If he were being honest with himself, he was nervous; horribly, terribly nervous. This was an entirely new feeling for the man. Gajeel was more of an on-the-fly kind of person, whatever happened, happened and he would just roll with the punches. But these plans had his nerves on full alert and the butterflies in his gut were going absolutely insane.
He loosed a breath and fiddled with the box in his pocket; the weight, though light, still felt unbearably heavy. The long hours he’d put in at the shop had finally paid off and he was more than excited to finally spend some well overdue and much deserved quality time with his girlfriend. She had been busy making their new house into more of a home and he was beyond ready to take that one step further.
The front door swung open with little effort on his part, his eyes instantly zoned in on the artwork hanging in the living room. She had been hard at work today putting those up, it seemed. The furniture was still scattered but that would have to wait another time, he had bigger plans to deal with this evening.
Sitting with my back to the wall, feet against the door, punch drunk, tree stars, heart racing, tears fall. A physical fight not to put my boot through it - so I put my fist to it, the eye, the id, the latchkey kid - and a blood-stained knife to boot. Ha! … Shit. Don’t I scare you at all? That was not long ago - neither rope nor lead quite stalled. What was it all that came out stomping that long night in May? Skin grey, long dead, hair wet, tongue red. Months as moments, mouths open in omens - oh god, Amen - eyes like windows in winter, first frosted over, then opening and pouring out steam in a river, lights aligning over sinew splinters. I fell like Alice into the fissure, plunging into the split earth, like the hole inside my heart - a crimson dripping monster’s maw, swallowing your whole heart - gulp. It’s more than either of us asked for, more than, solo, could either of us last for - but you fill that empty cup so perfect, and I’m inhaling, for once, like I’m not out of breath. You look so perplexed! Get out the spell check and check my spells, I didn’t do the kills for this, I swear! (That I know of, Dark Lord, glorify or eulogize me.) Ugh, please don’t mind the cobwebs collecting on me, veil like a disguise, zits on my backside, or the shit-show inside my rib cage, not to mention my skull - but oh… you’re when-in-Rome-ing around on impulse, like you own the place, traipsing about like you know this space like the back of your hand, you say it fits like a glove, my fingers in yours, this unceasing love. Intoxicating - would you like to be King? Wait, fuck, I can’t ask you to be - I’m all overgrowth and bad tan lines. The weeds are all at home here, they’re still talking on their landlines. This Wonderland is a mess. What the fuck is wrong with me? I understand if you need to leave me - but you’re looking at me like you need me. … What the fuck is wrong with you? To be honest, I think I need you too. Nothing has ever struck me as so important as being next to you. You’re waiting for the other ruby shoe to drop too. We’re Dorothy and Toto - which one’s me and which is you? Get up now, get down to the indelicate, if I speak, it breathes it real, no elegant way but to ask and end it - and I’m looking to you - stupid question, but I think you’ll do. If I ask you, will you say “I do?”