"I think I need a cat."
Levy's laughter trilled—yes, trilled, like a songbird's—across the narrow hallway. She chewed her asparagus hard before saying, "You need a cat like you need cancer, Lu. What you need is a boyfriend."
"Boyfriend." Scoffing, mumbling. "Pah." And then, "I would rather date a cat."
Lucy and Levy were wedged between two broken vending machines in the math pod, eating sandwiches. Levy: weird grilled fish and avacado thing. Lucy: cheesy bacon goodness. Levy was crazy with her food; she ate whole-grain everything and actually drank that weird, bitter-tasting kale smoothie shit they advertised for vegan diets.
Which was why the tiny thing's growth was so stunted, according to Lucy. Blame it on the kale.
"And why do you need a cat, weirdo?" Levy asked with raised eyebrows.
"To fill the void of aching loneliness in my heart." She frowned. "Obviously."
"Okay...see, now we're getting into the thing where I don't know if you're kidding. And I don't know if I should, like, be really concerned. I feel mildly concerned right now."
"How mild is mild?"
"I'll call your mom on you," Levy threatened.
Lucy stopped frowning and said, placating, "Just kidding." She laughed. "I actually want a cat for lunch purposes only. Barbecue kitty? Y'know I think they actually might eat that in Asia somewhere—"
Levy gagged on her avocado. "You're horrible!"
"Drawing the line at cats?" Lucy said smugly. "Hypocrite. That shit you eat could nourish bunnies, Levy. Not people."
Scowling, Levy mockingly stuck her nose in the air and let out a rich-white-girl "hummph". "Well this shit is way more nourishing than, than a, a fucking baby cat, so there."
She held her outraged expression for a full five seconds, until Lucy smiled, and then she smiled, and then Lucy giggled, and then...Levy's faked wrath kinda dissipated, like smoke. From a barbecue. With a screaming kitten on it.
Oh, the lovely nightmares she'd have tonight.
"You freak," Levy said gently. "Walk me to English. Tell me about Natsu."
"Okay."
So they talked about Natsu, in kind tones. They both liked Natsu, in their own way. To describe him right was hard. Sweet, Levy proclaimed him. "Like, you wouldn't expect him to be. But then you talk to him. And there it is: he's just kinda sweet."
Creases appeared on Lucy's brow. She looked at a smiling Levy, and then at her phone, where she'd been looking at the picture of Natsu she'd snapped on the bus.
Levy, smiling. Natsu, sweet. Levy...beautiful, small and perfect as a teacup with a fairy inside.
Thinking hurt for a moment; Lucy stopped. Stopped her mind from straying to scenarios where her weirdo—her goth boy—and lovely Levy McGarden would ever...
Thinking hurt.
She felt unreasonably vulnerable. Like she was one of those shady plants, a flower that preferred dark places, that was shoved into the sunlight and felt itself shriveling. Sunlight? No.
Her problem was that she was shoved into Natsu. Natsu of the pink hair, of the gothiness, and of the (weirdly hot?) guy-liner. Owner of the raspy laugh and the toothy smile.
Object of Lucy's heart-pounding, sweeping, terrifying first crush.
Seriously. She would much rather have a cat than a crush. Or at least both: one to cuddle with while crying about the other.
God, her life was a mess.
.
.
Meanwhile Natsu, the object-of-first-crush, was furiously Googling.
He started this only after he finished furiously eavesdropping.
No one sat around him, but this wasn't his fault. See, you rarely meet a guy who's around sixteen blessed with the gift of functioning like a nice, civilized human. This was how Natsu said, politely: kids are dicks.
Being yourself never came free; otherwise the halls wouldn't be a sea of bodies all to similar to distinguish. So Natsu (who was brown, goth, and just plain odd) paid the price in injured pride. He patiently weathered slurs and sneers and laughter. Homophobic comments. Racist comments. Splices of the two.
Kids were dicks, and that's why Natsu lacked friends. There were the goth crew - he'd fall in with them eventually, of course. But he was still waiting.
So not wanting to sit at a table alone, he tucked himself into a broom closet near the two broken vending machines. He ate pasta; it was pretty good. Then he spent a very interesting half hour listening to Lucy and Levy—pixie and weirdo, as he thought of them—talk about school, and barbecued kittens, and...
And him?
Like he said. Interesting.
That's what he was Googling: do people barbecue kittens?
(Turns out a very disturbed group of people tried to stick a cat on hot coals in an apartment complex in Missouri. The cat, heartbreakingly, received such severe burns it was put to sleep. Truly morbid stuff.)
Sure, he felt creepy listening in on girls like that. But still. Levy, the small one, analyzed the inner workings of his "sweetness". Lucy, the crazy one—the one he liked despite trying not to—simply called him "a fluffy pink ball of weird", in a voice not without fondness.
Then the conversation happened.
"Levy? D'you...like him?"
"Natsu?" A laugh. "'Course. Where've you been? We were literally just talking about that."
"Oh." Lucy's voice was hard and flat. "So, then. You'll ask him out and all."
"What?" the pixie said, sounding surprised. "OOHH. You think I like...oh no, Lu, never. He's really great...but he's basically the opposite of my type."
"Opposite, huh?" Natsu could hear the smile in her voice. "Are you into preppy guys who wear cologne and polo shorts and play golf with their rich grandparents?"
Inside the closet, Natsu snorted. That was as far away from his own personality as you could get.
"No," Pixie chuckled. "I'm into boys my best friend isn't so obviously crushing on."
Natsu stopped breathing.
For a second, he wondered if there was a terrible mistake. Maybe he heard them wrong, or...or Levy was using very subtle sarcasm he couldn't detect, or...
Or maybe Lucy actually liked him. That was...weird. Lucy was the resident wacko, but she was also creative and pretty and smart. She could probably do all sorts of cool stuff, like photography or folding origami or some weird shit. (She folded cranes on the bus sometimes.) All Natsu had going for him was a steady hand with eyeliner.
His ears strained to hear Lucy's reply, but they were already gone; their voices faded into the hallway.
Nah. Levy was probably just joking. She had to be joking—nothing else made sense.
But insensibly, a small part of him hoped mightily that she wasn't. And he wasn't sure why: Did he like Lucy? Would he still like Lucy if he didn't have cause to believe that Lucy liked him? Did...did he even want to like someone like Lucy?
God.
His life was. Such. A. Mess.
notes: btw that cat thing, in missouri? that actually happened. enjoy the nightmares, my friends.
(also, you like? dislike? lemme know! mwah again.)