They were inside the motel's walls before Lucy could draw herself out of her own mental turmoil to realize that Natsu had been not only abnormally quiet, but also especially attentive. Not of the world around them, but of her. When was the last time he hadn't been looking at her covertly from beneath his lashes? Probably before they left the pier. He was dying to say something, that look said.
She left it for now and got their room key out.
When the door popped open, Natsu came into the room and asked, "Where is that red dress?"
Lucy wasn't sure what she expected his first words to be, but it wasn't that. "...The one I got the other day?"
He turned to glance at her, as if he couldn't not be looking at her for long. "Yeah."
Seeing the troubled expression on his face, Lucy's stomach plunged. "Why?"
Natsu was suddenly impatient. "Because, I want to know, Lucy. Do you know where it is? Yes, or no?"
She was hit with another wave of nervousness. He looked almost manic. She walked with unsure steps to her pile of clothes and started shuffling through them. A light green halter dress, a blue skirt, chain and chiffon shirt with a keyhole neckline.
She grabbed the red fabric finally and yanked it out.
Tension abandoned Natsu's body. He dropped to the bed's sagging mattress and scrubbed his hands over his face. It didn't last long. He hissed and glowered at his aching palm. It looked even redder than before, swollen and sore.
Lucy followed his line of sight and swore. "I'm sorry, Natsu. I was supposed to clean that for you." And then Gray and Juvia had arrived and thoroughly sidetracked her for days.
He didn't say much of anything, allowing her to dig through his pack like she used to. It felt strange letting her do it now after so long of her not, though he told himself that it shouldn't. It had only been a year, after all. There was a small voice in his head that said a lot could change in a year. People could become wary and guarded, secretive, insecure. He shuddered to think of all that was unsaid between them.
Lucy found the kit and came to the bed, kneeling between his knees. Taking his hand felt intimate, though they'd walked all the way to the motel intertwined like that. With doors closed, it felt somehow different. Given that, she was happy for something to do, something to focus on.
"What happened today?" Natsu asked.
In between getting an alcohol pad open, Lucy's toffee coloured eyes flicked up to meet his. "Riley took me to question the man that committed the first murder. Lance Henbridge."
Natsu's jaw felt like it was wired closed. "And?"
She pushed aside her hair and revealed the thick bruise that spanned her neck. Natsu was on his feet, his hands clenched; she didn't even think he was aware of the movement.
"Where is he?"
"Riley, or the murderer?"
"Both."
Lucy shook her head and tugged him back down. The bed squealed. "Lance is dead; he collapsed shortly after attacking me." She pushed out the image of the blood and his moonstone eyes. "And Riley… I left him at the jail."
"Why did he let this—"
"There wasn't anything he could do," Lucy interrupted. "It happened so fast; no one saw it coming."
"I would have." He was so fierce.
Lucy pressed the alcohol swab into his hand to silence him. His face went several sheets whiter. Though she knew it hurt, she really worked the alcohol into the pin-sized hole in his palm, worried about the infection. "Maybe we should go see Porlyusica and get some medicine for this or something?"
Natsu thought of the old lady's intense glower and unforgiving hands. "It feels better already."
"You're a liar, Natsu," Lucy returned.
"Let's just give it a day or two," Natsu said. "I'll keep it cleaner." Not that he'd been doing much for it—it was just a stupid thorn, after all. He'd been stabbed by unhappy plants plenty of times in the past. Granted, they never hurt like this before, but he'd be damned if he went to Porlyusica because he'd been poked.
Lucy sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, but really, if it's not getting better by then, we're doing something about it. You could get blood poisoning, or—"
She went on, rhyming off a list of ailments while he studied her, monitoring the movement of her lips, the minute way her brows twitched when she talked, her oil black lashes fanning her cheeks. Using his good hand, he cupped her cheek, thoroughly silencing her.
He didn't care about himself. "Are you alright after he attacked you?"
She searched his eyes. "I'm okay, Natsu." His skin was so warm. He smelled like soap. "And you? What was that on the pier?"
He slid his hand down her cheek and her throat, gently brushing over the bruise. He only stayed there for a beat, not quite able to bring himself to linger. "I don't know what I saw."
Lucy's heart flopped. "What do you mean?"
"I haven't been sleeping good. What if I imagined the whole thing?" He looked discontented and disquieted.
She squeezed his hand, not really knowing how to respond. "Loke and Happy will figure it out."
Natsu didn't know which outcome he hoped for more. But Lucy's dress is still here. That was sort of telling in itself, wasn't it? "She just walked off."
Lucy brushed his hair back from his forehead. "Hey." He met her eyes. "It's alright, Natsu. If there really was a girl there, there wasn't anything you could do."
She knew him too well. Natsu told her, "I'm glad you're okay."
She smiled. It wasn't at its usual brightness, but he appreciated it anyway. "I'm glad you're okay, too. I was worried for a second there, I thought you were going to jump off the edge."
Would you do something awful? Natsu didn't respond, unwilling to admit how close he came.
Lucy dropped the used alcohol pad to the ground and wrapped his hand with gauze, making sure it wasn't too tight. She was done in seconds. She made to rise but was stopped, Natsu grabbing her hand and holding her steady. She dropped back to her knees and looked up at him. He wore an expression of stubborn intent. Sensing what was coming, she wondered if she should avoid it to save herself—and Natsu—some heartache. Things were already so complicated. He started to lean in. Instead of turning away like she told herself to, she wetted her lips with a quick flick of her tongue. So faintly she recalled kissing him last night, too drunk for her own good. What would it be like sober?
His lips were warm and dry. He needed to shave, his skin prickling hers. She liked it. Far too much. Enough that it frightened her. Yet, even off balance and uncertain, she didn't want to let him go. He started to lean away so she came up on her knees so their bodies were pressed together. Then she opened her mouth and rubbed his lips with her tongue, deepening the kiss. His breath broke across her cheek in a short burst; he cupped her face between his palms. A thrill travelled from her chest all the way low into her belly. She only stopped kissing him when he got brave and started touching her ribs, then lower, seeking a way to feel her bare skin.
Stilling his hands, Natsu opened his eyes and tried to get a handle on himself. It was embarrassing how short his breaths were. Glancing at Lucy, he saw he wasn't alone, her cheeks were stained red.
"Natsu?" Her voice was both rough and breathy. Like the girl's on the pier.
'What if the only way to wake was to cut the thread of dreaming?' He was afraid to answer her. "Yeah?"
"You said you wanted to be a team again?"
'What if I was that thread?' It wasn't real. It wasn't her. It was easy to imagine her mouth moving around those exact words, though. Natsu blinked, thrown off. "I—yeah, Lucy."
She brushed back his hair again so he could easily see that beneath the dreamy want, she was annoyed. "Leaving me behind isn't what team members do."
He opened his mouth to defend himself. Her finger lay against his lips, thoroughly silencing him. "We either do stuff together, or we go our separate ways." She'd discovered a rod of iron somewhere in her spine. It was as surprising as it was relieving.
Looking at her, Natsu knew there would be no quarter. Besides, a voice in his head said, if you were with her, you could have prevented her getting hurt. "Okay." He brought her in closer again, not wanting any space between them. When he was touching her, she wasn't leaping from the side of the pier into the stormy ocean below.
Lucy allowed herself to be kissed again, only feeling a little guilty for the secret she still kept.
Jellal's feet moved with surety, taking him over craggy rocks and deep gouges in the earth. Every movement was calculated. At his side, Sorano kept up, as did Richard, the earth cradling him like they were one.
Macbeth and Erik were way ahead while Merdy and Sawyer were flanking behind, monitoring their backs to ensure they weren't followed. They were making good time. Another hour and they'd be out of the valleys, two more after that and they would be in a position to commandeer a carriage to take them the rest of the way to Lamia Scale. Closer to Cheria, which meant closer to saving Wendy. He couldn't shake the way Erza looked, scared and on edge. He would do anything to wipe that look from her face.
A shadow emerged from a rock crease, moving quicker than Jellal could follow. Richard's scream filled the air, then the sharp smell of blood. Jellal pulled up short and reeled around at the ready, but it was already too late, Richard was on the ground, a wide pool of blood expanding from his body at a rapid pace.
Too fast to be anything but fatal.
He didn't have to look for their aggressor, they came back again, as vicious as before when they slammed into him in an attempt to drag him to the ground. His side went numb. Though he could feel nothing, he made his fingers clench around their clothing so they could fall together. Magic came to his hand when he asked. The night got blacker, the air suffocating. He didn't pretend to try to keep them alive. Hot blood washed over his body, stinking and sticky. Sorano yelled. Her words were lost. The thing—person?—Jellal gripped so tightly fought for another breath, then got entirely still; dead. He stayed motionless for another moment after that, afraid to move. He was hurt, though he didn't yet know how badly. Likely he wouldn't, not until the adrenaline faded.
"Jellal," Sorano's voice was high in a rare show of unease. "Jellal, are you alright?" Without fear, she took their attacker by the shoulders and pulled them off Jellal's body. They fell, lifeless and near shapeless, contorted by his spell. The only thing Jellal was sure of was its coral coloured hair and wet skin.
"...I'm alright. Richard?"
"You're hurt," she said, ignoring his question.
"Check on him," Jellal ordered with as much conviction as he could muster. His voice didn't falter. Bully for me.
Sorano hesitated, then turned and went to the man's prone figure. It only took a look to know the truth, but she wasted the time turning him over and checking his pulse, though he no longer bled. Wordlessly, she shook her head.
"Hey," came Merdy's clear, high voice.
Jellal pushed himself up as best he could. His one arm wouldn't work, and the other felt raw where his magic had torn through his body.
"Where's Sawyer?" Sorano asked.
Merdy paused mid-step as she took in the scene. "He circled back just to double check we weren't followed... What happened?"
"We were attacked," Sorano said in that matter-of-fact way she had. "Richard..."
Jellal's adrenaline was starting to disappear and the pain was taking root, so much so that he felt nauseous. Daringly, he lifted the lapel of his cloak and glanced at the damage. His arm hung limply, torn nearly from its socket. The skin was split and bleeding. And hurting. Working one handed, he wrenched his cloak's clasp open and struggled to get it free from his body. Sorano took pity on him and came to help. She worked quickly and quietly, getting it from his shoulders, then taking her knife out and slicing a sling from its inky folds. In seconds she had his arm up, bandaged, and the sling tied around his neck. Jellal sweated through the pain, wondering if he was going to throw up at her feet.
Sawyer crested the same valley Merdy had moments ago. He took in their situation quickly. Jellal suppressed the nausea and stood with Sorano's help.
"Sawyer, tell Erik and Macbeth we've been attacked—"
"No need," Erik's familiar voice came over a ridge to the north. "I heard it all."
Jellal turned and saw the rest of his company approach. Putting on the best face he could, he said, "We need to bury these two and keep moving."
"We can't leave Richard here," Merdy protested.
"We have to," Jellal replied.
"He deserves better than to be left to rot in some valley no one knows!"
"We don't have the time or the luxury for civility," Jellal said shortly, voice like a whip. "A girl's life depends on us getting to Lamia Scale."
"We don't owe anything to Wendy Marvel," Sawyer said. "Richard was our comrade."
Jellal felt his face twist and knew the expression he wore was one of ugly rage. There was nothing he could do for it, though. In fact, he wasn't even sure he cared. It helped get his point across, that face that had made countless men and women sweat and fear. "You know that's a lie after all the trouble you lot caused her in your search for Nirvana." Sawyer flinched. Jellal continued. "Richard is dead; Wendy is not, not yet, unless we waste time lugging a dead man back through here. We're the only one's that are going to mourn him, and I think this place is as good as any."
"He's right." Macbeth's support was rare. Jellal shot him a furtive glance. He looked just as bored as ever. Seemingly unaffected.
"You know I want to help Wendy," Merdy said. "But… Richard—"
"Enough."
Merdy pinched her lips together. There was a long, drawn out moment of silence, then the girl asked, "What is that thing?" She pointed to the mess Jellal made of Richard's murderer. "And are there more of them?"
Though it was misshapen now, and mostly red, it was vaguely humanoid in structure. The aura it carried, even in death, was—however unique—also unmistakable. "It was a demon. As for its numbers… I'm not sure." Best be truthful; they were a group of renegade criminals trying to redeem themselves, but they were his group of renegade criminals; their sins were his, and so were their lives. The burden had never felt heavier, what with Richard lying at his feet. "We won't dig through the rocks, but we can make a pile over his body." That way, though they were leaving him behind, nothing could disturb his rest.
Surprisingly, it was Sorano that laid the first stone.
Lucy swiped the steam away from the mirror so she could see the bruise deepening on her throat. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it was bad enough. And ugly. She dug out some concealer from the bag she'd brought into the washroom and did her best to mask the purpling mark. It was still visible, only slightly duller now with a layer of makeup. She adjusted her damp hair so it covered much of the wide handprint and told herself that there wasn't much sense obsessing over something that only time could change.
On the counter was a light green sundress stenciled with small twigs carrying bunches of plump red berries. She shrugged into it and tied the halter around her neck. She wore it even though the sky outside looked threatening. She didn't imagine she'd be going out much anyway, not for the rest of the day. It was starting to get late, and Natsu was as twitchy as he'd ever been. He'd been clear enough, wanting her to be with someone all the time, he didn't even want her to go into the bathroom by herself. Thankfully, that was an argument she'd won, giving her some much needed time to think about what it meant when he kissed her—and what she wanted it to mean.
There were no easy answers. Maybe close your eyes and just let things happen. She wasn't sure if she liked the idea of that, though. It felt like inviting disaster.
Lucy took special care folding and hanging her towel, delaying the moment she had to go back into the main room—back to the decision panel, really. Tell him they should stop to protect her still-bruised heart, ask him to keep going; it could make the pain go away.
It didn't take long to discover that she didn't like being alone with her own thoughts. When they weren't filled with Natsu, they drifted toward Lance Henbridge. 'You'll die. You'll die.' That was going to haunt her dreams, she was sure. And his fingers closing around her neck. Her necklace breaking. She glanced at the delicate gold laced over the counter. She'd washed it three times, though no blood had actually touched it. It still felt filthy. Guess I'll add that to the list of jewelry I can't wear anymore. Her heart hurt just thinking about it. It was the only thing she really had left of her dad. And now that was ruined.
Sadness tried to grab her. She slipped from its greasy grasp and braved her motel room.
Natsu was almost where she left him, sitting on the bed. The only difference now was that he'd gotten significantly more naked, shucked off his scarf and his shirt. He gripped his belt like he meant to get rid of his pants, too, but halted when he saw her. His eyes drifted over her body, letting no space go unexamined. She flushed and fidgeted when he looked for longer than strictly necessary.
"I'm done now. You can shower, if you want." Talking helped her focus some.
Natsu stood and crossed the room, stopping in front of her. Lucy's heart pattered—even harder as he cupped her face between his warm palms and kissed her thoroughly, as if that were something they just did now. She didn't know how she felt about that, either. Weak kneed. Giddy. Excited and scared.
She did so little to prevent it from happening, she had to assume this was what she wanted. His arms wrapped around her ribs, his fingers reaching high beneath the curtain of her hair to toy with the ends of the halter's bow. Lucy's breath hitched when he grabbed a tag end and tugged it a few inches, bringing her dress to the verge of giving up the ghost. All she had to do was move a millimetre and everything she had would be on display. Her skin beat with apprehension. He let go of the fabric and ran his palm over her bare back instead. The relief she felt was knee-quaking.
The door sounded. Natsu kissed her for a prolonged moment, then released her. She licked the dampness from her lips, an excited thrill moving through her. The knock came again.
Lucy tugged her bow back into place. "I'll get it."
Some clarity came to Natsu's eyes. "I got it, don't worry."
She had no problem seeing through his offer. It was going to get old awfully quick if he mother-henned her all the bloody time. "It's just Loke." She could feel the spirit through the door. He was with Happy, and agitated. She wondered if one was a product of the other. The cat hadn't been glad to leave Natsu's side. She was sure he'd been griping about it the whole time.
Natsu answered the door anyway, hoping for Loke as he yanked it back, but preparing for any number of things. He needn't worry, it was as Lucy said. Loke looked damp and cranky. His suit jacket was off and tucked beneath his arm, his white dress shirt open and absolutely saturated.
"Hey." Natsu stepped back to allow the spirit to enter. Happy scurried in after, looking just as wet.
From the center of the room, Lucy asked, "What happened?"
"Loke went for a swim," Happy said. "And then it started to rain. What's your excuse, Natsu?"
The dragon slayer looked quizzical for an instant, then realized Happy was poking fun at his state of undress. Not in much of a mood to laugh, he ignored the cat in favor of joining Lucy in looking out of the motel's dingy window. It was dark now, the sky impossible to see. In the silence, though, Natsu heard the pitter-patter of frenzied rain drops.
Lucy said, "I'm sick of the rain."
"Tell me about it," Loke muttered.
Natsu gathered courage and asked the question that had been burdening him for hours. "Did you find her?"
Loke shook his head. "If there was a girl there, she got dragged out into the ocean. The guards checked, and when they were done, I looked myself. I couldn't find any evidence."
Lucy felt Aquarius' absence acutely in that moment. Her wrathful mermaid could make the ocean give up all of its secrets. She was out of reach, though. Loke glanced at her, sensing her train of thought. He softened; she hated that look, the sympathetic glean in his eyes. She toughened her skin.
"Maybe… maybe I really didn't see anything," Natsu said. He didn't seem relieved.
Loke said, "It's more likely that we just can't find anything. Did you say anything to her?"
"I… I told her to get away from the ledge." I touched her, for Gods' sake. How could she have been in his head?
"Did she say anything back?" Loke asked.
'He's coming for you, Natsu, and when he arrives, he wants to see his most precious creation, not the man it pretends to be.' Natsu scrubbed his face, annoyed. His palm twanged. "Nothing really." Just nonsense.
Loke examined the dragon slayer carefully. "You're sure?"
"I don't know. She was talking about threads and dreaming and—"
"Natsu said he hadn't been sleeping very well," Lucy said when he just trailed off. "Maybe he was… I don't know, like, sleepwalking or something? Maybe he dreamed her."
"Freaky," Happy said.
"Maybe." But Loke didn't look completely sold.
"If you guys are here, I'm going to have a shower," Natsu said. And then maybe go to bed and try to sleep away his memory. He found he wasn't so excited for that either, though, remembering his dreams from the last few nights. What would tonight bring? Zeref, or Lucy throwing herself over edges? Maybe you'll dream nothing if you have Lucy with you. That alone was enough to tempt him. He was eager to feel her beside him again. And this time, she wouldn't be rushing out of bed in the morning to throw up last night's fun. This time, he wouldn't have her voice kicking around in his head, asking him if he wanted to know what was up with her and Gray.
"Alright," Loke said. Always worrying, he asked, "Did you guys get anything to eat?"
Natsu paused, hand on the bathroom doorframe. "…No." He'd been so distracted, he hadn't had much time to focus on how his stomach was turning itself inside out, starving.
Loke looked to Lucy. The blonde said, "Not since yesterday." Had it really been so long? The look he gave her was positively scathing, as if she'd done it on purpose.
"They serve takeout at the Thorn and Thistle," Loke said. "Come on, Lucy, we'll go get something and bring it back."
Sheepish, Lucy said, "Sure."
Natsu started to protest. Loke cut him off. "I wouldn't ever let anything happen to her, Natsu. She can't stay in here forever. It's literally steps away from the motel—she'll be safe."
He looked as stubborn as a mule, but when he opened his mouth, he only said, "I'll get a Ruben with extra fries. And a salad. And dessert, if they have anything."
"Fish for me," Happy said. "Steamed."
"We'll be back in a few." Loke placed his palm between Lucy's shoulders and guided her out, grabbing the umbrella that leaned against the wall on the way; it was the same one that came from the spirit realm, looking only a little scuffed and dirty after its fall to the ground the other night. As soon as the door was closed, Loke said, "You think we should ask Gray and Juvia if they want anything?"
Lucy wrung her hands together. "I guess."
He turned them in the direction of Gray's room. She didn't ask how he knew where the ice mage was staying. Loke knew too much for his own good lately. "I wanted to talk to you about something I found earlier today."
She looked up at him. "Found? At the pier?"
He nodded. "And at the old age home."
"What is it?"
He waited until they turned a sharp corner before stalling and reaching into his soaking pocket. From the depths he pulled out two ragged looking teeth that were sharper than any Lucy had ever seen before. She couldn't think of an animal it would belong to.
"Teeth?"
"Yeah," Loke agreed. "I found one in that patch of dead grass we saw at the old age home, and the other was wedged in the concrete at the pier."
"Okay… What does it mean?"
"I don't know. When I picked it up, there was residual power coming from it." Lucy looked horrified so he said, "It feels dead now, though." His assurance did little to pacify her.
"What kind of magic uses body parts?" She screwed up her face in detestation.
"Beats me."
"I need to do some research." She sighed. "Which means bringing Natsu with me. He's the worst when I'm trying to focus on something."
Loke smiled faintly, imagining what she meant. Natsu wasn't built for sitting in stuffy rooms that smelled of pulp and ink, reading page after page of magical history. "Magnolia's library was destroyed, so it might not be an issue."
Lucy leaned back against the wall and tipped her head back. "Damn." And then a thought occurred to her. "Crux. Oh… but his specialty is celestial magic…"
"Yeah," Loke said, sounding hopeful, "But he may still know. It's our best shot, unless you want to head back to Crocus."
Well… She'd get away from the dark cloud that was hanging over Magnolia, but it meant the potential of facing Jason again, and her old landlord. Rent wasn't due yet, but it would be soon. Not to mention the King, and the shame that came with running off with the man that defaced his castle. Even if he did forgive Natsu, there was bound to be some bad feelings there. "Maybe we'll just try this first." She wasted no time grabbing the silver key from her hip and summoning the southern cross. He looked as dopy eyed as ever, levitating ludicrously in the middle of the motel's hallway.
"Miss Heartfilia. Master Leo." His heavy-lidded eyes drifted to Loke's gruesome prize. "Are those teeth?"
"Yeah," Lucy said. "Can you please do a search and tell me of all the magic that uses them?"
"That's a broad search. There are many kinds. Can you limit it?"
Lucy said, "I want everything you can find. I don't want to miss anything, so no."
"It may take awhile."
Time wasn't a luxury she wanted to offer, but what could she do? "Take as long as you need to be thorough."
The cross nodded. His eyes started to droop closed. "I'll return to the spirit realm and contact you when I have the information you require."
"Thank you!" Lucy told him graciously. He faded without another word.
Loke stuffed the teeth back in his pocket. "Alright." He held out his soggy shirt. "I'm going to get changed, Lucy."
"You're ditching me here?" Lucy protested.
Loke said, "Gray's room is there. Ask them what they want. I'll be right back." He disappeared before Lucy could get a word in edgewise. She glared at where he'd been, more than tired of Loke's disappearing acts. What the hell was he thinking?
She still hadn't made a move when the room the spirit had pointed to came open and Gray stepped out, looking dishevelled.
The ice mage didn't even look her way, just started toward that cursed balcony. His hands were empty tonight; maybe he'd drank more than enough last night. Lucy entertained the idea of standing there silently and letting him slip away, but that wasn't how you treated someone you were friends with. You said hi, asked them how they were, smiled and invited them to the shitty bar that spurned a wealth of bad decisions for many of Magnolia's citizens.
At the end of the hall now, he placed his palm on the balcony's door handle. Lucy rushed to catch up, wanting to get to him before he could go outside and be enveloped by the night. This felt more neutral. "Gray."
His shoulders went stiff. He stayed that way, facing the door without acknowledging her for so long, she thought he just wouldn't. Then he turned. He was a mess, dark bags beneath his eyes, hair flat, his mouth straight and hard like it hadn't ever been before.
"Lucy, hey."
Her stomach flopped annoyingly. Was it ever going to be easier? She straightened her shoulders. "How's it going?"
"It's… ah…" Gray's eyes trekked to her throat, thinking it was easier than looking her in the eye. The blue and purple caught his attention. He reached out before he even thought about it and pushed her hair back. His expression slipped towards outrage. "What the fuck happened?"
Lucy drummed up some sense and pulled away. "Riley brought me in to question the guy that murdered one of those girls. I guess… I got kind of close and he freaked out."
Gray squeezed his fingers tight and tucked his hand deep into his pocket. "You alright?" His concern was burdened with depreciation. Lucy could just imagine the stream of curses and cynical self-devaluing comments going through his head after he touched her; they were written all over his face.
"I'm okay. It's just bruised." She didn't want to talk about that anymore. Before they could fall into awkward silence, she asked, "What about you? Are you okay?"
His jaw clenched. "What do you mean?"
She gave a small shrug. "You just look… stressed."
That was one way to put it. He scrubbed his face. "I don't know."
Her awkwardness disappeared, replaced by concern. "What's wrong?"
Gray wasn't going to bother voicing his ails—he was going to tell her to get on her way, and tell her to stay that way, really, but Lucy was the only one that shared the burden with him. He checked down the empty corridor, making sure Juvia wasn't coming yet, then spilled in a low whisper, "I—I think Juvia knows."
Lucy's stomach pitched again, most unpleasantly. "Why would you say that?"
"Because. She cornered me this morning. Asking about you. About us."
About us. It seemed so incriminating. She pushed her hair back impatiently. Movement did little to alleviate her nervous energy. "What did you tell her?"
"What do you think, Lucy? The same thing you're going to tell her if she comes asking." He was suddenly fierce. Frighteningly so. Lucy held her breath, waiting for a threat that remained unuttered. Like he wished he could but didn't quite dare.
Gathering courage, she said, "Loke thinks we should just tell them. He says it's not right, even if it was in the past." And damn Loke; he was the last of her spirits she expected to be her moral compass. But instead of showing up at her house the day after Natsu left with a gifted case of vodka and a pack of condoms, and a list of dives they could hunt through to continue on her losing streak, he'd arrived with a giant bottle of water, the largest container of aspirin you'd ever seen, and a hair tie with a little purple rose stuck to it so she could pin her hair back while she was sick for the rest of the day. He was there nearly every day after, too, crashing on her couch and even making her meals when she was too miserable to do it herself. He was a good spirit and an even better friend.
Gray looked at her sideways, daring her to agree. She didn't, not yet, not when the path of least resistance was still unblocked, but she thought about it.
Gray asked, "You guys are hooking up? You and Natsu, I mean."
Lucy's neck got hot. "I don't know."
He puffed up his cheeks, considering. That was a shitshow he didn't want to be a part of. Dealing with Juvia would be bad enough. "Listen, just tell Loke to mind his own business, okay? I know he thinks it's good to just put this out there, but he didn't see Juvia today. The truth would crush her." He swiped his hand over his face again. In that one movement, Lucy saw how truly exhausted he was. Her heart ached.
"And if things are going for you and Natsu, why mess it up?" Gray looked like he wanted to say something else, but a tiny noise caught his attention. The halls were empty, yet the sinking feeling in his guts said that just because he couldn't see her, didn't mean that she wasn't there.
"What is it?" Lucy asked.
Gray pinched his eyes closed, praying he was wrong. The quiet squeal of a door didn't hammer the nail into the coffin, but it was pretty fucking close. Without another word, he left Lucy there, not wanting to affirm his suspicions, but needing to. She didn't follow him down the hall.
The door to his room was open a crack, the light from inside petering out to make a long rectangle on the floor. Gray felt sick reaching for the handle. But reach he did; no one would ever say he was a coward. Well, maybe they would, his conduct had been less than stellar lately.
As soon as the door slid open on its squealing hinge, he wished he didn't feel like being brave. After all, waiting for her on the balcony for hours and hours and wondering why she didn't show was better than actually knowing. Knowing felt worse than a kick in the balls.
Her suitcase was on the bed, her clothes thrown haphazardly inside. She flitted around the room, some kind of blue-dusted nymph, agitated and hectic. It was several long seconds before she realized that he was there, watching her. Her eyes flicked up to meet his; he saw everything in her gaze that he needed to see. He didn't say a word as she slammed the lid of her suitcase down and zipped it up. The strap of a scarlet coloured bra hung out the edge. She didn't fix it, too eager to get away.
Hurrying, she deked between him and the doorframe. Gray's hand shot out without his permission, grabbing her wrist. He had no idea what he was going to say. What do you think you know? What did you hear? It doesn't matter what happened in the past. I love you.
His tongue was a pound of lead as he looked into her accusing and wet eyes. The girl that loved him too much had finally run out of love.
She jerked out of his grasp and continued on her way. He let her go because he couldn't help but focus on what he knew all along, he really didn't deserve Juvia Lockser.
