notes: like idek what this is guys. i just wanted to write something with angst.

thoughts: please note that this is not an early valentine's day one-shot (damn that'd be awful of me /laughsandcries/).

disclaimer: own nothing.

.

{we're falling apart to halftime}

.

Lucy Heartfilia stares down at her coffee, watching with dull eyes as it sloshes around in her cup. People around her whisper and she knows—they're talking about her. She concludes that she's probably a very sorry sight, because she's drenched from the pouring rain outside—not to mention that she is drinking coffee all alone.

She knows that she's just a train wreck, the embodiment of calamity. There's a thousand emotions twisting and contorting and turning into something, something dreadful and something she doesn't want to accept. Something she doesn't want to happen.

Lucy swallows hard, and her grip on the to-go cup tightens and tightens until her knuckles turn white. Something salty and bitter pricks at the corners of her eyes and she clenches her teeth—gnashing them together to keep from sobbing aloud.

She's better than this, she refuses to be publicly humiliated twice in one day. She will not leave, she will stay and she will not cry out loud. It's always this way, she realizes—and silent tears streak down her cheeks, leaving sparkling trails full of bitter and just a little bit sweet memories.

She takes a deep, shuddering gasp and laughs—it's barely audible, and it's so empty. More of an exhale of breath and a humorless gasp more than anything.

"Hey, you're about to choke your coffee to death."

Lucy freezes at the slightly boyish voice—it's all serious as it speaks those words though, and she doesn't quite understand it. Slowly, slowly, she raises her glistening russet orbs and that's when she sees him.

He's all messy cotton candy colored hair, tanned skin in winter, and broad grins and Lucy feels something—a different something—within her change. She blinks, more salty droplets sliding down her cheeks, but she's not crying anymore. Not really.

Her eyes slide down to her almost crushed coffee cup, and then back up to the handsome stranger. He tugs at his white scarf and smiles at her. "Can I sit? You look like you could use a little company."

Lucy nods once, and brushes her reaming tears away with her sleeve.

He slides into the seat across from her. "Name's Natsu, by the way."

"Lucy." her breath rushes out, and her name comes as sort of a hurried whisper. "I'm Lucy."

A few days later, she finds him lounging on her living room sofa. It comes as somewhat of a surprise—he'd walked her home that night, but that was all—and she's momentarily confused. The metal baseball bat slips from her loose grasp and hits the carpet with a dull 'thud.'

"What are you doing here?"

Natsu turns and grins when he sees her—and she wants to crawl in a hole and die because good heavens, all she's wearing is a fluffy white towel. What about boundaries again?

"Luce, 'sup?" he greets, and she gapes in return.

She shakes her head in disbelief, damp sun-kissed golden locks flying about as she does so. "How did you get into my house?"

He smirks and wordlessly points to her bedroom. She raises a brow and leans over to peer through the doorway down the hall. Her bedroom window is open and ah, that would be where the draft was coming from.

Lucy turns to him, deadpan expression on her face. "I'm calling the police."

Natsu takes it all in a stride. "Oh come on, you were kind of asking for it. I mean, hello Lucy, your window was unlocked. You don't exactly live on the nicer side of the tracks, so you should be thanking me for pointing out the flaw in your security system instead of some murderer."

She is about to protest that, excuse you, I live in a perfectly good neighborhood, when she realizes that he is a thick-headed idiot who won't be moved. That, and he does have a point—as much as she doesn't want to admit it.

"I could still call the police." she threatens, pointing a warning finger at him.

Natsu laughs. "You're so weird, Luce."

They end up watching around seven episodes of Psych, and he stays the night. On the couch, of course.

After that, his home nightly invasions of her privacy become more and more frequent. Often she finds him laying around on her couch or raiding her refrigerator, and she decides to just give him a spare key. The talk from her landlady about the 'hot pink-headed guy' constantly breaking and entering into her home may or may not have had a major part in her decision, but.

She realizes after a few months that she no longer minds it when she comes home to find him in her house. Sometimes, she even jokes with him about it.

"Hey, don't you work? How are you always here before I am?"

Or, "Maybe you should just move in. It would save you the transportation fee."

He always becomes sick at the mention of any kind of vehicle, and she knows about his extreme motion sickness. It's funny to her.

But sometimes, he doesn't show up—and even though that's extremely rare—she realizes that her home feels empty without him. It tugs at something in her heart, and she doesn't want to admit it but, she finds that no matter how hard she tries, she can't ignore it.

Lucy falls in love all wrong.

They've known each other for two years, and their relationship isn't something that anyone can brand. They're not a couple, they're not friends with benefits, they're not just friends, they bicker back and forth like and old married couple, they're best friends, there are lingering touches and glances, there are feelings on at least one side, but there's no name for what they are.

It's a late Saturday night when it happens. They're just lounging around on her couch watching a movie, eating popcorn, and being lazy. Lucy reaches for the remote—it's a quiet scene, and she can't hear the voice over her best friend's chewing—and her hands brushes against his.

It's not a big deal, she tells herself. Things like this have happened before and nothing has ever come of it. A little voice in the back of her mind informs her that just because it hasn't happened yet, doesn't mean that she always wants it to remain that way.

She looks up briefly, and catches Natsu's gaze. There's something in his eyes that she's never seen before, and it makes her shiver. That's all it takes.

Natsu has her pinned to the couch underneath him and he's kissing her. Lucy closes her eyes and throws an arm over his beck, and the other is tugging on his pink locks. Their kisses are desperate, full of longing, and taste like I've been waiting for this for so long.

Between breaths there are whispers of I love you, I love you, I love, and Lucy's breath hitches in her throat when Natsu reaches for his shirt. After the gray article of clothing his been removed, he leans in again, breath hot against her lips, and murmurs, "Can I?"

She's never responded so quickly in all her life.

Lucy stirs, and reaches out a hand. The other side of the bed is empty, and she sits up in a groggy haze. Her chocolate orbs are sleep-laced and full of confusion. "Natsu?"

No answer.

She glances at the alarm clock beside her bed, feeling something twist inside of her when she notices the blaring red numbers read 2:04 a.m. There's a small nagging feeling in the back of her mind and she chooses to ignore, shakily smiling and laughing instead.

Lucy wraps herself in one of the tangled sheets and makes her way toward the kitchen. "Hey Natsu?"

Silence.

Her smile wavers.

There's something on the counter, a slip of white. Her bottom lip trembles and she reaches out a hand to pick it up. The small light in her kitchen illuminates the small piece of paper and it slips out of her hand as soon as she reads it.

I'm sorry. I thought I could, but I can't.

Her back hits the cabinets and she slides down it onto the floor. 'I love you.' 'Can I?' 'I can't.'

She screams, and it's tortured and just full of pure agony. She can't breathe—her heart feels like it's being torn out of her chest and someone please help her because she can't breathe.

"W-wh…I-I…"

And the dam breaks.

They don't see each other for almost a year. It's all carefully planned routes to avoid one another, or rather, she just can't face him. She'd tried to get herself to hate him. To teach her heart to hate him but it only makes the pain worse. Because it's then that she realizes that she just can't.

She's always believed in true love and fateful encounters, and she's always thought that surely it must have been him.

It doesn't take long after that for her to realize that she's never going to get over him.

Her friends are worried about her, and it's funny because they're his friends too so of course it's not just her that they worry about. She puts on a smile every day, and sometimes she wonders if it hurts them more than when she couldn't smile at all.

She still can't, and it's oh so obvious.

Lucy stares up at the dark clouds looming above her. It's raining and she is absolutely soaked and probably going to catch a cold, but that doesn't matter right now. There are footsteps behind her, splashing in the puddles forming on the street. She waits until they stop before she speaks.

"I tried to hate you, you know."

The only response she gets is a crack of thunder in the distance.

"The heart is a funny thing, isn't it? When someone wounds it so that it doesn't fully heal, you'd think it would despise that person." she lowers her head. "But it doesn't. It doesn't and I don't know why, but it makes me love you more. How stupid is that? Absolute crap, right?"

She sends the coffee shop sign across the street from them a bittersweet smile.

"Because I still love you, y'know? I always have, I guess."

It only takes a second before familiar warm and strong arms wrap around her, and she's pulled into an equally drenched chest. She breathes a sigh—it's one of finally, broken hopes, I missed you.

"I love you." Natsu chokes out, and she looks into his sad eyes and she knows.

"It's okay."

Because it really is.

end notes: this has not been beta'd, and i have not proofread it. yes, i am a beta reader, yes i am good at my job. no i cannot seem to be bothered to read my own stuff.