sea shells come and go, from one place to another. you lose them easily, and tend to find more beautiful ones as replacement. like many things in life.
love, opportunities, changes.
but not us.
take note: female reader
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•∞•
I hadn't expected the atmosphere to become so... cosy.
Chatter filled the air: Sabertooth and Fairy Tail were mingling to the point where I wasn't able to tell them apart anymore. People were rushing to and fro with medical supplies, towels, food, and bottled water piled into their arms. It was just as chaotic as it had been during the fighting, and despite the fact that both sides are now allied it didn't mean there was no tension. Rufus and Gray are still not speaking, and Laxus is thoroughly enjoying tripping Orga at every turn so he landed face-first in the sand (again. It was the fourth time this morning).
It's 4 am.
And Natsu was still the most injured person on the site.
He was struggling to keep his eyes open– his lashes fluttering up and down, eyes hazy and unable to fix upon a specific point. Natsu, my beautiful, brave boyfriend– had lost too much blood in too many places. He had claimed earlier that he felt light-headed and had to sit down, before being completely unable to keep his back upright. Currently lying down, he has his head on my lap as I gently stroke through his soft hair with one hand.
"I can't stop the bleeding," I whimper, holding a soaked through towel of blood to his side. "Levy, go get Wendy."
Levy nods, eyes wild and a little crazed, before sprinting off. I had already bandaged his wound on his forehead and applied ointment on his bruises, but the massive cut on his side is proving stubborn.
"Keep those eyes open, Nasu," I whisper, pressing my forehead into his. "weren't you gonna teach me how to surf?" I murmur, trying my best at a smile. Natsu shifts in my arms and those dark eyes meet mine.
A hint of a smile ghosts over his face.
"Hell yeah I am," he grins, before his features contort into pain and coughs loudly. I feel splatters of blood against my cheek, and I fuss as I wipe away the liquid that dribbles from his mouth.
"We need a seashell or something, you know," I say, not entirely sure I meant it as a joke. "to protect us against all of the shit life throws against us."
"Yeah," he agrees, cracking open an eye. "like a nice conch shell where we can huddle up and never leave."
From my peripheral vision, I see Wendy jogging up to us. Her hands were stained up to her elbows with that same red fluid, but she didn't seem to care. Her eyes were set and determined, carrying a heap of medical supplies in her arms. The teenager drops down next to me, and I move a little so she can get a clear view of his wound.
"I'm gonna have to stitch this," Wendy determines, tucking a strand of indigo hair behind her ear. "he's gonna be okay."
I release a breath of relief, collapsing into myself.
