Quote of the Chapter:

"And sometimes, she said, he must have wondered
which had been the better way to die." - Kamikaze, Beatrice Garland.

Chapter Thirty: (Talking to) The moon

Exactly one week had passed now. On day four Ban had come to check on him; Elaine had followed the next day, bringing fresh lemon cake and a potted plant she'd named Ivory; day six was Diane's turn, busting down the front door and dragging Meliodas out for an hour of fun that had turned into a boring evening. Today was day seven, one week, since Elizabeth Liones had officially left his life.

Each and every day Meliodas had restricted himself from reaching out to her. Minutes would be spent fighting with himself, chewing his cheek as he stared at his phone, Elizabeth's number waiting to be dialed with the simple press of a button. 'Call her,' His mind would whisper, 'Just check on her, see how she's doing'. But each and every time he would toss the item away in frustration, shrugging on his jacket and going out for a walk.

Nighttime happened to be the worst time. Stark silent, silver moonlight beaming through his window, Meliodas would always find himself thinking, sometimes musing aloud in the middle of the night. Sleep wasn't a thing, hadn't been a thing for years, but felt even less like a thing these days. Instead he was up, full of thoughts, full of unspoken words, spilling them out to the moon.

Maybe he was going mad from the isolation. Maybe Meliodas had finally snapped from all the pressure. Talking to the moon - they often said - was a sign of madness. Yet in those dark hours, shrouded in shadows with only twinkling balls of burning gas illuminating the sky, Meliodas found solace in the moon. The faint whisper of a voice he could swear was talking back.

In those gloomy midnight hours he could remember what it was like to be alive. Back in those days when Elizabeth was there, tolerating his crap and smiling at his antics.

In the mornings he would rise to the new world: a world where he was dead to her, dying the night he'd admitted his lies.

In that moment, lying to her and dying in that moment (being dead to her) was much better than dying on the spot. Facing metaphorical death instead of literal, painful death had seemed like a better idea. But these days Meliodas did wonder which way had truly been the better way to die: a lifetime of being ignored or a blaze of painful glory.

Right now his heart was telling him the latter.

Chewing his cheek, Meliodas paced, phone pressed to his ear, echoing tones vibrating within his eardrums. He'd called her three times so far. Three damn times, trying his hardest to not leave a million more missed calls. Today was day seven and day seven was when he'd chosen to crack, a week of silence being too long for him. A week had felt like forever.

'Leave me alone,'Were her final gruff words to him, 'Leave me to live my life and I'll stop meddling in yours.' That had been their agreement. Their pact. In return for her presence, her daily sunlight and warmth, Meliodas had traded his own slice of power - his own selfish desire to know everything about her and protect her from everything that threatened to snuff out her precious, precious light. Not that Elizabeth knew that. No she never did. All she ever saw these days was the arrogant fool within him.

More steps passed, agitated and antsy as the dog watched him boil, scruffy head tipped in curiosity as he paused gnawing on an old sock. Really Meliodas should take it off the animal - biting socks wasn't exactly a healthy habit - but he was too worked up.

"Hey this is Elizabeth," Again her soft voice met his ears, the pre-recorded message of her voicemail inbox. As quickly as she spoke, Meliodas hung up, pausing in his pacing.

Right now, she was ignoring him. Running away, veering in the completely opposite direction, Elizabeth was avoiding Meliodas completely. That was pretty obvious since she was playing tea parties halfway across the fucking country. A few days of silence had been expected; Meliodas had been an absolute prat. But a week? No news, no anything, not even a simple 'fuck you'? God, did she know that it hurt him this much?

'She doesn't want to know you anymore,' His thoughts blared out, violent, deafening, harsh. Meliodas couldn't resist the wince as he put down his phone and stared ahead, face to face with the fridge and the array of magnets hung on it.

Weeks after they'd first moved in, alphabet magnets had been bought as a gag gift. Diane, helpful as she always was, had spelled out a message for the pair in an array of primary colours: Days since Mel and El have fucked: 0. Beside it were numbers, digits zero through nine, showcasing the purpose of the message spread across the fridge door.

Mortified, Elizabeth had let out a tinny yell to Diane, asking about the message on the fridge. Laughing, Diane had explained, wiggling her brows as she brandished the forbidden Rule Thirteen jar. Laughing along with Diane, Meliodas took the jar, kicked her out and helped Elizabeth to take down the stupid magnets. That jar ended up being smashed the same day. The magnets remained, however.

I wish you luck. Goodbye.

Spelled out on the fridge, a mixture of colours and a message only one person would leave: Elizabeth. Even in her anger, even in her agitation, she'd managed to leave something positive for him. When he deserved it least. When Meliodas deserved anything but her kindness, her damn humility, in the face of his shitty actions and behaviours.

Even after a week Meliodas didn't have the heart to take them down. Instead he tried to honour her wishes, keep his distance until she wanted to break that distance herself. But he should have known that she wasn't going to come back; talking to Elizabeth now was like talking to the moon.

Picking up his phone once more, Meliodas called her number for the millionth time.

"Hey, this is Elizabeth," Her voicemail again, still as soft and gentle as her real voice. "I'm not available right now but leave a message and I'll try my best to get back to you."

Beep.

Sucking in a deep breath, Meliodas opened his mouth to speak:

"I don't want your stupid luck. I want you to come back." Even if it's me who has to disappear.