Date: July 10, X791 — Royal Castle Rooftop, Crocus, Fiore
The rooftop was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt almost alive. It breathed with the slow summer wind, carrying the faint hum of music and laughter from the banquet hall far below. Now and then, the cheer would swell, reach the edges of the roof, and dissolve into the night air.
Teresa stood at the stone railing, her short cloak moving gently behind her, the stitched Fairy Tail emblem catching bits of moonlight. She looked out over Crocus, its streets glowing with the soft gold of lanterns, its rooftops like a scattered sea of shadows. From here, she could see everything without being a part of it.
That was the point.
The height gave her distance. The distance gave her clarity. And the clarity kept her edge intact.
She heard the footsteps before she felt the presence — steady, deliberate, and without any attempt to hide.
"Teresa."
She didn't turn. The voice was unmistakable. Quiet, but anchored.
"You always find me," she said. Her tone was even, but there was the faintest hint of warmth in it — the kind that didn't quite reach the surface.
Romeo's steps carried him closer, the sound of his boots steady against the stone. "You stand so far away," he said, "but it's not hard to see you."
At that, she turned. The moonlight caught in her silver eyes, making them look almost unreal. For a heartbeat, something stirred inside her chest — the same feeling she had felt on the Crocus rooftops days earlier, the one she had quickly buried.
"You should be inside," she said. "Your warmth belongs with the others."
"I wanted to be here," he answered, without hesitation. "With you."
Her gaze sharpened, though not in warning — more in curiosity. "Why?"
"Because I won't let you be alone." He stood with his hands open, empty. "You taught me to cut without hesitation. But you also taught me not to lose my warmth."
Her fingers twitched at her side before she turned her face back toward the city. "Warmth burns," she murmured. "It burned me once before. It was the crack in my edge."
"I know," Romeo said, his voice calm. "But maybe warmth can heal, too. Or at least keep you from disappearing completely."
A trace of a smile passed over her lips, gone before it could settle. "Perhaps. But an edge dulled by echo cannot cut. To soften is to betray what I am."
"Then I won't ask you to change," Romeo said, his voice gaining quiet strength. "But I'll walk beside you. Not behind. I'll keep my warmth. I'll carry it for both of us."
Her eyes came back to his. The silver in them was unreadable, but the weight of her gaze was different now — less like a blade, more like a measure.
"Walk beside me…?"
"Yes," he said. "You don't have to hold it. Just know it's there."
The silence stretched between them, thin but unbroken. Then, for the first time in what felt like years, she took one step closer.
"You are stubborn," she said.
"I learned from the best."
A breath of laughter escaped her — brief and almost soundless, but real. "Echoes bring warmth… warmth is what burned me once." The words came without the steel she usually gave them, spoken like a truth she had accepted rather than fought against.
He lifted a hand, slow and deliberate, stopping just short of her arm. She looked at it, her gaze softening for a fraction of a second before she stepped back.
"I cannot be what you want."
"I know," he said, his smile faint but steady. "But I'll be here anyway."
They stayed like that for a while, both turned toward the city, both letting the distant banquet hum fill the space between their words.
Finally, she turned away, her cloak moving like a shadow in the breeze.
"Thank you," she whispered — so soft it was unclear if she meant for him to hear.
And then she was gone, disappearing into the darkness of the rooftop's far side, her steps soundless against the stone.
Romeo stood where she had left him, his eyes fixed on the place where her silver gaze had been. Slowly, his hand drifted to the hilt of his flame sword at his hip.
"Next time," he told the stars, "I'll stand truly beside you. I promise."
The wind caught his words, carrying them away into the warm night air. Somewhere below, laughter roared again from the banquet hall, spilling upward like light — but he stayed where he was, looking at the horizon as if she might appear there.
For now, he was alone on the rooftop. But he didn't feel abandoned. The distance between them still felt like a wall, but tonight, there had been a crack in it.
And for him, that was enough to keep going.