As common the guild is loud with conversation, although while that part remains normality, they do all seem rather fixated on one thing- one topic. A wrinkled paper is grasped by almost everyone in the hall, too large to be a common job or even a letter. Naturally it draws my attention, fingers already twitching along with my eye at my lack of knowledge. Its annoyance though, and I can easily wedge that back behind my own curiosity and ignore the sensation it brings. I can simply ask Mira about it, she always knows something. Still, glancing around the room, the obvious figure of my… boyfriend -the word is ill fitting, not wrong in describing what he is to me, but it doesn’t sit right to think it, creeping denial of my own sexuality still lingering absently around in my head, flicking itself on in the worst moments, even with the simplest of things, such as a common word.- 

Natsu is exuberant, not bouncing up and down as some would, but he might as well be; his cheeks are stretched to accommodate his too wide grin- making them an adorable flushed red. One foot is on the table the other on the bench, a fist held high, the sound of his very small giggle reaches my ears. With the way the tiny blue haired girl and Black Steal turn to glance in surprise, only dragonslayer hearing picked up on the slight sound- Gajeel smirked in amusement, and that drew my attention. The twitch at my eye returns, though I cannot see his eyes roaming, checking Natsu out.-. I roll my eyes instead of continuing to watch for something that isn’t happening, at the iron dragon but mostly at my own ridiculous emotions. I don’t know the reason for the plain happiness present in my- whatever he is eyes, but I doubt eavesdropping would solve the mystery; as him and Grey would probably start a match in the next few minutes. I walk to the small bar instead, to see the smallest and most innocent Struss working the counter makes a scoff come through me, even though I imagine its rude in some way. Lisanna either pretends not to notice, or didn’t, as she just brightly smiles as she always has, wiping her hands on an obviously wet dish cloth. 

“Good morning Laxus, want something easy?” For the first time in a long while, I find myself actually grunting out an affirmative rather then brushing away the question and getting a meed. I sit on the stool, though it is irritating, the thing is too damn small, I can alivate the irratation by leaning on the counter with almost my entire weight on my arm, waiting placidly, though once again I find my eyes straying to the clash of a barrel as the rivals begin to westle on the ground. As predicted, the clank of my drink makes me turn away to face the too sweet girl- woman. Her sickeningly sweet smile on in full force, her eyes are closed and everything as she putts both her elbows on the counter, leaning over and putting her face in her hands. Its dauntingly easy to tell that she is planning something. Sipping at my drink, waiting for the imposing question to drop, and probably ignore it. “So Laxus- what type of girl do you like?” I choke, I had expected a grotesquely personal question, one that delved into secrets and topics I had no want to brooch. Not a sudden curiosity for my ‘type,’ of woman, she being blatantly attempting to figure out my tastes for some form of matchmaking scheme. My eyes narrow, I am certain that Mirajane held an influence over her sister asking the question, though I can’t be surprised, I know for fact that Lisanna has always been grossly romantically oriented, near obsessively focused on the possibility of falling deeply into an inescapable love. Even if her more intimidating sister had a hand, the question was bound to pop out regardless. 

“A type.” As bland as I can make it, its amusing to see her frown form and a glare form- its so illplaced on her features it holds absolutely no weight. She hadn’t Mira’s ability to actually glower down at someone with intemidation fully turned on. Although, I cannot speak from experience really, as I’m not frightened of the woman and never have been; with how everyone else responds its plain that she can. Lisanna is a sprout in comparison to her sister, so is Elfmen, neither of them are quite as adapt. So watching the pouting girl across from me clench her fingers and attempt to stare me down is funny, least in comparison to Mira whom just makes me exasperated with the attempt.

“Oh c’mon!” I could’ve spoken a small truth, just to placate her, a little fact about the type of woman I’d always seemed to fuck, like the fact I only really banged short haired girls, or that they were always short. She would’ve taken that tidbit of information and started conspiring with her elder sibling in the corner with devious little smirks. I had no want to deal with their annoying ‘matches’ either, especially now that I am in a relationship; the thought of random women coming forth with tepid smiles, and breasts practically spilling out of whatever top they might wear, only makes me annoyed now. Perhaps I could simply say I am seeing someone, but that would be mute because I would only calm the storm for a moment, maybe a day before both she and the demonic mage would come forth in demands of just who she is. Erza could be pulled in as well. 

“I don’t need a matchmaker.” Her face evens out so she almost seems stoic, plain faced and blinking at me. It does nothing to shift my mind, its an odd expression on her because she’s a very lively person and has been- if a bit more shy in the past. I feel no ounce of guilt or effect as she stares at me, maybe its because I’m an asshole and I just don’t care, but it might be because of something else, and I know that well enough; its not as if I’ve been affected by a glare since I was five anyhow. So knowing she’s annoyed at me and staring through the back of my head for my rude lack of responce, for ignoring her in general, I can’t find the care anywhere to brandish. 

Theres complete silence at the bar, least until the Old Man decided to pop up onto the counter, obviously evaluating my feignment of ignorance as I’m stared down by the white haired woman across. His eyebrow is raised in curiosity, with crossed arms and a slight frown, still he says nothing on the matter. Instead he sighs “Lisanna can you leave us be please, I need to talk to my grandson alone.” For just a second she hesitates and manages to send a sharp -ridiculous- glare to me before her nomal express melts right back onto her face as if it had never changed, once again a large natural smile blossomed on her face with sparkling blue eyes -personally I find Natsu’s star capturing iris far more appealing.- Lisanna walks away with a gentle sway of her hips, no indication of her little matchoff against me. I do not understand her, though I do now more then I did; her gentile pacifistic nature goes against my ‘education.’ 

“Laxus.” My eyes turn automatically to his sharp tone- one that I recognize made only for a serious discussion. “Have you been taking your medication?” Therein, I roll my eyes, it should have been predictable, after all he has always hovered over me with the topic, staring down at my actions -or lack thereof, with hawkeye vision. “Don’t roll your eyes young man, you’re very pale today and your hand is shaking.” Was I? I hadn’t looked in the mirror, though I doubt I would have been able to tell in the same way he would, however, looking down at my hand on the counter, yes it is shaking little twitches coming from each finger seemingly sporadic and randomized. Honestly, it surprises me to see, I had been more twitchy yes, but that was because of Natsu each time, not my illness. I haven’t had an issue for many continuous years, thus it was strange to witness once again, moreso to not be able to stop it even as I lift it away from the surface and twist my hand in each direction to stare- nothing looks different, but I should have no expectations there will be, its not as if it ever was.

“I have.” It spills out my mouth in a mutter because I don’t understand how I can be having tremors, when no symptoms have occured since I was thirteen. Each second discomfort at the sight of my hand clenchs pressure down on my chest, and my throat tightens slightly. That should hold no attention, it is only natural that I feel a minor amount of fear at the fact. 

However, alarm comes swiftly afterwards as the strong urge to vomit rises fast in my throat, liquid so obvious in my esphogus. Panic takes place and all I wish is to plant my feet down and run as fast as plausible away from my own body, because I know what’s coming. My hands both clench into violent cramps, and I can barely feel the pieces of glass in my palm as my mug bursts. My other hand slamming down violently down on the surface beside grasping for attention, body lurching forward, as my vision begins to blur, doubles of everything shifting away from normal perception. Coppery tang filling my mouth so fast I don’t understand how long its been there, blood is in my mouth and choking me, but in mild, in strange luck it bursts out from my lips. Then suddenly, as if in mocking, the whole sensation of violent cramping and pressure on my lungs eases, sight returning to normal. Hearing coming back as I can acknowledge my grandfather trying to gain my focus, near yelling, I can feel his hands, small fingers digging into the flesh of my bicep attempting to keep me upright. 

A minute, sixty seconds, and I sit panting each breath a rasp scraping at my throat, my lungs hardly taking in air. I can feel all the fabric of my clothing against my skin as my nerves flare in sensitivity, my body is trembling even as I force myself to sit up. Everything slowly coming into focus, I can once again see the flaws in the wood of the floor. I turn to look at my grandfather whose piercing fingers are digging too far into my skin, catching sight of him is basically as expected, still the tears brimming at his red rimmed eyes, it stings to see having known the man to be such a figure of control and happiness in my life. 

“Laxus, are you- better?” With my shaking slowing I manage a nod, with the sudden clenching sickness gone, coming with blaze to replace it is shock and more mildly, fear; I hadn’t had such a fit in ten years, I nye forgot how they feel, moreof- I can’t understand how it would have happened now. A glass bottle of green-blue liquid is then shoved in front of me, to the side a thin-lipped Macou standing silent with a dim express. I suppress the urge to sigh at the action, and take the bottle instead, the overly sweet taste so disgusting I have to make my hand stay still as I shoot it down. It was routine, and I’m familiar enough with it all that I automatically grasp the napkin I know my grandfather is holding out without even glancing at the man. Wincing again as I put the bottle down and wipe away the blood still dripping down my chin, the sight of red on white drawing my eyes because I hadn’t thought I’d once again see it. Crumpled in my hand as another tremor shoots through, but its not as if I wasn’t going to crush it willingly anyway, so the timing is fitting. Naturally, I look back to my grandpa standing quiet on the counter, the stare he’s giving me, analytical. I know it, he does it too much for me not to. “Get yourself to Polyusca,” I groan, I was expecting it, but I still groan. “Don’t even try it boy, get yourself there now.” Attempting to force a stubborn response would be mute and pretty idiotic, so I sway as I stand and sadly am surprised at the fact that I don’t have to slow my pace at all as I walk- I’m too adapt to the jolts of pain.

Pink catches at my cornea, drawing my attention fast. Natsu standing silent along with all of the hall, his fists uncoiled one moment the next his nails are digging into his palm. He’s staring at me with his wide eyes, and they’re glittering under the light as they always do, what gives me a pause is the fragile smile he maintains looking direct into my eyes, and there once again I see it- the vague glimmer of wetness on his cheek, difficult to see, near invisible. Its wrong to see, because I know Natsu doesn't cry, and in my emotional cowardice I close my eyes to the sight before ducking out the too small door.