/disclaimer/:: forever, i own nothing.
/title/:: we're worn out, aren't we
/summary/:: She stands there, equipped in a fantasy and holding her breath. He's saved her from expected. — Luxus/Erza/Jellal
—
Everyone breathes in, bated, staring as if he's just sounded the bell that signals for the sky to start falling. That pause could kill the masses. And the seconds are ticking away while the suspense oozes towards awkward.
She stares back; he'll hold her eyes as long as she'll let him. Jellal gives quick glances, unsure of how he's supposed to look right now. He's probably garnered sympathy, but it's Luxus, and unless given reason—and because of the extreme solemnity this interjection has given the occasion—nobody's moving or speaking.
"Say something."
Erza doesn't know what to say. She stands there, equipped in a fantasy and holding her breath. He's saved her from expected. The flowers in her hands tremble, like the floor under her lacy, button up shoes.
"You haven't been sure of a goddamn thing since he came back."
She hasn't been sure of anything, no. Luxus doesn't say much, but he knows. He isn't a shoulder to cry on, but smelling salt to tear you away from dreams hiding nightmares. And if anything, this coma has made her dull. She can love Jellal, but she knows there's too many things, too much shit. Walking down the aisle was like wading through a broom closet filled with everything she went through to bring him back. Everything he put them through.
She is able to care for him. But they can never really get through it. They can touch fingers, they can kiss, they can even get married. But she can see now, now that she's here, that it will kill them. Maybe not immediately and not in the way she imagines. But she can't live her life being responsible for whether he collapses on the ground or can keep moving forward.
"He can barely even look you in the eye."
There's the rub. The sandpaper on the skinned knee. Above everything else, Luxus admires men like himself. Men who did shit, asked forgiveness with tears in their eyes, and moved the fuck on, working day after day to deem himself worthy of being in their midst. But he did it with purpose. All of it. He has regrets, but he grew. Jellal leans on her shamelessly, and he hates it.
Jellal loves her. She loves him. But it isn't so simple. Spending the rest of their lives together. She glances at him, catches his eye. He smiles grimly, but doesn't defend himself against the accusation. Erza's heart falls.
"Get off your cloud, Scarlet," he says more gently, grabbing his jacket and making his way back up the aisle towards the double doors. "I've got better things to do than watch you build yourself a cage."
He's given her an opportunity. A chance to reclaim some ground.
"Jellal," she nearly chokes, the palm-sweaty flower stems falling from her fingers to the floor. He sighs through his lips and nods, his passiveness as infuriating as ever.
Luxus looks up from the bottom of the steps. The doors have slammed open again, this time to reveal the woman whose wedding he's just ruined, red hair flying wild with the wind behind her. She scans the wider horizon before realizing he's still sitting there. His smirk jumps to a chuckle when her foot kicks out to shut the doors as the expected reactions to his upheaval come and cries of protest shake the inside.
"Fuck you. Get me out of here."
He throws her his helmet and they fade down a Magnolia road, tired colors prepping for an evening sky.
—
end.