N/A: This idea, this fic, everything, doesn't make sense. Welp. Welcome to my world! This story was supposed to come after another idea I was giddy to write, but found out that this one is way easier to do, even though I had to be careful with descriptions. And I really, really don't know what I'm doing with this fic. I think it's not on my abilities to do anything like this or something. Whatever.

It's going to have three chapters btw. Maybe two if I see three is dragging, but who knows. I don't.

Enjoy, and tell me any typos or any kind of errors you find so I can fix them!

Summary: It is said that love is blind. Sometimes it really is.

Warnings: Disability, swearing, OoCness and old good me torturing characters.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters are not mine. They belong to Hiro Mashima.

Fading Colors

I

No one sees the disaster coming. They pride on the fact of being the best team of Fairy Tail, sometimes even of all Fiore, but they didn't see it when they should have.

It's a shame, really.

They are too distracted with the enemies in front to pay any mind to their backs –a fatal error– and so, it's no wonder that one of the bastards has enough intelligence left in the biggest show of a miracle to sneak around until he has positioned himself behind them. The man who is barely a grunt launches an attack with magic that barely can be called magic and then, the worst happen.

The lucky asshole actually hits his target.

It's with all the odds against him when the heavy boulder crashes against his back as he is fighting other grunts in their hideout, leaving him breathless and motionless for a moment before falling down and getting smashed on the floor. He whimpers, a white light passing before his closed lids.

He feels the clock ticking on while his mind regains some focus after the collision, sensing his body coming back to action. Nevertheless, it's a bit too late by then, and the rock finally falls on him, squashing him with its insupportable weight. He is not sure if he has screamed, he can't hear his own voice.

But Gray hears a noise much like something breaking into tiny pieces.

And holy shit, he thinks before going unconscious, his head fucking hurts.

-x-

Gray wakes up to a sound like that of shoes dragged on the floor. It's muffled, almost as if the person making it is trying to conceal any noise. There is a heavy unpleasant smell of antiseptics and medicinal herbs lingering in the air that makes his nose twist, too. He sniffs something that resembles lemon and beer as well, behind all the other scents, and his forehead feels wet.

Suddenly, the shuffling stops and a poof echoes in the room, followed by the low hum of a female voice. Gray recognizes the song the woman is singing. It's Mira's favorite when she is working, cheerful and lively. He relaxes at the knowledge of being at home, letting the damp cloth on his face refresh him.

After a minute or so of drinking in the calm atmosphere, the mage decides to move even if pain curses through his muscles. Slowly, a groan escaping from his lips, he sits up in the mattress of what he supposes is the infirmary of the guild. He doesn't attempt to get up from the bed he is laying on, however.

"Oh, Gray! You're awake," Mira chirps happily, coming closer from whatever chair she has been sitting. "We were worried about you. Wendy was so distressed, she said your contusion was pretty bad."

The raven haired man tilts his head to his right, not completely listening to the beauty of their guild. He stirs hands and legs trying to check his mobility, fingers and toes brushing against the soft sheets. There is a dull pain in his chest that has been covered with bandages, but nothing to worry for.

Still, concern arises. Gray gulps nervously.

"How are yo−?"

"What time is it?" he asks hurriedly.

Mira seems taken aback at first, answering two seconds late.

"Around noon."

He sucks a deep breath. It wasn't night. He was hoping to be night. He brings a hand to his hair, ruffling it more if possible, and bites his lower lip.

"Gray?" she says, hand placed on his right arm with evident uncertainty. He flinches imperceptibly.

"Call Wendy." Gray trembles, and although he is ashamed that fear was audible in his tone, he is unable to contain it. "Now."

Mira catches up with his growing uneasiness, her jolly attitude changing to concern and seriousness. "Is something wrong?"

Gray turns his head slightly to the right, to the origin of her voice, but he can't tell if it is there where she stands. He can't be sure that she is there only with her voice as guide. Panic settles down and breaks his words, making them a croaking whisper.

"It's black, Mira." He is sure that the sheets are torn apart by now with the strength he is holding them. "I don't see anything."

-x-

After a week of tests, consulting, doubts and more tests, they finally confirm it: he is blind as a bat.

Makarov has called Polyusca to check on him when Wendy ended up in a fit of helplessness. The poor girl was crying when she left the room, apologizing for her incompetence to find a way to fix his new condition while a distressed Mira tried to comfort her.

The old woman grudgingly came with her enchantments and potions, practicing everything her years of experience had given her, to no success. He didn't see anything beyond the nothingness that has became his sight; nothing but a blackness that wasn't quite black and fear that filled him up.

One afternoon after so many others, Polyusca gathered her possessions, furiously muttering under her teeth and pronounced her final verdict to the two waiting men.

"This boy won't see. There is nothing I can do."

"Are you sure?" Makarov asked tiredly.

"Magic can't heal everything, Makarov," she spat, heading to the exit. "Now, leave me alone."

After that, in their last and desperate attempt, they even sought the help of the doctor of Magnolia too, who, after a couple of days monitoring him, said the same words that the old witch has pronounced –the only difference being that he had more tact than the disgruntled woman.

So, all in all, he is not seeing anymore. That much is a fact.

Well.

Fucking well.

Gray takes a deep breath as a pointless effort to calm down in what has become his temporary bedroom. He prefers to stay in bed, nonetheless, shielded by the known mantles and mattress, only standing up to go to the bathroom at his left. It's hard to walk around when you can't look where you are heading to, he discovers.

The place is eerily quiet, the ruffling of the sheets being the only sound between the four walls. Gray doesn't like it one bit –the oppressive, unnatural stillness, so unlike the chaos he is used to. He doesn't like the quietness that makes him think, because all the thoughts go to the same subject and, really, he doesn't like to wonder about his new situation either.

So Gray lays in bed, waiting for someone to come in.

-x-

He catches the sound of a door opening at his right, the one that leads to the second floor of the guild, and a grumbling sound entering the silent room. The steps of the person are short and strong, almost jumpy at the end. The ice mage knows that it's Makarov before he speaks. He has heard the man's distinctive walking enough during the week, with the master always coming and going to check on him to difference it from the others.

"We've tried to keep the matter as quiet as possible, only your team and Mira knowing about this," the elder starts. The noise of the wood scratching the floor reaches his ears. "Until we were sure about your sight, at least." Another sound of a weight landing on a plain surface. "So of course the entire guild is bound to know since long ago."

The ice mage tries to crack a smile at his words; yet, he only manages to produce a crooked smirk that doesn't reach. Makarov sighs.

"Lucy and Levy are searching for books. For help. About Braille, mobility and the other things that you'd need to know with your sight gone."

"That's good," he answers with a nod. After a second, he adds, "I guess."

"And then, there is the residence." That, Gray doesn't expect. Tilting his head to the general space where the master is, he raises an eyebrow in a silent question. "If you want, that's it, you can stay here in the guild a bit more." A pause. "Until everything settles down."

The younger one snorts. As if things would ever be normal again.

"Gray," Makarov huffs while wrinkled hands hold his.

Gray jerks, his arm bolting from the contact of skin. Just for a second his muscles tense before relaxing again.

It's something that has been happening to him lately when anyone touches him. He cannot see them about to touch him, their movements and wants a mysterious question to him that frighten him once they reach him, like the pathetic kid he is slowly turning to.

Then again, Gray has been on edge since the accident. With reasons, he reminds himself.

And still, this is shameful.

He needs time off, he is sure.

"I− would rather go to my own apartment."

"Thought so," Makarov chuckles. It's a restrained laugh. "I'll ask Lucy and Natsu to go with you."

In the afternoon, he walks through the hall directed by Lucy's soft voice. He feels like a kid being lead by the hand –powerless, relaying on others to go to his own goddam house and completely unable to do anything on his own. And the guild is really quiet at first with only few scattered murmurs reaching him. His presence has caused that, Gray realized, and it irks him more than anything. He frowns, teeth gritting and mouth set in a fine line.

For a moment, he wishes to go up again to the silence of the infirmary where there are no praying eyes or restrained mumbles. With a star he resolves he has chose correctly staying at his apartment, far away from what awaits him here.

Until his mates stop treating him like an invalid, even if he now is, at least.

Or until he has come to an understanding with whatever that lies ahead him. That would take longer to come around with.

It's a quiet ride, only disrupted by the bickering between Natsu and Happy, Lucy interrupting them and the people around them living their lives. They take more time than the usual to arrive while Gray intends on learning the route from his house to the guild without much success.

When they do reach his apartment, Lucy offers to prepare dinner as the other two make his home their home. He lies, telling them that there is already some precooked food in the fridge he can eat and that he will be okay alone. That he needs time to think about... things. They concede in the end.

"Are you sure?" Lucy asks for the tenth time, her heels clattering in the wooden floor.

"C'mon, Lucy," Natsu says with a vivacity that isn't completely the usual one."He'll take care of himself. Right, Ice Pants?"

"Right."

They don't speak further, but they don't move either. He doesn't hear them moving. He wonders if they are sharing one of their wordless looks or assessing him and his state in silence. It's frustrating not to know. Usually, he shouldn't have to even think about what they were doing when they were standing in front of him.

Usually in the past, but not anymore, he remembers bitterly.

The duo must feel something is not right, that he is not completely right. However, to his gratitude, they decide not to press, because then with a short goddbye, they are gone.

He is alone again. The room is blissfully quiet.

-x-

The living room is the first place when entering his house, with nothing but a small sofa, an armchair, bookshelves against the wall and a table in the middle. There are four steps in a straight line from the door to his bedroom. The bed is in the right corner, just under the window, and next to it the nightstand with the clock and the lamp. The closet on the other side occupies half of the wall and yet, clothes are scattered all over the floor. If he chooses to turn left in the second step and give another three, he would find the bathroom. The kitchen at his right turn. Both are small, with the sufficient amount of furniture like the rest of his apartment. He is glad that there isn't much to discover.

Gray spends two days like that, going back and forth in his own house until every nook, corner and turn is burnt in his memory. He repositions and memorizes the objects' collocations: plates and glasses are in the second cupboard from the left and the cutlery in the top drawer next to the fire, pots and pans in the first cupboard and the cleaning product under the sink, the few books and souvenirs in the shelves above his bed, on top of his closet are boxes with winter clothes that he never uses and the first aids kit is under his bed, his toothbrush in the left side of the bathroom sink, the painkillers at the right, and the list goes on.

It's a tiring task and a really boring one, he discovers. A solitary one too, although he doesn't mind at the moment. And most importantly, there isn't time to think. When he has spent the day doing the same thing again and again and again, he is too drained physically and mentally to even let his thoughts rift apart. He works on memorizing at day without a rest and sleeps soundlessly at night.

It's almost not so bad. Only almost.

Except when he wakes up, because he can't tell if he is even awake. Because there should be a white ceiling to see when opening his eyes but there is only nothing, less than nothing, and it's annoying. So very annoying that he stands from his bed with a frown and a scoff every day.

Mornings are not his thing now, obviously.

It's no wonder that his friends tell him that he is snappy when they visit. Of course he is, what they were expecting? So he snaps a little bit more and when usually they would answer right back at him, they don't. Not now. And that is as bad as mornings. Worse, maybe.

He is grateful of them anyways. They come day in and day out without a miss, always with a story of someone on the guild −how Cana won another game of drinking, how little Asuka made the proud Elfman play princesses with her, how Natsu and the boys destroyed the guild once more. They are nice to listen to. Not inviting enough to get outside, though.

It doesn't matter how much his friends fret over him, Erza threatens him, Gray is not going out. It's as easy as making a cane with his ice, coming out and practice, or so the books say; but Gray won't. A matter of comfort, he tells them, he wants to be sure he knows his house before exploring new places. He wants to know how to live again thanks to the books Levy and Lucy read to him almost every day.

They believe him and Gray will stay in front of a door he can't see, his hands itching.

-x-

It's a week into his confinement, when Erza and Cana are visiting, that one of those things he didn't want to ponder about is brought up. He is struggling to make tea, simple daily tea, and the girls sit around the table in the kitchen. Gray places the kettle on the fire, with speed muck like a snail and hands dancing everywhere, making sure that he is touching and using the right things. The girls don't offer help; they know that Gray won't accept it. They have tried.

The talking is scarce, topics ranging from missions to gossips, a grunt in response and nothing beyond. Gray has always preferred it like that. It's pleasant. Listening half-heartily to their conversation and answering with the same enthusiasm, he manages to get the pot with the tea-leaves. There is the strong smell of aromatic herbs coming from the jar that confirms his suspicions. A triumphant smile makes its way to his face.

"Juvia is coming back from her mission tomorrow." It's Erza who has spoken, her tone not so rough and an underline of wariness behind it. She has directed it to him, the ice mage knows, because Cana doesn't answer back this time.

Gray stops, a second too late opening the pot. After two and half week long of a mission the water mage was returning home. Nothing surprising there, it would happen sooner or later. However, his guild mates have been cautious with subject from the start. As if he was afraid of the blue haired woman or something.

Except he is not. Really. The idea is ridiculous. So he replies in a nonchalant way: "Is she?"

He hears the clang of Erza's armor and Cana scoffing under her teeth. The man starts measuring the quantity of the herbs silently. That's one of the trickiest parts, but he is getting hold of it bit by bit.

"Gray."

He continues not paying any mind, throwing the leaves in the kettle with the water that emits sounds of bursting bubbles. Gray waits three seconds before turning his head to his left, just enough to assure them he is listening, and then there is a defeated sigh.

"Nothing."

-x-

Juvia comes with a bang. Literally.

The door of his apartment flings wide open, startling him from his task on washing dishes, and steps echo in his house. They are neither the light short steps of Levy nor the potent ones of Elfman; they don't resemble Natsu's inconsistent ones or the strenuous confident steps of Erza. Gray has never heard them as they are not of anyone who has come to visit in a regular basis and yet, he can tell.

The person in question enters the kitchen in a hurry, her breaths swallow and heavy. She has been running, he thinks, and it isn't really that surprising. He stands there for a few seconds, waiting for her to do the first move. She doesn't, he takes another dish and starts washing it. The mage is hesitant before speaking.

"Hey." He sounds more rough than intended. "You should make a noise or somethin' so I can tell who're ya."

There is a gasp, a shaking breath and the sudden clacking of her shoes against the floor. Gray knows that she is about to hug him even before he has finished his sentence; so by the time her arms are sneaking around his torso, the plate in his hands is carefully placed on the sink.

"Gray-sama!" she wails while he sighs.

The ice mage still tenses with the unwanted touch, although not as much as in previous weeks, but he does an effort and lets her overly dramatic friend hug him to her heart's content. He hanks whatever deity there is that she isn't crying. He wouldn't be able to manage that.

Limbs death at his sides, Gray thinks that it could be worse. Juvia isn't crushing him to death, favoring a gentler embrace, and she isn't spouting nonsense or anything else he has been dreading. Actually, she seems calm against him now, almost reassuring, in contrast of the bundle of anxiousness she had been just seconds ago.

He is not all that surprised. With this girl it has always been one extreme or the other.

He relaxes.

When she has regained composure, what is left of it anyways, he feels Juvia straightening before him. Gray senses her discomfort when the woman in front of him starts swinging to the sides slightly. She doesn't speak up till he is the one breaking the silence once again.

"What now?"

She fidgets a bit more, he can hear the floor cracking under her feet, before responding with uncertainty dyeing her voice. And from all the thing she can say, she chooses the less concerning one.

"Juvia is sorry she entered his house without asking." A wistful sigh. "And Gray-sama is in his underwear."

He smiles amused. It's the first one in weeks that feels natural.

-x-

Juvia becomes a permanent mixture on his visits quickly enough. She comes at mornings for an hour or so before leaving to the guild for missions, and if she has time, she appears at his house at afternoons sometimes too.

She has made the promise of helping him in any way she can, and as the stubborn being she is, Juvia holds up to her words. She has added herself to the group to learn Braille with Lucy and Levy, even though he has got most of it by then. The water woman tries harder than she should when giving him a hand with chores of the house, never listening to his protests, and making small talk that could go from usual topics to long monologues about her dreams. She is relentless in that way. Always have been.

Gray can't do anything but let her be, as annoying as she can be. Because Juvia is this woman who one describes as overwhelming, overly attached and emotional to the point of madness, and he has known her for so long that anything else would be strange. He is comfortable with her like that.

But, when she is just sitting and no talking, the ice mage gets the sensations that nothing is as it should be. There is a silence he doesn't recognize around her, one that doesn't imply she is worried or contemplative or just happy, and Gray wonders.

It's hard to figure out when he hasn't any clue of her thoughts, when he can't see her face for hints, although he tries.

Gray only knows that he isn't really alright on what it can mean, as if she is gauging him or the situation or his blindness and he feels apprehension sinking. So, instead of putting up with it, with a well placed sentence he gets her to act as always, switching back to the old ways and the familiar relationship with her.

Because she is Juvia, and everything be dammed if she ever changes around him.

-x-

Gray is not used to dreaming. Or remembering them, at least. His nights have always been dreamless, full of gaps that he has never bothered filling. Even when he was with Ur and Lyon in the old days and they woke him up in the middle of the night because he had been screaming, he only felt the vague unsettling sensation of a nightmare in the back of his mind.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Lately, he does remember them.

They are not out of ordinary or strange or worrying in any form; maybe the fact that he now seems to dream is disorienting at first, but he quickly lefts that sentiment behind. The dreams are typical of a normal day, actually: images of sunny summer days in the hall of the guild, drinking with his friends or of a weird mission with his team.

There is a problem, though. There is always one.

The ice mage doesn't notice in the first few nights, when the dreams can be labeled as peaceful. They are the only place where he can see again, even if it's only in his own dreams. He enjoys them, even. Then, as if a switch was turned on, he senses something off, not completely as it should be, until his mind kicks in and he finds out.

The colors are wrong. Utterly wrong.

Lucy's shiny blond doesn't feel quite right nor do Strauss sisters' light blue eyes. He can tell that Gajeel's iron doesn't shine in that way or that Makarov's wrinkles or Laxus' scar are like what he pictures in his dreams. The shadows don't match either, coming from strange angles and he is not sure of the consistency of some patterns.

He is sure that Juvia's eyes are of a really dark brown he can't name, the one bothering with black that with the right light resembles a deep blue. In his dreams, they are plain brown. Somewhat glassy.

Everything is messed up.

And even if he knows that they are not the colors, shadows and patterns that belong there, he cannot recall which the right ones for the life of him are. Not anymore, anyway.

-x-

After a month of practice, he has gotten used to his kitchen. It has taken time and a lot of burnings, flooding and whatever catastrophe that has happened between the four walls, but he can prepare his own meals without destroying anything. Perhaps the fact he was no fan of cooking from the start hindered his chef trajectory. It doesn't matter, even if he won't be the best on the subject, he can do it now.

It's a small victory to recognize the variety of vegetable, fruits and meats that his friends bring home by only touching them. He learns that chicken and rabbit don't have the same texture and that garlic and onion smell different even before laying a hand on them. They are tiny distinctions that he had never noticed, but now he is glad of them. It makes everything much simpler. Not easier, though, never easier.

His friends praise him on that, some days staying for lunch and even throwing comments that Gray is not sure on how to take. Natsu, enthusiastic as always, tells him all the happening in his absence and Lucy corrects his best friend on numerous occasions. Erza prefers to stay out of it as long as the Dragon Slayer doesn't go violent and Wendy adds her own commentary here and there, sitting next to Carla and Happy. Gray laughs with them, mocks Natsu, thanks Lucy for reminding to put his clothes on and fears Erza's fury.

All seems okay.

Seems, because Gray knows that, underneath every laugh and remark, they are still worried about him. He has yet to debut outside his own apartment. However, they have given up in convincing him and they just wait, more worried each time he turns down their invitations.

Sadly, his team is not the only who has started to wonder, and the other person who is conscious about the situation is more vocal about him. She always is.

It's an afternoon of early spring, his team gone for a few days with a mission in the neighbor city, and Juvia is the one who makes her presence in his home. They are not doing much really, opting for silence rather than mindless talk, and she is doing whatever she intends to do in his kitchen. He isn't paying attention when she speaks for the first time in a while.

"Juvia's been wondering."

Gray halts on his task of reading a fairly simple book written in braille. He has discovered that there are moments where he cannot distinct if he has read a word correctly; other times, he gets confused with one letter or other, but he is getting the trick of it.

" 'Bout?" He asks moving his hands away from the pages.

There is the sound of a cupboard opening and her swift movements taking something from it. Gray turns to the sound with a scowl in place. When has she become so familiar with his own house?

"Why doesn't Gray-sama go to the guild?" She is not looking at him, Gray detects, as she is using the unsure and almost stammering tone of hers that she uses when she doesn't have confidence to reply directly. A soft bang of something metallic resonates. "Isn't Gray-sama getting tired of staying here?"

He is, he really is. There isn't anything else that he wants more than going to the guild and enjoy again.

Gray huffs, stirring in his seat he lets those thoughts slip from his mind. The water woman couldn't leave him on his own, could she.

"Is something wrong?"

He snaps, ready to give maybe a not so polite of an answer before biting his words back. He can feel her weight shifting on the table, the concern in her question and the underline meaning of it. Sometimes it scares him that she can read him so well, so unnaturally well, and that, sometimes, he can read her in the same way. He closes his books with a slam, choosing to think twice before saying anything.

"Look. Just give me time." He tries to sound confident, facing to the direction she is standing. "I'll go back soon."

He can sense that Juvia is not buying his words; she has always been sharp when it comes to him, but she doesn't press. Not now; later surely. She returns to whatever she was doing before.

"Does Gray-sama want tea?"

He scoffs. "Lemme help you."

-x-

Gray is tempted to smash the door on Lyon's face when he appears out of nowhere with a really out of place comment about his new condition. In the end, he decides not to for all the good things in the planet and for peace's sake. Although he does punch him in the stomach with a snarl in his lips once the other guy is inside.

Lyon stomps in, criticizing his lack of manners with guests and demanding something to drink because the travel has been long and exhausting and he didn't come there to be treated like some short of punching ball. That man would never change, so Gray serves him water from the sink.

They sit on the sofa on the living room. Lyon fills him on his life, something about missions and some problem with Cheila, but nothing new, and Gray tells him that he is managing. Somehow. That his friends come over almost every day and that he has done his research already. They add as many jests and insults as they can, as usual.

Finally, the younger of the two decides that water isn't enough after an hour of intermittent conversation, and sets on doing coffee. Conveniently, he makes a bit too much for one, so he prepares two cups. With no sugar. Lyon doesn't like bitter coffee.

"I'm glad," the older man says suddenly in the middle of a comfortable silence.

Shifting in his position, he asks. "For?"

"You doing well, of course." The reaction arrives later than it should and when it does, it's an unbelievable cross between laughter and a cough. There is the loud dump of glass hitting wood across the table. "I'm not joking, Gray."

"I know." He snickers a bit more before settling for a half smile. "I know."

It doesn't last, the fond moment. It never last because Lyon has to fuck up saying unnecessary things. And he loses his calm with his idiocy and snaps because it's the way things are. Before the young ice mage can tell, the other guy is verbally harassing him as all the others have been doing.

Sometimes he wishes to punch the bastard where it really hurts.

"Your friends are concerned," Lyon starts. Gray stiffens. "Master Makarov is concerned. And don't make me start with Juvia-chan." He tilts his head to the other with a frown. "With reasons, I must add."

There is silence, one that weights on them with expectations and anxiety. Lyon seems to be waiting for anything, a positive response from his part, an affirmation of his suspicions, and Gray doesn't want to give him that. Simply because it's none of his business. Or anyone's, for the matter.

"Don't start you too."

"It's been a month−"

"You just said I was doing fine−"

"Not completely, obviously, if−"

"What do you even know?!" he screams.

Lyon stops arguing for a whole minute in which Gray attempts on calming his gritted nerves. He discovers he has stood up from his seat on the sofa and that Lyon's breathing is shallower than it should be. His companion drawls a sigh, long and exasperated. Gray's crumbled expression doesn't lighten.

"I've a guess." Gray inhales ready to deny everything, but Lyon continues without a pause and a word that makes him stop in his tracks. "Magic. And pride. Useless pride. Or fear. I bet on both.".

"I'm not afraid." It's a hollow thing to say, a flimsy argument at best. He tries, nevertheless.

"So it's magic, then."

Gray doesn't confirm or negate what the white haired man says, choosing silence for all it's worth. Lyon sighs again, and this time he agrees with what it means, clenching his hands at his sides. They stand in silence for what it seems too long of a time.

"Do they know?"

"No."

A longer pause this time. Gray starts chewing his mouth, awaiting an observation on how he should tell them sooner or later, or that he is acting like a child. It wouldn't work on keeping it as a secret forever, Lyon will say, although he won't really care since he already knows. It doesn't happen. He gets another question instead.

"What are you going to do? You'll need money eventually and won't make much cooped up here."

"Have savings for clothes, you know, to replace the ones I continuously lose. And since I can't drop anything here it doesn't matter at the moment."

There is a foul snort from the other side, the sound of a body moving and an answer for all the conversation. It's somewhat sad and worried with a good amount of annoyance thrown in.

"You're full of answers, aren't you?"

-x-

"Uh."

"What?"

"It's raining."

Now that Gray pays attention, concentration gone from the task of preparing his breakfast, he distinguished the dripping sound against the windows. Gray hears Juvia's nervous feet against the floor, too.

"And?"

"Juvia doesn't like the rain," she says as matter of fact.

He nods, not completely understanding. He munches on a toast while getting the food to the table. In silence, listening to the storm outside and the jittery movements of Juvia a thought occurs to him. Doubtful, swallowing the last of his toast, he asks in a way that tries too hard to be casual.

"Did you bring your umbrella?" A noise of negation. He hesitates a little bit more before going on. "Take mine."

She swifts from one foot to the other, floor cracking under her. "Gray-sama may need it..."

"To open it inside the house?" he replies.

She halts on any movements, going very still all of a sudden. Gray searches her position on the room, angling to the quasi-imperceptible sound of her breath that he has learned to perceive from early on, before shrugging and focusing on eating again. Juvia suspires while sitting across the table. She doesn't answer back.

Gray doesn't understand her obsession with the fact of him staying at his home. She didn't seem to care at first, preferring to spoil him despite his objections on it. But lately, when they don't have much to do anymore, she has been fixated with his actions. Or lack of them.

And Juvia persists. There is no much success, though. He hardly ever gives in into her softened reprimands.

"What if you want to go outside?"

He sighs with her insistence. "Don't think so."

"But!"

"Not now, Juvia."

The water woman does stop this time. Gray suspects that it's the severe and grim voice he's used that braked her with her unstoppable burst. However, it doesn't last. Nothing good seems to last lately.

"Gray-sama should," she mumbles. He almost doesn't catch.

"I had enough with Lyon yesterday." He swings his hands in front of him without lifting his disabled eyes to face her. "Why do any of you even care?"

It's a rhetoric question, said to end a bothersome conversation once for all, and he doesn't expect an answer until he hears a chair been dragged and two hands hitting the table. His eyebrows shot up in astonishment to the sound and Juvia's voice rings in his ears.

"That's a stupid question!"

He is speechless, raising his head to her in complete surprise. She rarely says any foul word and she rarely raises her voice to him. Gray blinks once, then twice. He is surprised because Juvia Lockser has never been angry at him and now, in that precise moment, he can discern the note of anger, unknown and strange, under all the concern.

He hears pain too, as though he has wounded her in the worst way possible. He dismisses it.

"It's because Gray-sama is being stubborn. It's because Gray-sama is pushing his friends away. Because Gray-sama is being an idiot and missing life." Her words break at the end, as if she doesn't want to say any of it and she's forcing herself to do so. "Why doesn't Gray-sama at least try? Everyone in the guild is worried and Juvia doesn't know what to do."

Gray is not sure on what to say at first. The whole situation, the side of Juvia he only just presences, is so sudden, so unfamiliar, that makes him to stands where he is, letting her do all the talk. But then her words sink in, his breath hitches and her irate mood affects him.

And he finds out that he is angry too.

"Stop it. Seriously."

"Is Gray-sama scared for his lack of sight?" she carries on with no pause.

"Juvia," he warns, his patience low.

"If Gray-sama just created a cane and went outside as the books say-"

That's the last straw.

He stomps, quieting her babbling. She can be angry as much as she wants, alright, but she doesn't have any right to tell him what to do or not to do. She shouldn't be criticizing about things she doesn't understand, and stay quiet about the subject. Juvia is not the only one who should shut up. At the moment, though, he can feel his blood boil at her mindless words and he snarls.

And even though he is blind and he won't see ever again, just then, red takes over.

" 'Cause I can't!" he bellows.

A silence that lasts too long drowns them. Although it does nothing to calm him down.

"What?" She sounds bewildered suddenly, her anger dissipating from her words and giving a step back.

"I can't fucking visualize anymore," Gray says through gritted teeth. "My ice magic is about imagining what I want to create and since I fucking lost my sight I can't. I've tried and failed." He stops, nostrils flaring in rage and eyebrows furrowed in a deep scowl. "So tell me how I'm supposed to do anythin', let alone a shitty cane!"

He doesn't sense anything afterwards. Blood is roaring in his ears and his hands are fists now, heart bumping wildly in his chest. She doesn't move or speak for a moment, and by the time Juvia has recovered, he can feel his eyes stinging shamefully as he bites his lower lip to restrain himself.

"Oh."

"Get out."

"But Juvia wants to hel−"

The ice mage stands up from his seat so suddenly that she stops midway her sentence. He is not sure to where, but he approaches her until he can feel her breath against his bare skin and he knows she is looking up at him with the wide eyes of hers he cannot see anymore. He sneers.

For the first time since they've met, he hisses at her.

"I do not need your help. I have never asked for you concern. And I certainly do not want it. Not now, not ever." He breathes, fist clenching and teeth seething. He hears nothing but silence and the quiet ruffling of clothes. "Get out."

It sounds harsh and cold and for a brief moment he swears that a whimper escapes from her mouth. Then she huffs, a mix of anger, disbelieve and pain to continue with a low sob. In that short moment, his mind asks what sort of face she is making, imagining all the possibilities and finding a hundred of them. None of them makes him feel better.

There is no answer for his own question, although there is one for his command.

"Okay."

There are six steps, the click of a door opening and the gentle slam of closing, water still drizzling outside.

And the sensation that he has done something very, very wrong.

-x-

Juvia doesn't come the next day. Nor the day after that. Much less the rest of the week. When the others come he doesn't dare to ask about her whereabouts. They don't seem to know in any case.

Gray settles on thinking that she has taken another long mission. She has her own schedule, her own preoccupations and obligations. And even if he has been one of her top priorities more times than not, it doesn't mean it would always been like that.

It's easier to think that way, although he can tell it isn't entirely true.

And still, he is irritated. He's irritated with her for being such an impossible woman and getting so into his life when she shouldn't have. He is irritated with her because she doesn't know when to stop and tries so hard for a cause that doesn't necessarily give her anything in return.

Mostly, however, he is mad with himself. For a number of reasons and maybe a little bit more.

He doesn't like the feeling and it's getting worse with each passing day.

And the dreams keep getting more blurred, which exasperates him more.

Now the colors are not the only thing wrong with them. Sometimes the small details disappear, and the pictures are simplified. Even the shades and shadows are not just wrong now; they simply do not materialize anymore.

One day, he wakes up to discover that he doesn't remember if there was any difference between the red of Natsu's fire and Erza's hair, the yellows of Lucy and Laxus or if his own magic looked like glass instead of actual ice. It's almost impossible to recall the physical differences between the three cats of the guild and if Wendy was taller or smaller than Romeo.

He doesn't even remember the exact shade of Juvia's hair that resembled the blue of the sky but not quite, or if he just made that part up.

He can barely picture Ur's factions or Lyon's expressions anymore.

His dreams have been filled with monotonous colors with no distinctions whatsoever, his own memories changing with them to a not so detailed versions of their past selves, and it's then, in his own bed looking but not seeing, that Gray finds out the truth that has been nagging him for a while now.

He has never been so afraid of forgetting.

N/A: Uhm. Domestic!Gray anyone? It was my favorite part to write, lol. Never thought that I would write a discussion between this two but must be done, I guess. So this chapter is kinda depressive, not so lighthearted and I promise it won't continue like this. Much. Not big fan of sad stories. Yeah. But I will take a looong time before updating the fic because I predict I won't have any time to write or, well, to do anything I like. Patience then?

Thanks for reading! :)