Chapter Twelve

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Gajeel stared down at Levy's number lit up on his phone as it rang. He let it go to voicemail. He couldn't bring himself to face the questions she would ask. He wasn't even sure if How are you? was too great a challenge.

He forced himself to slide the phone back into his pocket and return to the task at hand, fixing the polish on one of his many swords. It was tedious work, but it gave him something to do, to distract him from reality.

Pantherlily mewed at Gajeel's feet. Gajeel hardly had the energy to tell him to shut up, so he didn't. Instead, he leaned over and scratched the cat behind the ear. The phone rang, and Gajeel ignored it. He reached for a bottle of cheap liquor and got back to work.


The sound of applause made Gajeel want to punch a cement wall. Listening to it was giving him a headache. It was his last performance of the night, and he just wanted to get some sleep. As he walked toward the tent's back exit, an audience-member grabbed his arm.

"I don't sign autographs," he grumbled without turning to look at the fan.

The crowd-member let go, laughing. Gajeel turned to see a blond guy that seemed to think this was the funniest thing ever.

"I don't want your autograph," he said, composing himself. "I just have a question. If you made the swords glow, could you see through your throat?"

Gajeel felt his eyes widen. "I dunno, kid. Thanks for watchin'. Bye," he managed,making his way out of the tent as quickly as he could. He dialed Levy's number in maybe four seconds. He was about to hit call when he realized. He turned off his phone and slid it into his pocket. For a moment, he'd forgotten that he hadn't answered any of Levy's calls since he walked out on her because she asked some questions he didn't want to answer. He could have avoided all of this if he'd just had the guts to tell her about Metalicana. He was a coward, and if he wanted to change that, he'd have to do something about it.

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