Disclaimer: Fairy Tail is not mine.
OTP feels in the morning. OTP feels during the day. OTP feels when with my best friend. OTP feels when packing for uni. OTP feels at one in the morning. And dammit Jellal is not going to die. I won't let him.

-
After the Storm

Erza was covered with dirt and blood. Although Jellal couldn't really tell what was what under the dim lighting of the stars, magic and the sole remaining street lamp on what was once a busy Crocus street.

He couldn't be sure if the blood was hers, maybe Natsu's, perhaps Lucy's, her enemy's or even his own. But there were tears. The tears were definitely hers; the sight of them made the back of his head throb and his heart drop.

With a small, clumsy step he hobbled towards her, momentarily forgetting that his ankle was most likely broken. Not that it mattered. She was here, safe. Wrecked, but safe.

Alive.

Never been so beautiful.

Because goodness knows he wouldn't be able to handle losing her again. Those seven years had been hard enough.

She noticed the fall in his stride, he could tell by the way her eyes narrowed sharply. And when she met his eye he felt the full brunt of an entire rant condemning him for letting himself get so beat up. He wants to laugh, and she wants to say the words. Nothing comes out.

Both shoes missing, the gravel crunched harshly under her feet when she moved towards him, meeting him halfway instead of one coming to the other as so often transpires between them.

Jellal ignored the vice-like grip that clung onto his arm, just above an open wound. The world feels real again when she wraps her arms around him.

His hands wondered up from his sides and weaved into her hair. He pushed back the lovely, long scarlet locks to study her face and the tear tracks closely. Suddenly, he's nineteen again and furious with the whole world. She shouldn't look such a mess.

He pressed a kiss to her lips, then to her forehead while she sobbed against him, deciding that she need a friend and more amidst the chaos, destruction and death.

"It's okay," he breathed. "It's okay to cry."

It doesn't make you weak.

"You're here," she whispered. "You're alright." He's almost sure he heard a sigh of relief in there, as she presses closer. She held on tighter, burying her head in his shoulder – the one without the hole in it thankfully. Then it finally dawned on him that she is just as sick and tired as he is when it comes to fate's cruel and constant pulling and pushing.

That's not quite right, he wants to say. After all besides his ankle and shoulder, Jellal could feel at least two broken fingers and possibly a fractured rib. But he'd lived through worse.

He locked her in his arms and buried his face in her hair, swearing he'd never let her go again. He'd had enough.

Notes: I don't know what Mashima's going to do. I'm scared.
But yeah… short and bittersweet-ish.