Thunder Rolls

Thunderstorms

Fraxus Week 2015, Day 2

Freed had perched in a sitting nook by the window to watch a thunderstorm. It was late; he wasn't sure of the time. He stopped frantically checking the clock after 2AM rolled around. His mind was blank as he watched lightning striking in the distance.

He saw the large man stumbling up the road. He swayed on his feet, held onto a light post that cast him in an amber glow reflecting off sidewalk puddles, and then he continued. Freed rose silently. Maybe two hours ago he was livid enough to have shouted about how worried he was that Laxus did not return home when he said he would. Maybe four hours ago he could have forgiven him for being a little late. Five hours ago, he had hoped that Laxus would come home and smile at him in thanks for making him dinner. Now dinner was stored away, cold and stale, and Freed was too emotionally drained to be angry anymore.

It was not his place to scold Laxus. These feelings deep inside could never come out again. He had confessed, he was slammed down, and he was given an ultimatum: Don't let this interfere with work and the team, and they could still be friends; Freed could still watch over Laxus' house and be by his side.

At the time, he was just glad. He knew confessing was fraught with dangers. It was why he held back for so many years. He had hoped that by now ... but no. You couldn't change a person's sexual orientation just by wishing hard enough.

Freed opened the door so Laxus did not have to fumble with his keys. He wordlessly pulled off the drenched fur coat and hung it up to drip dry. Laxus reeked of booze and Cana's perfume. Freed pulled him forward, taking the weight as he silently guided the drunk Lightning Dragon Slayer over to the bedroom. Laxus collapsed into bed and made no effort to move again.

"Cana's a hell of a woman," he moaned.

Freed said nothing. He pulled off Laxus' shoes, undid his shirt and peeled the wet fabric away, and tugged his pants off, leaving Laxus in only his underwear. Freed noticed a few pink marks on Laxus' chest and neck. His stomach twisted, but he said nothing.

It hurt. It always hurt. Laxus was popular with the ladies. There was nothing he could do about it. His only choice was to leave the team, distance himself from his obsession, and that was something Freed just couldn't do. Laxus still needed him, and even if he could only admire from afar, that was enough for now. At least he could still be near Laxus. Even if it was just to pull off his drenched clothes and tuck him into bed after a night of drinking and sex, Freed told himself that he should feel honored that he was useful. He was still needed. Laxus would smile at him in the morning, thank him in his gruff way, and it would make Freed's heart soar with joy.

"You're awful quiet."

Freed glanced back around at the lump collapsed onto the mattress. "Why should I speak? You won't remember in the morning anyway."

"That's probably true," Laxus muttered. "Thanks to that damn lush, I'm shit-faced drunk. So say anything." He laughed with inebriation. "Go ahead, Freed. Say all the shit you've always wanted to say to my face. I bet there's a lot. Do everything you've wanted to do to me but didn't dare. I won't remember a goddamn thing. Free shot! Go ahead. Wanna see it. Hah! Say anything. Do anything."

Freed looked down in anguish. Why did he have to say things like that? He was drunk, but it still pained Freed.

He closed his eyes, feeling a volatile stir in all the emotions he normally kept bottled down. Rarely did he let them show. It was undignified, and especially in front of Laxus, he wanted to show that he was strong. Still, he was not heartless. He hurt. He yearned. Sometimes he cried himself to sleep, knowing Laxus would never be anything more than a friend. To be considered as Laxus' right-hand man should be a deep honor, yet Freed wanted more. He wanted to be by Laxus' side always. He wanted the chance to love him, and to get love in return. He felt guilty for wanting so much, for not being satisfied with such a distinction, yet he could not help it.