#little baby jellal before toh (this is sad tho)

[xhusu]

; Too Soon

Overwhelmed by grief after a dark guild attacked his home city, a very young Jellal recalls memories and tries to understand the concept of death.

Happens before his abduction, bits of how I imagine Jellal's backstory

You can also read it on AO3! | Words: 2,275

      

Jellal watched a bird fly high in the sky. White and proud, the animal flapped its wings once, twice, and continued his journey with no care for the boy who witnessed his assured flight.

He was envious.

As he brought his legs close to his torso, he wondered why was the world so cruel. Hunger was monstrous but it was nothing compared to the hole carved in his heart. His pursed lips trembled and he sobbed in silence, because that was all he could do, really. Under the burning sun, he cried; alone and lonely.

Dead.

The four of them were dead.

His only family.

He still couldn’t comprehend it fully. Death was a funny concept for such a young child. All he understood was that he would never see them again, ever. All that was left for him was a wounded shoulder and the memory of his uncle bleeding out. Ani was young. Too young. And Neyla was inconsolable. Somehow, she seemed to cry more than he did.

Perhaps it was because he refused to, not in front of the others. Asmae was mean and would punish him for sure.

Just like his mom used to.

She didn’t even go for him, she stayed to protect the temple during the attack. Mom never came for him, she never did, and would never, now that she was dead.

      

Once, he had waited for her on the stairs right before their little home. It was a few weeks ago if he recalled well. Grandpa had told him to come inside, that she would come home late and that he didn’t need to wait for her all day long.

But during the last evening, they had fought. He had screamed mean words at her, making her so sad she hit him. Jellal was a naughty boy, he knew, but he had wanted to make her feel better. So, he made her a drawing and waited.

Because maybe then, she would tell him she didn’t hate him anymore.

Grandma came home before her, as always, and he welcomed her with a smile; staying outside of the house. He wanted to see his mom more than anything.

When she finally appeared, earlier than Grandpa had supposed, she ignored him. But that was because of their fight. So, he followed her quietly and put his drawing on the table once she sat to drink a cup of tea. She looked at it, faintly smiled, and glanced at him.

She had said “Thank you, Jellal,” with tender eyes, “It’s very pretty.”

Afterwards, they played together. His mother never was a great playmate, so it was nice. Normally, it was Grandpa or Ani that played with him. The women of his family had great roles in the city and were mostly absent.

And his mom didn’t like him much either, because he was mean to her. So, she was even less present.

He remembered, right before dinner, they had sat on the stairs together and watched the sunset. He was so happy! That was until she said, “See, everyone prefers a smiling boy over a crybaby”.

Since then, he never shed a tear in front of them. And would never, because they were dead.

      

After the attack, as the city was destroyed, as the adults carried the corpses and washed the blood away, life was different. Quieter, slower, and weirdly nicer. People were nicer to him, somehow. Jellal was one of the many orphans this chaos left behind. That was why he shouldn’t complain, never.

After having cried rivers on his own and wiped his now dry eyes, he joined the others. He was not eager or excited to be with them, because of Asmae. But Neyla had told him to come back soon; they needed to change his bandages and clean his shoulder.

He got hit by an arrow during the attack, that wasn’t much but it was still torturous. Neyla always looked pained around him, but he didn’t know if it was for him or his uncle. As she washed the wound, he held back his tears until he couldn’t and cried again between whimpers.

Worse than hunger and his broken little heart, his injury left him somewhat disabled. “He will overcome it,” Asmae had said, but it was still horribly painful.

Sometimes, he wondered if all of this was because of him. Maybe he was suffering because he did something wrong. Neyla wiped his tears away with her thumbs, once done.

“It’s over, you don’t have to cry anymore. You can say bye-bye to the pain, until the next cleaning.”

He was terrified at the thought.

Because more than soft hands wiping his tears away, all he craved was a hug.

      

Once, he had asked his grandpa about his father. In Mildea, it was fathers who cared for their children. But Jellal got none. He was fatherless, and since he had joined this drawing class he hated so much, it had become even more obvious. The man who would come for him wasn’t marked nor was his dad. A girl had asked him about it, and he didn’t know what to say.

“Ah,” Grandpa had started, “Why don’t you ask Grandma once she’ll get home?”

He threw a tantrum like the naughty boy he was. He hated this answer so much. Luckily, Grandpa always hugged him the best, and he calmed quickly thanks to it. He remembers begging for an answer and was met by a pained expression.

He was even making his grandpa sad.

Later that day, when Grandma was home and not busy, he came to her timidly and asked her. She looked at him for a short while before taking him and holding him close, on her lap.

“What about your dad, you say,” she pondered, “Well, you don’t have any, Jellal.”

“I know…” he had bitten his lower lip, “But…”

“To be honest, whoever he is, he probably doesn’t know about your existence.”

“Aziza,” Grandpa had warned.

“Because, you see, dear, you are an accident. You were not planned, but you bring us so much happiness that it is not a bad thing, if anything you are a happy accident.”

Grandma had always been very straightforward. But Jellal was little, his grandpa had scolded her, as he held him tight, as the boy wailed.

Jellal was no happy accident since he was making people sad. He was just an accident.

      

Jellal walked down the ruins that were once his beloved neighbourhood. How many times did he wander alone, to go reach the temple on his own, to find his mom? Grandpa never was happy about that, but he never scolded him either.

Neyla had told him to stay with the boys while she went to pray. He was ordered to help with the reconstruction by Salim. But he didn’t want to, his shoulder hurt too much still. So, the older boy simply asked him to sit and wait; Jellal disobeyed.

He wanted to go back to his home. Since the attack, he didn’t see it and he missed it dearly. That was after losing everything that he realised the luck he had.

He missed gardening with Grandpa.

He missed painting with Grandma.

He missed playing with Ani.

He missed sleeping with Mom.

He missed all of that so much, that the mere thought of it brought him to tears. He didn’t want to cry anymore, but he was too weak to hold the tears back like he desperately tried to.

Exhausted by his walk, he finally reached his destination. Everything was silent and cold, although the weather made it difficult for him to breathe. He pushed the small gate and saw the stairs he would wait for his mom on, the inside of the house was painted black because fire was not a creative painter.

His face contorted, he had not seen it, as Ani had ordered him to close his eyes and keep them shut when he came to his rescue. He recognised nothing, nothing at all. It was as if all he ever knew had become haunting shadows. The stone table’s silhouette stood in the middle of the disaster. What was once his favourite place was mere darkness now.

He ran to the back of the garden as tears fell, where he last saw his grandpa, where he last heard his grandma. But all he saw was the metallic bucket he’d use to garden and play.

And he realised what death meant.

      

Once, his mom comforted him with a hug as he cried more than he was used to. More than saying mean things, as she violently shook him to make him stop screaming, he had hit her. Her eyes had widened and all he saw was rage. This time, she had hit him harder than normal.

So much he fell and hit his head on the floor.

So much his nose bled.

So much he wished for it to stop, that was a first, because it felt too much.

He wept so much that she stopped when she was about to leave the house. She had turned to him, staring at him for a short while before approaching – he recoiled, terrified and coughing.

His mom took him in her arms, tightly and firmly, so much that it hurt. She had put her head in the crook of his neck, repeating over and over “I’m sorry, please stop crying.”

He couldn’t, and for each sob came an apology. At some point, his cries quietened and she wiped the blood and snort coming out his nose. She kissed his forehead, whispering a small “forgive me”.

And he did.

      

Neyla found him crying in what was once his garden, head against the shack his grandpa hid him in. She patted his left shoulder, the healthy one. But he couldn’t turn around, not in this state, so he whimpered for her to leave him.

“I can’t, Jellal, I can’t leave you alone here.”

His cries worsened at the “here”, flashing memories of Ani begging him to run away and grandpa saying how much he loved him.

They would never come back. They were dead. Just like the bodies Moishe had shown him to prove how dead their loved ones were. Just like the lizards he would put in his bucket to adopt, only for them to die from the heat. Just like everything around him, the forgotten tomatoes they wouldn’t harvest in time, the flowers he’d offer his mom, the bird at the side of the road, the hope his people were desperately trying to keep.

Everything died too soon. And nothing would ever come back once it did.

And it broke his small heart.

The teenage girl behind him tried to console him, caressing his back slowly.

“I am so sorry Jellal, so sorry…”

But there was too much for him to calm down.

“Please, let’s go back to the others…”

“No!”

      

Once, he asked his mom, “why they hate grandpa?” and she explained to him “because they hate the unmarked.” It didn’t make sense to him. His grandpa was the kindest man, the most patient and the most understanding. The only one who never raised his voice or hand on him. Grandpa was too nice to be unloved.

That was why his mom worked so hard, he gathered. Most people didn’t like them, because of his grandpa. The Olders were the meanest ones, he knew. Mom even confided to him that she didn’t like them either.

“They are cruel,” she had said. And she was right. “If they ever bother you, you must tell me.”

“Why?”

“So I can protect you of course.”

For his mom to say such a thing when she was supposed to respect them, Jellal knew it was serious. He had nodded, mute, his mind filled with thoughts.

“Now sleep.”

She had caressed his tummy and hummed with a smile. He had giggled and closed his eyes. His mom always smelled good and her voice was the softest of all. He had snuggled against her, even though it wasn’t her favourite position, but this time, she had said nothing and held him close.

“Sweet dreams, Jellal.”

      

It was already night when he finally went back to the survivors with Neyla. The sun had set without his family, once more. The stars shone with no care for his grieving heart, as always.

Asmae scolded them both but Neyla took most of the blame and he felt bad for it. He was the naughtiest boy. His wound got cleaned again, but he was too exhausted to cry. He ate what little they gave him as they didn’t have enough for all of them.

That was where the hunger came from.

And finally, he laid down on the ground, under the starry sky. Even at night, it was hot; even at night, he’d hear painful moans from the wounded.

He wondered when would the city be back to the way it was, and when his heart would stop hurting. He wondered when his wound would heal, and when the image of Ani bleeding out would disappear.

Neyla came to each one of the orphans, to murmur them a gentle “good night” and kiss their forehead. When she arrived at him, she brushed his hair slowly and smiled. She tenderly pecked his cheek.

“Neyla, you will stay, right?” he whispered. He didn’t want to lose her, because she was the kindest of them all. Because she loved Ani and somehow Jellal knew Ani loved her back. In some way, she also was family.

“Of course, Jellal, don’t worry. I’ll stay with you.”

      

She didn’t.

      

AN:  Thank you so much for reading! Hope you liked it!