notes— I just wrote 5k for this fic in one sitting thanks to a very evil app that locked me out of my computer. Its powers for inducing productivity are astounding, 10/10 would recommend (writersblock dot io for the masochists among you). I'm exhausted omg hahaha. ;_;

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19 ; charm

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Her throaty groan into the pillow gives away that she's awake, but Erza can't help herself. This is hell. This is torture. She knows she brought it upon herself, knows that this is what happens when you spend the night getting drunker than you have any business being, but the splitting headache, the sandpaper tongue, the rolling stomach and disgusting taste in her mouth... eugh, it doesn't make her feel any more contrite or apologetic. She just feels full of regret, and pain, and suffering, and way too much alcohol...

"Good morning," he murmurs, keeping his voice quiet for her sake. "Here, drink this." She glances up to see him holding out a glass of water to her, expression unreadable, and forces herself to sit up and down it without taking too much stock of him or his bedroom—

His bedroom.

God, last night was a mistake.

"Your phone," he starts, and Erza knows, she just knows that she does not want to hear what he's about to say, "it still has the charm on it. That little charm I got you in high school. The castle from the museum." He chuckles quietly, more to himself than anything. "I can't believe you kept it—"

"I should go, I have class." She gulps down the two pills on his bedside table and glances around for her jacket, wincing with every turn of her head.

She spies it in a tied plastic bag at the foot of the bed, clearly soaked in vomit. Oh my God, are you kidding me? Oh my God.

Jellal walks to his chest of drawers and digs around for a moment and throws her a hoodie without any prompting — his grey NASA hoodie. "You can borrow mine," he murmurs, and it feels like a slap in the face.

Borrow as in the same as last time, or borrow with intent to return? Erza doesn't say, but she's sure her tight-lipped glower speaks volumes.

She just nods mutely and slowly slides out of the bed, not making eye contact with him. There are worse things than hangovers, she thinks as she slips past him into the hallway, making straight for the door without another word. He doesn't follow her. Scarier things.

further notes— will (finally) be replying to reviews in the next few days! *squeezy hug*