notes: this gets weird. also, you guys are so lovely. goth natsu is blushing from all the love.

In the Head of a Natsu...

...Struggling to Have a Romantic Epiphany

.

.

There's rules on how to do this. Right? Like, unspoken rules. Silent but obvious. Maybe I should call her or text her or something.

Okay, good, Natsu. That's good, except: you don't have a phone, or her number, and this chick is nuts anyway so you should really just leave her alone.

(But she smells nice...)

So what? Gasoline smells nice. Go inhale a noseful of that. There's no risk of weirdness or...biting there, as a plus. Find yourself a nice, goth sophomore to write death poetry with, and forget about weird blondes who make fun of your makeup.

But—

SHH, CHILD.

She's so pretty, though—

Uh, what are you, a twelve year old girl? Pretty? For real. Stop talking to yourself and...go play football or something. Get your manhood back.

I hate football.

Dumbass, I know. We're the same person—except, somehow, I ended up being the not-an-idiot one.

Does Lucy like football?

THINK ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE, BOY. Oh god, how did I end up being stuck in this person's head? I deserve so much better. Like, your manhood ship sailed the second you started putting gunk on your face.

Levy said Lucy thinks it's hot, though.

Oh, don't puff out your chest like you're proud of something. You're GPA merits tears, you got no friends, and the one person who likes you is nicknamed Loony Lucy. I don't think words can express the all-encompassing failure that is your life.

It's your life, too, man. We're in the same body.

Oh nooo. No, no no no no. Haha. That's funny. See, I'm the smart Natsu—the real Natsu—and you're the lovestruck parasitic dumbo who's hitching a ride in my head. Hear that? Parasitic? IT'S A BIG-ASS WORD FOR YOUR SMALL-ASS BRAIN. I will go to college and you will...clean Honeybuckets and moon over hot crazy girls like Loony Lucy!

Hey, I never said that I was mooni— AHA. I flippin' got you, dude.

...What?

Aha-freaking-ha. You said it. You. Said. It. Bad play, man. And you're the so-called "Smart Natsu".

I am the smart one. Listen, dumb Natsu, I'm pretty dang sure anything dumb that was said came from your side of the, the, um...consciousness. TWO BIG WORDS. Oh, dear. Try not to faint, stupid. (Can you faint in your own head?)

Well, well, well, my dear smart Natsu. The tables have turned. I know you can't see this right now, because we're in the same body, and our body's busy eating pasta. But just visualize that I have a mustache. And visualize a flippin' epic villainous mustache twirl.

Get to the point, moron.

You think Lucy is hot, do you now?

...Eh?

You're thinking about "hot crazy girls like Lucy," you say. Interesting. Again, we're in the same body, but my soul is thoughtfully stroking its 'stache right now. It's a handlebar. Quite dignified.

Let's just hold on a second, here—

TOO LATE! You said it, you said it, you freaking announced it to my brain. You like Loony Lucy, genius. You're basically entranced. How's THAT big-ass word doing in YOUR small-ass brain?

Okay, first of all, you're enjoying this way too much.

You bet your balls I am!

Okay! Fine! I like Loony Lucy! What's the big deal, dumbo?

The big deal is, genius, that we've for once in our lives (or...same life—whatever) reconciled our emotions. And that is a huge deal, dude. We're goth. Angst is life.

Hmph. Yeah, so?

So if we reconcile over her—Lucy—out of all things, then this means this is kinda serious. I mean face it, dude. We ain't exactly the crushing type.

Yeah. Great. Crushes. Angst. Real high school experience. I still don't understand what any of this means for us.

It means...okay. It means a few things. Number one: we're getting a phone, number two: we're getting Lucy's number. Number three, we text her a little. And then we make friends with her. And we see how this goes, or where this goes. It might freak you out, but it's also pretty great. Okay?

...I just want you to remember this whole thing was your idea.

Dude, seriously. We're the same person.

I know, Natsu.
That just makes this whole thing so much more stupid.

If this works, though, there's always time for therapy after!

You, affording a therapist? Pah. I will be going to college, dumbo, and you will be cleaning urinals for a dollar a day and wishing you were as smart as—

Oh, god. I REALLY need some friends.