This story belongs to -hypothetically - peachykeen
There are nights that are bad for her too.
They’re fewer, farther between Gray’s bad days, but they still manage to somehow creep past her defenses. Explosive, unpredictable little bouts.
She’s grateful to have Gray around. They practically live together (again, she almost adds, but catches herself before that thought is ever complete.); Juvia stays over at Gray’s apartment more than her own.
At first, it happened upon her insistence. She was convinced that Gray needed her when things got bad for him, when his walls would inevitably start to crumble under the pressure of his mind, but really it must have been the opposite.
Yes, Gray needs healing, but Juvia’s surprised to find that she’s the one who is broken.
Sometimes, it happens in the dead of night. Flashes of death burn the back of her eyelids, taunts echo in her ears, buzzing dully in her mind until she’s left crying and ready to pull her hair out. Other times, it happens while she’s busy, whether she’s pouring a cup of tea or flicking through some late-night television. She’ll feel a prod in her chest, the clenching of her heart, and suddenly the walls are closing in on her, the shadows growing darker, and she’s alone. All alone.
And then Gray is there. He’s there, his hands over hers as he untangles them from her blue locks and holds her in his arms, whispering sweet reassurances in her ear until the only thing she can hear is his voice.
He’s there, rubbing circles on her back before scooping her from the couch and carrying her to her room while she ruins one of his only good shirts with her tears.
He’s there, mopping spilled tea from the kitchen floor, apologizing for the invisible scars he left her with when he wasn’t there, picking up the shattered pieces of the mug, picking up shattered pieces of her.
Gray’s always there.
Except one time when he’s not.
It’s a much scarier place, a much scarier timeline. Juvia watches the scene play out in slow motion. His life taken in place of hers.
The last thing she feels are his hands pushing against her abdomen, forcing her out of harm’s way as if she’s the one who deserves to live. She’s the one who should be bleeding out right now, not him. Never him.
But fate is a cruel mistress, and Juvia can only stare in wordless horror at the sight before her. He’s falling - Gray is falling - and she can’t do a goddamned thing about it. His body hits the ground with a thump, only inches away from where she kneels.
The last thing she feels are his hands pushing against her abdomen, forcing her out of harm’s way as if she’s the one who deserves to live. She’s the one who should be bleeding out right now, not him. Never him.
But fate is a cruel mistress, and Juvia can only stare in wordless horror at the sight before her. He’s falling - Gray is falling - and she can’t do a goddamned thing about it. His body hits the ground with a thump, only inches away from where she kneels.
And there’s blood everywhere, the sharp stench of gore rising from his fatal wounds. Gray is stained red. The grass is stained red. Everything is red and sticky and wet and soaked with death. Numbly, Juvia feels it on her palms, seeping through the spaces between her fingers. Terror seizes her.
Her eyes drift to Gray and her bloody fingers itch and she forgets how to breathe and her heart drops to her stomach and-
She wakes up screaming, crying, and flinging bed sheets around her. It takes only a moment to recognize the surrounding darkness, processing the familiar shapes of her bedroom. It was a dream. A nightmare.
But the realization offers no comfort. Juvia’s hands are sticky with the sensation of blood, and her stomach churns at the thought that she had caused such a dreadful thing to happen.
Her breathing pauses. She’s going to be sick.
Hurriedly, Juvia throws off the crumpled remains of her sheets and slips out of bed. She flees to the bathroom on wobbly legs, lurching toward the toilet as soon as she steps through the door and emptying the contents of her stomach into the bowl for what seems like an eternity.
“Juvia?” he knocks on the open door. “What’s wrong?”
Juvia grips the sides of the toilet bowl harder, head bent so her hair blocks her peripheral vision. She swallows a lump in her throat, her heart lifting slightly at the sound of his gruff, sleepy voice because he’s alive. Of course he’s alive.
Shaking, she hauls herself to her feet. She takes a deep breath, stepping forward slowly, carefully. “Juvia is... She is...”
Good. Great. Fine. She wants to answer, but the words stay lodged in her throat when she finally peers up at him through her bangs. He’s standing not two feet in front of her, tired and shirtless, tight-lipped and eyebrows creased, looking more than a little concerned for her.
Her heart jumps in her chest. Every fiber of her being pulses with a newfound adrenaline, urging her to leap forward and hug her precious Gray-sama, cherish every moment that he’s with her. She almost steps forward, almost extends out to touch him, but she stops midway. A trail of cold sweat runs down Juvia’s back.
She’s afraid. Afraid of hurting him. Afraid that the lightest touch will smash her reality into that of her nightmare.
So Juvia pulls away.
And Gray reaches forward.
His hand touches hers, fingertips barely brushing her skin, waiting for some kind of permission to continue. He knows something is wrong. Juvia’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t shrink away, and Gray finishes his movement by tightening his hand around hers.
He gives her a tug, easing and gentle. “Come on,” he says, and he leads her slowly through the halls, walking past her room and heading to his.
Once they’re in his room, Gray motions for her to lie on his bed, dropping her hand as she chooses instead to sit at the edge. He hesitates for a moment; Juvia can tell he’s considering what the do next by the anxious curling of his toes.
“I’ll go get you some water.” he offers. Juvia nods.
She knows that, in addition to fetching her a drink, Gray’s also going to clean up the mess she made in the bathroom. Maybe he’ll even pop into her room and remake the covers of the bed.
The worst part: he’s not even doing it for his sake. It’s for Juvia, because Gray knows that she can’t stand a messy house, which makes her feel even more terrible. She’s being a bother, making him clean her mess, making him stay up with her, making him live with her. Juvia doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment.
“Here.”
A glass appears in front of her eyes, and Juvia flinches before realizing that Gray is in front of her, holding out the cup of water. Nodding gratefully, she accepts it with both hands and takes a tentative sip, unsure if her stomach can handle any kind of substance right now.
“Thank you,” Juvia manages, her voice cracking. Tears begin to well in her eyes again, obscuring her vision as she tries to blink them away. If Gray notices them, he doesn’t call her out on it. Not yet, anyway.
“Thank you,” Juvia manages, her voice cracking. Tears begin to well in her eyes again, obscuring her vision as she tries to blink them away. If Gray notices them, he doesn’t call her out on it. Not yet, anyway.
“So, are you ready to talk yet or...” Gray trails off, leaving her to fill in the answer. Juvia sniffles loudly and she brings the cup to her lips in an attempt to mask the sob building in her throat. She shakes her head quickly.
Gray sighs. He squats down to her level, and something changes in his expression when his eyes meet hers.
“Juvia,” he says, quiet and soft, the simple sound of her name leaving his lips.
This time, Juvia can’t bite back the sobs. She drops the cup she’s holding as her body trembles. The glass breaks, and so does Juvia.
“Juvia doesn’t deserve to love Gray-sama!”
The dam finally bursts with her declaration, months of internal struggle pouring from her mouth in a single phrase. Juvia covers her face with her hands, ashamed, gasping and wailing pathetically.
She can’t bear to see Gray’s reaction. He probably agrees with her. He’s probably been waiting for her to say that. He’ll probably kick her out after tonight and ask to never see her again.
“Juvia, what are you talking about?” Gray asks, sounding incredulous, perhaps even a bit angry.
Juvia runs her hands down her cheeks, hiccupping, trying to control her crying so she could formulate a sentence. “J-Juvia means it! Juvia always hurts Gray-sama! She killed Gray-sama’s father, and she’s just very clingy and annoying sometimes, she knows! And now- and now Juvia even killed Gray-sama!”
She starts bawling again. Juvia doesn’t expect Gray to understand her; she barely makes sense to herself, but some kind of weight lifts from her shoulders now that she’s said everything out loud. It’s finally all out in the open, vulnerable to scorn and judgment.
Suddenly, something cold touches her flushed cheeks, and Juvia’s eyes snap open in shock. Her gaze travels from the hands cradling either side of her face to meet Gray’s. His bangs shield his eyes; Juvia can’t place his expression.
“Don’t you ever say that again.” Gray grits out, his grip tightening, not painfully, but enough to keep her from moving. “You don’t deserve to love me? Bullshit. You know damn well that you deserve to love people worlds greater than I’ll ever be. You have every single right to love me, or anyone for that matter!”
Juvia’s lower lip quivers. She wants to believe him, she really does.
“Gray-sama doesn’t understand. Juvia is a terrible person! She was the one who got Gray-sama killed! In her dream, Gray-sama...he...” Juvia cuts herself off, unable to recall the events of her nightmare. She squeezes her eyes shut, squinting tears from her wet eyelashes.
Gray’s hold loosen, his thumbs tenderly wiping away the tear trails from her cheeks. With one hand, he brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. Juvia bites her lip.
“Open your eyes.” Gray commands, kinder, anger dissipating as he strokes her skin. Juvia swallows thickly and obeys. When she cracks one eye open, Gray is much closer than before, and she can’t help but stare at him, handsomely shrouded in the darkness, but close enough for her to make out his features: the shine in his eyes, the curve of his nose, the hollows of his cheeks, and the slight tilt of his lips.
“What do you see?” he asks. They’re both breathing softly, sharing the same space, the same air.
Juvia blinks, confused. There is only one thing she sees, obviously. “Juvia sees Gray-sama,” she responds, timid and unsure.
Gray’s smile widens a little more at her answer, and he nods appreciatively.
“exactly.” he says. “i’m right here with you. alive and breathing. and i’m not going to leave anytime soon. i promise.”
Juvia gasps, the sound barely audible even in the silence, and she suddenly feels light, weightless with a sense of comfort. Perhaps she hadn’t been entirely aware of it - restless anxiety clouded what must have been common sense - but she feels like she’s been waiting forever for Gray to say that to her. It’s a type of closure, sweeping away her doubts and fears of being lonely or abandoned.
Her cheeks redden in color. She swallows thickly, soaking up the moment, memorizing each detail so she’ll never be able to forget. Gray’s words take their time sinking in, mending her insecurities, marking the beginning of a long healing process with gentle touches and soothing promises.
Slowly, Gray’s hands leave her face, moving down to intertwine his fingers with hers. Gray doesn’t speak and neither does Juvia.
He inhales suddenly, loud in the quietness that’s settled around them, and Juvia startles for a fraction of a second, to which Gray only holds her hands tighter. He doesn’t look at her.
“Hey, Juvia?” Gray mumbles. “Stay by my side, okay?”
Juvia’s breath catches in her throat, and she swears that her heart stops beating for a moment. She looks into his eyes, searching for any trace of deception or malice. But she already knows that Gray would never lie to her. Not now. Not anymore.
A shiver runs down her spine, and she feels her lips curve upward into a small grin.
“Yes, Gray-sama,” she breathes, giving his hand a squeeze. There’s a moment where they simply sit there, smiling faintly at each other through the dimness before Gray lets out a breathy chuckle and returns the gesture.
There are nights that are bad for her, too, but Gray always makes sure she gets through them.
“Yes, Gray-sama,” she breathes, giving his hand a squeeze. There’s a moment where they simply sit there, smiling faintly at each other through the dimness before Gray lets out a breathy chuckle and returns the gesture.
There are nights that are bad for her, too, but Gray always makes sure she gets through them.
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This story is credited to hypothetically-peachyness
Bye!-