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22 ; smitten

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It has been two weeks since he showed up, windswept and hopeful and brave, on her doorstep, and the only thing Erza can think about right now is how warm Jellal's hand feels on the small of her back.

It was adorable, really. They've been together in some form or another since they were five years old but he treated it like a first date all over again, picking her up with roses of all things (because he knows, he knows, he knows how weak she is for all things red). And hidden behind his back was a small pack of fresh — fresh, Lord have mercy on her soul — strawberries, and they spent a solid forty minutes pretending to be romantic while really having a lowkey eating contest. A contest which naturally Erza won, especially considering Jellal outright refused to eat too much of 'her present'... Could he be any cuter?

The only reason they left the apartment at all was because they suddenly realised that the reservation Jellal made at the restaurant was going to run late if they didn't get going. And even then, even then, they spent so long trying to get rid of the small red strain Jellal accidentally dribbled onto the oven mitts when he laughed too hard and squeezed a strawberry to mushy pulp (because he started going to the gym again, you know, he's working out again and it's showing)—

Erza has to actually work to hide the small whine in the back of throat when his palm presses against her, warm and steady. Jellal holds the door out of her apartment complex open and all she can think about is that time in high school when she tried to do it for herself and he very literally caught her in his arms.

But then his fingers curl round to her waist, snapping her back to the present, and suddenly he's holding her steadily to his side. And they're standing so close — she can smell his cologne, feel the warm muscles under his shirt contrasting deliciously with the cool night breeze fingering through her hair, and she swears the proximity is enough to make her dizzy...

God, but I missed you, her fingers say, gently curling around his bicep. I missed the me that's only me when you're around.

"Erza..." His soft voice vibrates deep in his chest.

She hums contently. Too fast, too fast, a part of her warns, but finally laughs the rest in sweet relief. This is how they have always been, has it not? This is how it's supposed to be. And if they fall too easily, too comfortably, too naturally into that trust... is she anyone to stop it? Should she be?

She had thought that the good memories of the boy next door were something confined to her childhood days, but sometimes, the past can be a person, too. It doesn't have to be something you carry around in your shoulders; it can be a locked box of moments hidden in someone else, just waiting — always waiting — to be remembered when it's needed. And maybe... Erza wonders, maybe it's finally time.

"Erza."

"Hmm?"

"Not to... startle you or anything, but uh— I don't think I saw you lock your apartment door."

She freezes. "I—" Because, playing through it in her head... "Oh my God." Jellal laughs when she pushes him away in a small panic, spinning around to jam the key into the lock. "I'm so sorry, I'll be right back—"

He shakes his head, still smiling. "Not a problem."

"I just— I can't leave it like that—"

"Understandable."

"I won't be a moment—"

"It's fine, Erza, I don't mind."

She glances back, lips pursed as their gazes lock. He just smiles that quiet smile, a smile from a gentle boy that he never quite outgrew, and makes a show of settling against the brick wall to wait. Erza's endeared, really, until it becomes clear he's trying not to smirk.

"I'll be right down," she says again, turning the key and pushing the door open.

"It's okay," Jellal says again. "Don't apologise." He glances up at the dark sky, like he's remembering something far away — Hokkaido, her heart whispers, and stars upon stars — before meeting her eyes again with another smile, softer, genuine, a little more secret; it's a smile just for her. "I'll wait."

She blinks. "...R-Right."

Sometimes, she realises, the past can be a person, just waiting to repeat.