Jellal sits quietly at the bar, nursing the drink that he knows he's never going to touch. He stares into the mug, at frothy white bubbles and the amber liquid that lies beneath it, desperately trying to latch onto something – anything – that will make him forget the burning sensation in his upper arm.
It's not real, he tells himself. My soulmate can't be this close. My soulmate wouldn't hang out at a bar like this one.
But more than anything...
It's too early. He still needs to solidify his future. He can't afford to fall in love right now.
Not right now.
He gives in to the urge to take a peek and rolls up his sleeve to stare at the pale white snowflake tattoo that rests on his upper arm. It is pulsing softly tonight, glowing a gentle silver.
It's a trick of the light.
Jellal does his best to ignore the mark and rolls his sleeve back to his wrist. Sighing, he once more looks up, gazing aimlessly at the bar counter. The loud music, the clinking of glasses and the smell of cheap beer grates at his nerves.
"Aren't you going to go dance?" shouts a loud voice into his ear. Jellal turns to see a curtain of long red hair framing a face pink with how much she has drunk tonight. Erza is always loud, but whiskey has dialled up her volume. Her soulmate, Mirajane, stands behind her with an apologetic smile.
"Not tonight, Er," he says.
"Well, that's too bad," Erza says, crossing her arms and pouting. "Because I found a guy who's perfect for you."
"Erza-" Jellal says pleadingly. She knows he's one of those traditional people who wants to wait for his soulmate.
"Come on." she pleads. "He's a good friend of mine. At least talk to him, I don't want you to mope your night away."
"…all right," he agrees reluctantly. Talking to this boy won't hurt, Jellal supposes.
"Good, because you're too cute for me to ignore you," comes a husky voice from behind Mira.
A tall, dark-haired boy steps forward confidently. His blue eyes twinkle, and a blinding grin decorates his pretty face.
Oh, Jellal is so screwed.
"I'm Jellal Fernandes," he says quietly, feeling his cheeks warm, sticking out his right arm for the boy to shake. Strangely, the mark starts making its presence known. It feels… hotter, and Jellal winces a bit. He sees the pretty boy brush long fingers over his hip with a quizzical look, then shake his head and grasp Jellal's hand. "Gray Fullbuster."
Their hands touch, and a wave of pain suddenly washes over Jellal, and he jerks backwards, grasping at the counter with his free hand. His right upper arm…
It's on fire now, burning with an intense pain that is both agonizing and relieving.
In front of him, Gray has staggered back too, clutching his hipbone.
"No way." Jellal whispers.
Gray looks at him, wonderment in those blue, blue eyes.
"You…" he says in shock, lifting up his black tank top to reveal a tattoo.
Jellal stares at Gray, then back at his arm. Slowly, tentatively, he rolls up the sleeve.
The single snowflake is gone, replaced by a galaxy of snowflakes, all intricate and detailed and each one different.
Jellal looks up at Gray, only to see a white hipbone sporting the exact same tattoo.
"It used to be stars," Gray mutters.
"We're…" Jellal cannot believe this. He's found his soulmate, and of course he's happy, but – but it's too early. He's still nineteen, he has to finish University, get a good career, set up his life – it's too early. He can't fall in love yet – it's a distraction – Jellal's mind flounders for excuses.
"Soulmates," Gray completes, a dazzling smile making its way onto his face. "Real soulmates."
And suddenly all that matters is that beautiful smile he's wearing, and Jellal thinks he might not actually mind falling for this boy.
I'll manage, he tells himself.
Because love isn't something you can put on hold, or predict, and when love happens, you have to work around it.
Because love is the feeling of finally coming home, and Jellal is learning that tonight as he dances the night away with a beautiful dark-haired boy.