A/N: Written for Litashe's FAIRY TAIL WRITING CHALLENGES.

Litashe: I apologize for the excessive angst, but expect everything else from me to also be in the same genre. T_T.

Round 2

Pairing: MaCana

Rating: Anything you want, but help save my virgin eyes. Translation: No M-rated.

Genre: Romance + anything.

Details: MINIMUM of seven hundred words. Anything else is allowed.

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It's raining in careful free-fall from the fickle sky.

these drops of bright purple

slip down her throat

with the taste of wine.

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Purple is the color of his magic, and it is purple she thinks of as she slams the cup down. The wine is a deep red, but she can still see flares of purple, blinking at the corner of her eyes.

She orders another drink. Mirajane breezes by, an apple martini in hand – but Cana waves her away, and asks, no, demands for a barrel. Yeah, one of them barrels – filled with beer, bitter beer that will take away the violet lights.

Five minutes later she is drinking again, and she feels the alcohol burn through her throat, leaving an aftertaste of sour bread. It is amber – brown, the color of her hair and eyes. Right, she tells herself. Think only about yourself – plain curls, eyes the shade of dust – yes, just normal, alcoholic Cana. Single Cana who is happy being by herself with the wine –

Shining bright blonde that seem to light up at the ends, young, blue eyes the shade of the sky –

No-! She won't think of that. She tips the barrel further, and struggles to inhale –

No air, no air – A moment later and a deep, reassuring strand whips out, pulling her, and then suddenly she can breathe, water sliding down her rescuer's face like clear syrup –

She chokes. It takes her a moment to realize that she is sprawled over the counter, hacking, sides heaving and lungs burning – just like they had burned in the lake. She takes a deep breath, finally hearing the voices around her –

"Cana!"

"Are you sure you're okay, girl?"

"Yeah, what was that, dude?"

"Just choked on my beer – it was bound to happen sometime." she forces out a laugh near the end. "Don't worry 'bout me, I'm fine. Just choked a bit."

"Okay then…take care! I'm going to go on a mission with Lucy now…"

She stops listening as soon as the liquor hits her throat. It trickles down her vocal chords and elicits a sigh as the world around her finally begins to blur. A minute later and her head is buzzing pleasantly, inhibitions gone. She feels like dancing, so she screeches at someone to turn up the music, get the groove going. Can't they see a party is starting?

Someone cranks up the radio, and she finds herself swaying to the beat, a keg of beer by her side. A karaoke machine is brought out, and she takes the first song by snagging the microphone.

She sings drunkenly and shakes her hips, all daring. Any man who comes close she pushes away – this is her night. She is wild. She is free. He is not here to weigh her down, he can stay with his bitch, she doesn't care.

"Was I the only one who fell in love

There never really was the two of us–"

"Next!"

"Well boy sign the line

Fools like you don't waste my time

I ain't game to play with you-"

Yes. She hollers at the top of her lungs – this is exactly what she needs. She loses herself in the rhythm, the preppy beat – the suggestive lines, the techno works. There is nothing here that matters, only the music. Keep dancing. Keep singing. All will be fine. She doesn't care, doesn't care at all.

"I'll lock your digits on my phone…

You have my number if you like what you like-"

"Cana?"

She ignores the voice and chalks it up to the alcohol. Huh, alcohol. She takes a moment to chug more down before resuming her place in the middle, other dancers scattered about. She doesn't know how they got there, and she doesn't care.

"Cana."

Damn. It's not a hallucination. She slides to the right and starts grinding against the nearest person. Just go away, damn it. I didn't start this party for you to crash in.

"Cana, what are you doing?" He starts toward her, violet magic curling at his fingertips –

Purple.

No. It's all coming back, (His girlfriend, his date, his face, the way he kindly–) with a screech, the electric Purple Flare roars to life, and suddenly she's stumbling to avoid him –

This isn't how it was supposed to go –

"CANA!"

Don't do this to me.

"Leave!"

"Cana-"

"I SAID LEAVE!" She breaks out into a run. Her flimsy heels slow her down, so she kicks them off in mid-stride.

"CANA!"

She forgets that he can run faster than her, but that doesn't stop her from wildly shuffling her deck, flinging cards out of nowhere – an eagle, a frog, two lovers kissing passionately – she tries not to dwell on the last part.

He finally flings a net of purple over her, and she trips and falls, tangled in the web. His web. She struggles, but it only serves to tighten the bonds. The heavy footsteps finally stop next to her head, and she looks down – not out of shame, but fury. She hears him let out a frustrated sigh, and tenses when he begins to speak:

"We can do this two ways. You promise to cooperate, I swear to you that I will release the rope. Or you can be stubborn and stay tied up. Your choice."

She struggles fitfully, but it's no use. He's staring at her now, with those dark eyes of his – she can feel it. She finally huffs out a quiet "Untie me," (which is good enough as a plea for her) and he proceeds to release the bonds. She stands, shaking from something that isn't entirely from the alcohol's influence.

"Good. Now, Cana, tell me: Why did you run away?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh really? I didn't think you were the type to run away at your own parties. Especially if there's liquor involved."

"You forget that a party doesn't exist without beer."

"That isn't the point."

"Well, you're certainly not getting there, so I think I'll go now." She gives him a cold look before stalking off –

"Damn it, don't be difficult. Be reasonable, now-"

"You're one to talk with your girl in girl out romances-"

"Well excuse me for trying to move on!"

"I have nothing against you moving on – just against that ditzy blonde bitch-"

"Well guess what, Cana, you haven't even met her. Weren't you the one who said not to judge a person by-"

"I don't fucking care. Leave."

"What's your problem? You're usually not like this."

"There is no problem, Macao," she said sweetly. "This is the real me. Can't you see it? Oh right, you're too busy making out with-"

"Cana-"

"I hate you, you know that? So you cango and take your shitty girlfriend and die in a hole."

Silence. She regrets the words once they come out – no, that's not what she meant…

"What did you say?" His voice is low, quiet.

"I said to –". She pauses. Opens her mouth. Tries again. "…just go away," she finally finishes, almost a muttering at the end. Because as much as it hurts, Cana knows that she can't bear to push Macao away – at least, not that far.

"Just leave me alone," she says after a while. "I've had a bad night. I need some alone time."

Macao leaves it at that and respectfully leaves. That's one of the things Cana has always liked about him – knowing when to back off, when to leave. No, don't think about that now. It's over, anyway – he probably has figured out her feelings. He'll probably avoid her, now. She knows he hates clingy girls.

It was just…she just thought he might've cared a bit, too. No, he does care – she scrambles to wipe the previous idea away. Macao does care about her. He's held her hair for her when she vomited, lent her extra aspirin for the hangovers – numerous little things that send her heart fluttering and heat racing through her cheeks.

She hadn't been wrong. He cared about her. She was important to him.

He just didn't want her that way.

Something in her shatters into pieces, and they fall into the pit of her stomach with the beginnings of a sob. Every breath hurts as if the shards are being jostled inside her chest, cutting thin slits of crimson. Something wet falls, and she realizes that it's beginning to rain.

Just accept it. Once you get through that, it'll be easier. You won't care as much.

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It's over.

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Time to wake up. No more faded dreams.

...

No more fairy tales.

Cana squeezes her arms tightly and tries to focus on the sharp nip of nails digging into skin. Tries to stop thinking. Feeling so much.

She lifts her face up to the sky and lets the rain slip off her eyes, her nose, her lips –

She won't cry tonight.

The rain is already strong enough to sate, enough to make her forget.

It tastes like bitter wine.

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