One Of The Boys

Old Days

"I kid you not."

Lucy shook her head. "Am I really that blind?"

"Apparently."

"Well, you could've come and said hello, dumbass!"

The boy shrugged. "I was too shy. Besides, Gray was with me, and if I'd come up to you he would've taken that as his cue to ask you on a date—which you don't want, by the way."

Lucy made a face. "Gray? Ask me on a date? Ha. That's funny."

Natsu nodded. "Oh no—he couldn't stop talking about you all day. He thinks your hot."

Her cheeks went a little red, but she ignored it. "I vaguely remember Gray being the one to tell me to quit dressing like a grandpa, so I'm gonna have to go ahead and not believe you."

The boy snorted. "Well, you don't dress like a grandpa now."

"Thanks to the fashion classes at the prep school."

Natsu made a face. "Fashion classes?"

"Yeah, it was a mandatory course. They had tons of stuff like that. Fashion classes, beauty classes, 'how to be a prim, proper and ladylike' classes. Things like that."

Natsu's eyes flickered around Lucy, looking at her hair and her dress and desperately trying to avoid her rather obvious cleavage (because he was a gentleman). "No wonder you're such a girly girl now."

In any other situation, she would've laughed the comment off—but coming from Natsu, that kind of meant something. It meant she'd been successful in achieving her goals—being seen as a girl in the eyes of her best friend! Success! And normally, she would've gracefully continued on the conversation.

But she'd hyped it up so much in her mind. She'd wanted to be girly to prove a point to the people here; she'd wanted to be girly to show them what they'd overlooked this entire time. And she'd done it. But now, sitting right in front of the boy that (unknowingly) broke her heart, she felt more nervous than ever.

All of those confidence classes she'd taken at the prep school, all of those courses about being dominant and in control and strong—they all went down the drain. At school today, they'd come in handy—all eyes had been on her, and she'd loved it. But now, talking to Natsu, she felt like she'd fucking travelled backwards in time.

She was just a little tomboy with a ponytail, looking through her eyelashes, cheeks red. And that annoyed her. It really annoyed her. She wanted to be strong and confident and in control. She wanted to be that elegant goddess she was in front of anyone else. But she wasn't, not with him, because he knew who she actually was. And it was annoying.

"Yeah," Lucy said, brushing it off. "Prep school kind of took over."

He gave her a polite smile. "I think you look nice."

"Why, thank you." Inside, she was dying. But she kept the mask up, gave him a charming smile, and continued on. "So, how have you been?"

Natsu told her about his year—he was prepping to try out for the provincial baseball team in a couple months, and see where that lead. They jabbered on about that for a while, falling into a comfortable rhythm, and for a while it almost felt like old times, where they chatted late into the night.

They talked through the cans for hours, until Lucy began to yawn; Natsu smiled at her, and with a sigh, told her to go to bed. She'd hesitated, saying no, she didn't need to, but nearly fell asleep mid-sentence a few seconds later. Natsu snorted at her, telling her to go to sleep. She reluctantly agreed, and they waved goodnight, and hung up their cans.

She'd smiled as she went to bed that night. They'd talked like they were best friends still, and that sort of meant the world to her. Sure, she'd left and went to prep school because he'd broken her heart and she'd felt she wasn't good enough for him and all of that, but she was glad he still wanted to be her friend upon her return. Lucy and Natsu...they just fit. They were meant to be together, as friends. They were soul mates. And she was overjoyed that he wasn't upset by how different she was or mad that she'd left—they were just like they'd always been. A little timid, but still best friends.

And Natsu had flopped into his bed, stuffing his face into his pillow, trying to hide his own grin.

Lucy was back. Different, but still his Lucy. He could live with the changes. He didn't care if she had makeup on or if her hair was long now. It didn't matter to him. His friend was back—his best friend, the only friend he'd really ever connected with.

He prayed silently that things would be the same as before, that nothing would change between them.

He'd fallen asleep a little while later, after eating supper with his father. But in the middle of the night, he was rudely awoken by a sound hissing out of the can on his window sill. He'd groaned, the sound surprising him; it had been so long since he'd heard it. He crawled to the can, putting it to his ear as he listened.

"Natsuuuuu," A whisper came from the can. "Wake up, dorkface. I can't sleep. Wake uuuuup."

Natsu laughed. "I'm here." His voice was deep and rough, groggy.

"Ack!" She'd cried, surprised. "Jesus—that scared me. You know I've been talking into this thing for like, a half hour, waiting for you to show up?"

"Really?"

"Yes. I can't sleep. Help."

Warmth spread through his muscles at the idea of Lucy being here, calling him in the middle of the night, needing his help. "Get a drink of water."

"Did that already."

"Watch a movie."

"Then I'll never sleep!" She cried. "Let's do something."

He thought for a second. "Wanna go to the baseball diamond?"

She made a face. "Natsu, this is hardly the time for sports."

"Not to play, dummy. To lay down in the middle and look at the stars, like we used to."

"Oh." Her voice was quiet. "Sure."

And so, they did. They walked the whole way to the diamond in their pyjamas—Natsu's sweats and t-shirt, and Lucy in her silk bottoms and delicate tank top—and laid down in the grass, sprawling out and looking at the stars.

They stayed there for a while, and everything felt...right. Like this was what they were supposed to be doing.

Lucy was glad she came back, and she was glad she had a friend like Natsu to come back to.

Natsu begged the universe to never take Lucy away from him again, because laying here with her and talking about stars and aliens and the universe meant more to him than any second playing ball with the boys. She was the best listener, the best person to talk to, and he never wanted to lose her again.

He thanks his lucky stars that he'd knocked on her front door that day so long ago.

And, without warning, they'd both fallen asleep there. Their faces smushed up against the grass, their legs touching just a hint, they blacked out, spending the night in the grass. Just like the old days.