Hollow || Gruvia

seven;

I was next to Lucy, who was in the driving seat blissfully driving to the restaurant. The sun blared, it's scorching heat increasing my uncomfortableness. I began writhing in my seat, begging for any wind created by the speeding car through the open windows.

"Juvia, shall I turn on the AC?"

It wasn't only the heat that made me feel such discomfort. I really don't want to go to this lunch. I'm not used to meeting other people, and my thoughts are still jumbled from earlier. My head is throbbing, and I feel so disorientated. Honestly, I'm not ready for this.

But how can I tell her? I don't want to hurt her feelings.

"Yes, please.", my voice cracked from the pressure.

At least I'll be able to sit comfortably for now.

"You should've told me earlier.", she laughed as a blast of glorious, synthetic air hit my face.

"Sorry.", I replied.

"Earlier, you said sorry as well. Honestly, it did seem a bit off.", she began, her eyebrows furrowing into a look of concern.

"Are you okay?", she asked, turning her head towards me.

I felt a lump in my throat at the question. My lips quivered, the tips of my fingers clenching into fists in order to stop it.  My eyes narrowed on their own and my stomach began tangling into knots. I'd have more control over myself if I wasn't on the brink of a meltdown.

I said that because I had no answer to your question.

"Please watch the road as you drive, Lucy. I don't wish to die.", I replied, attempting to change the subject. It was obvious, as usual. My face was grimacing, and I couldn't control it.

Dreams, hopes and all those things alike, I don't possess any of them. And I don't even know why. It's terrifying, honestly. To feel this empty, it's terrifying.

For me, change is impossible. I am like a painter with a canvas and no brush.

No.

I have a brush, but no canvas. The more I wish to paint a future for myself, the more I realise that I can't.

"Juvia. If you need any support, I'm here.", she reassured me, a gentle smile to confirm it. Usually, this would snap me out of my thoughts.

But for the first time, her words didn't make me feel any better. For the first time, I truly felt completely helpless.

I smiled back at her, but it was so clearly insincere. It's not her fault that I feel like this. I can't involve her. At this point I couldn't even look her in the eye, my gaze wondering around into the open streets.

"Lucy, I'm sorry. Could you drop me off at the bus stop?", I asked, almost begged. A tear was threatening to escape the clutch of my iris. "I'm not feeling well."

I can't go like this - not in this state. My mind is too perplexed right now, a whirlwind of questions being created with no possible answers.

She looked back at me, her face etched with concern. She motioned her hand forward but quickly drew back. She knew that her words wouldn't help this time. I was beyond help.