Chapter 42:

The night was so incredibly cold. It almost seemed colder than any night he'd ever been out in the early, early morning. Guilt sunk its malicious claws into his chest as if it were trying to rip out his heart. He was breaking a promise to himself and each step made his feet feel heavier and heavier as if he were walking his way through setting concrete. He pulled the cowl around his shoulders tighter, trying to conceal his face and stave off the chill.

He was doing this for a good reason, he told himself. He shouldn't feel this way.

A step echoed his and his heart started pounding harder. He pretended he didn't hear it just like he'd pretended every other time. He couldn't let them know that he was keen to every shadow that followed him in the street, couldn't give them the advantage of knowing he was well aware that he was being tailed. No, not until he had more information. He needed to track them down and it took every ounce of his wicked prowess to scrape his way through the complexities of this unknown empire.

He slipped through an alley and in a single, fluid motion slipped off his cloak and stashed it in a dumpster. He took care not to make a noise as he stalked through the bamboo forest that surrounded the hot springs. He swept his eyes past the footprints that would have been easily missed by the untrained eye, didn't bat an eyelash to the snapped stalks and hastily covered tracks.

He could play this game better than anyone.

He eyed the hot springs where the bastard had watched them strip down naked. His heart clenched dangerously. They'd seen Laxus. They knew they weren't just roommates, they were lovers. His eyes lingered on the puddles of water from when they'd made their retreat into the hotel. Each step he took to the French doors drove his pulse further into his throat as he caught sight of smeared mud from a boot print that he hadn't left when he'd stolen himself into the night just a few hours prior.

He took care not to hesitate at the door and as naturally as possible pull the handle to slide in. He skulked carefully inside, made a show of clicking the doors together as silently as possible and pulling the curtains. For just a heartbeat he stood motionless and listened. Laxus's breaths were coming in smoothly, calmly. He was in a very deep sleep. He drew his eyes up to study the suite and found nothing amiss, everything was just the way he'd left it. Carefully, so as to not wake the god sleeping in his bed, he tiptoed across the room and placed his boots back precisely where he'd retrieved them. He tore off his clothes and stashed them hastily in his bag.

His skin prickled from the cold but it didn't stop him from turning his eyes to the doors once again and making the journey back to the frosted glass. He paused and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the night. His heart jumped to the sound of a twig snapping. Soft, silky footsteps travelled through the tall grasses and stepped solidly on stone. He held his breath at their approach, kept his hands on the locked doors just in case. If they made a move he'd meet them with fury and iron but he didn't think it'd be necessary, not this time. The steps stopped at the door, waited, and he could hear a shaky breath from whoever was on the other side. It felt like an eternity was passing around them. He swore he could feel the moon setting, the stars travelling their course across the heavens, the universe clicking like intricate pieces of clockwork around them. Then, slowly, stealthily, his stalker slunk back across the spring and into the wall of stalks.

His whole body relaxed and he released the death-grip he'd had on the door handles. He padded across the room but couldn't find it in him to sit back down on the bed. It wasn't too difficult to see Laxus's face, even in the dark. His eyes cut through the night and he could easily make out the sharp angles of his scar and gentle curve of his blonde eyelashes. The smell of their lovemaking still clung to the air. Laxus smelled fiery and him like spice and together they'd created a perfume that reminded him of spiced rum or fresh tobacco leaves but with the same strength of peppermint or lavender. As he gazed down at the Thunder God, his guilt crawled up his chest to sit at the base of his throat.

He only had a few rules for himself and each one he was breaking like dried rose petals between his fingers. His only saving grace was that he wasn't dragging Laxus down with him.

He gritted his teeth. He could feel it again, that ache making his wrists throb and his flesh sear with fire. Again, there were sweet, sinister fingers travelling across his skin and constricting like a vice around his throat. He'd never be that weak again. He'd never allow himself to be dragged through that torture again. He didn't care what measures he had to take, what rules he had to break. He was going to keep the people he cared about safe, no matter the cost, be it his integrity or his life. Hell, he didn't even care if Laxus ended up hating him so long as he was safe.

So long as he didn't have to go through the same hell he'd been made to.

He sat on the edge of the bed, damning the springs as they groaned beneath his weight. Laxus's breath hitched, his snores stopped, and his eyes fluttered open for a moment.

"Gajeel?" he muttered, his arms reaching out for him under the sheets.

"Shit, Sparky… I didn't mean to wake you," he breathed huskily as he pulled back the covers.

"Something wrong?" he murmured, rubbing his good eye with his palm and propping himself up with the other.

"Nah… I just…" he hesitated and then forced on a gentle smile, "I had a nightmare."

"Yeah? Did I…? Was it too much?" through his drowsiness his eyes reflected concern and it stabbed Gajeel in the heart.

"No, it's fine," he slipped back under the blankets. They had stayed warm from Laxus's body heat and it seeped into his cool flesh like purifying fire, "I just needed to clear my head for a minute."

"Yeah… sorry…" Laxus wrapped his arms around Gajeel's torso and drew him close, resting his head on his chest as he started drifting back to sleep, "You're cold."

Gajeel ran his fingers through short blonde locks and kissed his forehead before letting his eyelids flutter shut, "My bad."

He'd had so few rules for himself. Honestly, he was so terrible. Maybe he just had no self-control or he was just too useless to even rise to his own low standards. He rested his knuckles against his lips and tasted the cold tang of steel. Since he was so hell bent on destroying all of his self-contrived pillars of integrity, he might as well add one more to the mix: getting too close to someone who could easily leave.