The warmth in his hands doesn't belong there. It comes from angry red that pumps out of Lucy with every labored breath she takes. She's not quite dead yet, but she's almost there and he can see her trying to smile, anything to make the last moments a modicum of bearable, at least.

But she's not smiling when her body finally falls limp and with a pang that lances through his chest, Natsu wakes up. There is no blood on him but he shivers all the same.

Rage and something else boils under his skin when he presses the heels of his palms against his closed eyes. It has been a fortnight since he and is guild mates have returned to Magnolia but the nights still drag him back to Crocus; angry hands that grab him by the throat and force him to watch the same death.

Sometimes he sees more of the destruction of a beautiful city— flower patches burned to ashes, cathedrals crumbled over broken pavement, homes and lives devastated. He sees bodies along the debris and they're too many to count so he doesn't- he ignores them and tried to focus on the giant beasts that wreak havoc from the skies. There are times that before he can even fall asleep he hears Motherglare's shrill cries and he has to pace his breathing and count reasons to sleep instead of sheep. Maybe no one expects this of him, the fright that makes his bones shake when there is no noise or crowd to distract him but he is just a boy and he dreams of monsters as well.

But most of the times he is only asleep long enough to see Lucy in a cloak and missing one arm smiling her last and asking for them to protect the future. It's always the same picture but the novelty never wears out; it still makes him nauseous.

But then he would turn in bed and Lucy would be there, fast asleep and peaceful (a stark contrast to the angry, strident mess of her when she found him infiltrating her space yet again earlier that night). Happy's tail smacks against his face as well.

So he burrows into her warmth even though it is against the rules and in the morning he would be sentenced to a high-pitched lecture on boundaries and hands and DON'T YOU HAVE YOUR OWN HOUSE? The whole of her is like a hearth— how she smells and sounds and feels is like a home he would never admit to wanting but she is the swell of his little family.

note: lmao this was my app excerpt. i know the series of events during his dream didnt happen but it is a nightmare so the scene is distorted into something more horrific.