▶┆Chapter eighty-seven [87]

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❝You were everything I ever wanted―and more than I could ever need.❞

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HAVE YOU EVER wondered about death? Thought about how inevitable it is―how people walk across a thinly drawn line, day by day. Isn't it crazy to imagine the fact that time is directly correlated to each person―one person may have tomorrow. This person could have hundreds, even a million tomorrows. Plenty of time to bask in; to live a complete and wholesome life. But what if you're the person who only has today? There is no tomorrow for you―all you're left with is today. 

That's the bitter truth; some of us only have today. Some people have so little time it slips past them like raindrops cascading to the ground. And some people have so much time they have the privilege of allowing it to glide between their pudgy fingertips like spare change.

Laxus wasn't dead; his body still moved, and his heart still hammered in his chest. Yet, he felt as if so much time had eroded away. The loss was weighing on his mind; weighing on his shoulders like an anvil. It pressed on him, reminding him of what he had failed to do―of what had exactly slipped through his fingers.

That was the thing. Laxus wasn't deceased. He hadn't lost everything yet, but it still felt as if he had. 

The blonde's fingers dug into his palms, marring the flesh that lied there. It was all he could do to prevent himself from bawling―or straight up vomiting. 

"She's..." Sting's eyes watered briefly, his blue orbs raw. "She's gone..."

The silence stretched across the bleak afternoon, blanketing the world like a sheet of snow. No one spoke; what was there to say? Their fatigued bodies stood there, feet sinking in the newly made mud with a sense of hopeless abandonment. Laxus could hear the harsh breaths of his companions, and could only presume everything they had done was in vain.

"No..." Natsu's shrill voice spoke, his lips quivering. "We couldn't have lost the trail...we were so close!" He cried, fruitlessly surveying the area again. Laxus couldn't bear to watch.

Even with dragon slayer senses, the trail had gone cold. Faded away, just like she had. Every last reminiscent of her had withered away, like footprints in the rain―and he couldn't bear it. 

As the seconds ticked by, he solemnly watched as Sting, Natsu, and Happy desperately combed the stretch of land again. Her scent faded here; it just stopped. She had vanished―and what was worse was being aware of her intentions. Being aware of what she intended to do...of just how far they had pushed her. Of how far Lila and Kaden had driven her.

'How could anyone wish to harm someone so kind, and oh so beautiful?'

His Lucy was gone. Just like a pretty flower plucked from a garden. Stunning, radiant, and here one second, and the next broken, wilted, and gone.

Death was the means to an end―Laxus was very well aware of this fact. But what Lucy had in store...what was brewing, he knew would be ultimately worse than death. He had always had Lucy's support―she was constantly aiding him, and had never been his enemy...never had she despised him so wholely before. Even when he was affected by the potion, she had been assisting him―had never truly blamed him for his unspeakable actions.

His chest ached; not from an injury per se, but merely due to the longing that plagued him. He ached to slip his hand into hers. To feel her soft, supple skin against his own―to watch with a content smile as she relaxed against him. He adored the way her hand seemed to slip perfectly into his much larger one; it was like two puzzle pieces clicking together. 

His breathing became quicker, and he could feel a sense of both grief and rage pool within himself. What he would give to turn back the clock...just to see her face again. Even if it was futile to try and change the future, he would be able to bask in the warmth she emitted.

He could hold her close―he'd take back everything he had said. He would tell her he loved her―he'd take back all the glares and aloof acting. He'd appreciate her. He'd do it all, to make her stay. Restlessness pulsated throughout him as he watched the distant figures of Sting and Natsu circle around the clearing. They were sniffing around for traces of the blonde girl's scent.

"Useless..." He muttered, his eyes trailing down to his hands.

'I'm sorry...Lucy...it's―it's all my fault,' He said internally, his voice quavering with emotion. 

Death―as it seems―wasn't the only way to lose a person. He could almost imagine her here; he could almost visualize her. Down to every little detail―things most people wouldn't even remember. 

And as he stared at the darkening sky, he swore he saw her there. Swore that she stood in the center of that clearing, a wide smile on her face. With the sun slowly curving down like a huge gold coin in the sky, she seemed to stare knowingly at him. She was dressed in a simple white dress, her bare feet softly pressed onto the rich earth. Wildflowers brushed against her legs, their stems a bright green, while their hues differed in color. Daisies, tiger lilies, violets, poppies. Just an explosion of color―a firework, that was scattered at her feet.

And her face―he swore he'd never missed her more in his life. With closed eyes, he saw her before him. 

With her long golden locks, that snaked down her body like a river and bright cocoa and aqua flecked orbs that were sparkling with life―with strength, hope, and happiness. Her skin, as pale as porcelain, had its familiar scars―the signature marks that made her...well, her. Across her nose was a spatter of freckles; he was sure not many people even noticed them. Her coral colored lips were curved up into a bliss-filled smile―content in all aspects.

But as soon as he could envision her, she was gone.

And in her place―well, who was in her place, broke his heart. 

It was a girl. A girl in a pair of ripped black jeans, and an ice blue crop top. A girl wearing a black leather jacket, and a pair of spiked combat boots. A black cloak was clasped atop her shoulders, and her hands were adorned with black leather gloves. She had four piercings in her ears, along with a nose stud. Her hair was no longer long―it didn't fall in soft waves, nor was it a bright sunshine gold. 

It was cut short, barely reaching her shoulders. Its usual blonde had been leached away, dyed a midnight blue. Even her eyes were altered; no longer was the brown the dominant color. Actually, there was no cinnamon brown to be seen. It was an abyss of blue; like an ocean, or more rightfully a sapphire. Her eyes resembled the rich jewel. They were cold in every aspect and lacked life. They no longer were filled with happiness or hope.

They gleamed with a merciless type of hunger―of the need for revenge. And instead of hope, the only thing that lingered was despair. Loneliness leaked through her gaze as if she was searching for someone, anyone, to save her.

With makeup painted carefully on her face, Laxus swore Lucy would have been unrecognizable. Her eyes were darkly outlined, making her cruel blue eyes pop. Her lips were no longer a soft pastel pink, but a bright aggressive scarlet. The smile had slipped away as well. 

All that remained was a snarl. A dismissive, cold glare and a sneer as sharp as a razor. 

The flowers, the explosions of color from before, were wilted. They seemed to slouch along her feet, their petals scattering in the wind until all that remained were the stems. Kinda like Lucy. Everything seemed to be swept away, leaving them a husk of their old selfs―they were left lifeless and dead.

"Laxus!"

A voice called out to him, but he was mesmerized. He watched as Lucy―this new Lucy gazed at him. Was this the future? Would this be what would come of Lucy Heartfilia?

"Laxus!..." He ignored the voice again; nothing else mattered in that instance.

He watched as her lips began to move, and his entire being tensed. He was anxious―he had longed to hear her voice for weeks. To embrace her and relish in the rhythmic way she breathed. To cherish her prescence, for he had been starved of her for far too long.

The lightning dragon slayer's hands clenched as her words came out.

"It's all your fault..." She whispered. Her voice was scratchy, no longer smooth and enchanting. It no longer soothed him―it only brought intense turmoil.

"It's all your fault!" She yelled, her voice raising. "I'm gone, because of you! Because you couldn't save me!"

"Stop..." He muttered, insisting the illusion to stop speaking.

"Laxus!!" A voice boomed in his sensitive ears, snapping him out of his daze.

The mirage of Lucy faded away―but its words retained their strength. It was what Laxus thought himself. That was why it had haunted him―why Lucy's image seemed to magically appear. Or was he just going mad?

"W-What?" He stuttered, his eyes blinking rapidly. Natsu and Sting shared a look. They could tell something was wrong, but they decided not to push it.

"We...we didn't find anything..." Sting replied, his tone quiet.

"...Oh..." Laxus hadn't been expecting them to. Yet...maybe there had been a part of him that had been praying―hoping that they'd find something. That they would be able to find her.

But who was he kidding? As his stupid illusion had said, it was all his fault.