Of Lightning and Long Locks

Gaming

When Freed finally left the shower, Laxus was not there. A search around showed that he had taken pants, shoes, his coat, but no underwear, socks, or shirt. Maybe he had gone out into the storm to eat more lightning, or he hit a bar to get drunk and sleep with the first willing woman he could find.

How did this even happen? It felt like a dream, yet Freed's fantasies like this ended in them cuddling, not with Laxus fleeing with a look of guilt on his face.

Freed desperately wanted to believe this was Laxus' secret desire, that maybe he was infatuated and just didn't know how to express it besides aggressive displays and taking what he wanted. That bit of hope warmed him up inside against the stormy coldness of the hotel's leaky window, but he was afraid to hope too much only to be crushed.

He tried to stay up, but an hour passed. He curled up on a couch by a magical heater and read a book while listening to the storm patter against the windows with distant rolling thunder punctuated by flashes and sharp cracks overhead. His eyes grew heavy, but he was determined to wait up for Laxus. They needed to talk.

He had no clue when he actually fell asleep, but he woke up with sunlight filling the hotel room, a pillow under his head, and Laxus' coat draped over him. Immediately in front of him was a letter.

"Sorry for running off. I hope you didn't wait up too long for me, but I know you. You should have just gone to sleep and used the bed. I left with Bickslow to get breakfast and check on the roads. There's coffee. We can talk later. Sorry about everything. Laxus."

Sorry about everything? Had Laxus not meant it? Had it truly been just an instinctive impulse with no deeper meaning? Freed wanted to believe it meant more, but he could not figure out how it could mean anything at all.

Laxus was straight ... right? They were just best friends ... weren't they?

Freed went into the bathroom and almost screamed when he saw himself in the mirror.

"Oh, right. My hair is short," he said aloud. Yesterday was slow to come back to him. What happened in the shower had washed away thoughts of the fight, little Teddy, the hair curses, everything else.

Freed looked into the mirror and turned his head to inspect the hickey. It was not bad, with any luck it would be gone in a day or two, but it showed what his brain still could not process. Laxus had wanted to jerk off together in the shower, only to turn around and give him a hand job.

Why did he do it? Why did he run off?

He washed, dressed, poured himself a cup of coffee, and was settling back into his book when the door opened. Freed spewed his drink out when he saw Laxus walk in with hair past his ankles and hanging into his eyes, and Bickslow with a blue afro so massive, he got stuck in the door.

"You're up!" Bickslow said in a chirpy voice as he poofed his hair inward to fit through. "Laxus said you were up all night reading."

He looked over at Laxus, who was avoiding his gaze by letting his hair fall in front of his face. "Yeah ... good book."

"At least washing your hair is easy. I clogged my shower with my hair."

Shower! Freed looked over at Laxus again. When he had shampooed the blond hair last night, it was barely to his shoulders. It had grown right back overnight. In another hour, it would probably be past his feet again. Was this new hair as soft as what he had felt last night? He wanted to wash all this hair he had not yet gotten to touch.

Bickslow cocked his head to the side. "Are you okay, Freed?"

"What?" he said a little too loudly. Dammit, he needed to calm down.