AN: A short ficlet written at request originally on tumblr.
Revised: 11/07/14
I.
The first time, they're both young.
It is shortly following from her S-Class promotion as she visits the second floor for the first time, that his attention is snatched away by her.
With hair bright like starlight, and eyes fueled with determination, he feels idiotic for failing to notice her beforehand. And, although he is nineteen and four years her senior, the blond mage suddenly feels young and juvenile before the might that is Mirajane Strauss.
He asks her out that very day.
She refuses at first, of course. And it's only through months of playful banter, flirting and sexual tension that she eventually agrees, and the two end up together.
Things are perfect until she falls for him.
And like the coward he is, he runs away.
Even to this day he can still feel the echo of pain across his cheek where she slapped him.
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II.
The second time is shortly before the festival.
Following from her battle with Freed, he suddenly finds her manifesting before him via thought projection. Stood at the bottom of the steps before him inside the cathedral, she meets his gaze with imploring eyes. Her skin usually smooth and pristine like porcelain is marred with bruises and scrapes, and the energy humming around her has shifted.
The Demon within has finally been uncaged after years of submission.
"Mira." He greets, seated upon the top step as he stares down at her from above. "To think you had all that power locked away, such wasted potential." He's aware Freed has lost, but when matching up against The Demon, the young man stood little chance to begin with.
Her eyes narrow at his words. "Laxus, please… stop this. It's not too late."
Her words earn a smirk of derision.
"Laxus!" Stepping forward, she almost appears to be pleading him, cheeks flushed with her emotions. "Don't do this!" A pause, as she appears to be considering her next words, and then: "If you have any remnants of feelings for me still-"
His laughter drowns out the rest of her words, and he doesn't fail to notice the way her eyes widen in shock and hurt at his reaction. She still loves him, he knows that. Buried deep down below the surface, the feelings she held for him have yet to fade.
And, though he refuses to admit it, he does too. He ran away from a fear of being loved, a fear stemming from a past of having all those he loved ripped away from him.
So he effectively silences the part of him that calls for her still, drowning it out with his need for power. Power will bring him what he needs, and nothing else will stand in the way of that.
Not even her.
"Goodbye, Mira."
Bolts of lethal electricity rain down on her, and though it's impossible to harm a thought projection, it does its job in causing her to break off the connection as her form vanishes into thin air.
The expression on her face however, remains engraved into his mind for eternity.
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III.
The third time is the hardest.
For the past few months, he'd allowed himself to slip up. Returning to the guild again had almost made him fool himself into believing he could ever possibly deserve someone like her.
Caught up in all the festive unity that was the guild, it had taken very little for their lips to meet as they came together once more.
But he'd never deserve her.
Which was why he pulled away once more.
"Don't I get a decision in whether you're good enough for me?"
Her words make him briefly halt in the doorway of her place, the conversation of their 'break up' having been rife with yelling, tears and anger.
He didn't reply.
As he walked out, he kept his eyes forward. Knowing that if he looked back, he'd see the look of heartbreak on her face once again.
He couldn't afford to crack her heart any further. There was only so many times it could be taped back together again before it fell apart completely, and he broke her apart from the inside out.
He only hoped the man she married had enough love to fill in the many cracks and fractures that had taken place in hers.
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IV.
Around them, the bodies of the dark guilds members lay lifelessly on the floor, their forms burned beyond recognition in his anger.
He cradles her body in his arms, blood staining his clothes as he presses his forehead against her own and pleads desperately for her to come back.
Her hair normally shining is damp with sweat and blood, and her face usually rosy and flushed has become pale and hollow. Bit by bit, the life drains out of her through the gaping hole in her chest, eyes glassy and body limp.
He may have have broken her heart three times too many.
"Please, don't go."
But she shattered his apart all at once.