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For Freed, rigid rules formed the foundation of his very being. Mind you, the rules he decided to follow almost religiously were never ones placed upon him by others. He had followed enough of those in a past lingering in the backlog of his mind and returning to following them would certainly end with his mind in a state he'd long since forcefully abandoned. Self-administered rules were the only ones Freed Justine considered worth following.
Throughout his early teenage years, one rule was heeded above all. Don't get close to anyone and don't let anyone got close. It was an obvious rule, one that would keep him from getting hurt by less than savoury individuals and more importantly, one that would keep him from hurting people who'd end up being nice. Freed knew how to roll with seedy people, spoke the language of schemers as he was one himself, but had never known how to let genuinely kind people in.
The first time he'd met someone kind, Freed ended up stabbing them in the back. His jaded thirteen year old mind could not get behind the principle of someone reaching out to him and meaning it. Although Bickslow had never acted out of line, hadn't graced Freed with anything but his joyful, loud self, Freed had seen it as nothing but a farce.
The older boy had basically him in as they travelled together, shared his food with him and held him when nights got cold, Freed always protesting that he could brave it without his help. Bickslow, in his natural elderly brother way, had claimed that it was him that was cold and needed Freed's bodywarmth. Huffing and puffing, Freed had always given up, gratefully soaking up the other's warmth without ever verbally expressing his gratitude.
He had thrown all that gratitude for Bickslow's kindness in the wind though when some policemen had managed to arrest him for a petty crime. A measly loaf of bread, meant for two hungry children, had been enough to get him into serious trouble. As Bickslow was getting arrested, Freed had picked up the abandoned loaf and ran. The last thing he saw, was the heartbroken expression on his friend's face. Quickly suppressing the guilt, he only ran faster. This world wasn't and would never be kind to gentle people. It was a lesson Bickslow had to learn the hard way, Freed reminded himself and he'd keep repeating it over and over.
Life was a lonely, Freed realised quickly after that, but the realisation that he was the one making it lonely wouldn't really hit him until he was twenty years old. Fourteen year old Freed though, got taken in by a girl just as lonely as he was.
Unlike Bickslow, who had been open and trusting, Evergreen was anything but. Whenever she spoke, it was with thorns and needles lacing her words and if one took the time to pry those away, it became clear that she too, was kind. She and Freed held sparring matches and bonded quickly over other little things. During their small talks it was obvious how much Evergreen longed for a genuine friend and although Freed found himself resonating with that sentiment, he never really gave into it. Evergreen was his closest friend and even she was held at an arm's distance. He could tell a whole lot about her, but made sure that she'd never be able to tell anyone any details about himself.
Even when he met Bickslow again, Freed could never really let go of the loneliness that was his closest friend and most dear armour. He'd expected screams, shouts of frustration and maybe even physical violence. What he didn't expect though was the thing that actually ended up happening. With a firm and gentle hand, Bickslow had planted his palm on Freed's hair, a comforting, brotherly gesture. "So you made a new friend? Introduce me to her, won't ya? A friend of yours is one of me. I'm glad that you haven't been lonely."
Their rekindled friendship had privately made Freed happier than he'd imagined being, a sentiment he didn't relay to his friends. Keeping them at an arm's distance was what's best for them, he'd decided. He couldn't hurt them if they weren't within his reach, he concluded. And yet, he formed a team with them. He appointed himself captain, hoping that at least his mind could protect them and himself from his heart.
After a few missions, they approached Laxus Dreyar, the guildmaster's grandson and more conveniently, an s-class mage, with the question to join him. Meeting Laxus Dreyar was Freed's introduction to a new enigma, a new puzzle he'd like to shuffle the pieces around of. The man's heart bled for other people, a fact obvious to Freed but for some reason not to many others. It was amusing for a while, watching him care and hid it all away under a cover with thick layers.
Maybe Freed was attracted to kindred spirits, lonely souls who had the opportunity to pull themselves out of it, but not the mental bravery, all of them too familiar with rejection from former friends and family. Laxus did differ from them there though. Unlike Freed's, Ever's or Bickslow's, Laxus' family did not completely reject him, in fact they loved him. It was Laxus who rejected them. Jealousy was an ugly thing, Freed realised, but decided to bury that too before it could fester too much. He'd distance himself enough from that emotion to not feel the repercussions of it.
With Laxus came s-class missions, something that Freed loved above anything. The higher difficulty of their missions, awakened Freed's battle spirit more and more, the thrill of adrenaline yanking out every halted emotion and he'd never cried or laughed more than on the battlefield. Of course, this newly opened hole in the dam, made the damn dam break and it was during one of these missions that Freed completely lost control.
He'd been laughing over something, intent malicious, vicious, he had wanted nothing but intimidate his enemy before obliterating him completely. It felt good, he felt powerful, he felt on top of the world. That sense of euphoria is all Freed remembered of the incident. That and then waking up again, destruction all around, his friends not spared and the lingering sense of an all-powerful exhilaration even as he laid eyes on the devastation he had brought forth.
The guilt crashed into him way too late and so he vowed to never, ever let it come to that again. The emotional bridge he'd built between his friends and himself become larger and the depth beneath him threatened to swallow him whole. It never did though, because although their friendship wasn't all-powerful, it still had its moments of genuine emotional openess that ran deeper than anyone of them wanted to.
But they were young and tired to the bone, so they let the moments pass, indulged in them. Thanks to this, Freed learned to weaponize some of his darker powers. There were still depths he'd never try discovering, but he'd fear there'd be no one to come and get him from the bottom. Weaponized vulnerability was all Freed allowed himself for now.
Then the battle of fairy tale came and went and the weaponized part of being vulnerable was hammered down (wasn't that ironic?). Gone was the armour and there was just a man, lonely but for the first time in his life, ready to not be anymore. He had his friends already, they were there, he would just have to reach out. And so Freed did and broke his most important rule. He hugged his friends and cried with them and it was gross, sweaty, too warm and also the most comfortable thing he'd ever done. He had also waved a friend goodbye that day (and was already looking forward to meeting him again, as they would both be better men then).
Not being lonely was working and working hard, breaking down age-old walls and learning to trust both old and new friends. It was rewarding work though and embarrassing as it was, maybe he'd cried a little bit when his brithday came around and Lucy and Levy had given him a book (I know you enjoy this series) and Mira him a cake (we cook together, do you really think you can hide your tastes from me?). Evergreen and Bickslow had invited themselves for a sleepover and they had fallen asleep in a pile of bodies. Once again gross, sweaty, too warm and very, very comfortable (or at least until Evergreen nearly raptured his appendix by elbowing him in her sleep).
When Laxus came back, permanently, Freed found himself crossing the bridge them first. It quickly became apparent that Laxus, although a caring and compassionate man, was graced with an awkward mess of a character. It shouldn't be as endearing as it was.
Quickly, Freed noted that the bridge they were walking on, was one of more than friendship. Both of them were still amending, finding themselves, finding ways to be more real and honest, but there was no rule they couldn't do it hand in hand.