Quote of the Chapter:
"Funny: you let me into you like love
living through the snake plant no matter my sometimes-neglect." - Snake Plant, KB Brookins
Chapter Six: (I will always be there) To patch you up
For once Elizabeth returns to an empty apartment, lights switched off and the heavy evening gloom casting lengthy shadows across the walls and floors. Usually, especially on a work day, Meliodas would be there to greet her, either lazing about the living room or anxiously awaiting her arrival. Some days, when Elizabeth would push open that front door, exhausted beyond belief, he'd tackle her into a hug, arms wrapped firmly around her waist, muscles tense and tight as if he'd never want to let her go again; other days, much slower days, she'd find him at ease, saying some kind of greeting while highly focused on whatever task had taken his fancy. Highly enthusiastic or extremely nonchalant: with Meliodas, there could only be the extremes; there was never really an in-between.
Over the past two years, Elizabeth had to quickly learn and adapt to his mannerisms and moods. Initially, it had been quite unsettling - although in the first few weeks, he'd definitely not been as clingy nor agitated. No, when Elizabeth had first moved in, she remembered everything being as close to normal as it could possibly be.
Almost daily, they would have small meaningless back-and-forths about logistics and rules. Within a week they had about ten rules, both of them finding faults with each other that were rather ridiculous now that Elizabeth thought about them. One such example, Rule Seven, stated that Elizabeth would have to pay into the ruler-breaker jar if she bought more than two tubs of her favourite ice-cream - naturally a flavour Meliodas absolutely LOATHED. Others, such as Rule One, (which detailed how Meliodas should never set foot in the kitchen unless Elizabeth was present) were more sensible and practical.
About of month of this went on, both Elizabeth and Meliodas refusing to relinquish the rules, adding and editing as they saw fit. At least, they were until Diane interfered - rapidly embarrassing the both of them when she uncovered the truth behind Rule Thirteen: a jar dedicated to bets and inappropriate interactions. After that, the pair swiftly scrapped all rules and surprisingly began to peacefully coexist.
Rules were traded for a routine that began to feel like second nature, Elizabeth (the early riser) often taking on the more mature role. While Meliodas kipped away during the morning, she would catch up on errands, go through letters and top-up the shopping list. Meliodas, who had the entire evening on his hand before work, then tackled the more 'undesirable' tasks: shopping, dealing with their prick of a landlord and (what Elizabeth always blessed him most for) laundry. Laundry day was always the worst.
Frowning at the memory of laundry day, Elizabeth shivered, setting her keys on the hook as she kicked off her work heels. Yes, laundry day was the worst - at least from her perspective.
She didn't know why, but for Elizabeth, sorting through washing and loading it into the machine always unsettled her. Part of her believed it was because her mother told her that a magical whirlpool activated in the machine, transporting kids who hid in it to a world filled with child-eating giants. But then, now she was an adult, there had to be a better reason, right?
Sighing, Elizabeth brushed away the idle thoughts and padded toward the kitchen, her stomach now craving something filling. Inside her body, her guts and intestines tangled. After the initial surprise of finding the apartment empty, they demanded food. Immediately.
Effortlessly, Elizabeth yanks open the fridge door, ready to peer inside, only to pause. Right there, in front of her, was a note, covered in the messy yet somehow legible scrawl of her roommate: Went to work early. Don't stay up worrying, I'll be back in the morning.
Surprising. Usually, on a bad day, Meliodas wouldn't even dare to crawl out of his room and traverse outside of the apartment. If he did, well, he'd barely even think to leave a note - let alone consider her habit of fretting about him.
Unable to stop herself, Elizabeth feels the twitch of a smile on her lips. Perhaps he is improving. Perhaps, now that she is helping him, Meliodas is learning how to balance his good and bad days. If that was true, then it would be wonderful news indeed.
Humming, Elizabeth grinned to herself as she pulled the door fully open and revealed the precious sight of their empty fridge. Barren. She had forgotten that it was her turn to restock before payday. It was a damned good thing she always had a backup.
Groaning, Elizabeth closed the fridge door, swiping the tiny business card of her favourite restaurant off it. Most of the time, she would only order from them for a special occasion - otherwise known as double payday. Double payday - the rare occurrence when she and Meliodas got paid bonuses on the same day - was a big thing in their household.
Marked on the calendar, highly anticipated as they counted down the days, the pair would make all sorts of plans about how they were going to blow all the extra cash in a week tops. Anything that remained went into savings - never to be touched unless there was an emergency. As soon as the cash was put into their accounts, turning the depressing three digit balances into whopping fives, the number would be dialed, their order placed and a trashy movie would be playing on the TV. By late evening, they would both be passed out, half-drunk and half-asleep, cuddling on the couch, buried in a cave of cushions and quilts.
Double payday - the best damned day to ever happen on the calendar. What Elizabeth wouldn't give for another one of those...
Releasing a soft sigh, Elizabeth entered the familiar number on the card, already knowing exactly what she was going to order. Since Meliodas was missing - a rare thing these days - she was going to take full advantage. No Meliodas meant more tasty comfort food for her and by no means would Elizabeth Liones cheap out on her own free time.
Within five minutes she had placed her order, ending the call with a smile and contentedly tugging her hair from its tight bun - a custom for office Mondays. Not that she liked it much. Tight, formal hairstyles had never really done it for Elizabeth, she was more of a 'let it loose' girl, a 'pull it in a ponytail and call it a day' kind of girl. But Ludociel, formal as always, always insisted on professional and neat appearances.
With such an uptight and precise man as her boss, it was honestly a miracle how Elizabeth didn't die of a stroke already. These days it felt like she was always placed under high levels of intense pressure.
Scratching her scalp and stretching on her tiptoes, Elizabeth allowed herself to stretch out and relax. Unwind. Times like these didn't come often - not anymore at least - and she should learn to savour them, to save the sweet taste of tranquility and peace on her tongue. At least, for one tiny moment of her day.
Flick on the kettle. Open the cupboard. Grab the box of teabags. One moment later and Elizabeth's back in action, just finished stretching and prepared to grab a mug, kettle already boiling and secret cookies stored just above the cups and mugs. But, just as she stretched to reach the good cookies - expertly stowed far above Meliodas' short stature - her phone buzzes once more.
"What is it now?" Elizabeth huffs, shaking her head as she peers down at the counter, eyes fixed to the illuminated screen.
Was it so much to have more than a moment's peace for her? Was it too much to ask for a little time, a small evening, to hog to herself? She didn't think so. Not when fate always seemed to dish them up for her, ready to be savoured and enjoyed, only to be cruelly snatched away because of someone else. There was always something else coming to spoil her fun.
When she was younger it had been her mother. Strict, highly religious and extremely rigorous, Elizabeth's mother always held her daughter up to high expectations and goals. By six Elizabeth was a regular member of the church's choir, was learning how to play the violin, while also juggling gymnastics and ballet on the side. And that was all balanced with school.
Ten years later, when Elizabeth had entered late adolescence, things didn't get much better. With the arrival of a swelled chest and wider hips, her mother only grew more flustered and strict in her regime. Studying became the main importance in life, achieving those high GCSE grades that would allow her to have the world as her oyster.
Dance and gymnastics and all those other useless skills she had picked up ended up being dusted and forgotten, rotting away in her memories as Elizabeth crunched to make her mother's looming deadlines. Books, study guides and endless videos online had been her main influences, classic texts replacing TV shows and math equations, burying a past love for music. Year eleven, the final school year, had been hell for Elizabeth. Absolute hell. Being sixteen was nothing but a nightmare.
But that would be a lie - she thinks. A big one. What about the library? Going to the football pitch, red-faced and hands clammy, shyly peering through the fence with shaking fingers bent between the gaps? What about the memories of Elaine teasing her all the way as she hugged her revisions guides to her chest, starry-eyed and dazed as she watched it all pass on by, watched as no-one stopped to look at her, nurture her, the way in which she looked at and nurtured them?
If she were a plant, Elizabeth would a flower that blossomed in the mountains - beautiful, resilient, but oh-so-far out of reach. Alone. Not too many people dared to climb a mountain to see such beauty. Not too many even knew that you could find her, tiny and yet brilliant, thriving in the frozen, gelid snow.
Only, Meliodas did. Elizabeth had met Meliodas when they were sixteen. Red-faced, hands sweaty, notes strewn across the pavement, she had met him. Right in the middle of a thunderstorm.
Helpfully, he'd gathered her notes, apologised, offered to talk properly in a local McDonald's. Not having the heart to reject him, she'd agreed, eyes kept to the pavement, face still burning red. In total it was half an hour spent - a mere half half hour sat in a McDonald's - and yet it felt like the world to her, like fine traces of stardust.
At their parting, she had blurted out, cheeks still burning with hot blood, "Can we be friends?" And he had laughed. Rich, rippling laughter which echoed in ears despite a somewhat bitter edge.
"I'm a bad friend you know," He'd said to her, a sort of sadness she couldn't recognise - wouldn't recognise - settling into his eyes. "I would just keep hurting you with my sometimes-neglect."
"Sometimes-neglect?" She'd laughed then, shaking her head. "I don't think that even exists."
Many years later, almost another ten years later, and Elizabeth could say that sometimes-neglect definitely did exist. Days of feeling abandoned, forgotten, were signs of being with someone - living with someone - famous for sometimes-neglect.
Nevertheless, when she looks at her phone, sees the name on the screen, she knows she cannot stay frustrated. Not when she is so used to being his support. Not when she is so used to patching him up very night.
Instead Elizabeth only sighs, shrugging on a jacket and grabbing her keys, praying that she would not miss the delivery man with her well-deserved food.