dedication: to Michelle & her awesome prompts.
prompt: folie à deux
notes: i have too many feels for these two. also, i want to be a cool kid, so this is nonlinear.
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like voices in my head
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(82)
Her bed has not felt that same warmth in (what feels like) centuries. The linen is cold and no longer comforting.
Even as she lies in it—for days, maybe—it still is not warm.
Her hollow eyes close, and she sleeps like she's dead.
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(7)
The guild is a cacophony of laughter and shouts when she hears from beside her:
"Let's set the world on fire."
Blink.
Stare.
She shakes her head, but there's no hiding the amusement in her eyes. Her chin rests lazily on her palm, half-filled glass finding its way to her lips.
Natsu grins, a crooked smile.
"You're drunk," she accuses.
"Maybe."
"And insane."
"So are you."
Then he kisses her—sloppy and hot—and she kisses him back.
He tastes like an adventure.
(And maybe she's drunk, too.)
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(45)
"What if—"
"Shut up, Gray," she grinds out, jaw clenched.
It is just the two of them in the guild that morning. Or maybe there are others—it's too quiet to tell.
And she doesn't really care.
"I'm just saying, what if."
Lucy ignores him, burying the tightly wound bundle of her own questions and 'what if's deep, deep down, and counts the days.
Counting.
And counting.
And counting.
Like she's insane.
(And maybe she is.)
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(24)
"Natsu?"
"Hm?"
"Will you ever stop looking for Igneel?" Voice as quiet as a whisper.
He doesn't reply right away, and she begins to wonder if she had offended him.
But then: "Never."
And he sounds so sure.
"Never is an awfully long time."
"Well, if you were gone, I'd never stop looking for you."
She smiles into his collar and holds him closer.
Her bed is warm.
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(59)
Erza is worried. So is Gray, and Happy, and everyone else.
Fine. I'm fine.
Or so she says.
Lucy is talking.
Talking.
Talking.
But to whom? Who is she talking to?
It's incoherent and often panicked, like murmuring in a dream.
(Other than that, their days are silent.)
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(12)
"Marry me."
She blinks, and—what?
Because it wasn't a question.
There lie no jokes, no 'just kidding's in his eyes. Darkdark eyes.
It wasn't a question.
He holds her hand, and there is no diamond ring on her finger. But she says yes, anyway.
Her arms wind around his neck: "You're crazy, Natsu."
Laugh.
"Then we can be crazy together!"
(She really wouldn't mind.)
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(100)
An empty grave.
She sits there, day after day, and talks to him.
Him.
She tells him tales of her days, about the guild, over and over again: I miss you I miss you I miss you.
But it is an empty grave.
There is no him.
(Still, she talks to him—it—anyway.)
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(91)
"How can you be so sure!?"
Fists balled up, shaking hardhardhard.
"He's gone, Lucy," Gray says quietly.
Erza is silent.
"No, he's not! He's not! He's—"
She is handed his scarf—his precious, precious scarf—and her voice dies. It disappears within her throat, so very constricting.
Pressing the cloth to her rainy eyes, Lucy screams.
(Everyone dies a little that day.)
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(30)
"Wait for me," he whispers. Darkdark eyes cast down.
"Forever." Her voice is shaky, steadily wavering.
Do you have to go? — She wants to say. But she doesn't. Because the answer is already so very, very clear.
Instead, her lips curve into a smile.
Natsu grins—the one she loves (well, she loves all of them, but this one especially), and comments:
"Forever is an awfully long time."
Lucy laughs, painfully. It hurts, but she laughs.
"It is, isn't it?"
—and then they're worlds apart.
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