Natsu wasn't all that surprised when the first mission Lucy took since the guild fully reunited was a solo job. He felt left out, sure, but he knew he had no say in the thing. He had missed her tremendously, and these days he found himself wanting to soak up her presence like a parched plant longing for water. He wanted all of her, all of the time. But their dynamic had undeniably changed.
Everyone in the guild held stilted conversations, threading topics carefully, as no one wanted to step on a landmine. It was no different for Natsu and Lucy. They could talk about Lucy moving her things back in her old apartment, and they could talk about the deep clean Natsu's cottage needed, but they could only keep to the surface. If any of them even dared to mention why Lucy had lived in Crocus to begin with, or why a thick layer of dust intoxicated the air in Natsu's house, they would without a doubt start throwing accusations and angry impeachments at each other.
Natsu knew he was seen as the bad guy by Lucy. Probably by the rest of the guild too, but they didn't get a say in it — how could they leave Lucy alone, all by herself, when no one could even get a hold on Natsu? The disbandment still felt fresh for him, as he only learned about it recently, so his disappointment in the abandonment of his partner weighed extra heavy on his chest. But he didn't regret leaving for a year of training. The bandage on his arm strained as he worked his muscles, reminding him that it hadn't been without reason. Of course it hadn't — strength was the most important thing he could possess at this moment in time.
No, he didn't regret his year away, but he knew he had betrayed Lucy. He had missed her every day, but he never made an effort to reach out again, because he knew that the second he allowed himself to feel homesick he'd run back to Lucy without a second thought. Even Happy knew — none of them mentioned her much; the guilt weighed too heavy. He wondered how he could feel so content in his choice of action, while also deeply regretting it at the same time. How could anyone know what was right when something felt so complex?
While Lucy was away at this mission — one that would only last a couple of days at most, she had promised him — Natsu couldn't stop himself from breaking into her apartment on Strawberry Street. He needed something to remind her that she wasn't going anywhere. If that something had to be staring at the milk in her fridge, a reminder that she was coming back, then so be it. But as he looked at the number of cardboard boxes in her living room, all filled with things that were meant to be on display on a shelf, or in closets waiting to be used in rotation as the season changed from summer to autumn, he noticed a cold, snowballing sensation in his chest.
It had already gotten dark out, and few lamps were plugged in so Natsu didn't bother turning any on. The wallpaper wasn't that warm, peachy pink anymore. Well, it technically was, but it all looked grey, dull, and it smelled dusty. He came here to ease the worries in his mind, but really, it seemed like the apartment was having opposite effects. Nothing was right. It didn't smell like Lucy's home — not one scented candle had been lit in almost a year, no meticulous scrubbing of the hardwood floor with that apple-scented dish soap had been done, the bathroom lacked that smell of her shampoo, fabric softener from her towels, and the minty toothpaste that Natsu hadn't washed away in the sink after he'd brushed his teeth before illicitly spending the night.
Never had the scent of neutral stung so badly in Natsu's nostrils. He hated it. He let his fingers drag across the fireplace. Dust, dust, more dust. That fireplace had been cold for so long, and it was his fault. He strained his brain trying to get himself to remember that he didn't actually do anything wrong. He didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't like he had mated with Lucy; he was allowed to make his own life choices. That didn't mean the sour sensation in his stomach lessened though.
With a heavy sigh, he sacked down into Lucy's couch. Before long his leg started shaking, and he had to stand up again and pace around the room before it drove him mad. Did she hate him for leaving? He knew she wasn't happy about it, but did the frustration root so deeply that it couldn't be saved? Was that what she was doing now; taking her distance before Natsu fell into a normal daily rhythm with her again?
When his foot knocked over a stack of cardboard boxes he swore under his breath.
"Shit," he mumbled, dropping down on his knees to scoop up the content. Stacks of paper had spread across the floor, and curiosity won before a battle against the thought of him respecting her privacy had even begun.
Letters.
What he had bunched together was letters. Sealed, but not signed. Could it be letters to her mother? Perhaps she had started writing them to her father too, now that he had died. Natsu felt like he shouldn't intrude, but his hands moved on his own, warming the glue that held down the flap. If it was too private he could put it back without her noticing.
For some reason, his hands shook when he unfolded the paper.
February 17th. Take nothing for granted.
He turned over the paper twice. That was all it said. Nothing about who it was for, no context. Something felt wrong, compelling him to open another letter. He accidentally ripped a part of the envelope, but his heart raced too much to care. What had happened while he was gone? This was almost 7 months after he had left to train. Seven. Why was it always seven?
February 17th. I don't count the days anymore, but yes, I often think about you. I have thought of a million things to tell you, but when I hold the pen in my hand, I can't remember what they were. Do you think about me?
Natsu read the page over and over. Another letter that echoed a mostly empty page, practically blinding him despite the dim light. At least his legs had stopped shaking and itching. Now it was his brain that was working overtime, filling up with questions faster than he could even register them enough to begin to answer them. He saw that the letter had been written the same day though. Was it possible that this was the date Natsu had left, only seven months later? He couldn't remember. Why had she taken time to seal two letters on the same day? And such short ones — did they carry so much emotional weight that she couldn't continue writing on the same paper before she banned her writing to paper-thin concealment?
He ripped the next one open, no longer caring about hiding any traces of him invading her privacy.
February 17th. I wrote endless letters to you in my mind. It consumes me, so today I pour my heart out. Tomorrow I will wear my nice shirt and no one will see how you have infiltrated my brain, but today the ink will flow.
I love you madly and miss you madly.
Natsu's heart raced.
"I love you madly…" he repeated in a soft whisper, barely hearing himself over the blood rushing around in his body. Now, realistically, the letters could have been to anyone. Nothing in written text indicated that it was words specifically aimed towards Natsu — still, for once in his life he felt like he finally understood what that 'reading between the line's business was all about. He knew Lucy. He knew her a year ago, he knew her today, he would know her in a hundred years. If he one day layed with dementia on a bed in a sterile room, he would always know one thing: Her. Always, always her.
And that meant that he understood that this was about him. No name-dropping needed. He read the letters again, rearranged them in his hands. Which had she written first? Surely they weren't written in the order he had read them. But perhaps it didn't matter. Though, the first letter was undeniably the one that unsettled him the most. "Take nothing for granted", sure, he could understand that on a personal level — but what was it Lucy couldn't take for granted? Natsu? It would have made sense, but something told him that it wasn't the only thing on her mind as she wrote it.
Maybe another letter would tell him the answer? He rummaged the blank envelopes, not sure where to pick from now that they all had mixed together. He grabbed a handful and ripped the top one open.
February 25th. You lost your way. I think I did too. It's not terribly scary — I just wish we were lost together. How are you? Can I gather courage to contact you? I have paced the post office, clutched these papers until they wrinkle. The workers tried comforting me, and I left mid-sentence. I ran. But there is nothing else I can do; I have gradually lost sight of all other human beings, can only see you, and you are so distressed.
This solidified his theory of the letters being dedicated to him. She understood him, she always did — she knew what Igneel had meant to him, and she saw his reasoning as real and grounded. Kind, warm Lucy Heartfilia. He wanted to be comforted by her acknowledgement, but her grace brought just as much guilt as relief. If Natsu had stayed, he would have harmed himself — by leaving, he harmed Lucy. He swallowed hard.
When he turned the page over, he saw that it, to his surprise, wasn't empty. It continued, as a separate entry.
February 26th. Better consciousness of myself. The beating of my heart more as I would wish it.
That was all. Natsu didn't need to open more letters to know that this was her last entry. He wondered what she had thought about that week. 17th to 26th. It must have been tough on her. She had carried the entire guild on her shoulders, been so close to them, yet so far — his mind threw him back a couple of days, to when he saw her wall of maps and records of the guild's whereabouts. All of that, and somehow there were only letters to Natsu.
"The beating of my heart more as I would wish it." She must have been referencing how her heart had been breaking; perhaps racing in momentary panic, or slowing down, matching the snail-like ticking of her clock. Time passed too slowly when she was all alone. Natsu remembered his own experience with sorrow. Even during his year away he found his bones aching and moaning, waiting for the months to pass.
He leaned back on the still too dusty floor and let himself reflect on the letters again. February. The greyest, coldest month. Memories of colourful leaves on the trees and Christmas cheer, far, far away — and spring and all the signs of new life spring would bring, feeling unattainable. Did Natsu's absence echo too loudly when his fire was too long gone for her to remember the sensation of it? Had she dried her hair after going home in a rainstorm and wondered where her happy days had gone? He didn't know many details about her past, but the grey ceiling he looked up at must have been just as oppressing in the Heartfilia mansion. Empty from life, empty from death — Jude locked in his office, Layla six feet under cold wet mud. Servants would move in the shadows, and Lucy would gaze across the monochrome rooms. A fireplace in every room — none lit in years, maybe eons for all she knew.
Guilt. How could he make up for taking part in yet another abandonment in her life? He knew how soul-sucking getting deserted was, having lived it. He pocketed the letters he had opened and put away the mess as he thought about it. He had already brought the guild back for her, made them reunite so he could make her joyous smile return to her face. He had used his actions to convey that he had come back to stay — but maybe that was exactly it;
A vow.
He would vow to never let her walk lonely, never let her fight alone. He swore he would do everything in his power to let her apartment stay alive, the fireplace always lit, far from the reminders of an empty konzern from her past. Her tummy would always be full, her mind always creative, her memories full of adventures, and her heart would always be filled with hope and belief that she would experience many future ones. And he vowed to protect her, if he so had to die doing it. She loved him madly, and madly he loved her back.
He stood up and stretched, chest feeling lighter as he took a deep breath in. Glanced around the room again. It still gave him the creeps how little Lucy it felt, despite containing pretty much all her belongings, but at least now he could look past the suffocating atmosphere. He was going to beat Zeref, take down Acnologia, and create a world where Lucy could unapologetically live.
The letters crinkled in his pants as he hunched to get through the window. She had left it unlocked, despite only recently having moved back in. As long as she cracked that window for him, he would always make sure she knew he was there to take care of her. Her secret sign that she wanted him there. She accepted his presence, even after betrayal and being left behind. He was thankful.
The air was cool against his skin, despite it being mid-July. Somewhere flowers were blooming, filling the night with an intoxicating, calming perfume. He made a mental note to ask her which one.
Oh, and one more vow; to never write her another note. He would never let her relive this year; no more departures, no more abandonment. From now on he would always face her. That was his promise.
Here's the original quotes I included in this fic:
"February 25-26. But there is nothing else I can do; I have gradually lost sight of all other human beings, can only see you, and you are so distressed" — Letters to Felice by Franz Kafka
"February 26. Better consciousness of myself. The beating of my heart more as I would wish it." — The Diaries of Franz Kafka
"February 17th. Take nothing for granted." — Anne Sexton
"17 February. Yes, I often think of you," & "I have thought of a million things to tell you." — The Letters of Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf
"February 16-17. I wrote endless letters to you in my mind." — Letters to Felice by Franz Kafka
"February 17. I love you madly and miss you madly." — Letters to Véra by Vladimir Nabokov
