A/N: Just a quick author's note to share a fun fact about this chapter!

First off: yes, the chapter's title is a Steven Universe reference. If you get it, you get it. The quote lining up with it is just pure coincidence. Novacane by Frank Ocean also influenced this chappie quite a lot. Maybe that's why there's some drug use... oopsie.

This chapter did end up veering WAY off course as I wrote it up. Originally Meliodas was gonna wallow in his own self-pity while Ban shook some sense into him (literally or metaphorically you can decide). But then Novacane had to interfere and well... I can't deny the flow of the playlist for this fic, can I? (Yes, there is a playlist. Each chapter has one dedicated song for its vibe. I might share it once the fic is done.)

This chapter also changed position, switching with its former prior chapter (You (make me feel) At Home). So yeah, there's a lot going on with this chapter. Like A LOT. I think it's creation has warped the entire plot... (which prompted me to share this info).

Well there you have it loves, unnecessary info on the latest update!
Make sure to stay safe and well,
D.L.D

Quote of the Chapter:

"Here's all you have to know about men and women: women are crazy, men are stupid. And the main reason women are crazy is that men are stupid."
― George Carlin, When Will Jesus Bring the Pork chops

Chapter Twenty: If every porkchop (were perfect)

Right now Meliodas had no idea what he was doing here, neck-deep in some out-of-control house party thrown on the shadier side of South London's infamous Croydon. All around him people reveled, music pumping from the amped-up speakers, alcohol pouring into matching plastic cups by the dozen. No doubt there was some sketchy activity going on upstairs - not anything new for a house party. White lines spread on tables, crushed pills and spiked drinks were nothing new in the London scene; such traditions were as old as the Victorian era. Nevertheless, it all had a new air to it this time round; Meliodas felt different about it once more.

Working in the Boar Hat and growing up with his father gave Meliodas a keen insight into a life that many would only imagine to be true in fiction. From a young age he had learned about growing cannabis, spending entire afternoons tending to the leaves in stuffy greenhouse rooms while carrying around his tiny watering can. Next came measuring out the cocaine, mixing and crushing pills to keep the product costs as cheap as possible. Once that was mastered he was on the streets, after school, selling the drugs to locals out of the back of his school bag.

From birth, more or less, Meliodas had been surrounded by the gritty side of London - the drug scene. There was nothing to disenchant him from the reality.

Nevertheless, every time he ended up back in this spot - this spot of intense anger and pain and fatigue - he would find himself drawn back to what he knew: the dangerous dungeon of London's nightlife. Maybe it was the familiarity; maybe it was the ease of knowing what came next; whatever brought Meliodas here never failed to keep attracting him. Ever.

"You know, if we're gonna be at a party you hafta loosen up," Ban cackled over the music, liquor bottle in hand as he nudged his shorter counterpart. Showing off his gleaming foxlike grin, he smiled, "You better not have dragged me away from movie night for some half-assed escapism shit."

"When have I ever- " Meliodas was halted by Ban's swift brow raise, calling out the immediate bullshit. Utter bullshit. Grumbling, the blonde rolled his eyes. "Fine. I did the one time."

"And that one time you also had a massive feud with your roommate that you swear you wouldn't jump over the moon for," Ban deadpanned, taking a generous gulp of his half-empty bottle. Golden brown liquid swirled in the clear glass as Ban swayed. "Now I may not be Sherlock, but it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together. Something's going on in that fucked up head of yours."

"Right, because you know me so well," Meliodas hummed, nodding. Not that Ban was wrong. Something was going on in his head - something major and life-changing and ready to cripple him. On the best of days Meliodas never liked to trust his already sketchy brain; on a day like this he placed even less faith in the deceptively cruel neurons of his most vital organ.

"I know more than most people," Ban shrugged, leaning against the wall behind them. Just beside him dangled a flower pot, bright white hydrangeas standing out against the shoddy council-house paintwork on the building. "And that's enough."

God, he was guilt-tripping again. From miles off, kilometers, Meliodas could sense the scheming weasel known as Ban sinking his guilt-tripping claws right into him. Only Ban, in these times of deep anger and hurt and frustration, could summon up the more positive and gentle parts of him. The more humane parts of him. Parts of him that felt guilt and remorse and... hopeless. Utterly, completely hopeless.

"It was just... so stupid, you know?" Meliodas sighed, shaking his head. His once untouched cup of something dubious from Ban was now swallowed, burning its way down the back of his throat. "It was over a dog. A dumb dog."

Silence. The usual greeting to Meliodas' admission of idiocy to his one and only confidant. Whenever Meliodas would drop the bombshell of just how horribly he'd fucked up, how easily he'd pushed the wrong button, Ban would always start with silence. Stone cold silence that sat on one's nerves like a weighted stone on top of a glass: ready to break it any second.

When Meliodas had first contacted Ban about this, storming his way toward the nearest Tube station, he had already anticipated Ban's silent judgement. Whenever he got into this state Meliodas always anticipated Ban's judgement; it helped to keep him clear and open-minded in the aspect of the greater scheme of everything.

Yet, after today's latest fuck-up, Meliodas couldn't help but feel all the more unnerved about Ban's response. He didn't, after all, know about the argument in full detail yet, or the way he'd compared her problems to an unwanted mess. Yeah, Ban didn't know about that; once he did, he was sure to shake some sense into Meliodas - either metaphorically or with his bare hands.

"No way," Ban eventually responded, laughter leaving his system. Shoulders shaking, he shook his head as he looked at his friend, a hand steadying his swaying body by using Meliodas as support stump. "You fell out over a dog."

Yep, a dog had been the wedge between them this time. Surprise had been his initial reaction, pure surprise, as she arrived with a cardboard box covered with a pretty dingy-looking blanket. As if she were on some sort of mission, some sort of important task, she had rushed past him to her room and told him that she had a puppy in the box. She wanted to help it; somehow, for some reason, Elizabeth had thought it would be a good idea. Always a softie, always weak-willed toward cute, innocent things, she took sympathy for the animal. Just like how she did for Meliodas; just like how he always told her not to do.

Maybe that was why his fuse had been blown short tonight: the self-projection again. Seeing her caring for something lost, something abandoned, like him struck a nerve somewhere - a nerve buried deep within the mesh of many nerves within him.

Nevertheless, that didn't justify anything. Tonight Meliodas crossed a line; he knew that. With how pissed Elizabeth was, the force of which she slammed that door, he'd be lucky if he was in the doghouse - let alone allowed within six feet of her.

Then, in his own fury, he'd more or less stormed out right after her, using the moment of hot-headed frustration to drag himself deeper into his already inescapable pit of hopelessness. Originally he was going to head to the Boar Hat, put his agitation to good use; instead he ended up in Croydon, ignoring the silenced pings of his phone.

"I just wanted to set boundaries, I guess. Put my foot down," Meliodas shrugged, knowing his excuses were just that: flimsy excuses. "I didn't want to hurt her in the process."

"Well you did man, and you screwed up royally," Ban said it as it was, taking another sip of his nearly finished liquor. "No doubt Elizabeth sees you as a complete dickhead."

There was no doubt about that. At all.

"So what do I do now?" Meliodas sighed, glancing at his personal advisor. The same advisor who was half-sunk in the grasp of intoxication already. "Y'know, since you're so wise and all?"

"Go talk to her," Ban stated, as if it were the most simple task on earth. Rolling his eyes, looped an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Like I always tell you to damn do. Have a cheesy heart-to-heart."

"Ban, you know why that's not an option," Meliodas groused, pulling a face at just the idea of talking to Elizabeth about everything. There were so many secrets, so many hidden details, that she didn't know about yet; Meliodas didn't ever want her to know about them. At all. It was too dangerous for her to know everything about him.

"Uh-huh and I also know that the sky's blue," Ban nodded, a smirk now curling on his lips. Slyly, he nudged his friend, nodding toward the front steps not too far away from them. "But all cause something's true now doesn't meant you can't change it later. Plus she's looking pretty lonely right about now."

"Huh," Confused, Meliodas followed Ban's indication, setting eyes on the last person he'd expect to be in the belly of London's beast itself: Elizabeth Liones.

Nowhere near as put-together as she'd usually be, her silver hair was mussed and her sparkly pink dress crinkled and bunched in select spots. Dried makeup smeared her cheeks, dark pools of eyeliner and mascara mixed into a dark sludge. But worst of all, most telling of all, was the jacket falling off her shoulders paired with the glowing stick of rolled up paper wedged between her index and middle fingers.

Only in her lowest moments would Elizabeth ever dare to slip into a temporary high; whether it was through him or other means, Meliodas could always tell why.

Tonight was no different as he abandoned Ban and stooped down to her level, taking up the empty space beside her on the front steps. Cool autumn winds whipped past in the midnight air, chilling them to the bone, but Meliodas sought what little comfort there was in the familiar sensation of her warm side pressed against his, huddling away from the windy chill.

"Hey stranger," Elizabeth grinned dryly, offering him the remnants of her dying spliff. Gratefully he took it, smiling as she chuckled. "Long time since we've been here, huh?"

"Yeah," He was tempted to say. "Yeah, it's been too long and really we shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be sharing this joint with me." But nothing left Meliodas' lips aside from the heady smoke, punctuated with the potent aroma of homegrown, pure weed. Not the cheap stuff - the crap mixed with tobacco and other chemicals that fucked up the brain. No, the pure stuff, the good stuff; it was the type his father sold.

Instantly, the past hits him like a brick dropped from the ninth floor, and a frown settled onto his face. Yeah, this wasn't the place for her. At all. When she had convinced him to ditch it, high and sobbing to hysteria, they'd both promised to never be here again. Yet here they were, almost ten years later, repeating the same past mistakes.

"So," Elizabeth's lips popped as she watched him exhale, hands hugging her bent knees. Questioning filled her eyes, intense desire to just pluck the truth from out of his brain, but she kept it sealed. Locked. "What do we do now? You up for a messy makeup?"

Classic - the messy makeup. A play on the term messy breakup, the pair had used the ritual as a way to purge the awkwardness that came with a big fight. Countless times they had found themselves playing messy makeup, locking lips behind corners as they made out like everything was fine - shying away from the glaring elephant in the room that was their complex, convoluted relationship to one another.

Friends didn't kiss and makeup; friends didn't get upset in the ways they did, take things to heart in a personal, intimate way; friends weren't in as deeply as Elizabeth and Meliodas were. But they weren't an item either. They could never be an item. Meliodas had made sure of that.

And so he was always willing to play along with her silly whims.

Even if it was temporary.

Without another word, he flicked away the dying embers of her joint, capturing her face in both of his battle-worn hands as he played at messy makeup, messy in love but pretending not to be. And, like always, Elizabeth was too willing to play along, her lips easily finding his own as her hands wound around his shoulders and neck.

Here they were again - back at the middle. Pretending everything was ok, kissing all the pain away like how an addict would swallow morphine to wash the pain away. Only Meliodas was aware that it was temporary, that at some point it had to end.

Maybe that was why he pulled away first.

"Yeah," He quietly admitted against her lips, eyes boring right into her own. Idly, his thumb traced her cheekbone as he grinned, "But only if you're up for it."

Both corners of her lips turn upwards against his own, the familiar shape of her lovely, wonderful smile.

"Yeah," Elizabeth whispered back, closing her eyes as she pressed her lips against his. "I think that would be lovely."