▶┆Chapter eighty-one [81]

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❝We can't control who we love.❞

▶┆Author's Note┆◀

Hey guys! Sorry, it's been so long. I ain't gonna lie, life has been stressful af and I'm not as motivated about writing anymore. But, I will for sure finish these books! Just probably at a snail pace because I'm sick and drowning in homework. (: ❤

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THAT'S WHAT STING wished he had said. When he had "confessed", it had merely happened in his own thoughts. He looked up to see Lucy waiting expectantly for an answer. He knew he couldn't say that...not in real life. Who was he kidding? 

She didn't love him like that...not to mention, it wasn't the right time to be making such confessions. She was in pain...he shouldn't treat the situation so lightly.

“Sting?” Lucy asked, her throat scratchy and dry. She was quite parched but ignored her desire for water. She had to know why Sting cared about her.

He swallowed thickly, his eyes shadowed.

Then he suddenly glanced up, his eyes so bright it almost appeared forced.

“It's because you're such a great friend. I don't know where I'd be without you, ” He said sweetly, but beneath the charming words was a pain-laced sadness. He didn't have enough courage. He was a coward.

Lucy was startled. After all the betrayal, it was crazy for her to even imagine that there were people loyal to her. She couldn't comprehend it. But there was Sting, grinning that same boyish smile; it made her hopeful.

He still cares about her. Did that mean there were good people left in the world? Of course, there were. Lucy cherished Sting and Rogue; how could she have doubted them? They weren't like those fairies—they weren't backstabbers. They wouldn't betray her. She had to be ascertain of this fact.

The mere image of her having to brandish a weapon at them made her insides clench painfully.

Sitting quietly, Lucy pushed a stray lock of golden hair away from her large brown eyes. It hadn't been long since everything had happened.

She still felt betrayed...would the feeling ever go away? Would the pain ever fade? Or would she always feel so unwanted—so useless?

Sting cleared his throat and Lucy's eyes darted up to his face.

“Does that mean...um, that you're joining Sabertooth?” Sting inquired, his features dusting pink. He felt he was asking an insensitive question. He shouldn't be pressuring her to join a guild right after what she went through. But he had done it anyway. He already knew he was an asshole, but seriously what was he thinking?

Lucy pursed her lips, the thought plaguing her mind for a moment.

'Do I really want to take that risk?' She mused internally.

“...I'm thinking about it...” She responded absentmindedly. Sting nodded, hiding his disappointment. There was a part of him that wanted her to say yes.

Lucy silently rose to her feet; Sting was slack-jawed at how devoid of expression she was. She was stoic—emotions entirely leached from her features.

With stiff posture and rigid mannerisms, Lucy offered him a kind smile—but it didn't quite reach her glossy eyes.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Sting...I appreciate it. I'd better go find somewhere to stay...”

Her feet echoed as they pattered closer to the oak door. Stopping right beside the door, she glanced over her shoulder.

“I'll be sure to let you know if I decide to join Sabertooth...”

Sting hated it. The look in her eyes. The way her warm amber orbs would darken a shade, with what Sting thought was hate. Not at him...she was haunted by her memories. By her monsters.

She had changed; it was all Fairy Tail's fault. A dejected frown slithered up his features, and he couldn't help but wish he knew how to fix her frown.

Lucy froze, watching his expression become glum. She swallowed and forced her mess of emotions down within herself. She bottled them up—barricaded the waterfall. She couldn't let her hate infect her relationship with Sting and Sabertooth.

“I'm sorry, Sting...” She mumbled sheepishly. His ears perked up at the sound.

“You're only showing me kindness and I'm being so...cold.”

She smiled, and it was the same lopsided, goofy grin that would light up a room. She abruptly did something unexpected; she leaped at him, wrapping her arms around him. He relished in her touch and the familiar longing ache settled in his stomach when she pulled away.

She didn't linger or hesitate. She just flashed him another sweet smile before rushing off.

Sting sighed, cupping his face with his hands in anxiety. He had so many things to think about. One of them being how exactly he was going to beat up Fairy Tail. How was he going to show them, that no one hurts Lucy and gets away with it?

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Lucy sat on a stone bench. The air was bitterly cold, and the sun cast a pearly glow along the cobblestone walkway. Her hair was in low pigtails, ironic considering her current thoughts.

'I have to make them pay...they can't get away with what they did...'

She chuckled internally, the sound sinister even to herself.

'Not this time.'

The blonde's eyes darkened with what one would consider negative emotions: hate, anger, and misery.

That's when a familiar blonde flashed through her memory, scalding her to the core.

“Laxus.”

The name sounded cold and positively treacherous on her tongue. He was scum—worse than scum. Yet...

Yet, she still loved him deep down. And she hated it. She stormed to her feet, running from the bench. She didn't know where she was going, but she had to run.

But she couldn't outrun her past—or Laxus. He ghosted across her mind like a desire she couldn't quite grasp.

Accidently dashing into a dead-end alley, Lucy reached a brick wall. Staring up at the indomitable wall of stone, she seethed.

All she could see was red. In her memory, the image of Mira and Laxus was scarred into her brain. His words were still carved into her mind.

'Useless'

'Weak'

Lucy cocked back her arm, driving her fist straight into the finely built brick wall. It split, long cracks crawling across like spider webs.

It began to crumble before her very eyes. Yet, Lucy was still unsatisfied. She wanted more destruction. She couldn't be with Laxus anymore; all she could have for him now was hate.

Then why?

She stared at her bloodied fist, a sour air surrounding her. She was desperate. Desperate to forget.

Why?

She already knew the answer.

No one could control who they fell in love with—not even her.