Though the guildhall now had an open-air café, Erza wasn't in the mood to be outside. Or around people. Of course, the guild's main hall was rather empty at present – most people were either recovering or out on jobs. The Fantasia Parade was lively every year, but this time it really… took the cake.

Her lips curved up fractionally at the joke, but it didn't turn into a true smile. She didn't think she had it in herself. Not right now.

The corner she'd chosen was sufficiently shrouded by shadows even though she had a window to look out of. Outside, the setting sun cast a tremulous red sheen on Magnolia, which seemed fitting. The city, along with their resident guild, seemed to be in mourning.

It showed in how the Master hadn't spoken to anyone. It showed in how Mirajane had filled the bar with sad music. She didn't mind it, though. There was a deep, soul-rending melancholy to the piece and it didn't disguise itself. Didn't try to be energetic. Didn't try to be bouncy. It just… was. Content with its ability to acquaint people with their inner font of grief, and nothing more.

There was a lesson in there somewhere, though Erza was unwilling to look for it. She sighed out of her nose, cheek in hand, and traced her fingertip lazily around the rim of the conical glass. Apparently, doing that could elicit a musical response from glasses sometimes. She wondered if that music would sound equally as mournful, whether the drink dictated the sound or whether the drinker's mind warped the music to suit their needs.

Shaking her head, Erza hooked her fingers under the cone, squeezed the stem, and lifted it to her lips. The combination of salty and sweet painted a pretty picture inside her mouth. Equal parts gin and vermouth. Even through her grief, Mirajane was a professional.

Erza held the glass and swirled it. The olive, skewered by a toothpick, bobbed on the surface of the green liquid. As the dying rays of the sun lit up the glass, it reflected an ethereal glow back into her eyes. Something only she could see. With a derisive snort, Erza set the glass down. This was exactly what she'd come to the guild to avoid.

Something only she could see. Something on the edge of her mind that she was too frightened to voice. She had turned the notion around in her the safety of her mind, but what if saying it aloud made it real? Could she deal with it?

Still… if Mystogan really is…

It wasn't the opening of the door that stopped her thoughts. Neither was it the footsteps that approached her lonely table. No, what stopped Titania's thoughts in their tracks was the soulful scent of Fantasia strawberry cheesecake wafting through her nostrils and laying siege on her brain.

"Here," said Gray, placing a box bearing the Fantasia crest on top in front of her. "My treat."

It was very difficult, tearing her gaze away from the box, but she managed it. She even cracked a smile for her friend. "What's this about?"

He sat down sideways on the chair across from her, one arm slung over the backrest and the other on the table. He shrugged. "I ruined the one you were eating during Gajeel's concert. Figured I owed ya one. Consider it my tribute to Miss Fairy Tail."

There it was again. Gray, with his nonchalant concern, had always been a constant in her life. He was always the one most vocal about her well-being. Whatever happened, he was there right beside her. The fact that he brought her cake was a bonus.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice choked by the surprise assault of building emotions. She pulled the box closer and opened it, hoping to distract herself with the scent.

"Anytime. Tuck in."

So she did. She set the martini aside and focused on the cake. The sweet aftertaste cut through her melancholy like a sword through a pumpkin. Erza had tried to convince others time and time again that there was never a bad time for cake, but if they didn't listen, it only meant more cake for her. As far as she was concerned, that was a good thing.

After feeding herself a few spoonfuls, she glanced at Gray. He sat silently, eyes closed, swaying to the music. He seemed relaxed, as if he hadn't just achieved the impossible yet again. Erza had never ceased to be surprised at his ability to find her when she least wanted to be found. Not only that, but the way he managed to wade into her bubble of isolation without it feeling intrusive… it was nice. She didn't know whether it was a talent on his part or whether she allowed him special privileges, but having him around was always nice.

He still wore the scars from the previous fight; she noticed upon looking a bit closely at him. Though mostly hidden, she spied some bandages peeking out of his sleeve. It wouldn't last long, she knew, but she rather liked it when he was fully dressed. Something about being exposed to the world with nothing to protect oneself still didn't sit well with her.

His drumming fingertips caught her eye next. They were dancing with the ebb and flow of the piano, perfectly in sync. It took her a moment to realise that he was playing the notes on the table.

"Do you like this music, Gray?"

He hummed, but did not open his eyes. "I've heard it a million times. I love it."

"What is it called?"

"Goodnight Julia."

"Ah." A pause. "Do you not find it too… melancholy?"

"I find it suits me. Sometimes, when I'm drinking alone, I'll ask Mira to play it for me. It's for people who want to be alone, but not lonesome." He smiled. "Maybe it is sad. But you can't deny that it's beautiful."

"You find beauty in melancholy."

"I guess. Whether it's music, or a painting, or a beautiful woman sitting by herself in a bar, drinking… there's a story in everything."

She felt her cheeks burn at his offhand comment. Grateful that he had his eyes closed, she tucked a coil of hair behind her ear and said, "And you like exploring these stories?"

"No. Not always, anyway. It's not my place." This time, he turned towards her, smiling. "I just like existing near them. Experiencing."

Erza ducked her head and scooped up another spoonful. The sun had set, and Mirajane had turned on a few lights. Although it wasn't dark, there were shadows enough in their little corner to shield them away from the rest of the world.

"You like the piano in this piece," she pointed at his fingers, and he stopped drumming. "It shows that you've listened to it many times. You are never off beat."

"I can play it on the piano. I can't help myself sometimes."

"Really?" Erza raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you could play."

"Yes, well, I go to great lengths to not advertise it." He laughed. "Really, it's no big deal. Like your cake?"

She hummed, mouth full, and nodded. Gray smiled and nodded back.

"D'you remember what I told you after everything that happened at the Tower?"

Though the change of topic was abrupt, it wasn't wholly unexpected. Erza had been waiting for him to speak his mind one way or another. On some level, she knew every move he was going to make. In turn, she was certain it went both ways. But if anyone was to read her, she was glad that it was him.

"I do," she replied after swallowing her mouthful. "You asked me to not worry you anymore."

"And yet, you tried to do it by yourself again."

There was no anger in his tone. He was perfectly casual, but Erza knew that he wasn't saying everything that he'd come to say. So, she took a breath, and remedied that.

"Gray, if you think I won't do whatever I can to protect the people that matter to me, all because of a request you made of me, then I am sorry, but you are going to be deeply disappointed. Destroying the lightning lacrima was something that needed to be done, and I had the power to do it. It behoves me to try."

"I know," he sighed. Erza blinked. His resignation caught her by surprise. "I know. You can't help it. You have a compulsive responsibility gene."

She couldn't help the snort that escaped her. "Well, excuse me, then."

Gray, too, smirked but went on regardless: "I know you're not gonna stop tryna shoulder all the burdens yourself. It's just who you are. It's so… annoyingly deep-seated in your soul that if it were ripped out, you wouldn't be you anymore. You weren't as reckless, and I hope you're over your death wish phase-" Erza frowned. "-but you'll never, ever stop being the shield for everyone else. I know that now."

He paused, and Erza saw him chew his cheeks. She half wanted to reach out and slap him, tell him that it was a bad habit, but then he stopped and shrugged his shoulders.

"So I decided you won't have to do it alone," he said simply.

That… that gave Erza pause.

"What?"

"For as long as I live, and for as long as you decide to keep doing this, I'll do everything in my power to lessen the burden on you. However little I can do, know that I'll do it regardless of whether you ask me to. I'm tired of seeing you get hurt and injured and having nobody to back you up." He stopped and took a breath but didn't look away. "Erza, you have no idea how much you mean to me, and you will never have to carry all your burdens alone. Not anymore." He offered her a smile and added a touch cheekily, "I so swear."

Maybe it was the conviction in his tone. Maybe it was the sincerity shining in his eyes. Or maybe it was something far more intangible hanging in the air between them, that Erza dared not name, but his words touched a chord with her. Her emotions were always easy for him to tap into. Why that was, she had no idea. It was annoying how much his words affected her.

"Thank you, Gray," she said, again murmuring through the building cloud of emotions. "I-"

"I won't let you down," he interrupted her with a smile that made her heart quiver ever so slightly. "I promise."

He then reached out and squeezed her wrist. A reassurance, she knew, but the warmth that exploded under her skin at that barest of touches left her slightly breathless. Erza nodded dumbly, hoping against hope that Gray wouldn't notice the burning in her cheeks.

Whether he did or not, she didn't know, but he patted her wrist, whispered, "See you later, then," and got up to leave. Erza watched him go. Somehow, Gray had managed to swoop in and give her a gift that she still couldn't wrap her head around. Where everyone else had told her to stop, to change, here was someone willing to walk over the coals right alongside her. That took a special kind of stupid.

Smiling to herself, Erza closed the empty box of cake and took a sip from her martini glass. She took her time with the drink, turning a lot of things through her head, but she could no longer remember why she was melancholy in the first place.