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She hasn't seen him for months when he shows up on her doorstep, wind-swept with eyes rimmed in red.
"Listen. Listen, Erza. I— We—"
Of course, he cuts off immediately when he sees four curious eyes peering from behind her shoulder, so she offers to step outside with him if only to give them the privacy they deserve from her well-meaning but chronically nosy friends.
(Neither of them miss Natsu calling out something inappropriate just before she can close the door, and it doesn't quite cut off Lucy's indignant reprimand.)
Undeterred, Jellal tells her in no simple terms that he wants to be with her even if he doesn't think he deserves to be — even if neither of them do. And she takes it all in, lets his words sink into her skin and warm her bones, lets the year of fuck-ups, drunken staggers home, loneliness, of no-thank-yous and it's-complicateds all wash from her system.
"I know we've got our issues," he says, "and I know we're gonna have to work at it, I know I have a lot to work on, I know that. But I want to, because I want you, I want all of you, every day, every hour from now on," like it's easy, like it's been building up in him and only now is flowing out like a waterfall of missed chances. And at the end, tacked on like an afterthought, "i-if you'll have me," and of course, that's what does it.
Erza's never been able to say no when Jellal's being brave, after all. When he holds his arms out, hesitant, smile bashful like they're sixteen all over again and he's offering to share his umbrella, she steps into his embrace. And it's like coming home.
At her shiver, he steps back with a rueful smile. "Take my jacket. It's cold tonight."
She finally, finally, finally returns that smile. The tingling warmth in her cheeks, the blush that belongs to him, feels so good. But the doubts creep up like they always do, vying to ruin the moment, or give it their best shot at least. "Jellal... It— I haven't... I still can't—"
He nods. "I know that. I know you've... I know you've got just as many demons as I do. I know—"
"Jellal, I can't just forget it so easily—"
"I'm not asking you to, Erza, I don't want you to forget—"
"Because I'm not good at this, I've never been good at this, you know what my dad's like— w-was like, I mean, I still haven't even spoken to him..."
He nods, and takes a step closer so that she has to crane her neck to maintain eye contact. "I know. I'm not asking you to forget, Erza."
She bites her lip, wanting to look away, but unable to, utterly unable to. "I don't know if I'm ready."
"Me neither," he admits a little sheepishly. "I'm—... Well, you know what happened last year. I'm not exactly the best at... this sort of stuff."
It's her turn to nod.
"But," and he's stepping even closer, close enough for Erza to feel the heat of his heavy exhale, "I want to try. If it's with you, I can't not try, Erza."
"I don't know if I can fix it this time," she whispers.
Jellal ducks his head so he's almost at eye level with her. "If you can't, I will. I'll fix it." A tiny quirk at the corner of his lips; you'd miss it if you weren't looking for it. (Erza's always been looking for it, though.) "Let me kiss it better."
And... well, and he does just that.
(Or at least, he tries to. She pushes him away after a second, flustered and laughing. "You can't just kiss me better, idiot." And a minute later finds him smiling against her lips, breathing the words into her mouth, "But can't I try?")