VERiTY (Fairy Tail Fanfic)

52. Jellal Fernandes.

Jellal screamed himself awake.

It's been happening every night now.

Laxus held Erza off from going in, even when she vehemently insisted. "I have to see him!" she yelled, "Laxus, let go!"

"Eir said no," Laxus frowned. Cana was beside him, ushering Levy, Sherry, and the rest of the busybodies back to sleep.

Eir sighed, frazzled and his hair a mess, but immensely grateful.

"Eir, I need to go in," Erza said, desperately, clinging onto his knee. "Please. I'm the only thing he has left."

Eir crouched down, resting his hand on her head. "I'm sorry, Erza. You can't," he said. "If you go in now, he'll hurt you."

"I don't care."

"I do," Eir said. "And Jellal would, too, when he's himself again."

Erza looked down, biting her lips in frustration, fingers wrinkling the edge of her gown. "But I can't bear to hear him like this. Not when— not when I could've fixed it."

You couldn't have, Eir didn't say. You were not obliged to, nor were you capable, and there's nothing wrong with that. You were just weak, you were both just weak. It's no one's fault but the ones that orchestrated that madness.

"Just give him time," Eir promised. "Let him heal."

-

Jellal sobbed, visceral and violent.

"I don't want to sleep," he pleaded. "I won't throw things anymore. I'll be obedient. Just... I don't want to sleep. Please."

Eir wrapped him in his arms, but Jellal's the one clinging hard, begging for release for something Eir could not control.

And Eir understood.

He understood so well.

And when Jellal grew tired and weak, he could only lay on Eir's stomach, seeking the meager warmth, unwilling to part. It didn't matter that Jellal barely understood who Eir was. Anyone would be fine, if they were willing to hear him out.

"I still need to go," Jellal said, at some point. "To revive Zeref. So it can finally end."

And Eir would answer every time, "it'll never end," he said. "Not for Zeref, not for you, not for any of us. But you can get stronger one day and try to fight it." That's not an assurance and they both know it. It's quite the opposite. But neither of them wanted to hear lies.

Eir was still covered in wounds. His burns half-healed, broken open too often to properly heal.

Jellal's hands clenched on Eir's shirt, his nails clawing in, drawing blood, digging bruises, but Eir didn't say anything about it. The room is trashed, anything breakable shattered, anything throwable half across the room upturned. He didn't say a thing to those, either.

"I'm tired," Jellal whispered.

And Eir knew he meant so much more than physical exhaustion.

"Even then," he said, "we have to live on."

He rested his hands on Jellal's shoulder, and they breathed.

-

Eir stayed home for a while after that. Not like anyone would ever allow him to go out so soon after that huge stunt he pulled.