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Jellal's mouth stood open. She had… burnt what? How much? How? Did she get hurt? Were the neighbours alarmed or did anyone see?
Erza did not give him the chance to ask. She dragged him after her into the bedroom, shutting him up easily. She walked backwards, pulling on both of his hands. She crawled onto the bed, kneeling in front of him, upright. He wanted to swallow, but there was no saliva left. She tugged one more time, almost making him collapse onto her.
Then she hugged him tightly.
"I…" her arms enclosed his back, hands reaching up over his shoulder, "missed you…" she muttered into him. She had to turn her head to the side, otherwise squishing it. Jellal found his heart stop for a moment. His lungs burnt from the lack of oxygen.
Slowly – ex- and inhaling with a slight pant – he brought his arms around her. Had he done something wrong? Had she heard something about his mission to be concerned? Had he seemed mad about the kitchen and scared her?
With guilt and worry building up in him, he held her so tight, he could hear the breath press out of her. Her hands gripped his shoulders.
"I missed you, too." He whispered, loosening his embrace. One hand glided down her back, soothingly, yet careful not to touch her wound. He lifted himself out of the hug, wanting to see if she really was concerned. Her arms came down, holding onto his instead. She had her head lowered. He frowned with sympathy.
Gently, Jellal put two fingers beneath her chin, then slid his hand further to cup her jaw. He tilted it up to look at her, not expecting her to slightly rise alongside it. He could feel her breath on his face, so close that her eyelashes tickled his skin. She held her breath. He could feel her heart drum against his own ribcage, as if already having crashed through her own.
Realising how it must have seemed to her, Jellal felt his face heat up feverishly. Not that he did not want to, but… He swallowed. The tip of her upper lip brushed his once. His head spun, and for a second, he thought he'd fall over or unconscious. His stomach was going in loops.
She wanted this. There could be no clearer sign. Her hands were gripping his arms, pinching them in impatient agitation. She trembled. Heftily. He remembered that time on the beach, her hands coming to hold his face, imploring him to return her actions, too overwhelmed by her feelings to be angry at him for what he had done and said.
And then he had lied. He winced with guilt. He pulled back a little, his hand loosening.
"I'll get changed as quickly as possible," he said in a hushed voice. Her whole body slackened. She exhaled, then gasped for air, finally breathing again. She sank into herself, head and arms hanging.
Another pang of guilt hit him like punches into his stomach. Well, deserved… he thought to himself, disappointed in himself, hating himself. He dared letting her into his house and sleep in his bed – why could he not just kiss her? Why did he have to make that same stupid mistake again?
Jellal wanted to scrape off his face as he washed it. He knocked several things over in his self-loathing rage, swearing under his breath. He would make it up to her, he promised himself. And he would be lucky if she was not out the door already, he thought, clenching his jaw.
The sweet scent of her hair lingered around him, mocking him and he spotted a bottle of shampoo in the shower. She really had waited, made herself at home during his absence. He wanted her to stay forever, to return to her how much she gave him – these indescribably wonderful feelings of home.
But she would never want to live in some bleak, unfinished hobo's hut, would she? She was still Head Girl at Fairy Hills. She took her responsibilities seriously and she would not let her guildmates down. She had several rooms, all furnished and decorated and homely. She was her own boss and she wanted to rely on coming home to what she knew – something he could not provide. He was not even there himself with certainty.
Jellal sighed deeply. He had felt so excited and happy to be home with her. Then, of course, he had to ruin everything, shattering her– no, both of their hopes within minutes.
He contemplated to take a shower, in the end only checking whether he was not sweaty, but his hair and skin still smelled of the evening wind. He changed his clothes and took a deep breath before entering the bedroom again.
Erza had hardly moved. She was still sitting at the side of the bed, feet at her sides in resignation, head and arms hanging. Jellal felt a new sting through his heart, biting at him.
He neared her on silent feet. He had no excuse for his cowardice but he would try his best to win her back, should he still be granted that chance. Carefully, he bent down, reaching his arms around her back. He lifted her up a little and she hung from him like a sack of potatoes. One arm wandered down beneath her behind, rucking her up to carry her. She moved.
Slowly, her arms lifted, snaking around his neck. They did not hold on tightly, but he felt relief wash down his back at her response. He shuffled across the mattress on his knees, setting her down in the middle of the bed. With a gentle tug, he made her sink onto her side alongside him. He felt for the blanket, pulling it out from beneath them, covering her, then secured it with his arm on top.
Erza swallowed and he thought that for a moment, he had heard her supress a sniffle. She did not retract her hands from behind his neck, folding into him, bracing herself against him as if it could make up for what he had done to her. Again.
Silence engulfed them. The house was quiet, the streets, too. Even breathing was hardly heard despite their closeness.
"Do you… want carpet or something else?" Erza's voice was so small, he had to hold his breath to understand. "For the hall I mean." She whispered. He felt his heart bleed out. How could she be this strong? This immensely strong, moving on when she had been hurt and was not at fault one bit. She just went on with the task at hand and as relieved as it allowed him to be, he feared she had finally checked it off the list and he might never get a chance to redeem himself.
It took him a moment to rehydrate his mouth in order to answer.
"Perhaps stone – it's easier to clean than carpet in the entrance," Jellal tried to focus. Focus like she did. Like she mastered, astonishing him anew with everything she did. His ever enduring Titania.
"It'll be cold when you come from the shower, though…" she remarked. He had to smile. It sounded as if she had gone through all the possibilities already. It reminded him of how she was almost living in his house for longer than him. She had had all the time she needed to work this out while he had been away.
"Do you think wood would be better?" He asked. He wanted her opinion. He had never renovated a house and though he suspected that she had not either, he was ready to rely on her guidance. He wanted everything to be to her liking so that she would stay… at least come back.
"What makes you think I would leave in the first place?" She asked, regaining some confidence. His breath got stuck in his throat. Had he said that last thing out loud…? She giggled when his neck heated up, blush rising until his ears. He felt her smile against the crook of his neck as she snuggled up, running a brave hand through his hair to push him closer to her.
He swallowed. His muscles relaxed completely. She had forgiven him. Again. Smiling, he held her tightly, his thumb caressing her back until both fell asleep.
"I really missed you, too…" he whispered. He was home.
It looked even more terrible than she remembered. The wall behind the stove was pitch-black, smoke staining it. One countertop was ruined, alongside half of the next. The stove was intact – surprisingly – though covered in ashes.
Erza peeked in from behind Jellal. He had already changed into black trousers and a buttoned-up white shirt. Putting his hands on his hips, he tilted his head at the marks.
"Well…" he started, drifting into thoughts instead of continuing. Erza stared at his back, the way the shirt framed his broad shoulders, how his hands outlined his waist. She lost focus on the kitchen entirely. "I think," he pulled her back into reality, "I'd like to use the paint in the hall for the kitchen, if you don't mind, that is," he declared, turning to her.
Erza nodded, a little stupefied, still. She retrieved the buckets and brushes while he wiped down the stove, ridding it of most of its blackness.
"Requip," Erza closed her eyes for a moment. Her clothes glowed, exchanging for a protective painter's overall, her hair tying up into a high ponytail. She felt his stare of admiration. He pushed his lips out as he pondered, regarding his own attire. Erza narrowed her eyes, an idea striking her.
"Here," she said, unzipping the overall.
"W-wait, you don't-" Jellal held out his hand to stop her. He froze in place when she slowly pushed the fabric over her shoulder. She lowered her eyelids, glancing at him from the side while revealing her in only lacy underwear covered torso. His face flamed up. Their eyes met and he averted his gaze – and himself – immediately, staring at the ceiling's corner as if his life depended on it.
Erza smirked. She did feel embarrassed, no question, but her purpose was stronger. She knew he could not handle women, especially not her. She would make him squirm for just a tiny bit longer, just to pay him back for the last night.
She had been disappointed, hurt even. She longed for nothing more than for him to finally make a move; to show her that he liked her the way she liked him. Seeing him burn up in his corner as she bent down to release her ankles from the overall, she had to sigh under her breath.
Who was she to pressure him? She could have made a move, too. She should have dared. She could not, though. Fear was stronger than desire and she was scared, no, terrified of being rejected and forever broken by not obtaining his sincere affection. She had waited this long; she could wait longer.
She wanted the truth and this was not it – it would not be if she rushed in and took that decision from him; that hard-earned freedom. He was probably just as afraid.
Erza sighed again, deeply this time. She handed him the overall, changing into her usual blouse and skirt – she had several of both, she would not mind stains. Jellal took it without turning.
"Th-thank you." He barely managed. She watched him, glance overshadowed by sorrow. Perhaps, she thought, this was as far as it went. This was his honest affection and she loved it, she really did. She decided to be grateful and stop rushing and pushing and expecting. This was happiness. This could be all she needed.
"You know," she stepped in front of him when he fiddled with the zipper, overtaking the task, "I think we should cover up the furniture beforehand," she pulled it up, eyes following until they clashed with his. His cheeks were still tinted in a deep red, eyes wide and insecure. She let her own soften, giving an apologetic smile.
"You're right…" he said, glancing to the side without turning his head away. "How about," he enclosed her hand on the zipper with both of his, "I get us some lunch and you take care of the cover," he proposed, returning her smile with an encouraging one.
"I would have thought breakfast came first," she teased, tilting her chin up the slightest bit. No matter whether he would never kiss her, she still liked the closeness.
"Not after twelve, I'm afraid."
"Twelve?" Erza spun around, searching the room for a clock. There was none but she believed him anyway, giving an unbelieving look.
"We've never gotten up before ten," he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "Let's call it brunch, then."
They worked until the late afternoon and Erza found herself to be very happy. It was not just satisfying work, the results clearly making a difference from black to white. Working together was a million times better than doing it alone, surprise or not. They did not keep up a conversation for the entire time but just watching the other when they were not looking – or accidentally doing it simultaneously – made time fly by.
Since no one risked to use the kitchen, Jellal brought lunch and dinner. He secretly ordered a piece of strawberry cake to be delivered to the house as soon as they could get one. He would pay for the long shipment with the next mission that awaited him the following day.
"I promised to go on a job with Wendy tomorrow," Erza said as she snuggled up to him that night, "so please wake me before nine." He hummed positive, enclosing her with both arms, her head resting on one.
"I will." He promised, closing his eyes and deeply inhaling the sweet smell of her freshly washed hair.