A/N: I've decided to try and make this little accompanying piece into two parts! Yep, they basically continue in a order and make sense. I thought it'd be a nice concept cause well...it helps fill the slots up right?

However this story does cover a very sensitive topic, so if you're uncomfortable with it please feel free to skip out. I'd rather you be ok than read this and be in distress. Really.

That being said, till next time,

D.L.D


*TRIGGER WARNING - this story does mention some very sensitive topics such as suicide and self-harm so if you're sensitive to or easily triggered by this sort of material please don't read it. Take a complementary brownie instead :)*


Smile for me (Pt 1)

Elizabeth wore a mask. She's been wearing a mask for as long as she can remember, her true smile dying out many, many years ago.

Once upon a time she had been happy. She had worn a smile as bright as the sun itself and warmed the coldest hearts around. She would sing, dance and frolic in the grass; she would draw and chatter and be vibrant and youthful; she would be Elizabeth. Elizabeth Liones, the youngest adoptive daughter of Baltra Liones and the sister of Veronica and Margaret Liones. Elizabeth would just be: she would not worry over what she did, whom she upset, nor what others perceived of her.

She had been free.

Now she was not.

Now the vibrant, flippant and free Elizabeth was not youthful or colourful. She did not sing, did not dance, nor did she frolic in the emerald grass; she didn't draw and chatter and be her vibrant, youthful self; she wouldn't be Elizabeth. She wasn't Elizabeth. Not Elizabeth Liones, the daughter of Baltra and sister of Veronica and Margaret. She was not the Elizabeth who was turning seventeen, nor was she the one who could be free.

All she did now was worry. She worried about others; she worried about who she upset; she worried about what others perceived of her.

Day in, day out, she would wear her mask. She would wear that empty smile that was displayed to the world, projecting happiness, but really feeling incomplete. She'd feel shallow, fake - she wouldn't feel worthy of having life. She wouldn't feel worthy of being in this world.

Until she met Meliodas.

"You're beautiful, you know that right?" He had tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, chuckling at the embarrassed fluster he'd sent her into. He wore that boyish grin he always had, the one that made his emerald eyes sparkle and brought out his mischievous side.

Elizabeth felt her heart clench at it, stumble at it. She did not deserve to see such a dazzling smile, not when she could not give one in return.

"I'm not..." Elizabeth quickly shakes her head in return, glancing away from Meliodas. She chews on her lip, cheeks puffed as she fiddles with her starlight hair. "I'm not pretty - let alone beautiful - at all."

Meliodas had scoffed, rolling his eyes. He fixed a hand under her chin, tilting her head so she would have to look directly into his eyes. "You are. Anyone who says you aren't is lying."

Her breath had caught in her throat at that, a furious blush blooming as she could only gape and stare; she could only gape and stare at this magnificent being, this person, who saw her as something greater than she could ever be. This person who saw a light in her before he had even gotten know her. Someone who saw through her mask without it cracking, chipping, once.

He was amazing. Wonderful.

But why would he ever be interested in her?

"I appreciate the kind words, but you're the one who's lying," Elizabeth finally finds her words, gently removing herself from Meliodas' grasp. Her blue eyes connect with his, a flicker of her hidden emotions showing within the reflective orbs. "No-one would ever see me as beautiful."

The blonde had bristled at that, releasing a sigh and shaking his head.

"Well I do," He stared right back at her, meaning every word - every little word that Elizabeth carefully kept stored within her heart.

Elizabeth had written down every word since. She'd carefully noted and labelled each precious encounter, each day where they saw each other, in a special place within her heart. Whole cells were dedicated towards keeping the archive alive, her brain and soul cherishing the small moments and conversations that she gained over time. Each smile, each laugh and each compliment made Elizabeth feel as if she were special; it melted away the frosty glass of her mask and the pain that formed from the whispers and laughs. His voice was the thing that made her feel alive, it was what made her feel worthy of life.

She never wanted that to change.

But of course, happiness was never permanent for her, was it?

With each day came a new challenger to knock down her ever-dwindling self-esteem. Comments, jeers and bullies were a constant presence in her life, Meliodas' encounters with her only doing so much to combat those sour spells.

Girls grew bitchier, guys continually called her a 'tease' and 'skank' and sometimes she would even feel rejected by teachers. Yes, teachers. She could see the pity and hidden concern they held, the urge to reach out help her, but Elizabeth knew they wouldn't. They couldn't. This school couldn't take another bullying scandal, just how Elizabeth couldn't face the idea of talking to someone about her crumbling self-confidence.

So it was left alone.

Days and weeks and months passed, with Elizabeth only growing worse and worse. Her looping negative thoughts became scratches on her skin; the scratches became diaries filled with self-hate and art that depicted her wish to die and suffer; but then, finally, the diaries became actual physical actions placed against herself. Those irreversible actions that caused even more hate, even more distaste, but couldn't be helped as they aided to release the pressure.

First it had been her hair. Her beautiful starlight hair. Meliodas had admired it; her sisters loved it; Elizabeth herself had adored it - but it had to go. It was too beautiful for someone like herself. So she cut it. She slashed it into an uneven bob and stated that she had never liked long hair anyway. She lied about it, like her happiness.

But Meliodas noticed. So did her sisters. So did her father.

So Elizabeth changed tactics. She found new ways to harm herself, to ruin her self-image and reveal herself for the true monster she was: she began to burn herself. Lighters, matches, anything that could be used, had marked the once blemish-free skin of her body. Scores of sheeny lines and scars were upon her thighs and legs, each one a blistering transformation into her true form. Each new burn was an example of how much she hated herself.

But then everyone got suspicious of the lighters. They saw her mask slipping. They spotted the marks upon her knees.

So she went the next step, she cut. She cut and cut and cut.

Her arms, shoulders, hips, legs, torso - anywhere to appease that burning self-hatred that never seemed to die out. Scars were littered all over her body, tiny and discreet, but soon growing to be obvious and tender. That rusty, blood-covered razor became her biggest secret, it was her biggest pain relief. It was what drowned out the rumors that built in her head; it got rid of the pressure of keeping up her mask; it helped her to accept that soon, soon, everyone will see who she truly was.

But like the last times, Meliodas found out.

He had found the blade, caught her using it at school. He'd snatched it out her hands as if it were a combusting bomb, cutting his hand in the process but not even flinching. Instead he had tossed the offending weapon in the bin, turning to face her with a stormy and yet concerned expression. The same look that betrayed his worry for her, his care for her, and Elizabeth cursed Meliodas for caring so much.

Why did he care?

Why did he want to help her?

Why wouldn't he just let her die as the monster she is?

"Because you're not a monster," Meliodas answers her, his arms wrapped around her form.

Elizabeth had not noticed but she'd let those words slip. She'd let them escape with her silent tears, her emotions breaking through her impenetrable mask. Once again, Meliodas had managed to sneak his way into the system. He had wormed his way in, gained her trust, and was once again lifting her up. He was comforting her, whispering to her and running his hands through her gradually growing out hair. He was telling her that she wasn't a monster.

And Elizabeth did not stop him.

Instead she held him back, breathed in his scent and let herself cry. She let herself cry. Yes, cry. No matter how shitty she'd felt, no matter how terrible her day had been, Elziabeth had never let herself cry. Sure she'd released some tears, but she hadn't let herself feel them. She cursed herself for crying, hated herself for being upset over the truth, but now she was not doing that. She was not hating herself, was not listening to the evil whispers, was not even thinking of her malformed reflection: she was crying.

"Why?" Meliodas finally spoke. He glanced at her, his own eyes swimming with an emotion she could not name. It seemed like wrath and yet was too calm and collected to be such. His thumb traced over her arm, following each lightened scar. "Why would you do that to yourself?"

That question causes her to pause, falter. She turns away in shame, hiding her face behind her choppy bangs.

"Because I hate myself," Elizabeth breathes, more tears slipping free as she sniffs. She stares at him, her eyes brimming with unshed emotion. "Those cuts, these scars, they reveal the true monster I am."

It was the truth, her entire truth. The cuts felt good, freeing. Each line, each score, each ugly track on her skin was her true form breaking through; bit by bit, piece by piece, it was shining through. It was becoming real. Her true monstrous and grotesque self was becoming a part of this world - it would no longer just exist in her head, or a mirror, it would instead be on her body, soul and very being. The lines, the tiger stripes, were all just a sign of the inevitable.

"They're not," Meliodas shook his head, sighing as he looked over the marks. "And you're not. You're wonderful, Elizabeth. You light up the whole world when you smile."

There they were, those heart-stopping words he always spoke to her. Like always she had noted it down, ingraining the motto into her heart and mind. But unlike always she found herself hopeful, listening, her eyes widening as she regards the blonde. She feels surprise and perhaps even a small spark of joy igniting from his words.

"I really do?" Elizabeth raises a brow, hanging onto his very words as if they were life itself. "You think...my smile is amazing?"

"I do," Meliodas grins, nodding. She can spot a slight blush scattered on his cheeks, and feels her lips twitching. "So keep smiling for me ok? Keep showing me that pretty grin of yours."

At his words, Elizabeth nods and gives him the biggest and most genuine smile she'd given in years. It is wide and meaningful and bright, like the sun itself, and justifies the hug that follows as she tackles him to the floor.

"Thank you, Meliodas," She breathes, her voice lowered to a whisper. "Thank you for thinking I'm beautiful."

The blonde only smiles in response, returning her hold and mentally patting himself on the back. He'd convinced her that she was beautiful, but sadly it wasn't the same for himself.