Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima

Warnings: Heavy angst. Self-harm. Melancholy. Substance abuse. Not a particularly happy Christmas story. Please use discretion. Rated M.

We pack demolition, we can't pack emotion

Laying on the carpeted floor, listening to the dry drone of Jingle Bells and staring up at the ceiling, Lucy watched the rotating tree's Christmas lights play on the drywall. Everything was awash in its red and white glow, the light's cores reflected a hundred times by the tinsel choking the evergreen until one of them burned out right before her eyes and left behind a hollow of black. There in an instant and then just pop. Gone. Sort of like Natsu. There in an instant, and then just…

For not the first time, she wished for the same kind of oblivion and knew exactly how to get it, too. She squeezed the package in her hand and wondered if she'd be brave enough. Or cowardly enough. It made her ache. It made her feel in a time when she hadn't felt much of anything for months.

Just do it.

Her conviction was scarce. And the will to keep on was even more sporadic. She couldn't do it. She couldn't not. What about…?

What about it?

So what?

She almost, for an instant, had herself convinced that she didn't care. But that was a lie, and all lies were see-through, no matter how well you told them. You just had to find the right place to peer through the veil.

Doesn't matter if you care or not.

And truly, it didn't, because despite that, when you peeled back the layers, she didn't think she could keep on going, reliving the way the blood sprayed across summer's grass late one warm evening. The way her heart broke. And now you're taking his killer to bed. No amount of sweating and huffing and fucking was going to bring any sort of escape.

She squeezed her fingers again. And this is the answer? It wasn't not.

Just… do it.

Because she longed to be like him. Emotion was always the vehicle of demolition. She lifted the package to her lips and used white teeth to tear into white powder and watched the white lights roll over the white ceiling while she emptied the package's contents onto her tongue and prayed for insensibility and then forgetfulness, and then nothingness. Lastly, she prayed for Natsu.

Her tongue went numb before her heart sped, but that followed shortly after. She breathed out of her nose and watched the ceiling morph into something unfamiliar.

And then back again, into someone. A face she knew well. His mouth moved first, a mouth she'd kissed countless times in hopes of consoling herself. It formed around her name, calling her back from a place she couldn't recognize. His hands, hands that had tethered her to this earth for months and months cupped either side of her face and tried one more time to hold her to this place.

"Lucy." His thumb moved over her numbing lip and traced it. It was wet with candy cane-red lip gloss—this wasn't exactly how she intended upon spending her night—that smeared. "Lucy, look at me."

She would not. Or could not.

"Lucy…" He leaned in and kissed her peppermint tasting mouth. Not just a press of lips on lips, but a full-fledged kiss, one that would have made her light-headed if she wasn't so stoned. More than half-dazed, she returned it because that's what she did when Gray Fullbuster demanded this of her. His tongue played over her lips, and slipped into her mouth, through the powder that hadn't yet dissolved.

"That's too much, Lucy," he whispered after he'd let the drug melt on his own tongue and swallowed. "But you knew that, didn't you?"

All of the colours started to run together.

"Answer me."

Like someone else was using her body, Lucy watched her arm raise. She watched her red fingernailed hand caress his face. His skin was so cold, flecked with melted snow. "Yes."

His face pinched. "I'm sorry you're sad."

I'm sorry I can't make it better, is what he actually meant. Lucy let her fingers slide into his raven's wing hair. It too was damp with snowflakes. Cold. He was perpetually cold. Part of her loved him for it. Part of her was afraid of why. If she was trying to replace something torn away from her or if she was just following a course that would have happened naturally, whether or not Natsu was taken away.

Gray brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. "What are you thinking?" Because if she was talking, she wasn't slipping away on a current of too many drugs.

"That sometimes I want to disappear."

"You want to run away from me?"

"Most times, I want to run away from everything."

His fingers pressed harder into her cheeks. There were words that he wanted to say, frustrations he wanted to voice, pain he wanted to slough off in order to heal himself. He kept it all inside in hopes that without the addition of his own problems, she could be better. "If you really want, I can let you go."

Lucy wavered, back to being unsure. "I don't know what I want. Except… Will you stay with me for now?"

Gray wicked away one of Lucy's stray tears. "Yeah, Lucy. I want to watch the Christmas sunrise with you."

"That sounds nice." She looked at him with dull eyes, on the very brink of what he feared. Gray was there with her, the potent drug already racing through his veins, calling him into oblivion. It would be easy to close his eyes. If he did that, though, who would remember Natsu and Happy? Who would mourn their loss? Who would feel guilty for putting an end to the creature Natsu had become and Happy, who had dared to stand and protect him?

He kissed her again, tasting sharp chemicals. There was more of the drug to take into his body. Greedy as she, he stole as much as he could, kissing her thoroughly because it felt good and because it felt bad. He'd taken everything from Natsu. His life, his love. And he was taking still. He'd keep at it until his lungs rejected breath if only to punish himself. This was the best way he knew how: loving Lucy. Her tears, her mostly hollow kisses, and the glimpses in which she loved him back. Part of him thought that one day, that might mean completely. Part of him hoped that it would only be fractionally. The only person whose depreciation ran deeper than Lucy's was his own. She'd stood by in shock while he broke apart everything Natsu ever was, sure, but he pulled the proverbial trigger.

Lucy's eyes started to close. Gray's panic was mild with the drug. "You can't see it if you go to sleep." Sleep now meant never waking up again. Beneath him, Lucy convulsed. He slid his fingers through her hair. "Open your eyes, Lucy."

Her lashes fluttered; her eyelids opened. Quietly, she said, "Tell me there was no other choice."

He'd asked himself that many times. He didn't have an answer, not a good one. He lied, though, to keep her from falling apart. "There was no other choice."

Tears collected in the corners of her eyes. When one leaked out, it encouraged her mascara to run. Gray wiped it away and kissed her once more. Her arms went around his shoulders this time; she held on to him like she always did: for dear life. He was the thing that was breaking her down and holding her together. It was a complicated burden that Gray did his best to bear. It was hard on them both. Her kiss deepened, turned into something sultry and not just sad, as it always did, and the burden lessened.

He broke the kiss when he could bear to and whispered, "Do you want to get off the floor?"

And miss feeling the coldness beneath her back? No. Lucy shook her head and pulled him down for an even more frantic kiss, animated in a way she hadn't been seconds before. Gray gave back what she put out, cupping her cheeks and pouring himself into that one kiss. Into that one motion. Into that one sigh, that one touch, that one desperate pawing that wasn't living, but could almost be.

In seconds, Lucy was tugging at her own clothing, the red and white lacy lingerie dress that she put on specifically for him. It clung to her curves like a second skin and rolled off slowly because her movements were so uncoordinated. Her arm came between them and bent weirdly like she'd forgotten what it was to move. Gray lifted himself and helped her get the strap over her shoulder, down past her elbow, his own movements truncated. Encouraged by the drug, the world was really slowing now, all of the tree's lights merging together so it was no longer red and white, but a strange off-pink. The tree was the only thing that moved in real time, spinning, spinning, tinsel dancing, bells gently chiming. The music poured out of the speakers, I'll be Home for Christmas, sung by a man with an expressive voice, living like he and Lucy just weren't.

Her breasts came free, as full and perfect as they'd ever been, her ribs next, and then her belly. Everything about her was generous, not hard and unyielding like some girls that spent hours eating salad and hating themselves. No, Lucy chose other ways in which to seek punishment. Gray provided it to her in the form of a kiss, the first landing on her collarbone, the next on her sternum between her breasts, the one after that smack-dab between her ribs. And lower, to her swollen-curve of a hip, to her full thighs. The panties she wore matched the dress, red and white striped. He tasted fabric softener first when he dragged his tongue over them, and then her, sweet and a little tangy. She arched into his tongue, for a moment forgetting the pain.

Gray kissed her through the material for as long as it took to make her moan, and only when she whispered "Please," did he edge the panties aside and give her what she wanted, skin-on-skin. It didn't take long to bring her to her first orgasm like that. The second, too, even when she gasped and told him she was too sensitive. By the third, he'd inserted his fingers into both her holes and she was so loud, there was no way her neighbors couldn't hear. That was fine. More than. When she was like this, she wasn't crying. She wasn't mourning. She was his and he was hers and neither of them was thinking about anything they couldn't change.

The comedown from the third orgasm had her panting and twitching; it looked hard. It would be easier than the comedown from the drug in a few hours. Gray carefully removed his fingers. Lucy rolled her head on her shoulders slowly and looked at him gloss-eyed. She'd never been more beautiful, painted in that Christmas light. She took his hand and brought it to her mouth, sucking his fingers clean because she knew it made him excited. While she did that, Gray worked one-handed on getting his pants undone. It was harder than it should have been, it seemed his hands were stupid when it came to doing anything other than making Lucy feel good and killing.

The seconds had turned long before he had any kind of success, and by then his cock was so hard it hurt. Getting it out was a struggle, too, it was uncooperative. You're going too fast. How could that be when he felt like he was going so, so slow? It's the drugs. Right. The drugs Lucy tried to use to escape. Even knowing the truth didn't put a damper on his want. Every day they were inching toward a catastrophe. It was a good way to feel alive.

Lucy felt lambent, not half-dead when she propped herself up on her elbow and took him into her mouth. She sucked very, very carefully, very thoroughly, taking him so deep he thought she should choke. She never did. And back out again, so her tongue could butt against the head of his cock. And back again. She was flat on the ground and he was leaning over her, arching his hips and forcing himself into her mouth before he realized he'd moved at all. He was deep all over again, and feeling her throat contract around his shaft. He was more afraid than she was of hurting her. He eased back only to have Lucy grab his hips and force him forward again, deeper than before. He got twice as hard when he realized that her hand was between her legs, massaging toward another orgasm even after she claimed she was too sensitive. He kept himself buried deep and waited, counting the seconds. The coming orgasm took Lucy forcefully, yet she didn't have air to moan, not until Gray leaned back just enough that she could suck in a breath.

She was still riding the aftershocks as Gray took himself out of her mouth and encouraged her up on her knees. There, he knelt behind her and pushed both her lingerie up and her panties aside. They were still in the way, tight enough that they rubbed his shaft if he wasn't careful. He kept his hold on them and grabbed Lucy by the hips, guiding her back as he slid in. The position was awkward, Lucy had to keep herself on her knees with her legs spread as wide as she could make them while he sat almost on the ground, but it was worth it; she never screamed louder than when he had her like this.

Their breaths fell into synchronicity. Lucy reached behind her back and spread herself wide for him to see. Gray leaned as far away as he could to get a good view. Her ass slapped against his hips, the rippling effect travelling all the way up her body every time. Gray felt everything tighten. He got faster and pushed Lucy into another orgasm just in time to have one of his own.

He held her there in a suspended state for several breaths and moved only when he felt his own fluid leaching back down his shaft. He eased out of her but didn't leave to get cleaned up, instead snaking an arm around Lucy's hips and pulling her back into him. She came willingly, muscles limp, and curled into him when he lay back on the floor, much in the same position he found her in. Her head rested on his shoulder, her hand on his chest. Her fingers drummed to the beat of his slowing heart. The room still warped and warbled; Gray felt less like he was standing on a sharp ledge, however, and more like he was floating in the ocean, the threat of slipping beneath the surface and drowning very real, but also within his control.

Gray threaded his fingers through the blonde's hair and thought about his coming words and how to say them. "We can take pills to make us numb."

Lucy lifted her head and met his slate coloured eyes.

"And we can take them to make us dumb. I'm sure there's one to make us feel like we're anybody else, but Lucy… eventually, you're going to realize that all the drugs in this world won't save us from ourselves." Hopefully before they crossed a line they couldn't come back from.

"I want to feel alive."

"I know. I don't want you to hurt anymore," Gray repeated. Like he was a record and the needle had gotten caught in the track.

"Stay with me." Lucy was crying again. Gray hoped it was for the last time.

"We'll watch the sunrise." He pulled her in closer and turned his eyes toward the brightening sky.

A/N: Shameless, shameless me. Thank you, Marilyn Manson, for being such a brilliant lyricist that I feel like I'm always reaching for that line. It's beautiful. They're littered through this, but Coma White in particular. Check it out.

I feel like I have to redeem myself here. I don't actually do drugs. I just love them.

Sorry about this weird, twisted and perverse story that was only loosely inspired by Christmas. Sorry, Natsu, your death won't be in vain. Sorry, Gray, for making you the criminal, sorry, Lucy, for always breaking your heart.