Saturday, 5 AM:

"Ding dong."

One eye cracks open, still bleary with sleep; the sun has yet to rise and illuminate my apartment. It's quiet. I reluctantly open the other eye, waiting for another noise.

By 5:02, I conclude I must have dreamed the voice, and settle back down to sleep.

A moment later: "DING DONG."

Eyes open again. Even I can't dream of something this annoying.

Groaning, I drag myself out of bed, wearing only an oversized button-up. I pick up the golf club I have handy by my bedside and shuffle towards the door. "Who is it?" I call.

Silence.

I undo my intricate set of locks, crack the door open, peer cautiously outside…and see no one. Suspicious, I step out with my golf club and scan the rest of the hall. Except for Evergreen's creepy statues, it's empty. Peaceful. I shrug, ready to return to bed, when—

"DING DONG, LUCY!"

I let out a startled yelp and spin around, brandishing my club at the intruder.

The intruder smiles at me cheerfully and brushes away my club with her umbrella like it's nothing. Then she says, "I have brought you doughnuts."

"Juvia?"

Juvia stands ghost-pale in my doorway, with gleaming blue eyes and two paper bags. In the shadowy light, the tattoos spiraling across her neck and arms seem to waver—which really doesn't help me calm down. My heart still races. I feel like the idiot who gets killed first in a horror movie.

But golly, I'm wide awake now.

"Juvia. Juvia. Of fucking course." I pick up my club, fighting the urge to bang my head against a wall. "What other freak would pull this freaky shit?"

"Not many, I suppose. I have a flair for dramatic entrances and I quite like breakfast dates."

"Naturally," I say, voice icily calm. Because of course I'm not mad; that would be absurd. I love being frightened awake so much that I'll never use an alarm clock again. "And you see nothing wrong with having them, uninvited, at say—five in the morning on a Saturday?"

She just blinks at me.

(I wish fervently that she didn't have the eyes of an anime-mermaid. It makes it impossible to maintain eye contact and a level of righteous anger.)

"You are upset," she concludes.

"It's early. I'm delirious."

Juvia purses her lips, studying me like I'm a math problem she's trying to solve. "You are not an early riser. I have not warned you of my arrival. We are not good friends yet. You wish me to go?"

"I'm a medium riser, some warning would have been nice, and sure, I'm pretty freakin' annoyed, okay?" But looking at her blank, slightly chagrined face, the last of that irritation fades. Sue me, asocial misfits are my soft spot. "But don't go."

"No?" Juvia says hopefully.

I grab the paper bags out of her hand. "A crash course in friendship, Juvia: You wake me, you feed me. Just come inside. And bring coffee next time." I shoo her through the door.

After settling Juvia on my couch, taking a piss and locating pants, I finally feel composed enough to socialize. We sit awkwardly across from each other, letting silence swallow the room.

Mutely, Juvia hands me a doughnut. Glazed apple cider. I wonder if she knows that's my favorite, and wonder if that's creepy.

Well, a girl with blue hair is staring at me in my living room, sucking on a bear claw. Pretty much everything about this is creepy.

"Are you happy, Lucy?"

"What?" It's been silent for so long that Juvia's voice startles me. "Yeah, I'm fine, I guess. It's a good doughnut."

Juvia's mouth goes flat, and I realize that she was not inquiring about my satisfaction with my breakfast. Oh, I think. So we're having a serious conversation about our lives now. I reluctantly put down my doughnut. (It's far too early for this.)

"You mean happy happy. Wow. Okay." At this ungodly hour, only simple thoughts will register: I'm warm and comfortable. The girl sitting across from me is fascinatingly odd company. Natsu's absence created a permanent ache, and I'm always a little lonely.

"I'm…melancholy most days," I finally answer. "But those days have a lot of good moments."

Juvia nods, taking a bite of her doughnut.

"What's your deal? Are you happy?"

"I have very few people who matter to me, and few places to be," she says dispassionately. "I am probably not sad."

"'Probably'? You can't tell how you feel?"

"I can when it matters," she responds, a little defensive. "As much as anyone else can. I know when I like people. I like you, for instance—and Gray and Lyon. I like this building, although there are flying cats and a girl who likes to stick swords in pillars."

Ah. So Erza hadn't kicked that particular habit after all. "She's usually harmless," I throw in. "Just—if challenges you to a duel, politely decline. And no cake. Never mix Erza and cake."

Juvia nods, crossing her arms and settling into the couch. She's wearing a blue slip dress and lace-up black boots. While I loaf in Natsu's old sweats, she looks like an off-duty model going through a grunge phase. Once again, I feel ridiculous.

Abruptly, I stand up. "You know what? Let's go."

"Where?"

"Visit the neighbors. Go see Gray and get that coffee you promised. You're there every night anyways—you guys must at least be friends."

Again, she nods, but she leans and gently places a hand on my shoulder. "You are also my friend now. Right?" Her eyes are large and earnest.

Times like these make me miss Natsu even more. He's better at this stuff, at making misfits feel loved and seen. He can smile and practically scorch away all the loneliness in your life.

I'm on my own here, and Juvia seems so very lonely.

So I do all I'm capable of: I pat her hand awkwardly and say, "Of course. Honestly, I could use a friend, too."

Tension visibly leaves Juvia—and I realize that even when she looked relaxed, she had been practically vibrating with nervous energy. Because of me, in my ratty old sweats? The idea that I could intimidate this severe, tattooed beauty seems too insane to be true.

Juvia is the one who knocks on Gray's door. It's 5:26. He opens the door on the third knock, fully dressed, and already holding a coffee cup.

"Hey Ju," he says. If he's surprised to see me at his apartment door, he doesn't let on. "Your coffee is on the counter." Then he meets my eyes, gives the tiniest smile. "Lucy, this one is for you."

Behind Gray, a figure lounges in an armchair near the fire. It's the white-haired guy I've seen leaving with Juvia, the one with all the crazy clothes.

Juvia practically skips inside and perches on the armrest of the other guy's chair. Immediately, they're lost in conversation I can't make out.

Puzzled, I begin formulating one of many questions—how did Gray know we were coming? Why isn't he surprised? How does Juvia even know him? But before I get the chance, Gray places the coffee cup in my hands.

"Juvia mentioned you would stop by," he says. "After, you know. You ambushed her in the street."

Even I have enough shame to turn a little pink at that.

But Gray just smirks at me, leaning against the doorframe. "She likes you. She doesn't like many people."

"Does that surprise you?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Not really. I liked you too. We're both picky."

He liked me when I came barging into his apartment like a bulldozer? At most, I figured he just took the past of least resistance and decided to tolerate me. It's what most of my neighbors do.

"So," I ask, trying to peer behind him into his apartment again, "does that mean you're gonna let me in? Tell me what you do here all night?"

Gray's expression is amused. "I told you, I'm not great with personal questions. But if you keep stalking my friends, I guess there's no point in trying to stop you from finding out." And he swings the door open, steps inside.

Juvia is looking into the fire now, leaning amicably against the other man. She seems, for once, completely at ease. I think she's almost smiling. Gray says something quiet to the white-haired guy, who lets out a soft laugh.

No sex party, then. And definitely not a dance class. If anything, they remind me of Natsu and I: the kind of friends so close that they pull focus from the rest of the room, as if their bonds have physical weight.

Standing on the fringes, I'm certain I don't belong in this room.

But it's cold in the hall. I was invited. I'm curious as hell.

I straighten up and barge in again, letting the door swing shut behind me.


notes: i think writing crazy juvia is my new favorite thing, guys.