Quote of the Chapter:
"I was a nuisance, tripping, falling
Yapping always. But today
It is my father who keeps stumbling
Behind me, and will not go away." - Follower, Seamus Heaney
Chapter Twenty-Four: (I'm your) Follower
Years had felt to have passed since they were last like this. A decade, a century, endless eons had felt to have slipped through Meliodas' fingertips, like grains of fine sand, since they had last coexisted in the familiar bubble of peace that they had always called their friendship. Entire civilizations, entire lifetimes, had waxed and waned in the time it had taken them to come back here, gravitated to each other once more, sharing a moment of calm.
Even if it had only really been little more than a day.
"So," Ban mused, making his way through his second batch of pancakes. Oh and of course his own select menu. Whenever he came over Ban always took liberties within the kitchen; he lived by the code of 'we shall never be stingy with food'. Raising a brow, the lanky man gulped down his mouthful of eggs, "You guys on good terms now?"
"Depends on what good terms means," Elizabeth shrugged, neatly slicing her own stack with a grace only she could have.
Not even a good few hours in and she was already delivering the shots, the hard blows that Meliodas knew were coming when he'd woken up to he familiar crashes and thuds that often indicated an unsupervised Elizabeth in the kitchen. Most of him was glad that she had come back. Another part of him feared her return, especially with how agitated she had been. That part was no fool.
"But you made forgiveness pancakes!" Meliodas protested. Usually that was an indicator to her mood, a good sign that foretold of a more patient and forgiving Elizabeth that wanted to make amends. Today, though, it appeared that she had tricked him, bribed him with the false security of her signature apology pie, planning to place him right into the hot seat.
With Elizabeth, Meliodas was never any good at being placed into the hot seat. Between his good and bad days the man just couldn't catch a break when it came to saying the right thing around her. On his bad days he was too insensitive, much too truthful in a way that could be downright spiteful; on his good days he wasn't much better, flattering the truth to try and win her good graces.
Both approaches were foolish attempts to keep her pacified. Not an inch of him was ready to face her true probing, her real poking and prodding around the truth, that would only result in Elizabeth herself getting hurt. By him. Just like she always did.
"Well, you're meant to ask for forgiveness," Elizabeth stated simply, her words as a smooth as the surface of a butter knife. Too bad they were as sharp as a butcher's one. "Not the other way around."
"Damn, she's got you caught on that one," Ban shook his head, chuckling as he downed a glass of orange juice. A cure for the hangover - he'd said. Like Ban ever truly got killer hangovers - that man was immune to liver poisoning. Why was he here anyway? Just watching things pass on by, absorbing every little word...
Letting the comments fly over his head, Meliodas simply sighed. There was just no winning in this situation. Not a single chance to win. So he'd just enjoy it while he could, while the clock was still counting down the days, hours, seconds, he had left enjoying these simple moments of calm. Normality. Because soon, all too soon, it would all run out and once again Meliodas would be on the run.
In the past, Meliodas had never thought much about these moments of calm. Growing up in the constant turbulence of his father's household, the blonde had grown used to the restless adaptation that came with survival. No two days were the same in his childhood home - not since his mother kicked the bucket. But even then it was debatable.
Young and impressionable, Meliodas had always wanted to follow in the footsteps of his father - a proud and formidable man. Filled with awe, amazement, he would trace his creator's past steps, plodding after him all around the house. Stumbling with chubby legs, tripping over his shoelaces, yapping at the same time as he raced to reach the front door, Meliodas had always wanted to be a part of his father's world. The grand legacy.
Stacks of cash, flashy jewelry, the newest phone or gadget in his hand: Meliodas' father was known for being on top of the game. He kept the cash flowing, kept the business booming and never EVER lost sight of what was important.
When Chandler was present Meliodas' confusion only grew worse. Because why was his silly uncle much more trusted than he ever was? Why did his father refuse to show him - his own son - the wonderful secrets hidden behind his cold mask of indifference and the forbidden cellar door? Why was Chandler, but not him, given the chance to know it all?
God, Meliodas wished he had never wondered those things. Now, a good twenty plus years wiser, the blonde realised that following his father was the biggest mistake he had ever made.
Now, in the future, Meliodas couldn't help but want to shake off the man following his every decision. The role once filled by his eager kid-brain was now reprised by his ageing father, chasing after him at every possible opportunity in order to rope him back in. Clutching at the fine traces, grasping at the frayed seams, Meliodas' father was trying everything he could to remain within his life.
Twenty years later and the tables had turned: Meliodas was the leader and his father was the follower. But at what cost? What terrible, terrible cost?
Frowning, Meliodas chanced a glance at Elizabeth, met by her concerned blue eyes. Immediately, he turned away. Yep, she could still read him - almost like an open book. Good thing he always knew how to slam it closed, jumble up the chapters and rip out a few pages. If he didn't, she would've known it all by now. Elizabeth would have been long gone.
For an excruciatingly long moment, Meliodas felt her curious stare. Heated, prominent, like an elephant crammed into a boiler cupboard, Elizabeth's stare was impossible to ignore. Not to mention the thoughts swimming in his brain, marinating in worry and stewing in dread as the blonde attempted to keep his cool, push back the repressed memories of his crappy upbringing.
Once those started flooding in it was impossible to drown them out. Not when they linked to the present, the future, feeding into every single decision Meliodas made in his current life. Whoever said that the past does not define you was a damned liar because it felt like whatever Meliodas did, no matter how far he ran away from it all, his past always came back to haunt him.
Now it was staring him right in the face, her pretty blue eyes wide with questioning.
Tense, his hand tightened around his fork. Yep, it was hitting him now. Right. In. The. Face.
"So," Elizabeth began. Thank god for her perfect timing. Whenever this happened, whenever he felt the walls closing in, Elizabeth could always knock them down again, flood the shadowy dregs of fog with overpowering sunlight. "Am I going to get that apology from you? Or are you just going to stare?"
He'd been staring. Again. God he needed to get a grip before he ended up accidentally confessing his love or some dumb shit like that. Thinking about the past tended to skew Meliodas' sense of reality. Thinking about Elizabeth, how she linked to it all, tended to make him much more spontaneous than he really should be with her; it made him more reckless than she really deserved.
"I'm sorry," Meliodas mumbled, drawing his gaze away from Elizabeth. The same Elizabeth who was peering at him pointedly. Feeling like a child being lectured in public, Meliodas could feel the urge to pout tugging at his system. Oh it really was. But Elizabeth would kick his ass for doing that. With the current mood she was in he was lucky she hadn't done it now.
"What was that, bud?" Ban asked, cupping a hand around his ear. Sly, a wolfish grin wormed its way across his lips, complete with sharp canines. "I was having trouble hearing that and I'm right next to you. I doubt Princess over there heard much of it either."
"I'm sorry," Meliodas sighed, defeated but also entirely exasperated, as he said it a little louder. "Ok? I'm sorry about what I said, Elizabeth."
All eyes were on her now - the slow blink she gave as she processed the apology.
"Thank you," A small smile. The most lovely, genuine smile he had ever seen in this world. "It means a lot."
Yeah, but sorry didn't do shit. A million sorries, a billion I'm sorries, could never heal the pain he caused. All they did was patch up the gaping wound like a tiny plaster would soak in the gushing blood of a stab wound. Sorry didn't do anything to fix the constantly reopened gash of Meliodas' own frigidness; sorry didn't fix anything at all.
Nevertheless, the smile she shot his way, the pure gratitude within her hopeful gaze, felt like sorry could be enough. At least, for now.
Jarringly, the buzzer went off, a tinny ring echoing in the distance just as Meliodas was about to say something more. Typical. Even the universe seemed to oppose things ever setting right with Elizabeth. Time and time again it was proving to be more and more of a nuisance whenever Meliodas thought that he could finally relax around her. Forget about all the buzzing, droning distractions.
"I'll get it!" Ban was already on his feet, not at all subtle in his intentions to pry a little. Oh no, he never really was that type. If Meliodas had to guess that was probably why he'd decided to third wheel Elizabeth's brunch plans.
It seemed today Ban was getting exactly what he wanted because Meliodas had a good feeling about who was at that front door. How could he not when the universe did such a splendid job at fucking up his life?
"Hey Mel!"
"Yeah?" The blonde responded, busying himself with Elizabeth's apology pancakes. Might as well enjoy them while they still meant something. If Ban's tone of voice was an indicator to anything, Meliodas' suspicions were being proven correct.
"We got a random bird here talking about something from last night," Ban informed, sounding rather confused as he lingered by the front door. Long and angular, his body was pressed against the door, a lengthy arm holding it open. "Apparently you were meant to meet up."
Well shit. Think of the old windbag and he shall spontaneously appear. Meliodas couldn't help the annoyance that was instantly steaming in his brain, bubbling humid blood in his veins. Just what he needed right about now: ANOTHER reminder of the constant glaring heat of his past - the one that was steadily catching up after he had left it behind little over a year ago.
"Fuck," Meliodas grumbled, upset at both the prospect of what was to come, along with the waste of Elizabeth's pancakes. There was no way she was going to forgive him after this. At all. And even though Meliodas knew this moment was coming soon - it was inevitable after all - he had always thought that it would happen differently. He had always thought - for her - that it would be something that he had done right. That one thing that he could have done right for her,
But, of course, even this was fucked up.
Pushing away from the table, the blonde huffed as he rolled his eyes, "Alright, I'm coming."
"I heard that," Elizabeth joined him, glued to the hip as always. Much more concerned weighed her features as she pursed her lips, the countless questions she held within her burning in her blue eyes as she looked at him. "Is it what I think it is?"
"Nope," Deny it. Flat out deny it. Denying is what he always did around her and that is what he will always continue to do; that was what was best. For Elizabeth, for her own sake, he had to let her down slowly. He had to cushion the horrible fall from grace, the plummet from rose-tinted reality, as much as he damn well could. For her. Only for her.
"I'm coming then," Elizabeth answered, swiftly, calling his bluff. As she was always known to do. And every time - every single time - it ended up with her heart smashed into a million fractured shards.
Meliodas swallowed, "Elizabeth you really don't- "
"I do. End of," Elizabeth interjected, face determined and her hand holding his. In support. Solidarity. She had no clue that this mess was something of his own creation, a web spun from his own terrible lies and cowardly actions. Really she should be breaking his fingers. "This ended years ago and you shouldn't have to deal with it anymore."
'Yeah, years ago,'Meliodas winced at the lie, the tiny white lie spun to keep her out of this torrid mess...
How much good did that do in the long term? How many times had that single lie led to her feelings being tangled in the crossfire?
Too many. So many that Meliodas was ashamed to have kept count, caring enough to measure her pain but clearly not caring enough to absolve it. Selfish, too selfish he was to keep her strung along like this, believing half of what was really true. All for the sake of keeping her close, extending his time with her as much as possible before the crash from cloud nine.
But how could Meliodas have known that the crash would be like this?
That didn't excuse anything - oh no, it didn't. Nevertheless, it did help to lessen the guilt that pinched at his gut as they went to join the tiny gathering at the front door, moments away from the final confrontation - the moment that would sever all their strengthened bonds.
(Like a dark omen,) Standing there, right in the middle of the doorway, was Melascula, a frown fixed to her lips as soon as spotted Meliodas - with Elizabeth. Behind him, Meliodas could already feel the annoyance building on Elizabeth's end, that protective streak of hers that he had only seen a handful of times popping into place like a dislocated arm being reconnected to its socket. All round, this was definitely going to be painful.
Only, it would be a waste for Elizabeth to be protective now. Not when Meliodas himself was the cause of this situation. Part of him was dying to tell her that, begging to clue her in and protect her from it all before shit hit the fan; it was too bad that Meliodas was much too foolish to even think about that. No, his own desire to have his cake and eat it too was biting him in the ass. Now, like all living beings, he had to pay for his liberty taking.
"You're late," Was all that Melascula said, a hand resting on her hip. Equally annoyed, a heeled foot tapped at the ground, the chain-link strap to her designer purse bouncing with each tap. "Again."
"I know. Come in," Was all Meliodas responded with, turning his back on the woman and heading back to his breakfast. If shit was going to hit the fan now, like this, then he was going to do it with a final taste of Elizabeth's forgiveness. He already knew what Melascula had come for; he already knew what was coming now that he had seen her.
"Meliodas?" Elizabeth called after him, sounding confused. Not that she wouldn't be. Why wouldn't she be? A hand caught his shoulder, soft nails gently clinging to the fabric of his shirt. "What's going on?"
Shrugging off her hand, he decided not to answer. To make it easier for her - he told himself - to make it bearable for her, he should just brush her aside. But was it really for Elizabeth when Meliodas himself was also trying to avoid the pain? That sharp stabbing guilt, the stinging, blazing knife-wound that often came with shattering her expectations, was never pleasant.
This moment, the truth being let free, wasn't going to be much better. Oh, it was going to hurt like a bitch. But if it was, Meliodas was going to make sure that it didn't hurt her. Not like this. If he could help it, Elizabeth would never be hurt by this - his own stupid web of foolish, selfish decisions - in the way that so many other people wanted her to be.
Sitting across from him, concern still blazing in her eyes, Meliodas knew that Elizabeth wasn't going to let this drop. But at the same time she was not going to like this. At all.
And - as much as he didn't want to admit it - it would hurt for a long time. Best to rip the plaster off entirely. In one clean motion.
"I lied to you," Was all he said. Finally. "I didn't stop all those years ago."
And that was all that needed to be said.