prompt: lj's 30heartbeats no.1.01
dedication: To anthologies & shortshort drabbles; to bestfriendships & beyond; and to Michelle & her amazing self.

.

.

/introduction

.

.

She's weird.

—is the first thing that runs through his mind. (The next has a little something to do with the not-Igneel and his merry band of misfits,

but then he's back to thinking of her—and only her.)

And he just stares—at her goldgold hair and her prettypretty smile. He's perched upon the dust and the dirt, with a fistful of 'lame' and an injured pride, but none of that seems to matter.

Because she's smiling at him.

Then she offers to buy him and Happy lunch as thanks for a deed he had not done, and as they sit in that cozy, little restaurant, she paints pictures of magic and adventure, with her words—and only her words.

(He's vaguely aware of her lengthy introduction, but regrets that her name slips through his fingers,

like a handful of sand.)

And somehow they end up on a boat in the middle of the sea. The world is rocking, swaying, unsteady like his heartbeat. Seconds pass; minutes tick by; he feels kicks and beatings, and it is anything but quiet. But then the shaking stops, and the sickness subsides. There is fire—so much fire, and it feels like molten lava coursing through his veins; it's a thrill like no other.

Because she's watching him.

The day ends with her hand in his as they run and run, the ruins of the port left in their wake. They're flying and laughing—and perhaps, falling as well. Then his words slip out without him knowing. You want to join Fairy Tail, right?

The orange glow of the evening flames makes it look like her eyes are on fire and her smile is burning—so very, very bright. Then come with me!

(And he can't help but think,

he wouldn't mind living like this

—for the rest of his days.)

.

.

.

.

.