Compulsive

Chapter 30

Natsu had never been good with change—in fact, he hated it. As a kid, it was the small changes he didn't like—he refused to eat if his mother changed up the breakfast cereal supply in the house, he refused to walk if she bought him new, uncomfortable shoes when his perfectly good old ones (which were torn to shit) were still available. As he'd grown older, though, he'd begun to hate change even more. Partially because he was just a stubborn brat, partially because he'd had a life altering change that stole all of his loved ones away from him. Either way, he absolutely hated it.

But here he was, immersing himself in change. In such a short span, his whole world was going to flip again—tomorrow, in fact.

It was graduation, and Juvia had notified him that he was a graduate. After all this time, he was leaving the facility, the only place he could call home. She'd told him that he was ready, that he'd gotten over that last wall. He'd made friends. He was on the road to recovery, and she believed he was able to go out into the real world.

Of course, since he had no family to pick him up and introduce him to the real world, Juvia was heading out with him for a couple days. They'd find him a place to live and get him a job—she had contacts and had found several companies willing to give a recovering person a full-time job—and settle him in before she returned to the facility.

And he'd have to restart, adjust, deal with it. Fear was bubbling up in his stomach and his chest was tight, like he couldn't breathe, and the unknown started to creep him out. So, he ignored it, focusing on the task at hand.

He had a piece of paper and a lighter.

This entire year, he'd pushed off his creative assignment. He'd forgotten it was a task he had to complete, until Lucy worked on hers, completing it. So, he figured he'd better do the same.

Except Natsu sure as hell wasn't a writer, and he wasn't good at drawing. Natsu wasn't particularly good at anything, really. So he picked something to show how far he'd come, how much stronger he was. He wanted to prove himself one last time before he left the facility.

He pulled back on the lighter, and a small flame erupted from it. The heat waved over his fingers, and he nearly dropped the thing and ran off, but he managed to keep his cool. He stared at the flame, noticing how it waved about in the warm summer breeze. His lungs were tight with fear, but he continued on with his plan, calming down with every second that passed.

He held the flame to the paper—not enough to set it on fire, but just enough to stain it, burn it with dark smoke. Then, he moved his hand carefully, in smooth, sweeping gestures; the soft black lines followed behind.

He was drawing Lucy with the smoke. Now, he was no artist, so she sort of looked like a horse, but it was as good as he could get it. So, he added some last touches—the flick of her nose, the sparkle in her eyes—then blew out the flame. He headed back to the facility—he'd been in the parking lot—with his new smoke painting in tow.

When he gave it to Juvia, she didn't say a word for the first few minutes. She just looked at it, eyes creeping over its design, staring at it intensely. And then, her eyes welled up.

Natsu, sitting in the seat opposite her desk, frowned. "You okay?"

Juvia swallowed, the lump in her throat getting large. Her eyes were very wet. "I'm—um, yeah. Just...I'm proud of you, Natsu."

The pink haired boy smirked. "Don't get all weepy on me, Juvia. It's not goodbye yet."

"I know," The counsellor responded, waving her hands to try and dry her eyes out. "We've got a few more days. I'm just so proud—you've come so far. Do you remember what you were like your first day here?"