You're All I've Got

Chapter 1: The Fernandes Family

Erza's P.O.V.

I was picking up some clothes for me to wear for our guests tonight. I don't really know who they are, but my parents mention 'Fernandes' all the time. They told me that these 'Fernandes' people are very close to them. I know they don't usually visit here because I never really see people invited in our house. Actually, this is the first time they'll visit us. And so I've figured that they've only met recently. My parents aren't really the 'social type' like me, but hey, they got new friends.

Well, this surely is gonna be a boring night for me.

I picked out a pair of black leggings with a red tank top to pair with and rushed inside the bathroom. I'm not like every eight year old kid who dresses like some freaking Barbie doll. Just to remind you, though. Yup, I'm eight years old.

"Sweetie, you done yet?!"

My mother shouted from the kitchen, downstairs. She was cooking the food and well Dad, he's buying some alcoholic drinks to keep them busier tonight.

I finished wearing my outfit, so I glanced at myself in the mirror and decided to fix my scarlet hair into a high ponytail. And after that finishing touch, I shouted back to my mother.

"Yes, Mom! I'll be down in a sec!"

"Ok! Just hurry! They'll be here in a minute!"

Oh. No. My room. My room is the messiest place I've ever seen. A couple of clothes scattered everywhere, my acoustic guitar (yup, I play the guitar) lying on my bed while its case is improperly folded at the top of my T.V. and all my books have been toppled over to the wrong places. How am I gonna fix this all up in less than a minute? Could this get any worse?

DING DONG

They're here. Well, no time now. I can't fix up my room while the guests are downstairs.

"Erza! Get down here!" This time, my dad shouted. He arrived minutes ago, though.

I ignored my messy room and hurried downstairs. As soon as I got down, I quickly stood behind one of the chairs that are arranged with the table. My mom opens the door and there revealed the couple. Mr. and Mrs. Fernandes, I assume. They have blue colored hair, but Mr. Fernandes's hair has a darker shade of blue.

"Come on in, Marissa (Mrs. Fernandes), Peter (Mr. Fernandes). Make yourself at home."

My mom smiled warmly and gestured for them to come inside. They returned the warm smile and entered. As they went in, a young boy, maybe the same age as me, walked behind them. So they have a child?

"Oh! You never told me you had a child!" Mother smiled at the blue haired boy. He returned the smile and his mother responds.

"Oh yes, his name is Jellal. He's our only child."

"Wonderful. He looks the same age as my daughter. How old are you, Jellal?" My mother asked the so called 'Jellal'.

"I'm eight," He gave a small smile. He must be uninterested in this, too. I can see it in his dull 'smile'. His expression turned blank and he quickly glanced at me. I glanced back and we start looking at different directions. Note the awkward atmosphere.

"Dear! You are the same age as him! Why don't you introduce yourself?" My cheerful mom told me and I followed.

"I'm Erza, nice to meet you," I gave a smile and extended my arm for a friendly handshake. He shook my hand and smiled back.

"Well then, everyone. Let's eat!" My dad said. We came to the table with our mouths watering. A baked chicken, with the sauce surrounding it, was placed in the center, a big pasta bowl and there stood two, one liter bottles and a couple of beers and wines.

After we ate, we put our dishes in the sink for me to wash and our parents started drinking their beers and wines. Probably the moment they've been waiting for. While they do they're thing, Jellal glanced at me and spoke.

"So um, Erza. Care to show me your room?" I nodded and led him upstairs to my unclean room. I lower my head in embarrassment as I swung the door open.

"Not bad," He complimented. Well, I took it as a compliment. It's good enough for the type of room I have.

"Heh, yeah.." I muttered, closing the door behind us. He looked around and suddenly stopped staring until his eyes met my black, acoustic guitar.

"You play the guitar?" He sounded amused when he asked. He took his hands off the pockets of his hoodie and walked to my bed to touch my guitar.

"Yeah, be careful, though," I replied and sat on the bed beside him.

"Well, I play, too. A little," He chuckled and tried to play a song. When he plucked the strings with his hand and the other to the frets, I laughed. He didn't know at all. He pouted and handed me my guitar.

"Why don't you play a song?" He crossed his arms. I scoffed and played a song with my voice in beat. While I sang, his jaw dropped.

"Impressive," He clapped and I giggled at his idiotic actions.

"Thanks," I place my guitar down. After I played the song, we started chatting and chatting the whole night, until it reached a complete silence. But he eventually broke it.

"Hey, uh, do you mind giving me... guitar lessons, some time?" He asked, shyly. I smiled and responded.

"Sure, I don't mind at all."

"Really? Since there's school, maybe 4 pm every Saturday?"

"Sounds good, but we only do sessions in an hour."

"Yeah, it's fine. Not bad for an eight year old guitarist, though," He chuckled.

"Thanks. Dad taught me well. If it wasn't for his teachings, I would've ended up like you," I laughed shortly when I saw the offended look on his face.

I gave him a joking look when suddenly his mother called his name from downstairs.

"Jellal! Time to go! Tomorrow's Monday! You need to sleep early for school!"

Well, it's already 10:15 in the evening. How can he sleep early then? Our parents sure do know how to plan events like this on a Sunday. Sarcasm highly noted.

"Ok Mom!" He screamed back to his mother and turned to me. "Gotta go, Erza. See you next weekend?" He reached out his hand, this time.

"Yeah, sure," I shook his hand and went downstairs with him. We all greeted each other goodbye's with our smiles lifting up. As they left, we closed the door behind us and went upstairs to bed.