People rarely liked Lucy very much; she was too prickly, alternately too loud and and too quiet, never dressed the right way or spoke the right words. And in turn, Lucy tried not to like people back.
For one thing, it just hurt. For another, even freaks have a shred of dignity to preserve, and they cling to it for dear life.
She made two-and-a-half exceptions: one for Levy, who loved everyone and had everyone love her, one for for her wiener dog Plue, and...one for Natsu. Maybe. A partial exception. Consider it pending.
Not that she didn't like him, because who could even try not to with that stupidly sweet smile of his? That smile could stop traffic. He could set up a little display booth, charge people to look at it and never have to work a day in his life. Heck, he could retire on his dimples alone.
But she doesn't have a clue how to like him. What does someone even do, when weird boys with cute smiles buy them cake? Act casual? Ask them out? Hide in his closet, wearing nothing but whip cream?
The last one was Levy's idea. Who, as usual, was absolutely no help.
"Ooh, I know!" she said, clapping her hands. "You should play hard to get. Skip the next few days of school. No, show up to school with another guy. Or—show up and make out with me. He won't know what hit him."
Lucy had squinted at her. "Levy, if you're just trying to act out one of your crazy sex dreams again—"
"I'm offended at the very thought." Levy blinked a little too innocently.
It was one of those gorgeous, golden afternoons that heralded the last of summer weather, all soft light and gentle breezes. Lucy and Levy reclined on an old porch swing with Cokes and chips (neither of which Levy touched).
"Y'know," Levy said thoughtfully, peering up at the sun, "this is totally Southern weather."
"Totally," Lucy agreed.
"I mean, this is some real sip-your-iced-tea-and-receive-gentleman-callers type weather. I mean, right when you finally have a gentleman to call on you, the universe sends you the most romantic weather in the world? If that's not fate then—"
With an amused half-smile, Lucy propped herself up on her elbows. "Woah. Okay, slow your roll there, Rhett Butler. Nice weather, yes; romantic weather, no. And whether or not he calls, Natsu's no gentleman either."
Levy's look turned disbelieving. "Come on, Lu. He's a perfect gentleman—he's all deep and broody and goth for you. He blushes when you so much as look at him."
Lucy sighed, settling back into the cushions. I know, she wanted to say. He acts like he likes me now, sure, and does feel lovely to be wanted.
Natsu is lovely, she reminded herself, in a really messed up way. The messed up bit didn't bother her; if he was perfect, she probably would've ignored him from the start. But...noticing him and being with him were two completely different things.
"God, I hate that phrase," Lucy said, scowling.
"Which one?"
"Being with someone. What does that even mean? Being is literally just existing. I'm existing," she gestured between herself and Levy, "with you on this porch swing. That's being together. Why does it always have to be some romantic shit?"
"Lu—"
"Actually," Lucy continued, the rant warming up, "all of the romantic stuff is just utter baloney. Nonsense. Hogwash, even."
"Okay, sure but—"
"All that mooning and stressing, and constantly worrying about what some goth boy thinks of you? Who needs all that? I have other things, you know." Lucy curled inwards, hugging a pillow to her chest. "I don't have to be that kind of girl. I mean...I love you. And loving you comes stress-free."
Finally she paused, chugging her Coke as if to purge her of any lingering Natsu-stress.
Levy just smiled, and she curved her arm around Lucy, tucking her head against her best friend's shoulder.
"Oh, Lu. Love you more," she said gently. "But he could love you differently, maybe. Someday."
"So?" Lucy felt both validated and confused at the same time. She groaned into Levy's hair—today in a massive spiral of little braids that tickled when she touched them. "It's the same thing, don't you get it? Crush love. Best-friendship love. Whatever."
"This is so not a whatever."
The only difference is that there's lots more kissing and sexing and checking out of asses in the first kind. And heck, not even that's true—let us not forget seventh grade Spin the Bottle."
"Ah yes," Levy said fondly. "Your breath was nice. Needed Chapstick, though."
"And I check out your ass all the time because, like objectively, you're just super hot. No offense."
"Oh none taken," she said airily.
"My point is—GAH." Lucy's face pinched, expression halfway between annoyed and confused. It was all just so...stupid. It made her stupid.
Indignation welled up in her, because Lucy had no problem being a freak—she just wasn't this kind, the kind who ranted about boys instead of working on their novels, or watching movies with their fantastic best friends. That kind of freak was much too normal. Even worse, unrecognizable.
"I don't want a boyfriend," she admitted quietly.
Pause. Cokes were sipped. The sun dipped behind the trees, outlining their leaves in gold.
All Levy said was, "Okay."
"I'm just too awkward for it. And I hate the connotations, too. Being attached to someone. Drama, stress, stupidness."
Levy nodded. "I think it's a good call."
"Yeah?" Lucy said, surprised.
"None of that stuff is really you."
There was another moment of silence. It really was beautiful outside, even if it was a funny season. Leaves tinging autumn colors, but still too warm to declare summer over. The sun began setting, sky flushing pink. The color matched Natsu's hair perfectly.
"But...I like him, too. I like the idea of the kissing and talking and sexing," Lucy added, eyes straight ahead.
"Well," Levy said hesitantly, "maybe...that's okay, too."
"Yeah?"
"Just talk to him, Lu. He doesn't have to be your boyfriend, if that's what you think a boyfriend is. He doesn't have to be nobody, either. He can be—"
"Can I just have him be Natsu?"
"Actually," Levy said with a smile, "I think he would make a perfect Natsu. Just like you make a perfect you."
She visibly deflated with relief.
It's okay, she told herself. We can talk about things, and make plans. It doesn't have to be anything I don't want it to be.
And if it works out? Oh, she so badly wanted it to work out, to have someone who would buy her cake and kiss her on park benches, drive her home in a little blue car, call her "Luce" and make her smile.
But for now, she curled against the real love of her life, head tipped back, taking in trees and swing and sunset.
Because she knew what really counted, in the end.
notes: because my friends are saints who keep my boy-crazy ass functioning.
more adorkable romance coming soon.