There's a saying that old habits die hard, and so far in Gajeel's life it seemed to ring true.
His life is a never ending routine, living out the same day over and over from dusk till dawn.
He watched his father light a cigarette every hour on the dot as a child, and every evening he'd put on his boots and head for work, leaving Gajeel alone at night to wait for his return in the morning. And every night he'd try his hardest to stay awake for his father's return, only to fall asleep in his chair by the fireplace.
When he'd come home in the morning, right before the sun rose he'd pick Gajeel up and lay him to rest in his own bed. And when he'd wake up a few hours later he would peak from his room, hoping for a chance to speak with his father who would already be asleep in his chair by then, a bottle of booze hanging loosely from his hand.
Eventually he'd wake up and light another cigarette and they'd exchange stories of how the night at work went and Gajeel's own night at home. From there the rest of the day followed with breakfast and lunch, talking, and whatever else a child and his father would do together, until eventually he'd leave for work again while Gajeel found his own dinner and went through the same routine again.
He believed his father hoped that Gajeel could make something of his life, but without any special talent and growing up in a household lacking money, it made more sense that he would likely grow up falling in a similar life routine as his own.
And when his father passed it became even more clear that he was not reaching higher places, nor was he destined for great things.
Mornings were always rough. If he woke up before 11am his body felt like it was hit by a bus and he couldn't bring himself to ignore the pounding migraine. To keep things safe he slept in until at least noon, and depending on how terrible the sleep was the night before, he woke up even later.
He'd be lying if he said lighting a cigarette wasn't one of the first things he did after waking up.
He was almost always groggy and it took a minute to get himself going for the day. After a piss he'd hop in the shower and smoke in there.
There's something so relaxing about just standing there under the harsh hot water, inhaling and exhaling the smoke. And he had nailed it down perfectly so that the cigarette never gets wet in the process.
Once it's out is when he actually did what's needed to be done in the shower which is usually a pretty quick washing. Then comes the normal getting dressed and ready for the day before he heads out of his apartment.
If he had left the apartment any later he would have missed the orange-headed guy leaving the apartment down the hall like he did at this time every Sunday.
Just as he always did, the guy gave a friendly nod when passing by in the hallway even though it was obvious how uncomfortable Gajeel's presence made him. But with that he was gone.
They'd never spoken a single word to one another but Gajeel knew as well as anyone else here that the apartment he left wasn't his own. That room has a large list of people that come and go at assigned times of every day, occasionally a new stranger at a random time here and there, but for the most part they were always the same people.
After this interaction Gajeel always left the shitty complex, not taking in any more of the world around him.
He lived in a not so great neighborhood with nothing really noteworthy. Everything was always the same here, the same broken and worn down fences, the same littered walkways and wilted grass.
The neighborhood kids were always playing the same games or getting into trouble, and the houses he passed were always full of the same people. He drowned out the fighting couple in the yellow apartment he passed everyday, and made no eye contact with the old woman smoking that sat on the porch of the house that should have been foreclosed on a long time ago, but this part of the town was never paid a close eye to.
Any person that was not from around here would likely be spooked by the large dog that jumps against the fence when you pass by it towards the end of the street, its loud barking enough to cause your ears to bleed. And they probably would look in disgust at the blue and gray shoes that hung on the phone line by the old burned down house. And if this wasn't enough to tell them to run then it wouldn't hurt for them to witness the occasional drive by with the local gang known as Sabertooth.
But this was all an average day to him. He simply looked away from all these things and heard nothing as life went by.
Once he neared the end of the neighborhood he stopped to pet the white cat of one of the local kids nearby. The kid told him once that the cat's name was Carla, not that there was really a need for him to know the name but he wasn't going to say that to her.
And everytime he stopped to pet her he thought about maybe getting his own cat at some point. Gajeel was not really sure why he was so drawn to the idea but he'd never really found a cat he'd felt a real connection with to actually bring home.
From there the scenery begins to gradually change as the more sightly parts of town come into view.
The differences from here on out are not subtle and like every day before he receives all kinds of backwards glances and uncomfortable shuffling away to the other side of the sidewalk. This part of town is busy and full of anyone but the lower class.
He couldn't really blame them for being scared of the big bandanna-wearing long haired guy with a face full of piercings. The goal isn't to look scary but he couldn't help that his facial expression is constantly looking pissed off. He looked like the average scumbag so he guesses it's only fair to be cautious, but really, he came down this way every single day. He'd think the locals would be used to it by now.
He liked to get coffee and a light lunch that he took to go from a nice café in the area. The baristas there are very welcoming and while he appreciated the gesture at niceties and knew that they were being sincere, he had absolutely no interest in partaking in 100 questions from the usual girls.
He gave the place an A for effort in finding the friendliest team possible, but sometimes it really seemed like the girls Mirajane and Lisanna were actually trying to be his friend rather than just serve him coffee.
From there he ate lunch not too far down the street in a small park and the next half of the day consists of him screwing around for the most part.
Depending on the day he'd go to hang out with his friend Juvia but they really didn't do much of anything when he went over other than watch TV while she texts away to some guy she's obsessed with.
Other days he might see his gambling buddy Cana and they'll spend the day scamming away whatever victims she rounds up before starting the evening with a drinking contest at the bar. That was one of those days.
They usually ran into the same freakshow at the bar each night. Leo or, 'Loki', as the ladies call him is always there before they arrive with different women at the hip but he never joins in on their drinking fun until his girls head out.
Then there's Natsu who Cana says she knows from way back. He isn't there every night but when he is he's always picking to start a brawl with Gajeel. The bar is kind of an everything goes kind of place and the owner almost never comes out unless someone is on the brink of death so the spar happens every time and there are always bets placed despite it always ending in two ways— one being a draw, and the other with the match getting broken up since neither Natsu or Gajeel know when to back down.
Often the fight is broken by Erza, one of Natsu's friends that is honestly quite intimidating.
She was fierce and if he didn't already know that she owned a clothing store then he would have thought she was working as some kind of BDSM mistress.
He tended to see some of the same faces that leave the apartment down the hall, but never dwelled on it. The bar is back in the shitty part of town where he lived and everyone there is a familiar face. It wasn't a surprise to see these people come and go from here as well.
Sometimes if the mood was right and he was wasted enough he'd even join in on karaoke, which embarrasses Cana to high hell but honestly singing at the bar is one of the few things that doesn't piss him off.
If they're not all kicked out at the end of the night, Cana and him always leave around 11pm. They head to the bar pretty early in the day so by 11 he was ready to sprawl out in his own home.
The night is always quiet in the neighborhood so it made a peaceful walk back to Cana's house and an even more peaceful night to his own. The air this time of year becomes cool this late and Gajeel appreciated the feeling it left on his skin.
He sighed once the rundown apartment complex came into view and eyed the dim flickering overhead light by the door.
The night ended this way every time, no matter where he decided to go each day, and even those events are always the same.
As he headed up the walkway to the apartment he looked up and over to the small balcony of the room down the hall, and as always the resident of said room was standing there with her arms crossed over the bar and her head laying on them to the side.
She never stared at anything in particular from what Gajeel could tell at least. He was almost sure she was purely lost in thought, her choppy blue hair framing her cheeks and brown eyes looking lost.
He didn't know her name. He knew as much as everyone else around there knew. Of course there were all kinds of rumors, but it was no secret what went on in her apartment. It would take a blind man to disregard her daily visitors, often being 5 to 10 people in a day.
Really, it was none of his business how she chose to live her life. He had my own issues and struggles with means to get by.
He noticed before passing under the outer hall's overlook that there was what he could only assume to be a bruise underneath her eye. He'd have never noticed it if the moonlight hadn't been facing their way. But the girl didn't look over to him for a second and the thought of the mark was only a passing thought as he continued on and through the door, heading up a flight of stairs before reaching the floor to his room.
He heaved another sigh once entering the apartment and found himself quickly sinking into the couch's embrace.
He lay there for a bit letting the feelings of drunkenness settle in his body, and there was a moment where he thought that just maybe, this would be the night where he'd break the never ending routine he lives.
He wanted to simply let the urge pass and go to sleep, but what he had been so subtly trying to fight all day was slowly crawling it's way out in building restlessness and sweaty palms.
Now that there were no plans, no intentions for the night it all just came pouring out. Without the distractions of the day all he was left with was an itch that he wasn't strong enough to fight.
His anxiety was only building with every second and as he reached down into the couch cushions to pull out a pipe and baggie, he thought only of the glow when his father lit his next cigarette.
He begged his father once to quit when he learned of the dangers that smoking caused to a person. After a bout of pleading he finally gave Gajeel the response, "I'm sorry son, but I've just been smoking these things for so long that it would be too hard to quit now. Old habits die hard."
He never truly understood what it meant until he reached a certain point in his life.
His hands were shaky as he removed the small white rocks from the baggy and placed them into the lithe pipe, and it wasn't until the glow of the light hit his face and the taste of the smoke hit the back of his mouth when he finally was able to relax.
There was a deep inhale and then exhale as he leaned back into the cushion's, the pipe in hand at his lap now and he closed his eyes, already feeling the anxiety and withdrawal die away.
The room was quiet and there was a moment that he felt somewhat ashamed at himself. He wanted tonight to be the night, just like he wanted every other night to be the same, but it would seem that his father was right.
Old habits do die hard.