Note:

Flashbacks and thoughts in italics

I do not condone or encourage any behaviors in this story. It is simply a fictional story.

Author's Note:

I did not edit this chapter. There were certain things wrong with the way I was trying to improve; my ways of writing. I realised that I had forgotten how to write to think. I used to think and then write. And it had been a blockage to the flow of my writing.

It was not intentional, rather my perfectionistic (I'm aware of it's downsides and origins) tendencies were the reason. Stuck in a loop, like really stuck in a loop, I had tried to figure out things. Numerous times.

I know the quote "fake it until you make it." I have applied it before (but for good reasons such as developing new habits.) I never liked artificiality (it's insincere behaviour that I'm referring to with the word "artificial", not make-up) For someone who doesn't like it, while it's not my cup of tea in real life, only now did I come to terms with the fact that in my writings, I had been hiding behind many filters. What I had been doing feels like choking off the supply of breathable air. I don't know how else to put it.

Trying to make things perfect in my eyes (excluding the marks others may find) came with a cost. What I had missed in the process was the genuine love for writing. I did love the things I wrote, but for me to love it, I had to edit it, and that's how my love for writing waned. Now that I've started to learn to write again, I feel better. I feel things better.

If you did read all this yatter, thanks pal. Let's dive in now.

"Butterfly Effect"

CHAPTER 10

Break Free

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They were searching for their clothes, which Loke, in his seventh heaven, had thrown off to god knows where. But they weren't cricket balls, and he hadn't been throwing for a match. They should be near, eh? They had ripped the bed sheet into two and wrapped it around as make-do clothes. It was a dumb sight.

"I got clothes!" Loke yells, and Juvia turns to snatch the crumpled clothing from his shoulders. They had been lying behind a bush. He even gets her bra, which she pulled from his hands so fast that he will be surprised if the garment hasn't frayed from her force. He finds everything, but—

Shit.

Along with the physically hurtful awkwardness, there was another problem. Juvia's underpants were nowhere to be seen. A little while later, he did find them, except they weren't in a usable state. Loke discerns that it's not wise to waste his time trying to get it.

Blushing furiously, Juvia had turned away from him when the word escaped his mouth that she would be going commando. "This has never happened to me," she muttered, shuffling her feet, and went on to ramble. "I'm not saying it's anyone's fault. We were both drugged. It could be some toxins from the trees or pollen from their flowers, maybe. I'm not sure." It quickly registers in his mind that they lost the clothes because of him.

Loke was forced to tell her the truth about her panties: that a monkey saw them and has taken them. Ridiculous horror settled on her face before she gritted her teeth in indignant shame. He threw them off. Yesterday. Sweat dripped from his forehead. "Tsk." He should stop this self-blame. It's stupid.

"I need a bath." Juvia spoke, dragging Loke out of his reverie.

"Sure." There was no pond or stream in sight. Viewing transparent eels, toads, colourful salamanders that don't metamorphose, and silver-tinted fish was a luxury, not a need. But the need was for water itself—the most basic, primal need. Loke felt blessed that he made this mistake of getting himself lost with a water-witch.

Across from them, a massive piece of rock had formed a covering, and it was Juvia's suggestion that they use it for some privacy. She had awkwardly asked him if he needed her help and said she wouldn't mind helping him with some water. Because there were no buckets, Juvia stood on one side of the rock, fresh water squirting out of a steaming magic bubble in her hands, while Loke stood on the other side, washing off the sweat and grime collected in his body.

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"Hey. So, what were you up to yesterday?" He wanted to ask her but thought better of it. She might have been baking cakes with his face or something, or trying to surprise him with annoying gifts. Hands folded behind his head, Gray leaned back on a bench in the backyard of the guild as something settled in his mind. The sky shone upon him, clear of rolling clouds. Now that he thinks about it, bright skies after a period of thunderstorms weren't anything unusual. Howbeit, a thunderstorm at this time of the year is not usual.

He noticed Mirajane locking up the storage house to the left. The block of mossy buildings stood there like it had not been built there, but rather like it had been plucked and planted on the patch of verdant lawn, amongst all the red poppies in bloom. "Mira-san. Did you see Juvia?"

His question took her by surprise. The woman shot him a look and a small curve of her lips. "Aha. I didn't see her yesterday. Everyone's tired." Holding a basket of mangoes under her arm, she strolled towards him. "I don't think she's on a mission, because no one had taken one after the celebration."

A little closer, she leaned towards his side, whispering. "She disappeared on the night of the party. Most of them had gotten drunk and ended up with a one-night stand. Maybe she's with someone."

Gray looked up at her, his face morphing into shock for a second before a smirk spit in his face. "Oh right. She would." Gray laughed heartily. "Like hell, I think pigs will fly on that eventful day." He let out a whoosh, propping his chin on his folded knuckles.

"I have seen them fly." Mira interrupted his mirth. "It's a sight to see. This is Earthland; anything's possible here." Her voice rang like happy bells on a Christmas day, although her sombre expression did not match the sound. "You never know what you have until you lose it." Then she smiled again, this time with a sigh.

He waved her off with a shake of his head. Gray was used to her gossipy drama by now. "Got it, know-it-all!"

Much later, after his chitchat with the she-demon, he heard a boom from inside the guild. It reverberated, making Gray explode out of the bench and dash to the guildhall, where a crowd had gathered. What a fine, blessed day it was! Not anymore. The guild folk viewed it from the sidelines with varied amounts of trepidation: Lucy punching Loke across the face.

The air was thick after an instance of collective gasps, "uhh"s and "oh no"s.

"Please abandon my key, Lucy. Free me." Making his far-fetched request, Loke dropped to the floor on his knees. The blonde eyed him with disbelief.

"What is happening?" He cursed under his breath, taking his place near a stock-still Natsu. The lad had very little mind to tell him what was happening. It was Cana who quipped, "Lucy got herself a new future-husband. The next thing I see: Loke is kissing her, and getting smashed." She put it like it was a joke. Gray would've thought it was, if it weren't for the devastation on Natsu's face.

"Boyfriend?"

"No, it's not Natsu." Cana chugged a bottle of booze in one go. Concerned, Gray rubbed the side of his wrist over his forehead. Figuring out the chemistry behind Natsu's odd response didn't make the situation any better. There was a throb of resignation in his friend's demeanor. They're all friends he cherished deep. Whose side should he take? Whom should he comfort first? How does one comfort another? Where's Juvia Lockser?

Then Lucy came up with her own preposterous suggestion: "The day you find yourself another owner, I'll give away your key." Bangs shadowed her face, and Lucy promised. "I'll break you free."

.

"Are you sure about this?" Juvia coughed when one of the falling leaves brushed against her face, tickling her nose. "Tch."

She and Loke advanced over the bridge, supporting their weight on the ropes because the stepping looked dilapidated, like it'll crumble to dust if they so much as move a foot. From up on the bridge, only a thin strip of aquamarine is visible. The chasm was deep, yet looking down didn't make her head spin. She had lost that fear somewhere along the way, before or after her days in Phantom Lord. While the man held onto the left side, Juvia kept her faith on the right.

Loke had told her that he knew a shortcut, something about being here before. "Trust me. I'll get us home."

"I do." After a moment of stillness, the bridge wobbled again, and Loke's hand flew up to hold hers. There was one unwritten rule in almost every guild: you should always trust your teammates on a mission. Juvia wasn't about to break that again.

"Juvia." Ropes stretched taut, and the bridge shook like a boat in a storm. Sweat gathered in their palms. Besides, she thought Loke deserved to be trusted after all this. He sucked in a breath. "I'm going to count to three. And then." He peered down at their intertwined fingers, determined. The man shifted his weight to the other leg, squeezing her hand. "Hold tight. We're running."

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The girl thrummed her nails on the suitcase, a dull pat on leather. She stood in the middle of the train tracks in the sweltering heat. Here in southeastern Fiore, there are Sundays where marriages could be conducted easily with only a cheap tax to the government instead of the usual high prices. It was one such Sunday, and the trains will be getting filled at each platform. The sun has dressed the day in blinding whites, for she could picture the clouds as brides wearing frilled silver gowns for their weddings. No one was in a hurry; even the winds seemed at ease.

She had contacted a man who offered to give her directions to the places she wished to visit. About three years ago, the economy of his land had once been on the verge of collapse due to droughts. The man's wife, the village chief, is a knowledgeable woman who was delighted to hear from the mage who had saved their land's agriculture and therefore food supply. Juvia was expected to get there on the 11:30 train, where the chief's younger brother would be awaiting her arrival.

Thankfully, she had no expenditure problems. Juvia was confident in her money management skills. She had been cheap for one-third of her life, for no particular reason. There had been many instances in the past that had ended in an argument between Gajeel and Juvia over the same thing. He insisted that she loosen up and spend more. "There's no point in working, making money, and living if you're not happy." "Take a chill pill!" He had hollered at her face. She is, in the end, just indebted for the bits of bother and care he left for her here and there. How can she not be? Gajeel's her first family. It'll always be like that. He had yapped reasonably, and she couldn't help but agree.

For the very first time, she doesn't feel the need to be one of those brides. For once, she doesn't have burdening desires, only airy wishes. Living for herself feels liberating. She feels free. Juvia never knew, but she had needed this vacation for a very long time. She wants to restart from scratch. Now is the right time. She shall take the time to fully forget and wholly forgive.

An S-class mage's missions were not average. Juvia used to get paid more in jewels than three times her apartment rent and still does because of the expertise that remained with her even when she lost the title. She had stopped bothering about those ranks after Gray's grand entrance into her life. The water mage does regret it. She could've done so much more in Fairy Tail, but this was not the time to regret.

Juvia Lockser breathed liberation after so long. She had informed Master that she would be on leave for a month or two. Taken aback by her sudden request, he was quick to voice his worry. After she explained to him that there was nothing to be worried about, he trusted her will, respected her decisions, and responded with silent understanding, only telling her to take care on her break. The water mage left briskly after expressing her gratitude, her bags already packed. All the saving had led to a fat fortune in her bank account.

It's about damn time. Juvia is not broken anymore, but instead broken free.

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He didn't want her to voice her concerns and know that he had messed up every promise. He stared out into the dark as tears bled from his eyes. He's felt horrible. He's so done with making excuses. And that's why he decided to try once more.

In front of an apartment complex in the middle of the night, he was only two floors away from her apartment, ready to climb without ropes. He doesn't hope that this might not be so bad. He was ready for the worse, although not physically. His hands clasped around every rail, every ledge, and every tube he could find. This is pretty stupid. But he knew that even before he came here. Apparently, his love for her is greater than life. Before it spread into a wildfire engulfing all of him, it was just a spark flickered by the brush of his heartstrings.

He wishes he could be more rational. But his love for her had reached the shores like a tsunami, what with the premonitions and all. Yes, he didn't have a lot of hope left. But now, he had fallen hard and couldn't find it in him to regret any part of this feeling. Because this feeling is like no other, it is cool like a summer rain and warm like a sunbreak in winter. Is it wrong to hope again? Is he that corrupted, a lost case, a cancer that spreads?

His hands touch the ledge, and a salty tear wets the powdery dust over them. Not thinking twice, he knocks on the fogged-up glass and stays. His palms slide over the glass, clearing some of the mist. He found her sound asleep on the couch, wearing nothing but her nightgown. Crazy klutz. Doesn't she know that she must close the curtains? It's utterly careless and unsafe. Jesus, he didn't mean to appear like a creep. Now, she must definitely think he's a creep. Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter.

One hard knock is all it takes for her to roll out of the couch and hit hard on the carpet. "Stupid." Face-palming, he knocks his forehead against the glass. Never mind. He was the stupider one of them both, but it's not like he'll ever admit it, and neither will she. She's as stubborn as they come. But since she has taken over all his worldly priorities, he might as well admit it. He had been an idiot, but was it too late to wish that he could make it right?

Lucy hobbled closer to where the sound had erupted, about to scream at the two hands resting on her window sill. Then when she saw whom those hands belonged to, Lucy hissed testily. "What the absolute fuck! What do you think you're doing?"

"Who's that?" He asked before she could say anything else.

"Yo." It was a casual, frolicsome call. "Whatcha doin' there, breaking into a señorita's house?" He did not sound like a Magnolian, but like someone from southwestern Fiore. Loke judged him the moment he entered his field of vision, with his carrot-hued, pixie-spiky hair and glinting grin. Okay, so Lucy liked pretty fuckboys.

"You're—" No one said he is, but the guy had that particular look written on his face that said: "I like playing around. I specialise in skirt-chasing and heartbreaking." Or maybe it's his jealous ego talking. It's bad to judge a book by its cover, but this is the guy who stole his girl that we're talking about.

"I'm Yui Izumi. Luce is my babe. Now, fuck off so we can get back to our hot yoga." A dick, no doubt about it. "Or do you wish to watch that?" What bad taste you have, Lucy!

Is Loke any better? Yes, he is, for this girl. Only her... The blonde pinched her boyfriend's arm, pushing him to the side of the room and out of his sight.

"If you're going to hang in there, I'm calling the cops." Like cops could do anything to a celestial spirit, the king of all of them.

"I came here to talk."

"Leave me alone." Her forehead puckered; she was pissed.

"I'm sorry." His syllables cracked. "Lucy, WAIT!" The curtains closed on Loke.

He heard a less mad, "Stop disturbing me."

It's no use. Lucy doesn't think of him like that. She doesn't like him that way. He felt his heart shatter to the floor in a bloody burst. He felt like a loser. It's over. He doesn't exactly feel like getting his shit together. Not today.

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