, she's—
There are three figures on the pier already. Ultear used to think it was her and Mira's secret spot, but she sees now that it's more popular than she gave it credit.
Mira slows in the shadow of Phantom and pulls Ultear back against the façade. She points her out toward the pier when Ultear turns toward her, and at once, the pieces click together. They're not here to kiss, they're here to observe. Ultear's cheeks heat first with embarrassment at her supposition, but that quickly bleeds away for rage as she identifies Meredy pushed against the railing out on the pier. She's being ravaged by Mard. There's no other word for it all, the fevered touches, the steal-your-breath kisses and the long, low moan Meredy makes that Ultear closes her eyes against.
"Jesus fuck," Ultear mutters. They're too far away and there's too much traffic on the main road for Mard or Meredy or Jackal, their audience, she supposes, to hear.
It goes on for several seconds, then Mard pulls away and hands Meredy to Jackal like she's a pie they can split and share. Jackal grins viciously and positions Meredy in a way he likes. Ultear's so furious about how he treats her, she almost misses Mard pulling out his pipe and packing it with Ice.
If she were Juvia, she would storm over, start a fight. And part of Ultear, the part Jellal says craves chaos, wants to. There's a subtler part of her too, though, and this one is both vindictive and cruel.
She turns away from them and returns to Mira's Mustang.
Mira follows closely behind. "They meet out there a lot," Mira says.
That makes sense. It's where she found Meredy when she was too drunk to stand, trying to find a way home.
"Usually, they just drink," Mira continues.
Today is different though.
An alarm goes off on Mira's phone.
"Your break is up," Ultear reminds her when Mira turns it off and doesn't make a move to return to Phantom.
Mira chews her lip and looks between the Staff door and Ultear. "What are you going to do?" Because she knows Ultear well enough to know she won't let this go on in silence.
"It was nice to see you again, Mira," Ultear says rather than answering.
Mira hesitates a moment more before adding, "I'm done work at two. You can meet me out here if you want." She pulls open the staff door again, leaving Ultear, the cold air, and the stink of herbal cigarettes outside. Her offer follows Ultear, though, even as she trolls the parking lot until she finds Mard's car, even as she lifts her phone and dials the local police service and gives them his licence plate and a story she barely has to make up on the spot, the idiot left all his paraphernalia sitting on his front seat.
Maybe she really does like chaos.
Guest: Being 19 was awful, wasn't it? Hell in a basket. Yet somehow, I'm fond of the angst-filled years. Sigh.
Thanks a lot for reading and reviewing! I am doing better now, thanks for asking, and even more fantastic, I have holidays coming up in the next couple of weeks. Yay! I've worked every day since Easter, so that's nice. Okay. Take care. Stay safe!