A/N - Chapter ten! Yay! We're making some snazzy progress in the editing process. I'm excited to revisit all the character's connections to each other—I remember trying to match it to the anime both in plot and family, but Fairy Tail is a THICC series, so that's easier said than done for a modern romance fanfic about a bodacious blonde boi and the reader.

It is What it Is

The address matched the piece of paper in your hands.

At the diner, Minerva wrote Sting's address down on a napkin and revealed that her father mentioned his absences being due to illness. That's when you realized he must've gotten sick while taking care of you.

"I guess this is it," you spoke aloud, hesitating at the front gate. All you had to do was open it and go knock on the front door... or go home.

No. You were worried. He'd done so much for you—you can do the bare minimum and check up on him.

Passing through the front gate, you trailed up the pathway and knocked softly on his front door. You carried a bag of medicine and goodies, white-knuckling the handle at that point. 

"Who is it?" Someone responded, voice shrill and nose stuffed. If that was Sting, he sounded horrible.

"It's me," you answered.

There was shuffling on the other side, three locks being undone before a gloomy Sting cranked open the door. "H-Hey..."

He slouched with a heavy blanket draped over his shoulder, hair messy, and a green tint to his cheeks. Ridden with nausea, he still managed to wear his single earring like a dreamboat.

Sting shuffled out of the doorway, wobbling up the stairs back to his room. "You can come in. My dad's not here so you don't have to worry about meeting him. Just take off your shoes and make yourself at home."

You closed the front door and followed Sting up to his room, taking note of how quiet it was in such a large home. 

He plopped down on his bed.

"Sting?" You questioned, making sure it was okay to enter.

"It's fine, you're welcome in," he said with a cracked voice. "Didn't think my voice would regress to my puberty era."

You giggled, setting the plastic bag down on the table in the middle of his room. With more worry, you asked, "How long have you been sick?" You walked over to his bed, reaching over his shivering body to touch his forehead. "Oh Sting, you're way too hot."

Sifting through the goodie bag, you pulled out a chill pack and rested it on his head.

He sighed in relief at the chill touch. "That feels freaking amazing."

You went back to the bag to find the painkillers and a water bottle. "Here, take these." 

Sting lifted himself high enough to pop the pills and down the bottle. "What else, sweetheart?"

"That's all I have for you now," you said.

He opened one eye and chuckled. "I'm glad you're here—no matter what I did, I just kept getting worse."

"Did you go see a doctor?"

"Don't have the strength to."

You hand him another water bottle, but he cradles it in his arms instead of drinking it. "Where's your dad?"

"Dad's not coming back for another few months," he said and cracked open the bottle.

Suddenly, you were brushed on the side by a slick coat of fur. "Who is this?" An almost maroon-looking cat found his way to you, knocking his head into your hand and purring up a storm.

"That's Lector," Sting answered, cracking a smile through a shiver. "Feel free to pet him."

You absolutely pet and pampered Lector. "You're the real sweetheart, aren't you, Lector?"

Sting laughed, gaining the attention of his furry friend. Lector hopped from your arms onto the bed, pawing at the end before spinning and marking his napping spot next to Sting's feet.

"Keep loving on him like that, and I might just be out a pet," Sting joked. "So, what have I missed?"

In a less fun goodie bag (your school bag), you pulled out a stack of papers and your notebooks. "You missed kind of a lot, but don't worry, I'm an excellent note-taker."

Sting lazily slid out of the bed with his blanket cocooning him, falling to the ground with a thump and a moan. He crawled to your side, taking the papers and a nearby pencil to start working. 

"Sting, stop it," you cautioned and took the pencil from his burning hand. "You need to focus on getting better." You helped him back to bed and covered him with another blanket from his closet. "Have you eaten?"

He paused to think, then shook his head. "Not for three days."

"Three days! Are you kidding me, Sting, that's not okay!"

He groaned in response.

You rushed out the door, leaving it open in case he called for you, and hunted through the untouched kitchen for anything salvageable.

"Guess he's getting soup."

You weren't Sting, so he got the canned stuff you'd find in the back of a pantry. "Be careful, it's hot," you warned, but Sting lacked a response.

His back rose and fell in heavy breaths. He must've fallen asleep.

"(Y/N)..." he mumbled in his sleep.

You turned to the sleeping blonde, staring and noticing how the outside light bounced off his locks, and how his chapped, pink lips were parted so he could breathe. With a slight touch, you tested his ice pack, finding it already warmed from resting on his head. Not wanting to wake him, you carefully switched it out for a new one, cheering in silence at your success until his hand found your wrist.

"I'm sorry, Sting. Did I wake you?" You whispered.

His beautiful blue eyes stared fervently. "(Y/N)... why did you come help me?"

You paused, then told him, "You were sick and I wanted to check on you." In full honesty, you ached to see him again.

"Why else?" He asked, squeezing your wrist.

"I..." you started with your gaze to the ground. "I wanted to ask you—I mean, I wanted to know if our likes were the same."

"Our likes?"

"Yeah..."

"I like you, (Y/N), that's really all that means."

Growing teary-eyed, you caught Sting's fierce gaze again, and found the words to tell him, "If you say it so casually like that, people will get the wrong idea." Everyone in school knew how much you liked this boy. It put a target on his back the way it did yours. If he wasn't serious, then you needed to create that space—that boundary with him.

His grip on your wrist loosened. "What do you mean?"

You didn't want Sting's reputation to worsen because he liked you as a friend. "I don't want people to gossip, so please stop saying it."

"(Y/N)," he tried. "Don't you like me?" 

You nodded, averting your eyes to the side. 

"But not in the same way..."

You nodded again.

He let go of your wrist and turned away from you in his bed. "Thanks for taking care of me, (Y/N), but I'm okay now."

' .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. '

"Sting, you're back!" Yukino threw her arms around him the moment he stepped through the classroom; almost as if they were dating again. Except, more than a few girls jumped into his arms already.

Now that he was back on the market, a sea of girls from various other classes came up to him, delivering presents, poems, and admittedly awesome candies that he shared with the group. 

Sting Eucliffe stuck out as finally achievable, since he'd been steady with Yukino since junior high. Yukino was in the same boat with a slew of love letters falling out of her shoe locker every morning since the breakup.

"So you didn't die after all? Guess I owe somebody ten bucks," Minerva cackled from her tilted back chair.

"Funny," he scoffed, shifting his attention to Rufus. "How's it been since I've been gone?"

Rufus smirked. "No news in class, however, a little bird told me that the new girl's being snatched up by a classmate from 1-A. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

On cue, Dobengal entered the room, heading straight for your desk instead of his. "Hey, I know we haven't talked in a while, so I wanted to make peace by offering up a pastry and your favorite juice." He picked quite the day to make amends.

"Class doesn't start for a bit... wanna share a bite?" You offered, showing that you were willing to forgo the awkward conversation he had with you regarding Sting.

Dobengal pulled up a chair and sat with you at your desk, splitting the pastry in two and eating it under his scarf. "Tastes fresh," he said.

Humming in agreement, you were glad you didn't fill up on breakfast so you could enjoy the bun.

In your peripheral vision, you noticed Sting making his way to his desk, right behind yours. You both offered no greeting and kept from the miserable eye contact.

You hated it.

"Well, this is weird," a familiar black-haired boy entered the room, a smirk written across his lips and his eyes brighter than ever.

"Hey there, stranger, how's pops?" Minerva asked.

"I hear he's doing good," Yukino added.

Rogue made his way across the room, holding his smile as he talked about his father. "Yeah, he's doing great. Doctor says he should be out in a few months." He turned to you, giving you the softest of expressions before sitting down at his desk.

Did everyone else notice? Dobengal and Minerva sure did, but you didn't have sights on everyone else.

"Hey Rogue, you startin' soccer now that your dad's better?" Orga asked.

"Soccer?" You repeated. "I didn't know you played."

Orga took the response. "We've been playing since junior high, ain't that right?"

Rogue shrugged, chin resting on his entwined fingers. "Depends. I might commit to basketball this year instead." Rogue turned to you again. "What do you think, (Y/N)?"

"Oh, well, I'd love to see you play sometime," you told him. "Soccer or basketball."

He turned back to Orga. "I'll think about it."

"Is it just you two?"

Orga laughed, "No, it's the four of us and some guys in the other classes. Unless Dobengal wants to join?"

Dobengal folded the napkin he used as a plate and neatly tucked it in his pocket. "Sorry, the only sports I participate in are for sports day."

"Sports day?" You questioned.

"It's when each class competes against each other in different sporting events. It's a ton of fun and we get to skip lessons for the whole day," Yukino answered. "Not to mention, it's right around the corner."

"What events are you competing in?"

"I'm calling out sick, thanks."

What about the relay race?"

With everyone prattling on about sports day, you took the opportunity to catch a breath of fresh air. "I'm gonna go wash up," you tell Dobengal, and slip away.

' .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. '

On your way back to the classroom, you stumbled upon an unfortunate event where a petite girl from another class had cornered Sting on the stairs. You wanted to leave—eavesdropping was never your style, but you actually had to use the stairs to get back, and you were infatuated with Sting so, of course you were going to snoop.

"I-I was wondering... um..."

Sting seemed disinterested, yet spoke to her with a kindness he showed everybody. "What is it?"

She twiddled her thumbs with flushed cheeks, biting her lip until she blurted out, "I like you, will you go out with me?"

Hands in his pockets and eyes hidden behind his bangs—you've never seen this melancholic Sting. "I'm sorry, but I have feelings for someone else."