Note:

Flashbacks and thoughts in italics.

I do not condone or encourage any behaviors in this story. It is simply a fictional story.

CHAPTER 4

[Third Person POV]

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As each petal from the sunflower in his hand got pinched and plucked to drift down the soil cold at his feet, he felt that there won't ever be a time when he could see her again.

He had thrown away his shirt on the way. Pure madness. It was the hour of a lost dream. The sun sets like it's the last time ever. But Jellal knows that's only ever happening in his warped fantasy. He wanted to curse. In fact, he was swearing like a sailor a moment ago. Even said: "Yes! I am Crazy! I will kill that bitch!" five minutes ago. Anyways, he could do it because who's going to hear him here, in the middle of nowhere.

Jellal was not the one to blame for their relationship getting fucked up the way it did. So why does he have to feel this way: fraught and foolish like some idiot. He had outgrown that bonehead who believed everything the elders told him.

"Damn her and her new boyfriend!" His nostrils flared, rubicund from the emotions that plagued him. Jellal stood in the middle of the sunflower field, his orbs glazing gold from light and tears. He swore again, bringing the back of his hand against his moist cheeks, patting them dry. "I am not ever getting a girlfriend again. Perhaps, all women are the same. Gran. Mom. And now Her."

All the sunflowers smiled upon the East. Jellal should also await the sunshine's return like they do. Not every day will be as moody as today. However, wanting to kill oneself off is probably not a good sign. He should talk to a therapist, maybe. Remember the motto: it's ok not to be ok!

The blunette pulled his jeans higher over his waist. So it hugged his butt just right. At least that felt right. He should cease feeling pitiful. He was much above the fraud who stole his lover. No, that's not the right way to say it. She was not his, to begin with. Nobody belongs to anyone. What he needs is time, some time to deal with the hellhole she had put him in. He would not desire someplace that had abandoned him.

One thing's sure, Jellal would never treat someone like she treated him. He soothes his heart, telling himself that their love had been yet another sunflower wilting beyond the sunset.

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"Seriously, why is his face everywhere I look!" He folds the last sheet of newspaper and puts it neatly inside the dustbin.

His assistant, Cobra, squatted on the ground to pick up the papers scattered from the shelves when Jellal knocked it down with a low kick sideways in a fit of rage.

"Boss, your dad has arranged a therapist for you." The rumours about Jellal living in his office were true. Any normal human being would have neck pain from bending his neck into the laptop screen for hours, but not this man. "He is concerned. About your health."

Ever heard of falling suns. Of course, you may have. All dreamers have. Jellal was one such falling star. He was hooked in closer by a tenacious red string. He fell into his lover, passed right through her ignorance, and kept falling deeper and deeper as the threads taut and frayed until they snapped off altogether. The plummet was punishing, a punishment for the oscillation of his tenderness. Jellal had known and hated every second of it. Once, he was a nova beyond reach, incandesce upon the sky before that seductress knocked him off his feet.

"By the way, didn't you tell me to clear your schedule today?" Because he seems to have hurt his heart so much that neck pain couldn't compare. From the looks of it, Cobra concluded his superior had become a workaholic.

"Ah. Got a wedding to attend." Jellal curled his lips inward. My dad can fuck off. He wanted to voice these blistering feelings, but confidant or not, some things are better left unsaid.

The feel of it was euphoric to start with. But he was deaf to the cry of truth, that he was losing a part of himself with every megameter he cut across. Before he knew it, he had been led astray by romance. He had failed against Erza Scarlet in the burning battle of love. She stole him blind off his heart and soul, stripped him of his pride, and left him wounded with nothing else but a shell of a man. And Jellal would never forgive her for what she did, for corrupting his soul. Never in a million years.

"Your cousin's getting married?" Jellal flicked the lid of the coke bottle, handing it over to the assistant. Cobra snorted before sugar flooded his senses.

The bluenette responded, a subtle wink to match his flickering smirk. "No, it's mine."

For a split second, Cobra slammed his eyes shut. Then his eyes rolled skyward. "I'm—I'm getting my ears checked."

.

She didn't want to lose her shit right now. How can she go from calm to roused like water to steam. The pillows were all torn, cotton flew everywhere and settled on the floor like a cat had mauled it. All she wanted now was to see his face one more time. Truth is, he had said goodbyes before she did. If he had loved her even a bit, he wouldn't have left her like that. But she cannot help thinking that somewhere in the nook of his big world, there's a tiny place for her and only for her. Wishful thinking is not new to her, so much for someone who hated dreams.

She laid face flat on the bed as the salty taste of her tears bled into the pristine-white sheets. Sunlight made bright patterns on her naked back. This is why she hated dreams. Dreams made her feel miserable. And she didn't want to feel all that. It's so simple, but she feels the weight of a thousand mountains in a few words. She has dreamed about being found when she was lost and broken in the dark. Is that too much to wish for?

Oh, gosh. The sunlight is killing her mood even more. She want to so badly close the curtains, but she's gotta leave for work (work to live.) She sprawled out of the sheets wrapped around her frame, crawling out of the bed.

Thirty minutes after brushing her teeth, walking to the kitchen, and opening the shelf, Juvia takes out a jar of walnuts. She thinks about crunching it on an empty stomach in the morning and pops one in her cleansed mouth. A bang from the side of the room startles her as the walnut drops from between her teeth to the floor.

It was her cat, pounding down things as usual.

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"I love you, Gray-Sama." Juvia could not pick out the precise moment when the bouquet got ripped from her grasp and hurled at her face. She sneezed as a rose bloom thrust to the side of her nose. Lipstick smudged across her face in her attempt to remove the petals from her mouth.

Juvia fished her pockets for her phone, coughing up flowers like a Hanahaki patient. She needed to escape from here, no matter how. She felt everyone's eyes on her, cold and hard like stones. She felt bare as if she had shed her clothing in public, like a bird moulting.

The man before her was ruthless. Did he have to do this? He could've just rejected her. Yes, she was to blame. It is not appropriate to confess in front of an audience! But this wounded more than just him crushing her heart to smithereens.

The whispers around crept into her like a thorny helix. Enough already. She heard laughs and jeers. She can take it no more. Juvia bolted. She raced down the corridors like a coward, her tail between her legs.

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She put on red lipstick to go with her black suit and pants. She has a masters in Antient Witchcraft from FU (no it's not Fuck You, but the students there frequently use "Fiore University, fuck you!" quite fervently because of the fucked up university system, and human rights violations.) and does modeling as a part-time job.

Momentarily, she caught herself brooding over the corrupted education sector with her bottom lip jutting out. Chilling out in a snap, she takes her handbag before her feet slips onto those dainty low heels.

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Author's Note:

Jellal is not getting a girlfriend, he's getting a wife! Also, both protagonists are deranged.