"Love is the intense feeling behind dying and killing for someone other than yourself."

― Dominic Riccitello

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Love Bleeds the Color Red

By AbsentAngel

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There is blood on his skin. Under his nails. In his hair.

He sees it, smells it, feels it - but when he looks at the water swirling down the drain it is clear as rain and pretending to be just as innocent. It doesn't streak his towels as he dries himself off for the nth time in (he doesn't know how many) days. It doesn't dry and leave bread crumb trails of crimson colored flakes. Even if it did he knows he wouldn't be able to follow it back to where he came from.

But it's there. He sees it. Smells it. Feels it.

No one ever told him that blood stains more than just clothes and carpets. No one ever said it would stain him. But a part of him already knew, even though no one ever told him in words. Part of him knew the moment his hand raked through his opponents throat that the mage's dark blood (red, despite the blackness of his heart) would never wash away.

He hides under (false) bright smiles and (fake) laughter. While people are looking he pretends that his hair is still pink and his skin is still colorless. When they touch him he tries not to flinch away and reminds himself that the blood doesn't flake off his skin or streak his towels so surely it wouldn't transfer to their clean hands?

He's being watched though, he knows. He sees the way their smiles (also false) strain and how their eyes follow. He knows they wonder how stained he really is underneath all the loud grins and easy laughter he's painted himself behind.

Only one pair of eyes (brown with little flecks of light that look like stars) see past the mask that he's so desperately hiding behind. Of course,she is the one person he wants to hide from the most (perhaps that is why she sees him the best).

He's afraid to touch her, to be close to her. He's afraid that somehow she'll scratch away his painted smile and the blood underneath will smear over her ivory fingers and make her hate him as much as he hates himself. He doesn't want to taint her heavenly light because she is the sun, the moon, and the stars in his otherwise dark sky, and staining her would mean his entire world would darken.

One day she corners him and takes his dirtied hands in her innocent grasp. Her lips brush against his knuckles and he recoils, but there is no blood coating her lips, no hatred in her eyes. The softness of her mouth, the love and heartache in her smile, tell him what she doesn't say out loud - 'These are the hands that saved me. I can never hate these hands'. His painted grin splinters and between them her voice hovers like a promise.

"Let me save you now."

Eventually he does, even though he's not sure if he deserves it. Even though he's still scared that one day he will wake up and find his stains weighing her down. Her touch, always gentle, wears on him like water. Slowly, the way rivers eat away rock, the paint cracks and floats away. She leaves him naked and bare, covered by nothing but blood and stains, and he hates it. He hates the vulnerability and he hates seeing the empathy in her eyes because he would never in a million years want her to share his pain.

But her kisses taste like redemption and somehow makes it - not ok, because nothing could ever erase what he's done, but ... better. She makes it easier to look at the blood and remember that the stains weren't just proof of the life he took, but also the life he saved.

He knows he'd do it again (and again, and again, and again). He'd rip out throats and burn bodies into ash. He'd do anything (everything) if it meant that Lucy would be saved (from the pain, from the guilt, from the blood).

It's on his skin. Under his nails. In his hair. And he knows it will never go away. But she is worth it, she will always be worth it.

Because Natsu would rather darken his own heart than be forced to live without her there to brighten his sky.

I'm here. I love you. I don't care if you need to stay up crying all night long, I will stay with you. There's nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and I am braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.

— Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love)

AN: …I don't even know what this is. Seriously. No idea where this came from.

For those of you waiting for the next chapter of Ignite, it's pretty much written and will be out soon. I just need a little more time with it. Expect it no later than the end of next week. :)

Please remember to R&R!