#but everything seems real bleak at the moment even outside my stupid little bubble

[visualsine]

i love all the art music and nature that the world has to offer but

[princessvicky01]

Silk Cushions

Part 7 of Happily Ever After - my self indulgent Annabel x Cullen epilogue, because they deserved one!

This part is SFW with lots of pregnancy fluff with Dad!Cullen to be just being adorable really. You can read it all on AO3 here or on tumblr Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 - hope you enjoy!

-

Cullen chuckles as his wife huffs and throws a blouse at him which he catches clumsily. That’s the third that no longer fits over the ever-growing bump of her belly and swell of her breasts. He’s not sure she’s ever looked more beautiful than she does right now, with the pink morning rays lighting her silhouette in dusty hues and highlighting every radiant curve. It's enough to make his groin stir to life. To think, he's gazing at his wife, carrying his baby - it's a gift that feels beyond divine. If someone had told him three years ago, that he would be here, right now, he would never have believed them.

His adoring gaze is broken by her heavy flop onto the edge of the bed, the contents of her trunk spread around her in a picture of chaos he's come to see for its natural beauty. Trying to make Annabel tidier had proven to be like trying to coax water uphill, so he'd quickly given up and come to accept the mess as a part of her. Proof she was close by, and now he finds it strangely comforting, even if he does have to clear a space before he can join her on the bed.

Resting her hand over her eyes, she shields out the light as she collapses onto her back, only to grumble, fishing under herself to pull a belt free. Despite the early hour and evident stress, she cracks him a little smirk with a raised brow. “Well, won't be needing that anytime soon.”

The little jest doesn't convince him that she's alright though, and sprawling on his side, he gently places a hand on her stomach. They should arrive at Mai’s in a few days, and even he must admit he feels a ball of nervous energy in the pit of his stomach about it. It's been so long... He pushes his own concerns to one side to focus on her instead, while he knows Annabel will fit in splendidly, she's already confessed several worries about the meeting. The latest of which was what she'll wear. Apparently, she didn't want to be too posh, and neither too common, although it now seems she would settle for anything that just fitted remotely comfortably.

“Stop fretting, my love.”

Annabel's eyebrows shot up incredulously. “I'm not fretting! You'd be annoyed too if you tried on your entire wardrobe and not a single thing fitted! I even struggled to put my socks on!” She raises her legs to wiggle her slightly wonky socks at him until he's smiling warmly once more. “Should’ve known I’d end up carrying some kind giant Rutherford baby. I mean look at me! It's ridiculous.”

With his calloused palm stroking over the soft rise of her belly he chuckles. She always managed to draw that sound out of him somehow, and he doesn't believe he's ever smiled so much outside her company. “I think you're beautiful just as you are,” leaning over he places a tender kiss against her belly, before dropping his head to rest his forehead against her. Against them. His little family.

“Yes, well you would, but I can hardly show up to meet your family in just my underwear. I don't want their lasting memory to be how I gave your grandma a heart attack.” There is a playfulness to her light scolding and his chuckle that follows. Contently resting against her, he soon feels delicate fingers toying with his hair as he continues to rub absent-mindedly at her stomach. When she twinges and grabs his hand, he all but shots upright with a jolt of panic.

"Now whose fretting?" She asks, taking his hand with one eyebrow cocked. "Here, can you feel?"

Cullen stares at her small hand pressed over his, still uncertain everything is alright. That is until he feels it, a small bump, a press, a jerk, even against his palm. His baby! Kicking! Wonderment renders him speechless, eyes glancing up at her's to see them full of warmth while his own are blown wide by the rush of excitement. It doesn't last long, and soon the babe settles down, but at that moment he could swear he already loved this child more than he knew was humanly possible. And that, in no small part, was down the woman who carried it. The fact that the babe would be the two of them, forever intertwined is entrancing and he knows represents a real chance for him to bring some good into the world. Perhaps he could not help all those he'd failed, could not go back and right wrongs, but he could raise this child to be a better person than him, and full of Annabel’s warmth it could light up the world. Or he could fail… but that is a thought reserved for only the bleakness of nights.

Cullen can't be sure how long he stays curled beside her, but its long enough that by the time he lifts his head she's deep asleep and the pink light has turned to bright sunshine. Kissing her belly once more he eases himself up. She won't thank him for waking her, and she did desperately need the rest, so instead, he slips from the room to make himself useful.

-

Waking confused and with an ache in her back, Annabel blinks her bleary eyes to try and clear them. The sun is well up now, and she groans as it blinds her. Stupid sun. A groggy corner of her mind tells her it means they're late setting off, again.

Perhaps Bryan had been right with his concern, this journey does feel like it's slowly killing her, never has exhaustion been at the forefront of her mind so often. After almost dangerously falling asleep in the saddle Cullen had insisted they stop for a few nights at an inn. Stubbornness told him that she was fine, although her eyes had said otherwise. Thankfully her husband knew her well. Sleeping in a real bed the past few nights had felt heaven sent, but they must continue unless she really did want to have her baby in the middle of nowhere.

Sitting up slowly with a groan she notes how the mess is gone, looking to her trunk she finds a small stack of garments neatly folded there. What's he been up to now? Holding her great swell of a belly, she pads over to investigate, finding a small note in Cullen's scratchy script.

‘Kindly donated by the innkeeper for saving the world. Love Cullen’

As always it's short, and she smiles faintly at the way he curls the ‘c’ of his name. She could be presented with a thousand versions of that name, but she’d know in an instant which had been done by his hand. It's much steadier than it used to be, but still unmistakable.

Placing the note to one side, she picks up the simple floral dress with thin stretchy leggings that no doubt would be far more comfortable than anything she currently owns. A kind gesture indeed. Then again, there had to be some perks to being Inquisitor and saving everyone.

She rubs the fabric between her fingers as worries begin to bubble up to the surface once more. Cullen had been right, she had been fretting, but with good reason. In all their discussion of his family, it had become clear they were large and close-knit, warm and welcoming, nothing at all like her own. With a sigh she sits back down to chew on her lip, she doesn’t usually worry about fitting in, as she never really had fitted anywhere, and she guesses that’s the reason she’s so concerned. She does somehow fit with Cullen… but if she doesn’t with his family? What then? What if she’s too brash, too loud, too exuberant? Or maybe just too noble?

For a long time, Bryan had been her own family, now to think she is about to be welcomed into the bosom of a much larger clan is a little intimidating. It’ll be nice though, she decides with a little-determined nod, being alone has never suited her, it leads to thinking like this, which is clearly to be avoided. Besides she'd been born a Trevelyan, and taught to be fearless in all things, so that is what she shall be.

Dressing is even more difficult thanks to the bump, but with much huffing and wriggling, she manages. Running her hand over the fabric, she smoothes it down, instinctively rubbing at her belly tenderly as she checks in the mirror. And for all her complaints, all her weariness and achiness, she wouldn't change a thing.

Slipping on her shoes is easier said than done but after some fiddling Annabel manages. Searching for her husband, she wanders the corridors then through the bar to be greeted by a fresh breeze let loose by wide-open doors. Several people appear to be hovering just outside, and she catches the deep baritone of Cullen’s voice although she can’t make out what he’s saying.

The sunlight is near blinding, but the weather is pleasantly mild, much to her relief, as she steps outside where the packed dirt path leads her eye to the grandest sight. A brilliant wooden carriage, adorned with sturdy but elaborately patterned iron decoration. As Scout Jim steps back, she catches sight of the freshly painted Inquisition symbol blazing proudly on the door. Her hand absentmindedly lifts to her mouth as she approaches, entranced by the way the structure dominated the road yet still looked so pretty.

She hears his boots crunch on the pebbles before she sees him, although her eyes can’t be dragged away from the carriage. “Cullen… how did you? It’s…” The truth is, it’s overwhelming. Maybe it's her hormones, or maybe its the lifting of the niggling worry about what the strain of the journey might be doing to the baby, either way, her eyes fill up. One of his hands steadies the swelling emotion before it can consume her and gives her arm a little squeeze to draw her focus to him.

“It’s what every growing family needs,” his smile is warm enough to light up the golden amber flecks in his eyes and the softness she finds there spills a tear down her cheek. “Although I was hoping for a slightly better reaction…”

Smile beaming she pulls him in as close possible so can nuzzle against his chest and wipe all the tears away on his mantle as she’s done a hundred times before. “Thank you, Cullen… I… I…”

“Shhh, I know,” his lips murmur the gentle words into her hair before she pulls back to reveal a glowing smile.

Like a child herself, she’s quick to hop inside, finding it cosy with plenty of cushions and blankets. With a giggle, she taps the space beside her, and his bulky frame soon climbs aboard.

“Not sure what the villagers will make of this turning up on their doorstep,” settling beside her, Cullen's forced to pick up a lilac cushion to make space. His family had moved back to Honnleath after the blight, and he’s certain the tiny settlement won’t have been graced with anything quite so grand before. “I should’ve known Josephine would only supply the best.”

Snatching the silk cushion, Annabel promptly rests it behind his head. “Of course! The Inquisitor and her Commander should arrive in style, don’t you think?”

Smirking he leans his head back against it. “Hmm… yes… although...it does feel awfully… Oreselian.” With that the pillow is whipped away so fast he bumps his head against wood. “Hey!”

“It’s an Ostwick design! My father had one when we were little… not sure what happened to it… But Josie has done her homework once again, bless that wonderful woman!”

“Hmm,” rubbing his head with a petulant frown Cullen sits up. “We'd best set off,” as he goes to move Annabel quickly grabs him by the collar.

“I don’t think so, I said the Inquisitor and her Commander were to arrive in style,” she gently places the fancy pillow in his lap with a little smile. “And before you argue, just know I’ll be ever so bored and lonely in here all by myself…” fluttering her eyelashes her fingernails toy with the frilly edge of the cushion perched precariously over his groin. Shifting she leans further into him, her thumb tracing down the edge of his jaw. “And I promise I’ll keep you entertained, Commander,” her voice drops with a deliberately inticing purr as she kisses him, hot but soft.

He hums into her lips, and she can feel a vibration run through him as their tongues slide sweetly over each other.

Suddenly sunlight floods their sultry moment. “Commander, sh-" Jim cuts off mid-sentence at the fierce glower both lovers cast him. “Sorry, Ser! I… You said too…” he shakes his head. “Never mind, Ser.” The door promptly closes once more.

Seems privacy is in as short a supply as ever. Likely only to be made worse by sharing a small cottage with Cullen’s extended family. Not that Annabel minded, in fact, she’s been looking forward to it from the moment the plans had been made. A chance to see where he's from and to meet the people who’d help shape him into the man she loved. Whether she fitted in well didn't really matter, what mattered was it was his family and a chance to him truly feel at home. With that in mind, she pulls back. He's right they really should get moving.

“Perhaps we can continue this later?” She offers a little naughty smirk his way as he sets about trying to leave once more.

“Of course, Inquisitor,” there is a richness to his baritone that betrays his arousal, but with a great deal of self-restraint, he merely pecks a kiss against her cheek. “In the meantime, however, I can think of a fellow who would love to keep you company.”

Annabel creases her brows as it takes a second for her mind to return from the gutter. When it does, she smiles and nods, and as Cullen climbs out, there's a sharp whistle. The carriage rocks and creaks in place as the great mabari bounds aboard. Tongue hanging out and stump wagging wildly, Prince leaps onto the cushions to sit upright, proud as punch beside her.

-----

Thank you for reading - hope you enjoyed it! Likes, reblogs and comments all help feed hungry writers <3

[its-love-u-asshole]

Count on Me [fic]

Pairings: Kawanishi Taichi/Tendou Satori 

Summary: Taichi thinks about his life and his struggles, and how his best friend never fails to be there for him every step of the way. It's no wonder they fit together so perfectly.

Rating: T

Note: Hello again! This was my piece for the @middleblockerzine <3 It was an honor to be involved in this project, and I love being able to write rarepairs every once in a while! Enjoy! 

Read on AO3!

Taichi doesn't have a bad temper.

Quite the opposite actually. He considers himself fairly neutral when it comes to most situations. Sometimes he can get annoyed at small things, like obnoxious laughs and stupid drivers, but he's the last person to snap or blow up at someone for no reason.

He prides himself on it, can't help it.

Downstairs he hears his mother yell at his dad, and there's a loud, deliberate crash.

Another broken dish, he supposes. He'll be told to clean it up later, so he guesses he'll find out then.

Taichi frowns at the ceiling of his bedroom, though it's not a drastic change in his expression. He's always frowning. Always glaring. Or, that's what everyone says about him.

"Kawanishi-kun is so cute! But he looks so mean...I don't know if I should ask him for his notes..."

"What's wrong with you huh? You always look like you're having a shit day man!"

"Kawanishi-san, you should tell your son Taichi he needs to smile more."

"Is he even happy he scored that point? What a prick..."

Yeah. That's just how it goes.

Again though, Taichi doesn't consider himself an angry person, not by a long shot.

The yells from downstairs get louder, and Taichi reaches over to his nightstand with a sigh, ready to block out the vicious noise with the playlist Tendou had sent him earlier that day.

The music is soothing, the lyrics just ridiculous enough to remind Taichi that yes, Tendou totally made this himself. Taichi laughs, twirling his headphone cord in his fingers as the notes loosen the tension in his body.

But his dilemma won't leave him alone.

'Resting bitch face' would be putting it lightly, he thinks. He knows he looks mean okay? He's seen the family reunion and birthday party pictures, he doesn't need to be reminded that he has an issue.

Damn.

Taichi pouts, turning onto his side.

It's not his fault his face looks so pissed all the time. He's not aware of it 24/7, and it's not something he can up and change right off the bat.

And he figures at the end of the day, he doesn't care. People can judge him all they want, he knows who he is on the inside.

In fact, now that he thinks about it, Taichi loathes bad tempered people. They get too worked up and bring others down (not to mention how sore their throats must be from all that damn yelling), and it's not a personality trait which works well in Taichi's life. In volleyball. Which really, might as well been a synonym for Taichi's whole existence.

The thought eases his nerves a little more, as does the quick text from Tendou about the movie they're going to see next weekend.

He wonders if Tendou can sense it, when Taichi needs him.

Taichi smiles, and though he's not physically on the court at the moment with the other boy, he squirms in his bed, eager to change that.

Playing would sure help calm him down anyways, but it would also mean he'd have to go downstairs, so he passes on the thought.

He feels his phone vibrate again on his chest, and he picks it up eagerly like he always does.

For him, as embarrassing as it sounds, Tendou is his ideal person. The opposite of the spectrum. Where Taichi appears withdrawn and agitated on the outside, Tendou is boisterous and expressive in ways so grand, Taichi used to have a hard time telling truth from false. For a lot of people, the redhead is too much. Too eccentric, too noticeable, too everything. But Taichi has never been too anything in his life except too distant, no matter what he does to change it. Tendou is the first person to see and appreciate Taichi for things other than his bleak lack of expression, and as a result, Taichi really can't get enough of him.

They fit like that.

Taichi: sounds good, just tell me what I owe you for the ticket Satori: Taiiichiiii, what kind of commentary is that? That trailer was supposed to blow your mind!

Taichi rolls his eyes, but his fingers are already typing back. Normally, Tendou is right, like he usually is. Goddamn him.

Taichi should've responded more ecstatically, more upbeat. But well, it felt too fake right then.

Taichi: idk, it feels pretty blown Satori: .... Satori: you're frowning

Taichi's brow furrows at the suddenness, and at the same time, he hears his parents stomp down the hall through his headphones, the yells closer and louder.

Taichi: when am I not frowning?

The little bubble which tells him Tendou is typing makes Taichi weirdly anxious. It shouldn't since he's used to this. He's gotten over the panic which came with initially trading numbers with the other middle blocker. The worry of being interesting or entertaining enough...those fears are gone. The obnoxious butterflies are not, but Taichi has grown to expect those too.

He knows what to expect before he even reads Tendou's new messages, but it doesn't make the electricity travel up his body any less.

Because sometimes...sometimes Tendou just knows, and it makes Taichi's heart and lungs squeeze.

Satori: mmm Satori: I guess Satori: but you're frowning for real this time

The words lack punctuation because Tendou doesn't see the point in it, the slam of a door down the hall takes the place of a period just fine.

Taichi closes his eyes, and wills himself to relax his face, knowing it still looks as pissed and disgruntled as always. But if Tendou were there, he'd know it to be anything but.

In truth, maybe Taichi doesn't have a neutral personality at all. Maybe he's as emotional and impassioned as Tendou is, all his feelings swimming below a calm surface, and he's quietly bursting at the seams.

But rather than pour his heart out explicitly, he tells Tendou only what he needs to for the other to get it, and that's never been a lot.

Taichi: yeah, guess I am

Tendou sends him another playlist after about a minute of silence, and the songs on it are more soothing and positive this time around. Taichi smiles, big and bright, and no one can tell him he's not.

--

Taichi is eleven years old when he feels the rush of block for the first time, when his addiction starts for both the sport he loves, and the boy he blocks beside.

He jumps up on pure instinct, his feet aching and his forehead sweating from a long practice game in his gym class. He doesn't really know why he'd been trying so hard in the first place. Something had simply clicked in him at the start of the game, and when all his teammates began to move slower, when all the plays became careless, Taichi still put in one hundred percent of his effort.

The reward for this is a high he'd never get tired of, a drug administered with a fast beating heart and a swift leap off the ground.

The sting against his arms feels hard enough to leave welts, but it takes his breath away to see the ball bounce off his forearms, hitting his opponent's side of the court with a deafening slam.

Completely shut out.

The realization travels up his spine and along his nerves, and nothing is the same after that.

His arms are red and burning, and no one else seems nearly as into the game as he is, but the moment is everything to him, and he knows he could play volleyball forever and a day.

He's not the only one.

"Whoa, how did you know where the ball was going?"

Taichi, who is tasked with helping put the net away once the final point is scored, jumps at the voice. He spins around, and his shock doubles.

The boy in front of him is a little shorter than him, but he stands out more than anyone Taichi has ever seen. His eyes are too wide and searching to look natural on his chubby face, his arms long and hanging at his sides.

Taichi is young, so he admits it to himself, the guy looks weird. Not only that, but Taichi knows exactly who he is, because how could he not? Shouts and whispers of the school's resident freak or monster are hard to miss, no matter how much Taichi doesn't care.

Still, he's wary, because he knows nothing about the redhead in front of him, and whether or not he deserves those cruel nicknames in the first place.

But Taichi also can't resist talking about volleyball, and anyone willing to indulge him for once instead of avoiding him like the plague are already off to a good start in his book.

"The setter kept favoring his best friend for the spikes, so it was easy to guess he'd toss to him for the last point," Taichi says, picking up stray balls around the court. He's being followed, but the redhead's hovering isn't bothersome.

In fact, Taichi welcomes the company, no matter how strange.

He can see the skip in the redhead's step at the subject of volleyball, and Taichi can relate. His nerves are still on fire, and he bites his lip, wishing the game didn't have to end.

"Ah I see, I hadn't noticed, so I guessed wrong," the other says, and there's a shrill whine in his voice which makes Taichi actually laugh. Because yeah, he'd have been pissed too if he'd misjudged.

The redhead's eyes get wider, an impossible feat in Taichi's mind, and his laugh dies. Maybe I'm being awkward...shit...

There's a brief, strained silence while Taichi continues cleaning, but his eyes won't leave the redhead's shocked expression. Taichi arches a brow, too afraid to ask the question on his mind.

The hell?

"You smiled," the other boy says, and the awe in his voice is enough to make the back of Taichi's neck burn.

Well, no one has said it that way before.

"Yeah I...I do that," Taichi replies, dumbly, and curses himself a second later, his face falling back into his natural scowl.

All of a sudden, the other boy is laughing so loud the rest of the gym is staring at them, and Taichi groans, because he can practically hear the new whispers going around.

Do you think that Kawanishi kid is friends with the freak?

It would make sense, they're both no fun to be around.

Yeah, sounds about right.

Taichi is coming to the age where he cares less and less though, far too used to being misconstrued for every single thing he does.

So he focuses back on the redhead, pouting to himself. "Hey, what's so funny?"

The other contains his giggles poorly, but Taichi can understand him well enough. "Nothing! Sorry sorry! I was surprised! I figured you couldn't smile, like a medical condition or something."

Taichi straightens like a rod, rigid and humiliated. It's nothing he's not accustomed too, but somehow it hurts in that moment, maybe because he'd been riding the high of the game. He knows he always looks unhappy, upset for some reason or another.

But...he doesn't like that he looks that way even while he's playing volleyball. Today is the first time he's ever played, and he loves it so much already.

Apparently, it doesn't show.

Taichi is ready to tell the other to buzz off and find his own private place to sulk until the school day is over, when the redhead continues.

"Everyone says you're never happy, so I wanted to see for myself, but you looked like you were on cloud nine scoring that last point, even with that frowny mug of yours," he says, and he's laughing again a second later, unperturbed by Taichi's stunned expression.

Taichi looks stupid. He knows he does, like a dear in the headlights, and his hands drop the ball he'd been holding as a foreign warmth envelops him.

I...looked happy?

The words don't really process right, but the emotions rage regardless. His emotions always do. That's the screwed up part.

Taichi is a real cry baby on the inside, little things make him happy every day, from his favorite songs to a good book. But no one notices, and nowadays he doesn't expect them to.

But today, someone did.

The other boy continues to babble in front of him, and Taichi can't object, doesn't want to. Like a soft blanket, the pleasant feeling in his veins continues throughout lunch as he sits near his new and unexpected friend. It persists when he gets home, and they text for the first time.

It even lasts until the week after, when they join a community volleyball club together.

For a long time, Taichi didn't know how to explain the feeling, but now he knows it simply comes with being around the other boy.

Of course, he learns this boy's name is Tendou Satori, and that his guesses are seldom wrong, but that with Taichi, Tendou never needs to guess.

--

He notices right away how Tendou is. Or, how he wants people to think he is.

So expressive. An open book, carefree, only hiding his intentions on the court.

They stick together throughout middle school, and as much as Taichi hates admitting it, they're practically glued at the hip.

Going to Shiratorizawa together is a dream of theirs, and they do whatever it takes to make it. He worries about his lack of expression hindering him from making the team despite his obvious skill, but Tendou has enough energy for the both of them (and probably about fifty more people), and his personality overshadows Taichi’s in the best way.

To say Taichi feels grateful would be an understatement.

“Geez Taichi, you’re practically vibrating, calm down,” Tendou says with a smirk as they walk home. It’s Taichi’s turn to host their after school “study” session, but he knows deep down they’ll just end up watching old volleyball matches and playing videogames.

Taichi snorts, because he really doubts he was vibrating. In fact, next to Tendou, he probably looks a little too stiff. The redhead hasn’t stopped skipping or jumping since they’d left the school. But Tendou has it right, as he usually does. Taichi is ecstatic, and he could climb the world’s tallest mountain right then if asked.

They jostle each other all the way home, proudly able to call themselves best friends and teammates now.

Of course, during practice, and really every other moment, Tendou shouts his excitement and smiles too wide. Taichi is used to this. Again, Tendou is vibrant and dynamic where Taichi resembles more of a statue.

Although Taichi likes his teammates, he can tell they haven’t completely warmed up to him yet. When everyone cheers aloud, Taichi simply stands there, same blank expression on his face while a storm rages in his chest.

It’s okay though. They’ll come around. That’s what Tendou thinks, and Taichi never has much reason to doubt him.

Well, in most things.

See, the thing about Tendou is that he only seems like an open book. If anything, Taichi comes to realize that he has more issues communicating than Taichi does. It might be hard to discern what Taichi actually feels from his face and actions, but when asked, he doesn’t have much trouble coming clean.

“You’re making me feel kind of left out.”

“I was worried when I didn’t hear from you last night.”

“That playlist you gave me was amazing.”

It gets to the point where he makes Tendou blush on accident, and the redhead stutters and chokes on his words for the first time, complaining that Taichi is far too blunt for his own good. Taichi’s entire body heats up all the same, and the rest of their study session that day ends up veiled by some unknown tension.

So yeah, Taichi can express himself in his own ways. After all, words are really all he has.

But Tendou’s emotions never have an outlet. Taichi finds this out the first time Tendou gets openly bullied in middle school. The kids are punks and refuse to let him play a set with them, and Taichi sits out with him in defiance. If he can’t play with Tendou, it’s not worth it. Tendou is still all jokes, all smiles. His cunning guesses are spot on and eventually the other kids get tired of his commentary and leave the court free. Taichi is impressed with Tendou’s wit, his sheer confidence and ability to laugh off all the cruel insults.

But when they get home, he sees the walls crumble. Tendou is agitated and shaking, but he refuses to admit it, as if Taichi can’t tell. The redhead wipes his eyes one too many times, and Taichi can’t bear to pretend anymore. It takes over an hour to coax a confession out of Tendou, and when he does, the floodgates open. “It hurts…when they say shit that’s not true.”

The statement hits Taichi like bricks upon more bricks. And yeah, he can definitely relate. Taichi doesn’t really know how to cry anymore, but he feels his heart ache, and he only hopes Tendou realizes it.

Of course, he does. They get into the habit of comforting each other with soft hugs and subtle touches, when they both feel the familiar pain. When people whisper about Tendou, or criticize Taichi, or when Taichi’s parents scream too loud.

They’re together through it all.

Even now in high school, Tendou still struggles to tell Taichi when he’s upset, when he feels like crying. But Taichi notices, and it’s only fair that he does. Understanding each other goes both ways, and Taichi never hesitates to pull Tendou close when he needs it.

--

In the end though, they grow slowly, and Taichi prefers to not rush progress. His teammates can tell when he’s on fire, when he’s drunk off a good block, and he welcomes their high fives with a slight smile.

It’s the most he can manage, but it speaks volumes.

And naturally, Tendou makes his own progress too. After all, Taichi was always the blunt one, the upfront one, the one who initiated the tough conversations.

But now, staring blankly at Tendou behind the school gym, Taichi thinks he might’ve misjudged him a bit.

“I like you.”

It’s an oddly placed confession. Taichi had been worried throughout the whole practice that maybe he’d finally upset Tendou somehow, but now…

Wow, they’re both idiots.

Taichi stalls mid-step, letting the words wash over him. They hit him gently, but steal his breath all the same.

“I like you.” It echoes, over and over, like his head can’t get enough.

You…

Tendou bows a little, eyes fixed on the floor, and he’s biting his lip so hard he might break skin and— dammit, I told you to quit doing that.

It’s less annoying than usual though. Instead, Taichi feels like he might explode with joy, and that probably wouldn’t be romantic…having to scrape his remains off the walls. The messed-up thought is evidence enough of how he’s let Tendou influence him, and Taichi only feels happier at the observation.  He’s grinning. Absolutely grinning, like a madman.

A delicate mixture of shock, embarrassment, and familiarity wash over him, and naturally…

Ah, screw it. He should probably just say it huh?

But well, if Tendou is really trying to show how he’s grown, the least Taichi can do is show how he feels.

So he does.

Taichi grabs Tendou’s hand, pulling him into a hug which sends them both to the floor, and the redhead’s eyes widen even more than usual as he’s pulled down. Taichi, because he’s a loser with no knowledge of what he’s supposed to do or how to react, buries his face in his best friend’s neck, taking in the smell of cinnamon and something specifically Tendou.

The redhead coughs from the suddenness, but Taichi is too happy to care. His grin doesn’t go away. It makes sense too, how Tendou is the one who ultimately keeps the cursed expression on his face.

It makes Taichi laugh, along with Tendou’s stunned, blushing face as they pull apart. 

Taichi’s smile turns smug, and he bumps their heads together, and yup, Tendou looks like a fire truck now. Mission accomplished.

Taichi just laughs into the small space between them, unable to contain himself, and it’s pretty much the best feeling in the world.

“I like you too.”

Later, they find out that the whole team had been betting on when they’d get together, but Taichi is too overjoyed to plot his revenge yet.

Eventually, he thinks. Eventually.

--

When he’s done replaying all his favorite memories, Taichi knows his parents have gone to bed. The house is quiet, but there’s tension running through his body, and he has no plans of sleeping any time soon.

He’s waiting for someone after all, and they’ve never let him down before.

There’s a knock at his window, and Taichi takes out his earphones instantly. Tendou’s playlists are his favorite, but the redhead himself is much preferred.

Ugh, I’m getting cheesier. So be it.

Tendou’s smile on the other side of the window is soft, with just a hint of mischief present, and Taichi can’t help but mirror it as he unlatches the locks.

“Some midnight practice?” Tendou asks automatically, and Taichi is already grabbing his volleyball.

In fact, he’s already in his workout clothes, because he sort of saw this coming. But the predictability isn’t unwelcome, far from it. It’s just how they are. They grow together each day, following in each other’s steps and keeping track of every stumble.

This probably counts as a stumble, but it hardly feels like one, not with Tendou looking at him like that.

Taichi could let the emotions get to him, could pull Tendou inside and rant about his parents until they fall asleep, safe together.

But they had plenty of time for that, for now…

For now, he wanted to play the sport he loved with the boy he loved, and nothing was going to stop him.

He tugged on his tennis shoes excitedly, meeting Tendou at the window with a swift kiss. He let it warm his body, the pleasant chill travelling up his spine like it never failed to do.

He didn’t let Tendou chase after more kisses, like he always tried to. Again, plenty of time for that later. The redhead pouted, but matched Taichi’s grin, because he knew that just as well as Taichi did.

“Let’s go,” Taichi whispers, clutching Tendou’s hand, something which is like breathing to him. The touch is returned automatically, and with that, they disappear into the night, carefree.

Briefly, Taichi’s mind returns to his previous problem. His expression, or lack of one, isn’t something he can probably ever fix. It’ll be annoying yeah, and people will never stop whispering or talking about how upset he always looks.

But right now, he knows they’re wrong. His grin is bright enough to blind, and he feels so many things at once, more than he can truly comprehend.

So yeah, he doesn’t care. As long as his teammates know who he is on the inside, as long as Tendou can read him like an open book, Taichi knows he’ll never have to worry.

He has what he needs, and he’s sure to gain more. But in that moment, it’s more than enough for him.

[nocaptainreuben]

Wired Up Wrong is So Very Right

I’d heard of Rachael Smith a few years ago, thanks to my brother-in-law recommending her work, and then when I finally got myself a copy of Flimsy’s Guide to Modern Living at Thought Bubble 2017, I fell in love. In fact, so did my whole family. I brought Flimsy home and foisted it upon both of my parents in turn, and they sent me back the next day with money to buy five more copies. So it seems only natural that when Rachael announced she would be creating a deluxe version of her previous release, Wired Up Wrong, and funding it through Kickstarter, obviously we would be backing it.

I was so excited just to receive it, because the physical book is gorgeous. It’s a lovely, compact shape, with a texture that’s very pleasing to the touch (these things matter to me, ok?), and the spot gloss which was one of her stretch goals is a really nice touch. But as lovely as it is on the outside, the content is so much better, and as soon as I had a free hour I devoured it in one sitting.

Wired Up Wrong is Smith’s ‘personal record of living with depression’ and an effort to understand the way her brain works. And whilst she states explicitly in the author’s note that it is not a self-help book, and she is not in any way qualified to offer advice, it really is a wonderful – and helpful – book on the topic. There are some excellent segments of informal advice and information in there, such as ‘A Good Thing to Do When You’re Panicking’, ‘Rachael’s Guide to Catastrophising’, ‘Self Harm Avoidance Techniques’ and a section where she talks about her own experiences on anti-depressant medication. But on the whole, this doesn’t feel like a book she wrote for anyone else, with a view to helping them work through their issues, it really feels like it’s the author working through hers, which is such a lovely thing to read. It’s so immensely brave of Smith to put so much of herself down on paper and open that up to us as readers, and I feel so privileged to have gone on the journey with her.

The anecdotes of living with depression and anxiety (like feeling way too much empathy for a plastic bottle you’re throwing away, beating up a table because you’re so angry, and crying about your dream because there was a leaf that was too perfect) are all incredibly relatable and the way Rachael writes them is so funny. There are darker and sadder moments too, which bring home the seriousness of what she’s writing about, but the overarching theme of the book is humour, and being able to roll your eyes at the stupid things your chemically imbalanced brain makes you do, rather than beating yourself up for doing them. The little Ryan-North-style captions at the bottom of the pages are just the comedy icing on the cake as well; things like ‘in my defence next door’s dog is a real dick. I can say that ‘cause he’s probably not gonna read this.’ are exactly my kind of humour, so she had me grinning throughout the whole book.

I also loved the repetition throughout the book. Seeing scenes with the ‘Wheel of Feels’, all of the ‘just get out of bed’s, and the round-and-round conversations with Barky keep coming back throughout the book really highlighted the cyclical nature of depression and anxiety disorders, and just how boring and tiring it can be living with the same thoughts over and over.

Obviously, as it’s a graphic novel, I have to talk about the art. Rachael Smith’s style is simply beautiful. This is not necessarily what you’d expect from a book about depression, as the cartoon style she opts for is so bright, colourful, and downright cheery in many places. The block colours in her panels, and the round edges and big, cute eyes on her characters are so pleasing to the eye and really endear you to the characters and the author herself. She manages to create this soft, warm, friendly and even optimistic vibe whilst writing about a topic which is really quite bleak, and I just felt like giving her a big hug when I finished it. Everything about it is just lovely, and she’s easily one of my favourite artists out there.

I’m so proud to say I helped get this book into print, and now I’m eager to start pressing it into the hands of everyone I can, so you can bet my copy will be making the rounds amongst my friends and family. After sending out hundreds of copies to everyone who showed her such overwhelming support on Kickstarter, Smith now has Wired Up Wrong available for purchase on her Etsy store, along with her other books and merchandise, so head over there to snag your copy quick! And in the meantime, I’ll leave you with some excellent advice from the book:

‘In these turbulent times, let us all try to be more Manatee.’ Well said.

[fallen029]

Accidents and Incidents.5: Recollection

Previous Chapter

"-then the horse asked him why he had such a wide face!"

"Mira, that's not the joke."

"Huh?"

"The horse doesn't ask the bartender why he has a wide face. The bartender asks the horse why he has a long face. Get it?"

"No. That's stupid, Laxus."

"Stupid? Maybe. It is, however, the joke. What you said made no sense."

"The host got it."

"He's laughing because he thinks you're an idiot."

"That's not true. Is it?"

The host leading them to the table only reached up to scratch at his face, as if bashful. "W-Well… Here's your table, anyhow."

"Thank you," Mirajane said as the man moved to pull out her chair for her before removing Laxus' completely. She was on edge with that, as she was fearful it would set Laxus off (just as the man who held the restaurant door open for him had), but so far, he seemed all right. Just rolled up to the spot before putting the breaks on his chair.

There. Easy.

Only getting there hadn't been near as easy.

In fact, the past four days hadn't been.

After sharing a bed that night, things with Mirajane and Laxus got even more awkward. If it were possible. It stemmed that next morning from Mira's apparently ill-advised question.

"When's your next doctor's visit?"

She poised it over their morning breakfast and she hadn't thought that it was that big of a deal. They'd been there for a number of days and so far, Laxus had made no reference to a physical therapist or even a follow up visit a doctor. For a man that claimed he would walk again, he wasn't acting like it.

And his anger at her question didn't help things.

He started yelling at her. Almost immediately. About how if she was bored with him or she was tired of playing nurse, she could just go. He didn't need her. He didn't need any of them. And how ungrateful was she then? Fine, he was asking her to help care for him and he wasn't paying her, but she was spending his jewels like crazy. Buying food and groceries and such. He was taking care of her too. Setting her up real nice. But he was getting no credit for it.

None.

Mirajane only sat there as he raved, used to his bouts by then. It was crazy, really, the way that he could just switch his rage on and off. She'd offended him so he went full blast at her. And to be a guy that she saw to be such a seething type. A cool demeanor, but bubbly over eternally.

Was that it then? That he kept everything under wraps so well usually that finally his apparently paralysis was the catalyst to an overflow?

When he was finished, she didn't even cry like she usually would, when someone berated her. Just sat there and took it. And he was so upset that he ditched his meal and rolled off to be by himself in his room for awhile.

With little else to do, Mirajane left to go do some laundry. She'd already bundled up his dirty clothes, in a basket she'd bought, before she even made breakfast. Picking it up from where she'd left it by the front door, she headed out to the apartment building's laundry room.

Along with her, Mirajane had brought a book to read though, honestly, she was hoping to meet someone from the building or something. She thought that if she had a friend there, someone outside Laxus, then things wouldn't be so bleak. As it were though, it was much too early for anyone else, it seemed, and she spent the time washing and drying the clothes in solitude.

"I thought you'd left."

That was what she heard when she walked back into the apartment that day. Laxus was in there, of course, sitting in his wheelchair, over at his puzzle table. At the sound of her entering again, he'd lift his head from where it was resting on the table, his eyes bloodshot and face tense.

"Huh?" Mira was balancing the laundry basket on her hip and almost dropped it at his words. "Why would I-"

"You walked out when we were fighting and-"

"I just went to do the laundry, Laxus. That's all."

He laid his head down again. "You should tell me."

"W-What?"

"Before you go out. It would only be courteous. To tell me first." His voice was muffled against the table, but she felt as if she could hear him perfectly. "Incase I needed something."

Pausing, she swallowed before saying softly, "Of course, dragon. I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"It won't happen again."

"No," he whispered though she felt as if he was agreeing to something entirely different. "It won't."

And as upset as he had been before she left, he seemed completely different when she got back. Not remorseful, exactly, but almost sorrowful. She figured he'd really thought she'd walked out on him. Given up.

That clearly wasn't something that Laxus enjoyed.

They didn't talk again on it for the rest of the day.

Honestly, after that, things kinda went back to normal. Mirajane spent the day playing guitar and trying to hold conversations with Laxus as he mostly divided his time between his puzzles, workout, and avoiding those conversations.

When night fell and dinner was over, they watched another movie together, but a decidedly less horrific one. It was a comedy and, really, Laxus was in his own agony. Mainly because it was so terrible. Mirajane enjoyed it though and, well, after the day they'd had, he couldn't feel too upset with that being the case.

An awkward beat occurred afterwards though, when the movie ended and they were still just sitting there, on the couch, staring at the lacrima.

"Did you wanna watch another?" she asked slowly. "Or go to bed?"

"Bed," he said simply. "Early to rise and all."

Mira knew all about that.

After she got him all situated in bed though, there was a slight problem. Or at least another gauche moment. And for once, Laxus self-created it.

"You aren't staying?"

That came as she was headed out his bedroom door, no doubt back to the pullout couch. At his words though, she glanced back at him.

"Huh?"

He had to clear his throat then, Laxus did, as well as look off. "Last night, you were fearful of the…monster."

"Right."

'And stayed in here. For protection."

"More for company, but sure."

"So…"

"Yes?"

"What's different tonight?" He still wouldn't look at her. Not even give her a glance. "Are you not afraid tonight?"

"Do you want me to be?"

That got a snort. A loud one. "Of course not, you dolt. Why would I want you to be afraid? That makes no sense. Literally at all. So just go. We're-"

"Let me go change, Lax, for bed," she sighed. "And then-"

"I just said I don't want you in here! Why can't you listen?" He was growling then. "Sleep out on the couch. Why wouldn't you? I was just making sure that you were okay. Sheesh. What? You think that I would want you in here? Dream on, woman."

She only blinked then before shaking her head.

"Goodnight then, Laxus."

"Damn right it's a good night," he grumbled. "Who do you think you are? Huh? I nicely offer up my bed and you act like I'm sayin' I want you in it or somethin'. If chivalry's dead, it's 'cause of stupid women like you, twistin' it all up when guys like me try to use it!"

But the door was already closed and he was left all alone to think. He didn't like his thoughts much and, try as he might, sleep was impossible.

"Mirajane," he ended up calling out. "Where are you? C'mere. I need something."

It only took her a few moments to appear in his doorway. "Yes? Laxus?"

"Headphones. They're with the jigsaws."

"Of course, Laxus."

That wasn't all he wanted that night either.

"Mirajane," he called not soon after she'd filled that request and gone back to bed. "Are you still up?"

"Sorta," came the muffled response from out in the living room. "What's up?"

"I'm hungry."

"Okay."

Growling, he added, "I want cake. Do we still have cake? Bring me cake."

"Coming."

Then there were a few more.

"I need water."

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"Do we have any milk?"

"Bathroom again."

"I'm finished with my headphones, but don't want to put them on the ground because then I might step on them and we can't have that, can we?"

At that last one, Mira had had enough.

"Considering you can't walk, dragon," she grumbled as she came in to get them, "I don't see how that could happen."

"Low blow."

"Low blow me? Low blow you making me keep come in here for no reason," she grumbled as she went to set his headphones on top of the duffle bag. "If you weren't ready for bed, that's fine. Get up and go back in the living room. But I am. So do you want me to help you into your chair so you can go do your puzzles? Or stay in here?"

He only narrowed his eyes at her. "I don't know what you're implying-"

"Just get up, Laxus. It's clear that you don't really want to go to sleep right now."

"Fine. But only 'cause I have a hankering for my puzzles."

"Hankering? You sound really old sometimes, you know that?"

"You know?" he mocked as she came over to help him. Mirajane only made a face.

"You can come out here," she warned, "but I really am going to sleep, so-"

"Don't tell me what to do woman."

She was too tired to argue with him.

The second they were in the living room, Mirajane flipped on the overhead light before diving back under the covers. Tugging them up and above her head, she whispered from beneath them, "Wake me if you need me."

Honestly, Laxus had only been bothering her for the past hour or so because he wanted some attention. Her sleeping was not getting attention.

Not that he, like, needed her concentration the way that she needed his constantly. No way. He just… Well…

Why hadn't she wanted to sleep in bed with him?

Huh?

He didn't care, of course. But it was gnawing at him, if only a little. Women would literally claw at one another just to be able to hang off his arm. Freed would claw at women just to hang on his arm! Yet Mirajane was too good to even lay in bed with him?

Blasphemy. Who did that woman think she was?

A quick glance her way reminded him. She was the she-devil. Mirajane Strauss. And yes, she was attractive. A model. Drop dead. But he was the Thunder God. And God always beat the demons.

Always!

Finished with his huffing then, Laxus tried to get into his jigsaw, but it was complicated. He'd been working on puzzles for a few days at that point and, slowly, they were beginning to annoy him.

Not to mention, it'd never occurred to him that him doing them could be perceived as him doing something, not only feminine, but also something for the elderly.

Did normal, healthy young men not do jigsaws for time to time? If not, then they didn't know what they were missing! No way was Laxus the crazy one. Na-ah. They were just missing out.

But…if Mira thought that it made him old or something…

Again, it didn't matter what she thought, really. 'cause he couldn't care less. Who was she to him, but a guild mate? Huh?

Huh?

And who was he trying to convince anyhow? He was Laxus Dreyar. He didn't explain his feelings. Not even to himself.

Mirajane fell asleep not soon after she laid back down. She was even snoring softly when he decided puzzles weren't for him that night and went rolling around the living room. He went into the kitchen to get a drink before heading back in there and, after checking to see that Mira was really asleep, he went to get the light. The switch was luckily just in his reach.

He'd worked a few times on getting in and out of bed on his own and, well, it was time to put up or shut up. Mirajane was sleeping and, since she'd made it so clear that he was annoying her before, he didn't want to bother her again.

Especially if there was a chance it'd drive her away again…

"Alright," he whispered once he'd rolled himself on into his bedroom. "I can do this. I'm the Thunder God."

And he was. And he could. But he didn't.

Instead, after a very good effort if he could say so himself, he fell onto the floor with a horrible crash.

"I'll save you, Laxus!"

"No, Mira, I just fell! Don't shoot that at me!"

She'd come into the room so quickly that he had to question how lightly she must sleep. It wasn't Mirajane that barged into the room though. Nope. It was full on Satan Soul, there to get the movie monster from the night before.

In her palm was this black orb of energy that, though Laxus was sure he'd survive if hti with it, he didn't feel like dealing with.

At all.

"Where is he?" came the deep booming cadence of Satan Soul as she looked around the room. "Where is the monster?"

"There is no monster, crazy," he growled as he tried to crawl across the floor. His chair had toppled over and it was dark and, most importantly, Mirajane was not helping anything.

She rarely did, after all.

"I fell," he went on as Mirajane, not even getting the light, came closer. "Trying to get into bed. Please, Mira, just help me back into my chair. Or into bed, I guess."

"Are you hurt?" She didn't go out of Satan Soul and, really, it was kinda creeping him out. Not to mention that tail flicking around in the darkness. "Laxus?"

"No. I don't think so."

"You should be more careful." And then, shocking him, without even turning into her brother or anything else, the she-demon reached down to pick him up, lifting the man into her arms.

Now, he knew that she was strong as Satan Soul, but that was just ridiculous.

"There," she said as she literally cradled him in her arms. Her creepy voice was throwing him off more than that freaky tail. "Let me lay you down now."

She had this purple aurora about her and, maybe he hit his head or something, but Laxus kinda liked it. A lot.

Sheesh. He'd more than hit his head. He had a concussion, probably. Did that cause delirium? If so, then that's what he had.

The she-devil only gently dropped him on the bed though, her claws luckily not scratching him, before she took a step back and purple tiles appeared. Then Laxus was just sitting on a bed in the darkness with Mirajane Strauss.

"Mira-"

"Stay." She even held up a finger to him before walking off. She wasn't gone long anyhow. Just returned with a pillow and her blanket from the couch.

"What are you-"

"Your room's cold. We need another blanket."

"What? No. I meant why are you coming to lay down?" he asked as she moved to get into bed with him, settling right into the bed as if she belonged there or something.

"Because," she sighed as she shut her eyes, laying facing him. "You apparently want me in here for whatever reason and just aren't going to admit it."

"Do not."

"Laxus-"

"I don't," he insisted. "Why would I?"

"It's alright, dragon. You just-"

"I don't," he insisted. "So-"

"It's okay to be lonely, Laxus. And if it makes you feel safer, with me laying here-"

"Safe? What are you-"

"I'm here for you," she kept up. "And clearly that's what you need right now. So-"

"Stop talking, Mira. I don't need you, I don't want you, and I was perfectly fine all by myself."

"Oh, right, as you were moaning on the floor from falling out of your chair? You were fine?"

"There was no moaning, woman," he growled. Huffing, he said, "And I'm not comfortable. Help me get comfortable."

"Oh, so you can get into bed yourself, but once you're in it you can't-"

"Mira."

"Here."

She had to sit up then and help him shift around some, until he was content. And then she just laid down again, right next to him.

"Some personal space would be nice."

"Coming from the man that throws himself on the floor so that I have to pick him up-"

"That is not what happened, woman."

"Uh-huh."

"It's not!"

"Shush."

"Don't shush me."

She didn't say anything that time though as, honestly, Mira was tired. Give out. Dealing with Laxus was worse than tending bar all day, everyday. And that was saying something.

And that was only one day. There were three more, leading into that meal out at the restaurant and, well, they hadn't been any easier for Mira.

Laxus seemed to be suffering from something that she couldn't understand. He was getting more and more agitated with her over tiny things and then, in the next breath, would be asking her to come help him with a puzzle or watch a movie with him. Count his reps for him. As if he hadn't just gone off with her.

Though the gossip/drama filled part of her was curious to understand what it was that was going on with him, another big part of Mirajane was just plain concerned. He was getting worse with his rants. She knew, of course, that he was just frustrated with the situation, but what could she do? He wouldn't tell her about any of his follow up visits, didn't want to talk about what sort of surgery he claimed they were doing and, slowly, Mirajane was losing hope that there really was anything they could do. That Laxus was only deluding himself and buying time before he had to face the guild again.

What she didn't get though was that he wasn't trying to be difficult. No way. He knew that Mirajane was sacrificing for him. And, deep down, he truly was appreciative. He'd gotten over the idea of her just sticking around to spy on him and was actually there out of…concern or something. He wasn't exactly sure on that one. Either a debt to Master or to him or just some sort of mixture of a bunch of different things.

Either way, it didn't matter. Mirajane was giving him a lot and he knew that he wasn't being helpful. He just couldn't help it. Everything felt so hopeless. And, really, he just wanted someone there to vent with. Someone that got him and that would give into his tantrums. Would yell and scream with him.

Mira would only sit there, nod a little, and tell him something positive that just made him want to fry her.

They never had a fight over their nightly ritual again though. No. They wouldn't even pull out the mattress from the couch in the living room. They'd watch the movie out there, but both head to the bedroom to sleep. Mira wasn't sure what sort of comfort she was providing to him in that time, when they were resting, but it seemed platonic enough. They both kept to their sides of the bed and, really, it only helped as she was right there if he needed anything.

Not to mention it kept him from making up false wants just to get her in there with him.

Laxus didn't know what it was either. Why he wanted her in there with him. It honestly made no sense. Because it wasn't sexual for him either. Not really. It wasn't like he couldn't admit, in the recourses of his mind, that Mirajane was attractive. Because he could. And she was. But when they were lying there with one another it wasn't like that.

It was almost like…

Well…

He couldn't put it into words. Not even one night with Mirajane asked him about it in her timid way.

She'd skated around it when they first got in there by leading off with questioning if he was just lonely or he liked the feeling of someone next to him or what.

"I dunno," he mumbled as she laid on her side next to him, just staring across the bed. He was on his back and refused to glance at her. It was one of those rare times where he didn't insist that he didn't want her in there anyways (he was secretly fearful that she'd take him on his word again and go back to the couch) and it seemed like he was just more relaxed for some reason. At least it did to Mira. "I guess I just… It reminds me of…"

"What, Laxus?"

But he wouldn't say. And, with a smile, Mirajane shut her eyes.

"It makes me think of when I used to have to share a bed with Elf and Lisanna, when we were kids," she told him softly. "And in the winter we'd snuggle up real close and Lisanna was always just so cuddly."

He only laid there though as her admission brought one to his brain.

His mother.

That was what it was. Mirajane reminded him of his mother.

Err, well, she didn't. But the way that she was laying there with him, as he laid in bed sick (or at least a loose term for it), made him think of those murky recollections of the woman with light blonde hair that used to let him sleep in bed with her when Ivan was off on a job and rub his tummy and fill him up with juice because he was just so sickly. And she'd snuggle him and tell him how much he loved her and how if he was able to keep his juice down, then maybe they could try crackers. Please, Laxus, just keep it down and we can try crackers. Okay, Lax? Okay? And he could smell it then, the scent of those sheets as he only clung to her, but she wasn't there anymore and it was Mira and he was in foreign room and his mother was dead and he wasn't sick, he was paralyzed, and he might never get better, so why even try?

Why even try?

"Hey." Mira was pushing up then. "Are you…crying? Laxus-"

"Leave me alone," he sniffled. "Mira. Go away. I-"

"Look at me. It's okay. I didn't mean to make you-"

"Shut up."

"Laxus-"

"Just shut up and go to bed." He wanted to get up then and leave the room, but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything. "You stupid woman."

"Shhh." Mirajane wouldn't leave him alone though. She only got up from the bed and, not a moment later, returned with that damn green dragon that she'd stolen from his apartment when she went back to Magnolia that once. "Here. Does someone need something to snuggle with?"

She was just so…incompetent. An idiot. A complete and utter-

"Poor dragon." She came to get back into bed with him, that green dragon under one arm. "Me and this dragon right here want you stop crying. Can you do that for us? Huh?"

"I'm not a fucking kid."

"Naughty dragon. Cursing like this. That's bad."

"Shut up, Mira." He reached up to rub at his eyes before shutting them. "And go to bed. This is the last time you sleep in here. You got that? I don't need you. I don't need anyone. I'm fine. I'm fucking fine."

"Grumpy dragon."

"Damn it, Mira. I'm warnin' you. You better-"

"Here you go." She sat the dragon up on his chest then. He felt it, even though his eyes weren't open. He also felt though the feeling of her resting her head against his side and wrapping an arm beneath where the stuffed animal was, tightly around his middle. "It's okay. You can be sad. It is sad. That you can't… I'm sad. But you know that you're not alone, right? Because even if you don't want the others to know, I know. And I won't let you down, dragon. I won't let you feel this way forever. I promise, Elf."

He caught it too. When she added that at the end. Because if Mira reminded Laxus of his mother then, he was clearly bringing back remnants of another time where she had to comfort someone entirely different for an equally as dark time period.

When he woke up the next morning, she wasn't in bed with him anymore. She was off in the shower it seemed. And, when she came back to get him ready to take his own, he only said one thing.

"We're going out tonight." He had to. To clear his head. And get the heck out of that apartment. "To dinner. Somewhere nice."

And that was how Laxus ended up then, at the restaurant, with Mirajane telling lame jokes. She seemed to be trying to break the ice with him or something, but he wasn't up for it, apparently.

"I just think that the joke was funnier the way I told it."

"Mirajane," he groaned. "You didn't tell you a joke. You mangled a joke."

"That's a really rude thing to say, dragon."

"How? You did. You ruined the joke."

"I made it funnier, the way I see it. I mean, why would a horse have a long face?"

"Why would he have a wide one?" He growled. "You're really grating on me, you know that?"

But Mira only giggled then, smiling across the table at him. After that, she said, "See, Lax? This is real nice, isn't it? Going out somewhere."

He only settled into his chair, looking around. No one was even paying him any mind. Which was, before, would get on his nerves (everyone should be awe struck by his greatness), but as it was then, was a good thing. It made him feel more comfortable, at least.

Maybe going out had been a good idea. Perhaps even the best idea?

"Why do cows have hooves? In case their horns fall off!"

"Mira, I don't even get what the hell you're talking about," he growled. "Was that another joke? Stop telling me jokes."

"Laxus, I don't think you understand humor."

"And I've yet to see evidence of you understanding anything. At all. Ever. I mean, seriously."

She only beamed across the table at him. "Awe. You take notice of me and my goings on now?"

Growl. Then, looking off, he said, "Just enjoy dinner, demon. You don't break the bank too much, well, maybe I'll even get you some dessert too."

"Really?"

Nodding, he added, "But no more jokes."

"Um…one more."

"Mira-"

"What did six say to seven?"

"We're not doing this."

Oh, but they were. And when Mirajane began to explain to him why the joke had nothing to do with the number eight being a play on the word ate or that she hadn't set it up wrong (again), Laxus could only sit there and listen with a void face and only half listen.

Of all the people in Earth Land to be sent with him, how was it that he'd ended up with the zaniest of them all? Honestly?

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