Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

Summary: Gray Surge is nothing but a lunatic.

Lyrics: 'Gravity' song from Sara Bareilles.

A/N: I initially posted this with the purpose to get rid of some of my old drabbles, but the more I edited, the more it seemed to me that the drabbles fell into the same story line. So I decided to make this a multi-chap. Yes, it will have a start and an ending.

This one in particular I wrote back on June, right after I published Catch Me If You Can.

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—Something always brings me back to you.

It never takes too long—

Into Your Gravity

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Juvia is confused.

She is extremely, utterly and most definitely confused.

She wishes she could put a name to this —if you must call it that way— relationship, or the absolute lack thereof.

Or maybe not.

Maybe what she wishes is that none of this nonsense had ever happened, and she didn't have to deal with this, whatever the hell this meant and implied.

It's complicated, yet extremely easy. But she can't seem to be able to come to terms with herself either way.

This feeling —this inexplicable thing that messes up with her judgment and leaves her baffled at her own actions…it's complicated. Because she swears she does not want any kind of attachment, alliance or commitment to anybody, but at the same time it's so easy, just way too easy to fall for him and indulge in that feeling.

She doesn't understand any of it, because it makes no sense —it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever—

Why did she end up falling for the boy she's rejected innumerous times in the past? The one she swore off never to because he was just too clingy, too overdressed and just —just—too nice. Way too nice for her.

It's beyond her realm of understanding.

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Their guildmates don't help the situation at all.

'Where's your wife?' They tease him, and he just laughs apologetically. She's already fuming inside, doing her best not to flip out and start throwing all the guild's furniture towards the clown who made that stupid joke. What the hell is with all that teasing? And why doesn't he say something, anything?

She's not his wife. She could not possibly, and will never be his wife.

He's just the guy she likes kissing. Sometimes.

You could say he's her friend too. A friend whom she won't share secrets with, or call when she's feeling down, or even watch a movie with. Because it'd be too weird, and she doesn't need other people to keep her company or cheer her up. She's fine the way she is. She's always been.

He's just a friend who she just happens to kiss now and then, because he's cute, and he's a good kisser, and that's it.

So when people ask —Nosy, annoying people, like Mirajane— she tells them they're just friends.

Because, let's face it. That's the only thing they will ever become. You can bet money on that. Big money.

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But when he kisses her —God, when he does— she can feel her resolution tumbling down like a house of cards.

He leans his face over, and she has a good guess of his intentions. She could push him away easily, so easily. Just like she's done so many time before. She could shove him to the ground or send him a flying kick and he'd be far away from her, and he'd never dare touch her again.

But for some reason, she just can't. All she can do is watch helplessly as he pulls her closer in his arms.

"Juvia-chan…" He whispers faintly, and she quivers at the sound of her name on his lips, his husky tone making her knees go weak and cheeks flush —fucking flush, dammit. It makes no sense, the way she's reacting to him, the way she ignites at his mere touch.

Why does her pulse go racing every time he leans close to her? Why does she feel her insides stir with anticipation when he casually places his warm hands on her waist? Why does her stupid, treacherous heart start throbbing so madly when his lips cover hers?

Why does it have to feel so good, kissing him?

And every time he does —every time he locks his lips with hers— it's like fire, like melted lava running through her veins.

One hand caress down to her hip and trails up the arc of her back, while the other digs into her hair and strokes the back of her head… and they burn her so bad, she feels like his fingerprints are marked under her skin.

He should be nothing, he should mean nothing to her.

He, —Gray Surge— he's nothing but a lunatic.

But she can't help that he keeps drawing her into his gravity. She can't help that she keeps falling for him.

She hates herself because she's weak —he makes her weak. And she can't fight it, she can't leave him and she isn't really sure that she wants to.

God, it's so complicated, and she wants to end all that bullcrap.

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But he kisses her again, and she's spirited away.

—You loved me 'cause I'm fragile.
When I thought that I was strong.
But you touch me for a little while
and all my fragile strength is gone—

A/N: I'm honestly lacking motivation to edit and write my other WIPs and update my multichap so reviews will be extremely appreciated.