Roommates - A Jerza Oneshot

1.

4:00 am.

"Jellal, wake up. It's time for you to go to work."

"Let me sleep, Erza..."

"But you have to go, don't you? you will get your salary plus, if you don't go, he might scold you again, worse, might even fire you."

Jellal groaned but opened his already fatigued eyes.

The cracked ceiling, a little too low, stared down at him in the dark room having only an orange light bulb at the small dining table and a fogged window at the end of the room as their only source of light.

It was drizzling and the unpleasant nauseating smell of drainage behind their apartment took over the delicious savor of doughnuts and coffee at the café downstairs.

The sound of the train blaring passed through the thin scraped wallpapers and Jellal could feel his bed shake upon the loud reverberation.

The stench of last night's spoiled milk was still swaying under his nose.

Jellal ran his rough hands through his greasy hair, further disheveling it and got up, slowly placing down his feet on the creaky fractured board of their studio apartment. Cold.

Underneath his eyes were circles, darker than Erza's and his eyelids were heavy, demanding him to close them again. He stared down at his toes that appeared wrinkled and got up lifelessly.

A tune played in his ears, vague lyrics, vague humming and sometimes the notes a bit too high for the ears that would make Jellal's eyes shoot open at once. It was Erza singing.

"I will be going now. Be sure to eat your breakfast before you leave, okay?"

Jellal habitually nodded.

Erza wore her black worn-out jacket, slipped a cap with the post-office company's name on it and left the room with an abused brown case.

Jellal's breakfast every day was canned food since it stays longer and costs less. A bottle of water and a sticky note stuck by Erza before leaving was on the can, "Eat well, Jellal-Kun!" Perhaps to make Jellal at least nibble on it.

It always drizzles. The damp, muddy roads dig under Jellal's heels. The sunless sky mocks him every second of the day and the dark clouds hide its beauty from his sight.

Under the flickering streetlamps, a group of flies played around spherically.

Abandoned houses lay dead, albeit it rains, the sun never shines and sadly, the wetted flowers bow down.

The rocky road stretched far until his office and looking at his second-hand watch, 4:10 A.M, he only had five minutes to reach his destination, otherwise, like Erza said, his grumpy boss might fire him even if he's a minute late.

So he ran, anxiously and fast but slipped. Cursing himself for sleeping for even a minute, he got up and ran again.

4:16 am.

"You think that you can slack off all day, do nothing and I would just give you your pay?"

"I'm sorry sir..."

"Sorry? This is the second time you're damn late!"

"I'm re-really sorry sir...it won't happen aga--"

"I'm cutting off half of your pay! This is the last and final warning Jellal Fernandes."

"Yes...Sir."

"Clean up the front and the bathrooms, take out the trash and set the files under my desk. I have to leave early but if I see any work undone, you're fired for good, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"And don't you sleep in my office again. I don't want to smell your filthy stench when I get back in the morning."

"Yes, sir."

"Man, why do I always get people like you!" The boss clicked his tongue and left with his brand-new briefcase.

For seconds, Jellal looked down and momentarily, droplets of water blotted the pale floor and sniffs from time to time would be heard by the few workers outside.

"I hate my life..." He once said to Erza.

"Huh? Why?"

"Because this is not the life I want to live. I don't want to clean the bathrooms or broom the wet leaves. I want to work in an office, maybe be a bank employee and drink coffee with freshly baked doughnuts. I want to give my mom the life she wanted. Give her money every month, feed her nice food and take her out on vacations."

"Then can't you do that now?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just can't. I can't figure out how."

3:50 am.

Jellal walked back to his apartment after a tiring day.

With his spare key, he opened the door and switched on the lights but saw Erza in a deep sleep as usual.

Quietly closing the door and switching the lights back off, he tossed himself on his untidy bed.

The ceiling appeared in waves like the ocean, his head throbbed like he was being smacked with an iron hammer a million times and his throat turned as dry as a bone as if a cotton was absorbing all his saliva. The moment he tried to relax his body, a raw pain would tingle all its way to his spine. His eyes burned and he knew that closing them now would only make him fall into oblivion.

So, he opened the drawer from his bedside and took out a bundle of sticky notes and a pen. The street light radiating from the waterlogged window was enough for him to see his own dull handwriting.

"Wake me up at 4." He scribbled and stuck it on the table, hoping Erza would see it.