Tonight again, Erza is curled up on herself in bed. Her body wrapped in a heavy blanket, she looks small and vulnerable as she shivers. Tonight again, all Mirajane is watch and wait, wait for Erza to have cried all the tears in her body and open up once more.
How many nights has it been since they came back from Tartaros?
Mirajane isn't sure she wants to know how many sleepless nights they have spent. Neither of them can count the nightmares anymore, the hours Erza had spent sitting on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, alone, as Mirajane sat on the other side of the door, helpless.
With a sigh, she exits the bedroom and goes to settle down on the couch. Nights like that, Erza can't handle even the softest of touches. Nights like that, Mirajane stays away from the bedroom unless Erza explicitly asks for her presence by her side. It hurts. It hurts like the burning sensation that spreads through her body when she absorbs particularly vile souls. But she also knows that the pain that Erza feels grips at her guts like a vice, haunts her. Mirajane doesn't need to see the wounds to know that the scars of the battles are etched into Erza's body and that she can't heal them.
"Erza..."
The name falls from her lips, a whisper in the silence that reigns of their apartment. Tonight again, silence is her only companion as she stares up at the ceiling, waiting. Waiting for Erza to extract herself from bed and breathe.
Nights like these, Mirajane can feel Seilah's soul vibrating. Seilah is the reason why she doesn't need to hear the words from Erza, because Mirajane already knows exactly what happened, can feel it. When things are quiet, Seilah's soul screams.
Mirajane stands up, too restless. Erza is still in their bed. But under the blanket, her breathing is becoming calmer.
"Mira?"
She hums her answer.
"I'm sorry."
Out of habit, she shakes her head even if Erza can't see her.
"You've done nothing wrong," she assures, her voice so quiet she isn't even sure Erza could hear her.
Mirajane watches as Erza finally sits up in bed, her back still turned to her. Her hair is a mess, and Mirajane clenches her fists by her sides to resist the urge to run her fingers through these beautiful long scarlet locks. When Erza glances over her shoulder, her eyes are still red and puffy. Mirajane feels her heart sink in her chest.
"I'm the one who needs to apologize," she says, taking a few steps towards their bed, "I shouldn't have..." Her voice trails off. Some words are harder to say than others. Mirajane wants to say that she shouldn't have touched Erza earlier. She shouldn't have touched the woman she loves.
It is Erza's turn to shake her head.
"I'll be okay. Eventually."
"I know."
Silence settles down again between them. Not quite as heavy as before, but it remains more uncomfortable than Mirajane would care to admit. She takes the last few steps still separating her from the bed and sits down, just at the edge.
"Mira... I can't... not tonight..."
"I know," is all she can say. "I don't expect anything, Erza. But I love you."
"Thank you."