CHAPTER TEN

"Sorry I'm late!"

Gajeel turned to the door of the coffee shop to see Levy running in. Her cerulean curls were wind-swept behind a pink headband. Tight yoga pants stretched over her legs and hips deliciously, and a worn fleece jacket with a zip-collar covered her top half. She nearly bumped into someone with her rolled yoga mat, which hung behind her alongside her ballet bag and backpack.

Gajeel jumped to his feet, running to her and taking the bags from her arms. He knew he should've picked her up from yoga… "Damn, Lev. Can you carry all this?"

"Of course! It's not that heavy. Just…awkward to carry."

They made their way to their usual spot—the velvet sofa by the window—and Gajeel dropped her bags onto the floor. It blew his mind that she was carrying this much around all day… A rolled yoga mat, ballet bag, and a decently heavy backpack. Levy giggled when she saw him grimacing at the bags.

"I would've brought my purse, but I just can't carry anything else…"

He nodded. "Rest for a bit, I'll get your breakfast." Levy started to protest, but Gajeel cut her off with a kiss and smirked triumphantly. "Shut it, shrimp. I'll be back."

Too tired to protest, Levy slumped onto the couch and closed her eyes. Eight in the morning wasn't typically favored by college students, so the coffee shop was nearly deserted. A few early-risers sat in the opposite corner at a bistro table, sleepily downing their coffee while they finished up homework. Levy barely had time to get her homework done the night before—thankfully she managed to get it done and be in bed by one o'clock. So now instead of being sleep deprived and doing homework early in the morning like the other poor souls in the coffee shop, Levy was just sleep deprived.

Gajeel returned, waiting on the girl behind the counter to call his order number. He assessed Levy, who had dozed off on the couch, with no small amount of concern. She looked exhausted… Dark circles framed her eyes, once sparkling with vibrant energy but now dull and tired. Suddenly she jumped awake, blinking rapidly. A huge yawn escaped her lips, and she squeaked cutely—Gajeel only chuckled and smoothed a hand over her hair as he left her on the couch to go pick up their order. Gajeel was surprised she wasn't more chipper. In Levy's words, yoga always made her feel more energized, more centered (Gajeel had no idea what the hell that meant). Levy loved getting some good stretching in to start her day, and she said it helped with her dancing. But this morning, she was just so tired. Yoga only seemed to make her worse. It would be surprising if even the coffee would wake her up.

Gajeel returned with a blueberry muffin and two to-go cups of coffee. "Here ya go, Lev."

"Thanks," she said. A sweet smile brightened her sleepy features, if only for a moment. "I'm so exhausted."

Gajeel pulled his hair over his shoulder and sat beside her, and she immediately leaned into his side. This was one of those "thank God it's Friday" situations. Levy had the worst week. After the critiques from the judges, Margaret decided to put Levy through an intense one-week training program, and three weeks later, it began. Today was the final day of the training regimen (or dance hell, as Gajeel called it), and it was safe to say both Levy and her boyfriend were relieved.

They'd barely had time to see each other, and Gajeel didn't like seeing her so down and drained. There were grand plans in the works for a date tonight, but after seeing her this morning, Gajeel decided it was best to have a night in. Maybe order some food and just let her rest. Rest could do them both some good, actually.

"Eat your food, Lev."

She whined.

"Come on, eat." Gajeel leaned down, brushing his lips against hers. "Do I have to feed you myself?"

That woke her up. Red tinted her cheeks and she quietly took the muffin from his hand. Gajeel sipped his coffee, scarlet eyes narrowing when Levy nearly fell asleep mid-bite. Yeah…definitely a good night to stay in. After nudging her awake, Gajeel ensured she finished her breakfast. Levy sighed when she looked at her phone.

"Uh oh, I'm running late for my warm up class." Levy stood, fighting off a yawn as she shuffled to grab her bags. Gajeel stood and took them from her, ignoring her protests.

"I'll walk you there. It's on my way."

Levy smiled and nodded. She tried to reach for her bags again, but was denied. Finally Gajeel let her carry her yoga mat, just to appease her. She seemed content enough. They walked side by side at an easy pace, fingers laced together. It was too early for in depth conversations. Instead, they just enjoyed a mutual silence. Levy was just content to be near him… Being in Gajeel's presence just made her feel safe. Comforted. Nowhere made her feel as peaceful as being in his arms. Beside him. He was the cool, calming, protective presence she needed to balance her out.

They reached the studio where her warm up class was held, and after an awkward shuffle of bags, Gajeel took her hand and gave it a soft squeeze. Gently, he brushed the hair from her face, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "Just take it easy, shrimp. Don't push yourself too hard."

"I won't," she said. "I'll see you tonight!"

She slipped out of his embrace, but Gajeel caught her hand and pulled her back against his chest, kissing her soundly. His fingers wove in her hair as he angled her head just right to deepen the kiss, and just when Levy's eyes fluttered closed, he pulled away and placed a final kiss to the tip of her nose. "I love you."

She blinked, blushed, and then gave him the most radiant smile. "I love you, too."

Levy waved animatedly as she ran inside the studio, seemingly on her second wind. Gajeel just shook his head and moved to the bus stop. He planned to hit the gym before grabbing lunch, since he had a class and then a shift at work that afternoon. If he was lucky, Natsu would be busy instructing a class when he got to the gym, so he wouldn't have to worry about an impromptu spar session. Gajeel looked up to the blue sky. Nice enough weather, cool temperature, and he wasn't dead yet—he would fit in exercise if it killed him.


When Gajeel arrived at work, he heard two distinct sounds: a loud crash and an even louder yelp. Quirking a brow, he slipped into his work shirt and rounded the corner into the workshop. It would seem that Sting had made quite the mess… Poor Rogue…

Rogue had a rolling cart that he used to carry his tools around his work space. It was short and well organized, but completely stuffed to the brim with different tools. Wrenches, ratchets, and drill bits, different types of screws and cleaning rags and nuts and bolts. Anything he could possibly (or never) need, he had organized neatly into that cart. Apparently when Sting was coming inside to greet his friend, he didn't see the cart in his way and he ran straight into it, he and the cart toppling to the ground right on top of Rogue.

Gajeel walked in during the aftermath. Both men were laying on the ground groaning, tools surrounding them. "What the hell?"

Sting groaned, rubbing his head. "Man, you have got to move that cart to a safer place when you're working…"

"Now I have to reorganize this whole cart…" Rogue grabbed Sting's hand, allowing him to hoist him up. "You could've watched where you were going for a change."

"Sorry, man."

After helping Sting and Rogue to recover, and getting all of Rogue's tools back onto the cart in a semi-organized fashion, Gajeel moved over to his station and began working on an AC repair for a mother of six's mini van. Gajeel loved kids—he hoped he could get her car detailed as well, if he had time. Just a bonus on the house; it was the least he could do.

Gajeel grabbed a wrench from his toolbox and popped the hood of the car.

"So," Sting said, sliding over to Gajeel's side mischievously. "How are things with the lady?"

Gajeel shot him a look, but it died as soon as he met Sting's knowing gaze. Even though he was initially joking, there was a genuine curiosity scribed into his expression. Finally, Gajeel smirked. "It's great."

"Really? So he talks!"

Gajeel rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, man. That's great. When are we going to get to meet her?"

Loaded question. Gajeel wanted them to meet her, but he wanted the timing to be right. Hell, he wanted to show her off to the world. Levy was the most beautiful, wonderful gift in his life—of course he wanted to introduce her to the guys. But not yet. Their love was new and fresh, and the longer he could keep her to himself, he would. He was selfish in that regard.

"I dunno," he said, finally. "She's been busy and tired. I don't wanna push her."

Sting quirked a brow amusedly, emphasizing the scar stretching over his right brow. "Don't tell me we're not good enough to meet your precious angel?" he asked, feigning hurt.

Gajeel scowled. "Shut up, moron. I didn't say that." There was a pregnant pause as Gajeel distractedly wiped his hands on a rag. "I just don't know when you'll meet her, is all."

Sting studied his friend with calm curiosity. After carefully stepping around Rogue's precious cart, he grabbed his own stuff and popped the hood of the car Rogue was working on, bending over it to look at the interior.

"She does ballet, right?"

Gajeel smiled faintly. "Yeah, and she's damn good at it. Most beautiful thing I've ever seen." His cheeks darkened with the realization of what he'd just said—Sting smirked. "Anyway, she's been busy as hell this week. Some new training camp her dumbass instructor put her through. Today's her last day, but I've barely seen her this week. I'll let you meet her another time."

Sting sighed with a smile, holding his hands up in defeat. "Alright, alright."

The blonde man stepped over to Rogue's station, handing him a wrench. Rogue was completely hidden from view, arm stretched out from underneath a car while he blindly grasped around on the cart for the tool he needed. However, Sting's epic crash into the cart left things out of place. When Sting heard an aggravated huff from under the car, he laughed and handed Rogue the correct tool.

"So what is this training camp?" he asked.

"A load of bullshit," Gajeel grumbled. "She has a major solo performance in January that she's training for. It's a pretty big deal, and her coaches want her to train harder."

"That isn't necessarily a bad thing," Rogue added softly, still hidden beneath the car.

Gajeel scowled. "No, but she's perfect. Lev is training her ass off. She does yoga every morning, then has ballet classes and classes for her degree and double minor until the afternoon. Normally after that she has more practice until six, but this new schedule she's had this week has her rehearsing until almost nine."

Sting frowned and shook his head disapprovingly.

"Shorty's overworked and stressed." Gajeel tightened a bolt on the engine that he noticed was loose. "Anyway, I just think this is all a load of shit, that's all."

Sting nodded. "It was only for this week, right? Sounds like she could use a break."

"Today's the last day," he reaffirmed. After a pause, Gajeel snorted. "I'm gonna make her relax and enjoy herself tonight even if I have to drag her home kicking and screaming."

Now, Sting was a calm guy. It took a lot to make him angry, and he was one of the nicest guys Gajeel knew. Though he was a bit crazy at times, he was respectful, cunning, and eager to help his friends—an all around great guy. But he had one hell of a mischievous streak.

"Oh? I think you at least need the lady's consent, Gajeel." Sting's eyes sparkled mirthfully, and Gajeel flushed when he caught his meaning. He heard Rogue chuckle.

Gajeel scowled and scratched at the studs on his nose. "Shut up, it's not like that."

Sting waved him off. "You don't have to explain anything to me. You are a man after all, it's only natural to want more." Gajeel gaped at him, wide-eyed. What the hell? Who did this brat think he was? Sting clapped a hand on Gajeel's shoulder, dark eyes casting him a sidelong glance. The lazy smirk on his face made Gajeel even angrier. "Just a word of advice from one friend to another: consensual sex is safe sex."

Sting lunged out of the way just in time to miss the fist aimed at his jaw. He ran through the workshop, laughing as Gajeel threw a wrench in his direction—Rogue yelped when he wheeled out from under the car, only to have a wrench whiz by his face.

"I said shut up, bastard! I told ya it ain't like that!"

Sting popped his head out from behind the wall he was hiding, smirking at Gajeel's reddened, furious face. "Oh, sure it's not. I believe you. I'm sure sex is the last thing on your mind…"

That time poor Rogue did get hit in the face—thankfully the bruise left by the metal socket wasn't too horrible. But it only made Sting laugh harder.


The beginning of October had marked the end of Gajeel's six months that Porlyusica had given him. It was no shock when the day that was estimated to be his last came and went, but Gajeel knew it was only a matter of time. He'd stepped into a violent downward spiral that his just couldn't seem to escape, his symptoms worsening each day. He knew he had to tell Levy the truth soon. It would break her heart, and he wouldn't blame her if she dumped him flat. He deserved it. But Gajeel just couldn't do it. He was a damn coward, and every time he thought about telling her, the words would melt away. Maybe it was because he knew she'd probably break up with him that he hadn't said anything. Gajeel knew not telling her was horrible—it only sealed his fate in hell. It was the cherry on top of the mountain of sins he'd committed in his lifetime… He knew not telling her was unfair to her. Levy would be destroyed when she found out… But maybe, on the other side of the spectrum, that's why he didn't tell her. She would be crushed, and he couldn't bear to be the source of her pain.

It was a lie.

Gajeel used that as an excuse to ebb away some of the guilt, but he could only lie to himself for so long. Truth was, he was a selfish bastard, and the thought of losing her scared him more than the thought of dying ever could. He would soak in every moment with her, until the very end. One day he'd pluck up the courage to tell her everything—the darker part of his past, his cancer, everything. But not yet. Besides, with her big performance coming up, Levy had enough on her plate.

When Gajeel arrived at the practice studio to pick her up, training camp finally done, Levy was sitting on the floor taking off her pointe shoes. Gajeel fought the fury rising to the surface when he saw her remove the bandages to reveal raw and seeping blisters. Levy barely batted an eye, but it pissed him off to no end. Quietly, he watched her redress the injuries with thick bandages before slipping into her usual fleece boots. He stared through the window, anger giving way to concern when she yawned and tucked her cerulean curls behind her ear. Moving her hair revealed innocent freckles and exhausted dark circles, but more alarmingly, tears.

Gajeel ripped the door open to the studio and barreled in, taking her cheeks in his hands before she had time to process his arrival.

"G-Gajeel?"

His thumbs stroked her cheeks, ruby eyes searching her face. "Why are you crying, shorty?"

Levy blinked, gasped, and reached up to wipe her eyes meekly. Her face burned with embarrassment—she didn't realize that she was crying. "I— I'm sorry. I'm just so tired."

That much was obvious. If the bags and dark circles rounding her eyes weren't a dead giveaway, the constant yawning, falling asleep in her breakfast, and wobbly steps were. But Gajeel knew his girl well, and she was putting up a steel front. Thankfully, Gajeel had a way of breaking through steel barriers.

"That's not all, is it?"

Had the situation not been so serious, Gajeel would've thought she was adorable. Honey-colored eyes widened, then her lip trembled. Her broken sob was most certainly not adorable, it was heartbreaking. He shushed her gently, pulling her into his arms and smoothing his hands over her hair reassuringly.

"I'm sorry," she blurted.

Gajeel shook his head and smirked. "It's okay." She pulled back, and he cupped her cheek lovingly. "What else is goin' on, Lev?"

"I don't love it anymore," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Gajeel's eyes widened. "I used to love dancing, but I didn't know making it a full-time career would make it so…unenjoyable. I just…don't know if I want this anymore."

He nodded slowly. What she was saying would be a major deal. This could alter her entire college curriculum. It would be a life-changing decision, and right now she was just so tired and over-worked, he didn't want her to make any rash decision based on exhaustion. Finally, he leaned forward, biting the tip of her nose. She squeaked and frowned.

"Don't make any decisions right now," he said, more seriously. "You're exhausted, shrimp. Rest for the weekend, then think about it."

Levy considered his words, taking his hand when he stood to hoist her up on her feet. She slipped on her fleece jacket and practically collapsed into his open arms.

"For now, don't even think about ballet. No dancing, no jetés or pirouettes, or whatever the hell that jumping thing is." Levy giggled, and he smiled as he kissed her forehead. "Just put it out of your mind. For now, let's go eat. We can go to your place and order whatever you want."

She visibly relaxed and he grabbed her bags and led her out of the studio. "Can I have deep dish pepperoni pizza? And chocolate cake?"

His 'gihihi' made her smile. "Of course, shrimp. Anything you want."

Gajeel wasn't anticipating some romantic evening. Levy was practically dead on her feet, after all. So after they arrived at her apartment, and ate the meal she requested specifically, Gajeel wasn't the least bit surprised when she fell asleep on the couch, her head resting against his chest. They'd ate on the couch, watching some TV show Levy really enjoyed, but as soon as she was done eating, she stretched out on the couch, curling up soundly against his chest—Gajeel knew she was a goner at that point. Her soft snores only proved to him what he already knew.

He lay there for a couple of hours, just enjoying the feel of her in his arms, dozing off a bit himself. Once midnight rolled around, Gajeel carefully lifted her into his arms, securing her against his chest, and carried her into her bedroom. He'd only been in there once, but it just felt comforting.

The whole room smelled like her. A plush, warm bed with a fluffy white down comforter centered the room, her end tables stacked with books. Reading glasses and a glass of water sat on one, beside a large history textbook. There was a small comfy armchair in the corner by the window overlooking a small park and seating area, and by the looks of the books and ruffled throw blanket atop it, that was her usual reading place.

Tenderly, carefully, Gajeel lay her down in the bed. He pulled one boot off, then the other—mindful of her blisters. She stirred just a bit when he was pulling the comforter over her, but she settled in with a sigh when he cupped her jaw and kissed her forehead softly. More than anything, he wanted to just curl up beside her, hold her all night. Hell, for the whole weekend if she'd let him. But he held himself back, forcing the rational side of his brain to take precedence over his desires, and he left the room, quietly shutting her door behind him.

Slowly, he staggered back to his apartment. He'd only carried her from one room to the next, and already his body was regretting it. Small weights at the gym were manageable for his constant fatigue, but lifting a human did some serious damage. Gajeel entered the key code on his building, gasping for breath when a pain shot through his stomach and into his lungs, intensifying with each breath. The lobby was empty, thankfully, and he finally reached the elevator—he could've screamed. A small sign that read 'OUT OF ORDER, USE STAIRS' in bold red text was taped to the elevator door.

Weighing his options, Gajeel scowled and took the stairs. It was either climb the twelve flights to his floor or sleep in the lobby like some homeless person, or call Natsu or Gray to help. That was a big, fat hell no.

It took nearly twenty minutes with the amount of times he had to stop and breathe or let the pain in his midsection subside to a manageable level, but finally he made it to his room. Pantherlily greeted him with a concerned squeak, and Gajeel had every intention of picking him up, but the wave of nausea hit too fast, too hard. He reached the bathroom just in time before the bile rose from his throat, acid burning his esophagus as he vomited into the toilet.

Miserable.

He was nothing more than a damn miserable, stupid, worthless man. As far as Gajeel was concerned, he would never amount to anything. He heaved into the bowl, his mind screaming at him to just give up. Let go. End it all. Levy would never stay with him once she knew… There was no way. Why would anyone want to waste their time on him? He didn't deserve that kind of love.

Spent and exhausted, he collapsed into a heap on the bathroom rug, too drained to bother with moving to the bed. He pulled the wild, raven hair from his face, groaning as the cool tile touched his cheek. Pantherlily came into the room, curling into a ball next to Gajeel in an almost comforting manner, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Gajeel appreciated it. Shakily, he reached out to pet him, and Lily squeaked again.

"I'm fine, Lil."

If looks could kill… Gajeel could swear the damn cat was glaring at him. He pushed himself off the floor, slowly, moving to flush the toilet. Tiredly, his gaze caught a glimpse of the bowl, and his eyes snapped wide open. Shit. Shit. Shit. Gajeel reached up to wipe his mouth, pulling his hand away and looking at his palm with wide eyes.

Blood.


A/N: So...sorry... I know that was terribly evil, but I enjoy cliffhangers... On a side note, any chapter that has Sting and Rogue is one of my favorites. I just love writing them!

I hope you enjoyed :) The next chapter is a good one! See you on Monday!