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The Fairy Tail guild felt quieter than usual that night. The streets were starting to empty as the residents of Magnolia prepared for a peaceful night’s rest. It was chilly, but not too cold to handle—just the right temperature.
Whatever damage had been done by the guild members had already been repaired, loud, comforting laughter drifting in from the main hall as if nothing had happened at all. It felt like a routine, yet at the same time, a new adventure every day—and that was what kept the guild members so united, enjoying beer and sharing crazy stories from past jobs.
Gray slipped out before anyone noticed. He felt the night air cool against his unbuttoned shirt—that he somehow hadn’t lost yet—as he climbed the stairs to the roof.
The light of the bright full moon quickly dimmed as dark clouds filled the sky. Rain began without warning—light, steady, and most importantly, familiar.
And there she was.
Juvia stood near the edge of the roof, her coat nowhere to be seen. That alone weirded Gray out; he had rarely seen her without it. Her hair was dampened by the rain but still held her iconic wavy curls. She didn’t turn to face him when he stepped closer. He didn’t even think she had acknowledged his presence.
He was wrong. She always did.
But this time was different. She wasn’t watching the city or enjoying the scenery like she usually did.
She was crying.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. She didn’t even sob. But the sight of her was enough to make a familiar tightness form in his chest—one he absolutely hated.
Earlier, he’d heard it too.
“She loves him more than he’ll ever love her back.”
Gray never liked seeing girls cry. It made him feel uncomfortable, weak, even useless. Over the years, he had learned to tolerate it, understanding how sensitive people could be. He never truly went out of his way to cheer anyone up, but he never completely ignored it either.
But with Juvia? That was different.
He knew that, a lot of the time, he was the one who made her cry—never intentionally. And he felt guilty about it. How could he not? He appreciated her. He really did. In such a short amount of time, Juvia had become one of the most important people in his life—someone he’d be willing to die for.
That’s why he became a shoulder she could cry on. Someone she could lean on.
Gray hadn’t said anything back then. He never did. And he knew that made him stupid. But the words followed him all night, heavier than the bruises on his arms—more painful than any scar he’d ever had.
He sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. He didn’t offer his coat. Didn’t crack a joke. Didn’t tell her to stop being dramatic.
The rain filled the silence for them.
“Juvia is being foolish again,” she finally whispered, her voice unsteady. “Waiting… when everyone knows how this ends.”
Gray clenched his hands against the stone. He wanted to argue. To deny it. But denial had always been easier than the truth.
Before he could speak, the rooftop door creaked open.
“There you are,” someone from the guild called out, half-laughing and clearly drunk. “Juvia, still chasing after Gray? You’re never gonna give up, huh?”
Damn extra…
Gray glanced over—no one important.
He stood before she could.
“She’s not chasing anyone,” he said.
His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t shake.
It just… landed.
The rain grew heavier. Damn it—Gray really hated the rain.
The laughter died quickly. An awkward apology followed, and the door shut again, leaving only the rain and the quiet behind.
Juvia stared at him, eyes wide, breath caught, but she didn’t say anything.
Gray exhaled slowly and sat back down, closer this time. Their shoulders touched, and his right arm wrapped lazily around her.
“I’m not good at this,” he admitted, staring straight ahead. “But I’m trying. And I don’t want you thinking you’re alone in it.”
Her fingers trembled as she leaned into his touch.
“Gray-sama…”
He didn’t pull away.
He stayed.
And for the first time, Juvia felt like she wasn’t loving him alone anymore.
Her fingers interlocked with his, tightening as if she were afraid the moment might slip away if she loosened her grip.
“Gray-sama has changed,” she said softly, almost to herself.
He let out a quiet huff. “Yeah. I know.” After a pause, he added, “I’m still bad at showing it. That’s why I’m going on this quest—the 100 Years Quest.”
He swallowed hard, the words becoming more difficult to say. “For you… I want to become a man worthy of you.”
The rain began to ease, leaving only the sound of water dripping from the roof’s edge. Gray reached out before he could overthink it, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand—hesitant, unsure, but real.
Juvia froze.
He didn’t let go.
“I don’t say things right,” he continued, eyes fixed on the city below. “And I don’t always… notice fast enough. But when people talk like that—like you’re waiting on something that’ll never come—I can’t stay quiet anymore. I know it’s selfish of me to keep asking you to wait for me… but even so, I still do.”
Her breath hitched.
“You matter to me,” Gray said, his voice low and steady. “More than I’ve ever been good at admitting.”
Juvia turned to him fully then, rain-bright eyes searching his face as if she were afraid he’d disappear if she looked too long.
Gray met her gaze and didn’t look away.
“I want to make you happy, Juvia. So please, let me finish this quest and come back as the man you deserve.”
Slowly, carefully, she leaned her head against his shoulder.
He stiffened for half a second—then relaxed, resting his chin lightly against her hair. It felt natural. Like something they’d been circling for years.
“Juvia will wait,” she murmured. “But not alone anymore.”
Gray nodded once.
“Good,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”
The clouds finally broke, moonlight slipping through as the rain faded completely—leaving behind something warmer than either of them had expected.