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Day 3: Broken (Promises/Hearted)

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Promises Kept

By AbsentAngel

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He promised that he'd never leave her again.

Years ago, decades now, when he came back from his year of training and he saw the amount of pain his absence had caused mapped out in string and paper on her wall, he swore to himself that he would never let her feel lonely or abandoned again. When he kissed her for the first time as his wife, it was only after he vowed to her that he would stay beside her through thick and thin.

Maybe his ego blinded him, but he never even considered the possibility of her leaving him.

Balancing a tray of food, his feet land heavily on the wooden floors so that she can hear him approaching – startling her no longer carries the same amount of amusement as when they were younger. The light from the large window caresses her face, making the streaks of silver running through her blonde hair fade. If he overlooks the laugh lines around her eyes and the handful of wrinkles at the corners of her lips, she almost looks the same as when he married her. On her finger is a gleam of gold that he recognizes as her wedding band. He tries to push aside the ache that comes with realizing that she has placed it on her right hand instead of her left. He has no room to deal with the hurt that so often comes with being with her – not now, not when she is there to read the pain in his features.

He soothes his wounds by telling himself that it is going to be a good day. He can tell by the soft expression on her face as she reads, but a glance at the novels cover confirms it. Pride and Prejudice. The appearance of something, anything, other than an open journal (so often weighed down by blank pages) is always good sign.

He sets the tray of snacks on the little table beside her. The smile he gives her is more honest today, less forced, as he takes the seat across from her. "Hey, Luce, why don't you take a break and eat real quick? I got those cucumber sandwich things you like."

She turns a page, eyes still focused on the printed words. "My name is Lucy," she answers.

Natsu's smile falters ever so slightly, and he wonders how something said so lightly could still weigh so heavily on his chest. "Yeah, sorry. Must have slipped." He pushes the tray closer to her as if in apology. "Here."

Her eyes glance at the offered tray but quickly return to her lined pages. "I already ate," she says simply. It is a dismissal, but he knows better than to accept it. The same day he promised to stand by her side, he swore to take care of her. Natsu doesn't break his promises. Even if he did, he would never in a million years break the ones he has made to her.

"That was a few hours ago," he reminds her. "It's lunch time now. Aren't you hungry?"

She pauses, her brow furrowing in thought as she looks up from the pages and out the window. He can see the trace amounts of confusion in her eyes as she registers the change in light. "Oh, right – of course. I must have lost track of time..."

Natsu gives her a reassuring smile. "Happens to the best of us."

She nods, carefully marking her page with a bookmark (even after all this time she still adamantly refuses to dog ear her pages) and setting the novel aside. He watches as she carefully nibbles at the corner of a sandwich. She gets about halfway before she notices the small pills sitting beside her glass of orange juice. "What are these?"

"Vitamins," he lies. He doesn't let himself think about how easy it's become to lie to her – not now. Tonight, as he sleeps away from her, he knows he will have plenty of time to let the sting of each and every one cut into him. Even though he knows that the lies are necessary – a mercy – it still bothers him. "You wanted me to add them to your meals, remember? Something about it being good for your hair and nails?"

"Oh," she murmurs. "Right, of course." Still, she stares at the two tablets with a frown puckering at her brow. For a moment he worries that she won't take them, but he feels himself ease when she picks them up with less than nimble hands.

She stops though, her hand hovering half way to her mouth, as she eyes him curiously. "Aren't you going to eat?"

The question throws him off balance, causing his steady smile to slip. When was the last time she asked about him? For a moment he doesn't know how to answer. This isn't part of their daily dialogue – not anymore. He doesn't have a script ready. "I'll grab something after you're done," he says, carefully watching her reaction.

Her frown only deepens, the hand holding her medication falling back to the table. He can see her struggling with her thoughts. "No... No, that's not right," she mutters. Her eyes bore into him, her words piercing the heart he thought he had thoroughly protected. "We eat together. We always eat together."

He tries to stifle the hope that curls in his chest, tries to tamper it down with reason. He has been hurt before because he misinterpreted her thoughts for memories, so he remains silent and waits with his breath burning anxiously in his lungs.

She looks around. "Natsu?" His heart leaps, tightening his throat and pulling tears from the corners of his eyes.

It's been so, so long since she's last said his name.

"Where are the children?"

He chokes down a sob – he doesn't want to upset her. He gives her the widest smile he can manage, his cheeks burning from the strain as he takes her hand – her left – in his. "They're at Fairy Tail making their own adventures."

She shakes her head, her fingers tightening around his as panic floods her eyes with tears. "But, they are still so young! Iggy just learned his letters and Nashi–"

Natsu rises from his chair as swiftly as his worn joints will let him and caresses her cheek with a time worn hand. "Luce, look at me." She does, and as her eyes trace his face he knows that she is rediscovering every wrinkle, every blemish, that the past four decades have added. Tears spill over the lids of her eyes.

"They... They aren't little anymore... Are they?" she whispers.

Natsu feels a dampness against his cheeks, but doesn't bother to dry them. "No, Luce. They grew up a long time ago."

Her lower lip trembles, and he can see her fighting back a sob. She looks down at her hand, opening her fingers to reveal the bright tablets resting heavily in her palm. "And these? These aren't vitamins...?"

He knows he should lie to her, knows it would spare her, but the truth slips from his lips anyway. "No. They aren't vitamins."

Another tear drips from her chin and onto her lap as she nods. Her teeth are making indents in her bottom lip and for a moment he worries she may break the skin. "How long have I been gone?" She asks, voice hoarse and dampened by her tears.

Physically, she has been with him every day, but he knows that's not what she is asking. In his chest his heart squeezes painfully. "It's been five months since you last remembered me," he confesses softly.

She sucks in a breath. Her eyes meet his and he can see a frightened plea in the depths of her irises as her voice breaks. "How long will I get to stay?"

History tells him that they have a few hours at best, but that particular truth is too painful to share – it burns his tongue with bitterness and makes him choke on the words before they can even be formed. "I don't know," he answers, regret suffocating him and making his voice a raspy shadow of what it usually is. It is only a half truth, but it is better than the lies he had been spitting out all morning.

Her face crumples, and he quickly wraps his arms around her shaking frame. His hand tangles in her hair and he takes the opportunity to bask in the scent of her shampoo – strawberry, like always. It has been too long since he was able to hold her like this, too long since he was remembered. Sometimes it feels like he doesn't even exist anymore – he's become so use to the role of her caregiver and so unpracticed in the role of husband.

Her fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt as if to anchor her – to keep her from floating away. Natsu wishes it could be that simple."Don't leave me," she whispers, a broken sound held together only by desperation.

His hold tightens. "Never," he breathes. It's a promise, the same one he made so many years ago, and he has no intention of ever breaking it...

Even though he knows she'll forget it – forget him – before the sun even has the chance to fall.

AN: Another (longer) entry for Angst Week. Hope you, er, enjoyed?