Rating/Warnings: T

Word Count: 1,274

Character(s): Jellal Fernandes, Erza Scarlet

Pairing(s): Jellal/Erza

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Notes: This will be a series of eight one-shots. I got the prompts from the poem by R. McKinley, and each chapter will be a different pairing, and each chapter will be rated differently.

1. Spit it into her voicemail, a little slurred and sounding like the shot whiskey you downed for courage. Feel as ashamed as you do walking into work in last night's clothes. Wake up cringing for days, waiting for her to mention it.

"Yeah, chill out, Ultear," he hunches his shoulders as he closes his fist around the small lacrima, cutting off the call. Jellal tips the bottle of whiskey back, swallowing another mouthful as he moves toward his inn, deciding he's had enough for tonight.

Hopefully I get there before Laxus, he thinks to himself, stumbling a bit along the cobblestone. The other mage snored as loud as a freight train and while Gajeel tends to sleep on the roof when it gets too much (or disappear to another inn for the night, though Jellal pretends he doesn't notice), and Mirajane snores almost as loudly, and Juvia can sleep through anything, Jellal can't.

He lets out a sigh as he turns another corner, takes another mouthful of whiskey, and then turns the wrong way.

This whole thing, pretending to be Mystogan, was becoming more and more of a hassle. Seeing Erza everyday was difficult enough, but he knows Millianna is here, and not being able to talk to her, to apologize. Apologizing isn't something he does well, but he knows that she deserves it, just like the others do, like Erza did.

And Erza. It seems like each time he's alone she's there, and it was hard enough to lie to her, to step away from her when they almost kissed, but seeing her every day, meeting with her under bridges or behind buildings to talk about the games and Zeref, it's almost too much.

Jellal curses himself as he comes to a stop at Honeybone, but his mind is too hazy and he's feeling reckless, so he moves forward, pushing through the doors and into the main lobby of the inn. It's nearly empty, only a few stragglers from bars around town, thankfully nobody from Fairy Tail is in there, or he'd have to make up an excuse, and he's not really feeling up to it.

On his way up the stairs he takes another swig from his bottle. It's nearing the bottom and Jellal is almost shocked at that. He hadn't realized how much he'd drunk. Had he drunk most of it? Or…didn't he give some to Gajeel back at the bar? No, that had been Natsu, hadn't it? Fuck, if it had been that one kid—

He comes to a stop in front of the room he knows is Erza's and pauses, grip tightening on the neck of his bottle for a moment, before he swallows back the rest and slumps against the door. Jellal knocks over his shoulder a few times, each harder than the other, but he doesn't hear movement on the other end.

"Just my luck, right? Come to talk to the one person I can talk to and she's not even here." He knocks his head back against the door, grimacing at the sweat pressing to his skin. This mask bullshit is really getting on his nerves. "But…I guess it's better that you're not here, right?" His words are slurred, but he barrels on.

"You know, I lied about that fiancée thing. I lie about a lot of things, but the fiancée one? That…well that was for your benefit. I mean, what good would being with me do? I'm a fugitive, a murderer, a tyrant. I'm no good, where you're…all good. There isn't an evil bone in your body. So, I'm sorry for lying but I'm not."

Did that make sense? He's not really sure. Maybe he should have taken it easy on that stupid whiskey; it wasn't really doing much good to filter his thoughts.

"I'm sorry that I love you, too, which—wow, sounds awful, doesn't it?" He furrows his brows beneath the cap and rubs the heel of his palms against his eyes. This is too much, he's gotten get back to his own inn before someone in the rooms around him come out and yell at him. "I just—it's not fair to you, and you deserve a lot better. So, I guess that's why I told you I had a fiancée."

With a loud belch, Jellal stands, stretching his back and arms. Turning, he presses a hand to her door, digging his fingers into the smooth wood. "I'm sorry I've got to be drunk to tell you, Erza."

She's not even in there, he tells himself, feeling shame crawl up his gut. He's a coward, he's always known that. It's just sad that he's finally admitting to it now.

On his way down the stairs, he passes a stumbling Gray and Lucy, and a tired-looking Natsu. "Heyyyy," Lucy laughs, grabbing his at sleeve. "Were you with Erza~?" She winks at him, then at Natsu when he tries to tug her up the stairs, an annoyed look on his face.

"Uh—no," Jellal says, watching the three mages walk toward their room. "She wasn't in there, anyway."

"Huh?" Gray's usually droopy eyes are wide and glassy. "Yesheish," he says all in one breath, and it takes a minute for this to settle in his mind.

Yesheish. Yes she is. Yes she is.

"She never answered—" he loses his footing on the last step, and Gray lets out a loud laugh.

"She mighta been sleepin'."

Fuck.

The next day, Mirajane wakes them all bright and early, nearly tearing the blinds down as she throws them open with a sunny smile on her face.

Jellal glares at her and holds his tongue when she flings away the pillow he throws her way. He'd been up most of the night heaving the contents of his stomach in the toilet and regretting ever life choice he'd ever made, including the stupid, stupid one he'd made the night before.

Also, telling Mirajane in his drunken haze hadn't helped either, because she'd been the one patting his back all night. How was she even so dam cheery?"

"—my pillow and I'll knock you into next week, Mirajane," Laxus snarls from his bed across the room, burrowed beneath blankets and multiple pillows.

That looks like a good idea, Jellal thinks, tugging the covers higher over his head, dreading the day.

He's not entirely surprised that she acts completely normal.

He'd caught her eye across the stadium, and she'd offered the same grin she usually did, and even afterward, when they'd met under the bridge to discuss how the day went she'd acted fine, like nothing had even happened.

It doesn't stop the shame he feels, or the annoyance that if she had heard something, why she hadn't reacted, or done something. Jellal thinks he'd have liked it if she beat him to a pulp, or decided never to speak to him again. It'd definitely be easier.

But everything is normal and, he supposes, this is his punishment.