Chapter 8
Through the crack in the door, I see the figure of the green-haired man rush by, a stack of papers in his clenched fist.
Moments ticks by, and I hear the clatter of Mira's heels on the linoleum floor. She pops her head into my office and drops a packet on my desk.
"Laxy wanted you to update a few things."
"A few, huh?" I sneer, flipping through the pages.
Mira looks wistfully in the distance, and I'm almost one hundred percent sure she's thinking of Freed.
"Mira, if you need help organizing anything, papers, files, documents, and oh-maybe-your feelings, I'm always here for you.
She blushes prettily before mumbling something about her personal feelings not belonging in the workplace and excusing herself.
As I finally settle comfortably in the office chair, I snag the familiar brown bag and pull out the trademark bowl.
There is a crisp knock on the door.
"Come in," I say, not looking up from removing the aluminum cover.
"Just kidding, go away," I continue when I look up to see Freed.
"I need help," He says through gritted teeth. His fists are bunched tightly against his sides and his usually calm facade is on the brink of breaking. I toss the bowl aside.
"Depending on what the issue is."
"H-how do you c-c-confess to a w-w-woman?"
I glance at Freed's face slyly, but one look at the contorted, tortured expression softens my features. My face loses its now-habitual scowl and my voice drops the condescending tone.
"Any woman in particular?"
His voice drops to a raspy whisper.
"I c-c-care for-I can't say it." Freed looks at me pleadingly. Freed just stuttered-what?
I untangle my legs, removing myself from the condescendingly imperious position. My features soften slightly, losing the now-normal aloof and cool quality.
"Freed, you can do it. Tell me how you feel."
He swallows and breathes in slowly.
"I harbor feelings of tenderness for M-m-mira." That's so Freed.
"And you want her to know?" I ask the practically rhetorical question.
"I do." I twirl backwards in my chair, snatching an Expo from my desk before whirling towards the newly-installed whiteboard.
"There are several ways we can go about this."
Snatching up an Expo, I turn to the newly installed whiteboard. I tap my chin with the pen before uncapping it and writing in neat, narrow print: How To Successfully Express Your Feelings Of Tenderness Towards MiraJane to MiraJane if you are Freed Justine.
I twirl back around, slamming my forearms on my desk, startling the now-nervous man.
"Nine times out of ten, a woman prefers it when the man says it straight out. Mira's not one to scheme over her own love life." Keyword: own.
"But what if-" He stammers.
"What if she rejects you and you have to resort to a cool, professional relationship? It's just you like being friends and you don't want to risk what you have right now for the possibility of being more than friends," I finish. Freed holds his hair tightly, his face flushed in frustration.
"I get it," I continue,"I've been there, and I regret not telling him I loved him. He got whisked away by some other girl because I was too slow." Laxus. Damnit. I lean forward, my face mere inches from his.
"Freed Justine, I believe that you can do this. You aren't going to make the same mistake as me, right? Because you always have to try to stay one step in front of me." I smirk.
"But you haven't ever been able to. Two in one, Freed. You can one-up me and tell Mira how you feel."
His eyes finally meet mine.
"I'll beat you this time, Miss-I'm-single-for-life." I open my mouth to protest but he places a finger against my mouth.
"Don't say you're single by choice, Miss Heartfilia. I know exactly who you meant, who you loved. And let me tell you one thing, I believe in you, too."
"You don't think being extremely well acquainted is good enough?"
"I just don't think you'd be satisfied with that, Miss Heartfilia."
"I have no desire to be with him now, Freed. I don't know who he is anymore. He may consider us friends, but I have yet to be convinced of anything."
He stands abruptly in his chair, fixes the lapels of his jacket, straightens his shirt and turns the door.
"Thank you for your help, Miss Heartfilia. You should-ah-really tell that person about how you felt or feel." He glances at me coyly but at the sight of my protesting mouth Freed sighs.
"Tell him how you felt. It would get a lot of your chest."
He spins on his heel, his locks of green hair whipping behind him as the door slams shut.
I can't, Freed. How can I talk to someone about something like that if I don't know if I even know him anymore?
yay freed!
and a very confused lucy heartfilia.
i had no idea where i was going with this, but it turned out alright, i suppose.
sorry it's super short!
please read and review, i'd love to know what you think!
zephy out.
just to let y'all know, lalu week is coming up!
january 20-26, 2016
although there is a christmas contest that ends jan 4th (stay tuned for updates)
day 1: aquarius 20/1
day 2: devilish 21/1
day 3: dream 22/1
day 4: sparks
day 5: manga 24/1
day 6: games 25/1
day 7: prey 26/1