Catch the Thunder

Passing Storm

It was a bitterly cold February afternoon, the kind where the wind cut like knives and the sky threatened snow but never delivered. The remnants of ice still clung to the edges of sidewalks, turning every step into a careful calculation. Students bustled through campus bundled in thick coats and scarves, their faces pinched against the cold, the weight of midterms pressing down on them.

Freed had gone grocery shopping, his gloved hands clutching his designer grocery bags—better for the environment, he insisted—as he flipped through an apartment rental magazine he had picked up at the store. Normally, he would be reading something philosophical—Nietzsche, Machiavelli, maybe some Voltaire—but today, his mind was on the future.

He could always move back into his old home, but his mother had left for Paris not long after announcing their divorce to the rest of the family, and his father ... Freed could not be around him for long anymore. It was too awkward, too tense.

Besides, he wanted independence before eventually taking over the estate and family business. He had insisted on starting at a junior level in the company after graduation, the same as anyone else. The rest of the employees needed to see that he was capable, that he had earned his position, not just inherited it.

So, he looked at apartments near the company's headquarters. He and Laxus had already talked about moving in together.

The day Freed finally went over to Laxus' tenement, he demanded that he get out of there as soon as possible. Freed had been firm—a little forceful, honestly, and maybe even whiny—but if he had to be honest, the place scared him.

It was not just that the building was rundown, with graffiti outside and rats scurrying in the halls. It felt unsafe. He had not grown up around places like that, so while Laxus thought little of it, Freed cringed at the building's poor condition.

Gradually, he was getting used to it, especially after realizing that, despite the peeling paint and splintered, Laxus' apartment was kept clean, and his neighbors respected him. Still, Freed could not let him stay there forever. They had talked about it and agreed, as soon as Freed found a place to live that suited them both, they would move in together.

He crossed a few streets, stepping gingerly over a patch of ice, and entered the dingy tenement. The fluorescent hallway lights flickered, barely holding back the dimness. Freed climbed the narrow stairs, huffing the three flights to Laxus' floor. Freed felt the hallways were filthy with carpeting that looked like it had not be cleaned in ten years. The walls were bare cement, the pipes were bare overhead, knocking sometimes.

It was home to Laxus though, who saw this place as an improvement over many of the other places he had lived. If this was a step up, Freed dreaded to know just how bad his last apartment had been.

He pulled out his spare key, and unlocked Laxus' door. The warmth inside was welcome after the bitter cold outside. Freed spotted Laxus hunched over the tiny dining table, big enough for only two.

"Hey!" he called out brightly, dropping his grocery bags and shaking the snow from his coat before hanging it up. "Happy Valentine's Day." He picked his bags back up. "I got stuff for a fancy dinner. I thought we could make something nice, y'know, since we agreed not to do all that hearts-and-flowers stuff."

Laxus did not respond nor got up to help him with the groceries like he normally did.

Freed squinted at him, wondering if Laxus even heard him. "Hello? Helloooo! Earth calling Laxus," he teased, but still, no reaction. "Do you have your headphones on? You're gonna go deaf if you play them that loud, y'know."

Freed walked over to the dining table, only to see that Laxus was not wearing headphones. They were off to the side, haphazardly tossed, like they had been flung in frustration. Next to him sat a half-empty bottle of Blue Label and a glass, its amber liquid filled to the brim.