Iridescent

He laughed as the wind whipped through his hair, the smell of burning tyre washing over him like the most nostalgic memory. He shifted gears easily, easing down on the pedal, hands sliding over the wheel almost fondly. The car drifted round the corner and the sirens faded altogether.

"Oh yeah," Laxus said with a grin, "you've still got it, man."

Jellal fist bumped his friend. "I'm offended that you ever doubted me in the first place."

The familiar hum of the car soothed him and he found himself relaxing. But after a short period of comfortable silence, Laxus spoke up as he stared at him thoughtfully. "You know, you should race for Fairy Tail again. Racing's in your blood."

Ignoring the comment, Jellal swung the car into their garage. "Remember to change the license plate, man. Cops are gonna be looking for you."

"Jellal…"

"It's late," Jellal clambered out of the car, eyes fixated on something in the distant, determined not to look at the man. "I'll see you tomorrow, Laxus."

Laxus caught the keys Jellal tossed at him and let out a sigh. "Yeah, got it."

Jellal looked at him. "Hey, Laxus."

"Hm?"

There was a short pause but then Jellal shook his head. "It's nothing. Catch you later."

Erza took a deep breath as she stared back at her reflection. A hand ran down the length of her dress, smoothing out the faint creases as fingers lingered on the silky fabric, hesitant but gentle.

She was picture perfect; her dress contrasting with her vibrant scarlet hair, diamond necklace shimmering under the bright lights, a brilliant sapphire bracelet adorning her wrist, makeup impeccable against fair skin. She looked flawless and it seemed like most people at the party agreed with her if their envious or lustful stares were anything to go by. But that knowledge failed to make her happy. She was just a doll, waiting for a man of high social status and considerable wealth to pursue her for nothing else but her looks. And it would sit alright with her family, because she had a duty to maintain their social standing, to preserve, if not increase, their fortune. Then she would stay at her husband's large estate, playing the role of the beautiful and loving trophy wife.

She loathed the idea of having to conform to such expectations, but then again she didn't have much of a choice. She couldn't fight this. This was her life. It was what was expected of a lady of high birth.

With a sigh, she turned away from the mirror and left the washroom to return back to the party. She wandered through the hallways, chandeliers glistening above her, throwing iridescent lights about the room, reflecting off the large French windows lining the hallway to mingle with the soft shadows. There was an excited buzz in the air as the party continued in full swing without her. She could see the open doors to the great hall in the distance, multi-coloured blurs whirling and twirling gracefully. Music wafted through the air, soft and lulling, and she recognised the tune; it was one she had been hearing on the radio quite a lot lately, although it was now being played as an orchestral arrangement.

Pausing for a moment, Erza looked out the window. There was now a faint drizzle and the wind was picking up. It looked like a storm was approaching. She really hoped that Jellal wasn't going to get caught up in it.

Jellal.

Her lips formed the word soundlessly. The name was unfamiliar to her but it hung at the tip of her tongue teasingly and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Jellal.

It was a beautiful name.

Approaching footsteps snapped her out of her reverie and she continued on her way. Her grandfather would have noticed her absence by now. In her haste to return to the great hall, she rounded the corner too quickly and bumped into someone.

"I'm sorry," she sputtered.

"Think nothing of it," the man's low baritone voice sent chills running down her spine and she looked up almost shyly.

The man was tall and very well built and Erza's eyes widened as recognition dawned on her. He was Simon Mikazuchi, son of the wealthiest man in the city. His father's corporation was also in the steel business and was a direct competitor of her family's company.

"Ah, there you are, Erza."

"Grandfather!"

Makarov smiled kindly at her. "Oh, I see you've met Simon."

"Sir, how do you do," Simon asked with a small bow of his head.

The old man folded his hands behind his back and gestured at the female. "I'm good, dear boy. This is my granddaughter, Erza."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Scarlet," Simon said before taking her hand in his and placing a chaste kiss on it. "I have heard many wonderful things about you."

"Thank you," Erza murmured, feeling the heat slowly rise up the back of her neck.

"Excellent! Why don't you two get to know each other better," Makarov suggested, almost giddy with glee. Erza opened her mouth to protest but he gave her a little nudge from the back, imploring eyes pleading with her to do so. She swallowed her dissent and gave a small smile back, eyes softening at the sight of genuine joy blossoming on her grandfather's face.

Simon looked slightly embarrassed but he acquiesced to Makarov's request and the two of them made their way back to the hall, chatting idly.

He asked her about her day and marvelled at the splendour of the party, eyes warm, a kind smile at the corner of his lips.

She replied politely with a nod and a smile of her own and he asked her to dance. She accepted gracefully, aware of the stares pointed in her direction, scrutinising her every move; she was the heir to one of the largest companies in the world after all.

They danced with calculated movements, running through the steps of the dance easily. When the last note of the song echoed around the room, Simon bowed slightly, thanked her for the dance and excused himself, leaving her to enjoy the rest of the night with the company of the many single men in the room.

Erza watched him wander off. Simon was different from Jellal, not in a negative way, but nonetheless different. He was polite, nice, a textbook gentleman. But he lacked the silent charisma, the burning passion in his approach to life. He was, all in all, conventional.

"He's a nice lad, isn't he?"

Sighing inwardly, Erza nodded at her grandfather.

"He is, grandfather."

Makarov gave her a beaming smile.

"Good to know, my dear. Good to know."

"Look, you have to race in next week's race, bro. We've lost the last 2 races already and we owe Sabertooth 200 bucks."

"We'll win it back afterwards, come on Laxus."

Laxus groaned inwardly. "You know that ain't how it works. Fairy Tail's reputation can't take another hit, where's your sense of pride, man? Besides, we're gonna start losing customers like this."

"You know why I won't race," Jellal rounded on his friend. "Just…I've got Dragion's car all fixed up so he'll be fine next week. There ain't nobody better than him and Gajeel."

"But you are," Laxus shot back. "You could win it by a mile. We need this, Jellal."

"You really asking me? After everything?"

The blond sighed and shook his head. "Jellal…I know that…"

"Then you know why I can't," Jellal interrupted. His voice dropped to a whisper. "You know I can't."

"Jellal..."

"I can't!"

He slammed a hand against the hood of his car in frustration, a dark scowl etched on his face.

The anger simmered in his chest, pounding and aching, and he started to work furiously, wrench in hand. His hands moved on autopilot, twisting and turning with an uncommon ferocity, but he wasn't thinking about his work.

No, his mind was somewhere far, far away, and work was the farthest thing on his mind right now.

There was no doubt that he loved to race, loved the feeling of the adrenaline rushing through his system, loved the fire running through his veins like molten gold. He loved everything about it.

But he couldn't race, not anymore.

And for his best friend to ask him to make a return when Laxus knew damn well what had happened, well it hurt like hell. He almost felt…betrayed.

"Shit," Jellal cursed, straightening up and clutching his hand as a sharp pain shot up its length.

Blood flowed freely from the deep gash across his palm and the man swore loudly. The anger boiled over and he whipped around, throwing his wrench to the floor before running his uninjured hand through his hair.

"Fuck!"

The blood was pouring from the wound and he tilted his hand so that it ran down the length of his arm to avoid spilling any on the floor. He scrabbled around in his toolbox for the first aid kit before remembering it was actually in his truck and he pulled out his keys from his pocket.

The keys jangled merrily as he fiddled with them with his other hand but in his haste, they slipped out of his grasp, falling onto the ground with a cheery clatter. He retrieved them, hands shaking slightly in panic and he jammed them into the car door's lock.

A gasp sounded behind him and Jellal turned around, injured hand held close to his chest.

"Miss Scarlet," he breathed out, clearly surprised at her presence.

Her eyes widened in horror. "You're bleeding!"

"Oh, right," he let out a nervous laugh and started searching the car's glove compartment.

There were a few pieces of gum, a packet of cigarettes and a small stack of magazines but the thing that he needed right now was the thing that was missing. He swallowed back a groan but then cool hands took his bleeding one and the man looked back to see Erza tying a light blue handkerchief around his wound gently. The blood was already seeping through the thin fabric, staining it a brilliant crimson, and he found himself apologising for the mess, mortified at the female's casual disregard of the differences between their respective social classes and confused as to the reasons why.

Her fingers lingered over his palm for the briefest of seconds and as she looked up, she caught his stunned gaze, eyes flickering hesitantly.

They were hazel, she noted, with a vague dark blue rim around it if one looked closely enough. His eyes seemed to soften, growing lighter in colour as he leaned forward ever so slightly, a hint of silvery light. The light must have been playing tricks on her for there was no way anyone could have such beautiful eyes, such kind ones. She was captivated by their warmth and for a moment she was lost in them before his low voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"I'm so sorry about the blood, Miss Scarlet. Your handkerchief, it's…I'll get it cleaned up, I'm so sorry."

Erza didn't even register his words, her attention was focused on his face, specifically the scar cutting vertically across his right eye. It was so faint, hidden behind his maroon tattoo, that she hadn't noticed it before, but it was very long, jagged around the edges of the taut skin. Her fingers brushed against his cheek before she could stop herself and he flinched, a hand shooting up to encircle her wrist.

She watched him swallow, watched his Adam's apple bob up and down, and she asked him. "What happened?"

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, the expression on his face dimming slightly. He opened and closed his mouth, almost as if the words were choking him. After much difficulty, he answered softly. "Car accident."

There was a sense of guilt behind his tone, regret in his eyes and she nodded, opting not to question him anymore. He stared at her for a bit longer before he let her go.

"Sorry 'bout the mess, Miss Scarlet."

"It's no problem."

"The car should be fixed tomorrow," Jellal said with a smile. "I'll be back tomorrow then."

Erza returned the smile and as he bent down to retrieve his tools, she blurted out. "Are you going back to the garage?"

Jellal straightened up, pleasant surprise written all over his face. He hadn't expected her to ask, heck he hadn't expected her to even care.

"No," he answered slowly. "I was actually gonna go grab some dinner."

A quiet 'oh' was her response and perhaps he was reading too much into this but she almost sounded…disappointed. His grip tightened on his toolbox. He wanted to ask her and if it were anyone else, he would already have. He had always been a rebel, he hated conforming to everyone else's expectations and being a nobody, he could fight against the system – he had nothing to lose after all. But Jellal cared about her, he didn't want to stir up any trouble for the lady.

His eyes floated to her once again and Erza held her breath. The expression behind them was so intense, almost as if he were trying desperately to tell her something - something that couldn't be said out loud. She hesitated, struggling between giving in to her desires or to play things safe. Her grandfather was out at a business meeting so she had a bit of time to do whatever she wanted, but Loke was chauffeuring Makarov and that meant that she would have to do so on her own.

Something must have shown on her face, or perhaps Jellal just had a knack of reading people, for he suddenly spoke up.

"Would you…do you um, want to come?"

He held his breath and his heart skipped a beat when she answered.

"I'd love that."

Author's note: Um, didn't proofread it because I haven't touched FT stuff in forever and this was sitting in my file for ages and I just couldn't be bothered to add some more so here, have this half assed update for the moment lol