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17 ; with
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His blush is exactly how she had, alone at night with only a pillow to as witness, imagined it would be — messy, a full-faced flush, and so utterly endearing a tingling heat crawls up her cheeks in response.
"It—" He clears his throat, unfurling his fingers so she can see what he's holding out. "It reminded me of you."
The words strike a chord Erza didn't know her heart could play. She takes the charm with trembling fingers from an equally shaky hand, wondering at the intricate details on the tiny model castle. Little turrets poke at the pad of her thumb with a pleasant sting as she admires the masterfully crafted windows, the beautifully carved drawbridge, the miniscule flag flying from the top of a medieval kingdom she can hold in the palm of her hand.
She knew he was taking his little sister to the museum that Saturday, spent all weekend looking forward to his stories of grand war murals and medieval armour that still shone and gleamed; for that, she had prepared herself, but to walk into homeroom to this...
"You like it." It's said more with relief than triumph but her stomach flutters all the same.
"I love it," she corrects, beaming at him. The stretch of her cheeks is the best feeling. "How did you know—?"
At this, Jellal laughs, "What, a history nerd like you? Please," and dodges her half-hearted punch with a pleased grin. "Of course I knew."
She bites her lip, looking down at the tiny gift again. Of course you did. Erza curls her fingers around it like it's fragile.
(And if she keeps it in her schoolbag every day, enjoys the warm glow it gives her like a baby sun, well, nobody needs to know.)