I have two, two words congealing inside my head, beating around like little arrows striking into an emotion tree. Though my emotions are more fragile as it stands, more intense then I can be comfortable with, more impeding, like a river grown too big swamping the shore. My mind is not adapt to it, I am not adapt to it, and thus my impulses are not either, the tears on my face are reflective of confusion, they burn against the bruised skin of my cheeks and drip into the soil with a silent splash. I am angry, it is the most prominent of the two feelings warring, it is at least comprehensible. I am ablaze with both thoughts of revenge- punching the man in the face and screaming at him my thoughts in that moment, and laying my frustrations out on a separate object, nothing I can name, but my fists want for violence as does the fire in my veins; thus the first word piercing my mind is: bastard, true to the sensations.

The second word correlating to my feelings, I cannot really understand with my meager knowledge of emotional inclinations; it seems to contradict rationality, fight against all my anger, and add a softness to my thoughts which I have never truly experienced. It is a lesser -but nonetheless upheaving- feeling, of abandonment, it swarms in my chest as if an armored boot was pressing down upon my ribs, and my heart. The word befitting to it: Tattoo. Abstractly, it makes a type of sense to me; linked to a memory I no longer allow myself to plague my thoughts with. Though no one else in the guild- probably no one else at all, would understand. The sentence clings to me as Grey's cold ice never could: "They're important, get it through your thick skull and don't fucking forget; a tattoo is permanent. Don't get one on a stupid little dare, you idiot, you should get one when you love something." I punch hard into the tree at the remembrance, it doesn't budge, though the leafs shift a fraction. I punch again, they don't follow, the bark seems harder by some divine power and my knuckles ache as I continue with an assault that does nothing. They bruise and then, they begin to seep small circles of blood. The words are still echoing in my head as if magick I cannot control nor dissipate.

Bastard.

Tattoo.

Yet even as I let my first emotion batter against the defenseless wood, the second one gains in the useless action, it grows. My heart seems to pound, more heavy, in my chest. I cannot say I comprehend emotion, I have never understood how they come alive within a person and then all their actions seem to follow along, but that does not steam from me not having them; I get, I feel, and I know emotions, they wrap around me and strangle me in intensity most all the time.As they do now, and that thought, that word 'tattoo' seems to have taken all precedence over the previously louder echoing 'bastard.' And it adds on its correlating memory to my thoughts; 'A tattoo is permanent.' I can get that they are permanent, I have a tattoo, but no one really knows about it. I have kept it well hidden under my vest, for several years, untarnished by judgment, and it is often ignored by myself, but it is there and I know it.

The tattoo is engrained deeply into the skin of my chest, into muscle. Actually, its a name, resting on my heart and sometimes it stings like hell: Laxus.

~0~

The hall barely changes, not by any accountable factor really, but my mind finds it odd; like a twitch within my brain telling me it was unusually quiet. Everyone talked as usual, Mira still stood at the bar with a contented smile- as usual, Master sat on the bar sucking down a drink as usual- although he did stare into it with furrowed brows and a small scowl which was different then normal; but I had actually expected him to be affected. Still the itch in my head did not subside, granted it could be the simple fact that I am not typically an observant person and I could not see anything strange because I could not see most twisted oddities around me. I stood almost within the center of the still rather new guild-hall, and looking around with a serious express did have some of the guild stare at me momentarily before going once again to their conversations, not too apprehensive when I acted a little more peculiar- I was already unique to most familiar members anyway. My chest hurt as my tattoo stung at the tender muscles of my- torso for a second of discomfort. I forced it to leave my thoughts though, ignoring it as normal. I let the building sigh leave -I don't usually sigh- not finding the source of my mild itch was annoying. The air was different however, I decided, not the smell; the smell of booze, sweat and the occasional waft of perfume or cologne hadn't changed from what it normally was.

As I sat down, rather comfortable with the hard wood bench aching my muscles, I got a smile and a wave from Lucy- she was eating something, clearly enjoying the taste for she was taking large mouthfuls at a time. Erza was almost smirking at her as she sat calmly at the other side of the table, then again Lucy was eating a cake, I could only assume that Erza had managed to convince the blonde from her diet and try the sugary treat. Grey was stripping not for away from me but no one bothered to make a comment as no one was really paying any attention. Elfman, at another table was arm wrestling with a poor shaking man I could not recognize. Cana was drinking a beer -her third of the day, judging by the other glass bottles beside her lean figure- talking to a laughing Makaou and a smoking, smirking, and nodding Wakaba. Juvia was leaning on the bar dreamily watching with hearts in her eyes and crossed legs as Grey continued to obliviously remove his clothes. Levi was reading a book while somehow talking with Jet and Droy. Gajeel was munching on something metal while glaring at the wall as if it had done an injuidice, thinking a dower thought, I assume. It was all normal.

Yet my mind screamed it was not, there was a wrong within the hall, both large to me and small to others. It was nagging at my mind as I looked once more from my seat. Happy was munching contently on a fish. Lisanna was happily talking with another girl. Alzack was laughing with Bisca. Nothing strange stood out, everyone was normal and the guild was relaxed. I scowled, I could not find any reason to be disconcerted, my fingers curled on the table and I could feel how wet they were with sweat- that which I hadn't felt while looking. It was by chance that as my eyes drew away from the gun-woman's green hair, that they landed on the upper level of the hall, silent, and vacant: There was no lounging man up there sipping a casual glass of some alcohol, occasionally pulling out a cigar while listening to an unknown metal band:

There was no sitting man calmly staring down at the happy crowd milling about, a slight upturned quirk on his lips with gentle eyes and an elbow resting on the banister, chin in his hand. There was no man slouching over his table in a too small chair gazing at a job request with a twitching eye and a scowl in place as his lips moved slightly in a grumble even I couldn't hear. There was no man in a rumpled purple button up shirt and taught leather pants walking stoic down the stairs with his coat flowing behind him, then casually ordering a beer from the bar. There was no man with crossed arms, a macho expression on his face, while blankly staring at gramps after the man had made a horrible pun that no one laughed at. There was no man chuckling in mild mockery as he denied my demand for a fight once again. There was no man attempting to hide the fact that he was singing along to an old song the guild occasionally put on, badly, as his headphones were always around his neck. And there was no man calmly staring at me after I'd just brawled with someone in the hall.

That's what had been missing, and I twizzled around to scowl and glare at the innocent table; it had not been the smell that was different, it hadn't been the atmosphere, it had been the presence I felt surrounding me. No one else noticed because no one else cared, or had been so intensely focused on his presence. Once again I felt my hands clench into fists as anger rose in my chest at such a revelation, just acknowledging the simple fact that no one else seemed to care that such a long standing member, someone who had been with the guild for literally all his life, had left. Quickly however, it dissipated and I couldn't feel it anymore, I did understand their uncaring attitude after all, he'd attacked all of us and put us in a shit positon, fighting each other. Still, disappointment came to me just as fast, even if he had been horrible, even if the whole situation had been horrible, he had been a man whom everyone knew- reliable at least- he had always helped when anyone needed a hand with something small, even if it was begrudgingly, he did. I had to question if anyone cared that he was gone, the atmosphere was too normal to be dampered by his absence and that too was beginning to bug me.

I let myself stand, quickly and suddenly because I hadn't known I was going to. I didn't acknowledge myself as I whispered I was leaving before I was walking through the doors with a sour expression and shaking fists at my sides.

~0~

I could not find the will to care as Grey rose from our mock fight in victory, smirking all the while and making some insult I could not hear because I was ignoring him. Again, my emotions had begun to bug me, my tattoo burned in my chest and I was trying feverishly to pretend I couldn't feel a thing, no one else noticed of course but the need to push it away was strong. Earlier in the day Lucy had been tilted onto me, onto my lap with an accidental bump and a loss of balance. Her back had hit my legs first as her squeak of shock and slight indignance sounded, I'd watched her boobs jiggle as she'd landed after a moment, her cheeks had been flushed red and she was staring at me with wide brown eyes. It had been strange one moment, disgusting the next, I did not want her figure on me, she was too thin, too lean, too small, too curvy. My hands had flinched to push her -rather mean- off of me, but her expression had quickly twisted into a profound embarrassment and she had bolted off with a speed so great I wondered for a second if she could match up to Jet. Stuttering and muttering as she did so, her limbs twitching about and her hands twisting her shirt once she found a comfortable spot on the opposite side of the bench.

Obviously, she is beautiful, I know, and can see that for myself. But it had been disgusting, wrong to me. Because she just wasn't the right proportions to swarm over me, to be heavy in my lap with height and muscle, she couldn't hold me down in a challenge of strength, she couldn't tower over me in intimidation and the comforting feeling of protection. It had felt entirely wrong because she had curves and boobs so obvious to anyone who so much as glanced her way. Lucy Heartfiia is an attractive woman, but not to me. Now, as Grey wins, the more masculine visage truly had no different feeling, he too wasn't right, closer, but not right. It jarred at my head to know. Still, I stand up from the charred flooring, maybe it being childish for me to go without a word to him and grumbling in disappointment at my own small test failing, having wanted to disprove my own suspicion, yet being proved wrong.

The fight had been quick, insinuated by my own mindset of mildly rising irritation from my own want for denial. It had been for cdomprehension, I had the knowledge that my own preferences with the thought of sex stered entirely towards men; my test with Grey was to understand if a man like Fullbuster could fit my own presumed high standards of what type of man I preferred. Because previously, although I knew only men were interesting to the relationship side of my head; when the Ice-Make wizard stripped I had never been attracted to the sight, I had never felt interested in his muscles, nor the configuration of his body. I hadn't known why, I could not understand my disinterest, because even if the thought of being attracted to Grey disgusted me in general, he is a man, and I knew I am attracted to men, not women; after allI had been drawn to some typdes of men beforehand. The test had proved me correct, and I did not want to be proved correct. I sat down, still grumbling about the unfair truth, I did not want to know that only tall, muscular, domineering male bodies made my blood pump and my face flush, it is embaressing to know, to acknowledge. Though I suppose I must now, and I find myself breathing out a heavy sigh as my head falls into my elbows already resting on the counter.

Pride rests on what other people think of you, of how highly they regarded you, and then you fabricate an image of yourself; caring about what other people think. My mind coiled at that knowledge. I breath again through my nose this time, snorting, I had never cared about what people think of me. Of my brash, aggressive nature, of my burn everything attitude when fighting nor my exuberant personality. I had never cared before, so why should I care now? I lift my head from my arms, and look around me, I can feel the smile lift on my mouth with the sight of everyone calmly enjoying themselves in the comfortable atmosphere- though the lingering feeling of absence is still resting in my chest as my eyes stare around the room and do not find his- a presence.

~0~

My face flushed with him being so near me, it was instinctive, automatic heat rising in body with the mental acknowledgement that his stature mildly fit within my particular type of man. I was sitting at one of the tables not doing anything really important, talking with Lucy and occasionally laughing along with a stupid topic, when he approched, he wasn't mad I could tell that much, but his face was twisted in his normal frowning visage of ire and boredom. He towered above me with crossed arms flexing with larger muscle then mine, piercings down the bone, I could hear his heavy breathing as he glared down at me. Maybe my mind is entirely stupid, but it made me squirm with discomfort as I had felt the flushing attraction rising in my body, my eyes started to blink more with both my confusion of his presence and my interest of his larger figure. He was leaning down into my personal space, his face so close to mine, but my breathing was heavy as he did so and I could not find myself ready to take offense at the action. My own actions plagued me, because while I could accept now my taste in a particular type of man, it irked my mind to know that Gajeel- the destroyer of our precious guildhall, could still be on my minimal list.

I could see all his bold face piercings, their unique brave placement was impressive and attractive to me, his red eyes were near glowing and their intense exotic colour made me squrim. His breath was tickling my face and for a moment I thought he would lean closer and kiss me in a burst of passion, obviously I was wrong, as he simply scowled, then with a grunt and nothing said he turned and left. It made me uncomfortable, my interest in him, the burst of lust that had risen within my body. No one had noticed my flushing cheeks or shifting thighs in a small attempt to calm myself from arousal, no one had said anything and no one had stared at me afterward with anything other then confusion for my lack of bursting anger and aggressive challenge to fight.

The other dragonslayer did not see it, so I could ignore that it had happened at all. Yet, the thought found me afterwards, rather small but still there; Gajeel was tall, but not tall enough, he was domineering, but not enough, he was familiar, but not comforting in nature, he was teasting, but not mocking or arrogant enough, and his eyes were not the colour of a burning dusk. My head beats against its own revelation, and I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, too harshly to be considered wise. I knew the iron man was attractive, actually fitting into my particular standards, and he was, I could feel the heat in my face and tingle in my crotch because of his demeanor. Still, just like Grey, he was not right, he was not quite right in figure, even his demeanor which I did find appealing; was not enough. And I still could not understand why that was, for although it pained me to admit, because he was the same man who I fought with on a daily bases, the same one who had beaten and shackled Team Shadow Gear to a tree with seeping wounds and entirely knocked out, the same one who had driven my guildhall to a crumble; I did find him appealing, but still there was an itch that he is not right.

I could vaguely understand that Erza was sitting down nearby, the flame of her hair was so obvious beside my vision, even if I didn't stare directly at her figure, I could easily tell. She swiftly edged onto the bench, saying something vague that I didn't let myself hear for the distraction of my own mind. Groaning, I feel the sigh rising for my current mentality, yet push it down with the others so nearby to listen, to question my actions. Already, I am acting strange with my behavior and more placid reactions to everything I might have usually fought against or yelled at. I almost bite at my lip while trapped in my thoughts, considering for the first time if maybe I should -at least attempt- to find a boyfriend, because doing so might ease my confusion and help me to focus- that is if I can, with the way my mind ignores almost every man I come in contact with, it sounds like a rather impossible task. Though I could attempt to find a suitable man: The thought makes the tattoo in my chest sting in protest.

Then the thought comes to my mind, blazing fast and thus entirely unexpected, disjointed from what I had been thinking: What if Laxus never returned to the guild? It sat in my thoughts, heavily, though I couldn't understand why it would. Really, I had automatically assumed he would come back, it was a given wasn't it? After all I don't think gramps could fully banish him without the action constantly pulling at his thoughts. Yet, that assumption could and maybe was, completely wrong, and I had let the thought be because ignoring the possibility had given me a strange peace of mind, I just didn't worry about it, the concept never struck me as plausible. I stared at the table, blankly, processing that consideration as it hit me full force. The tattoo in my chest hurt again, forceful this time and aching, like it was attempting to crawl out of my insides and make its debut to the world. Before, I had brushed off the absence, the stinging loneliness I felt at knowing an old friend wasn't around, because it hadn't been for long and my mind could pretend that he was simply on a more difficult quest and couldn't return sooner. But he might not ever come back, and his simple presence, comforting presence and familiarity would be just gone.

My tattoo twisted yet again, the understanding shocking me, and hurting somewhere deep in my subconscious. I had brushed off any hint towards the fact: My annoyance at the easy behavior of the guild hall still laughing together while a familiar, important, member of our family had gone. Grey, above me, dripping with sweat, abs on full display laughing at my loss, but not affecting me. Gajeel, attracting me, showcasing all the factors that lured me to a man, yet not quite fitting my fussy desires. It was revelation to understand, that all of my discomfort, all of my vague annoyance, was caused by the fact that Laxus wasn't around, by the fact that I was really only attracted to him and his arrogant, smug, stoic, attitude.

I had ignored the understanding previously, swiping away the feelings of the tattoo in my chest before I could really process what they were clearly telling me; pure unintentional, oblivious, denial. Of the fact that I am in love with Laxus; and I had lost my chance to tell him that.