Quote of the Chapter:

"I keep thinking about this river somewhere, with the water moving really fast. And these two people in the water, trying to hold onto each other, holding on as hard as they can, but in the end it's just too much. The current's too strong. They've got to let go, drift apart. That's how it is with us. It's a shame, Kath, because we've loved each other all our lives. But in the end, we can't stay together forever."
― Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go

Chapter Thirty-Six: (I'm) The Idiot

Being that kid again was tough. No, scratch that. Being that kid again, scruffy hair, backpack filled with illegal loot, was not an option anymore. No matter how much he regressed, no matter how similar he could get to his past self, Meliodas would never be that kid again. That kid was lost, done and dusted in the embers of the past - a ashy husk of something that was once real.

But then again, even he - the kid on a lost path, stumbling over a rickety bridge built by his own father - had Elizabeth by his side. Shyly tagging along, her own bag filled with school books and stationary instead of his illegal party favours. Neatly brushed hair, shirt freshly ironed, navy socks pulled tightly around her pale calves, Elizabeth always looked like his exact opposite.

Raised to be a good Catholic girl, she was the epitome of the C of E kids around the neighbourhood. Most of them ended up getting into private schools or attending Sacred Heart and other highly religious schools farther south in the city. But, ever the exception, Elizabeth was here, somehow stuck in the shitty state school that was their generic academy.

How the hell she ended up there, Meliodas would never know. How the hell she was unfortunate enough to meet him - well, again he wouldn't know.

Why did god like to punish her? In his case it was all justified. Selling on the streets, doing what he had to in order to survive, Meliodas was definitely not a saint. But Elizabeth, his dear, sweet Elizabeth, was definitely not someone to fit the bill of a sinner. Everything tied to the devil came after she met him - after he'd introduced it all to her.

Really, he was worst mistake was taking her on one of his drug runs. That Saturday should have never happened. Maybe then Meliodas could have avoided this.

"You finally decided to show," Disgust wasn't at all hidden in the venomous spit directed his way. These days it was easy to pick up on it; such habits tended to be picked up when you were a walking, talking trashbag.

"I'm a man of my word," Meliodas held both hands in the air. Nonchalance was always key. Being lackadaisical, not giving a fuck, had become his one and only defense in the face of his father's world. Nowadays all they ever wanted from him was a reaction; eager and vindictive, they always wanted to see how much they could dig and dig and dig.

"Cheap talk coming from you, Meliodas," Melascula, familiar as ever, perched on the arm of the rather worn sofa nestled in the corner. Was that just standard for the flats used for production now? Make it look as shitty and crack-den-like as possible? God, the standards really had gone down ever since he'd left. "Or did you forget about being the traitor?"

Shaking his head, Meliodas bit down the grumble that wanted to leave his system, "I wasn't a traitor."

"You were the reason why they shut down our operation on the campus," Derieri, the first voice to direct hostility toward him, spoke once more. Arms crossed over her chest - definitely bulked up from her time in prison - she looked as she if she wanted to rip his head off. "You ruined my chance to get a degree."

Don't push it. Don't push it.

"I never told you sell drugs."

He pushed it. Seen in the twitch to her jaw, the clench of her fingers, Meliodas knew that he indeed had struck a chord. A very fine one. But the unbearable fucker that he was, he couldn't give much energy toward caring. Not now, at least. Just as he was back then - just as he was now - being the most unforgiving, blunt, obnoxious shit there was occupied his entire agenda.

Being a nuisance to his father was the only defense left. Pushing everyone else's buttons was the only way to seem like he still had some control.

Maybe that was why Meliodas sought some satisfaction from seeing the anger curl on Derieri's face. Maybe that was why he was on the edge of saying something more - something much worse than that statement.

It was a shame Monspeet got in the way.

"Enough," Calm and collected Monspeet was the opposite of his partner, looming in the background with his towering gait and subtle presence. However now he was frowning, directing a cautious stare at his companions as he stood between them and Meliodas. "We don't need to rock the boat. Not when we have a lot of cash to make up for."

"And who's fault was that?" Melascula hissed, raising an accusatory brow. Poised, stone-like, she looked like a pale alabaster statue carved from a Greek tragedy.

In that moment Meliodas found himself wondering what it would be like to look at Melascula's face, devoid of the long fake lashes and dark, glittery makeup she often put on. Years had passed since he had seen her without makeup; years had passed since he'd seen any of the past DK members of his generation casual and let-loose. At one point they had been close, meeting up after school or after shifts, passing cash between each other or loaning each other tiny steals of smuggled weed or ecstasy.

At one point they were even all staying in one building, splitting the rent between the ten of them and divvying the basic expenses based on what was leftover. Sometimes Elizabeth would be there too. Other times not. Most of the time she was absent. Perhaps - now looking back at it - that was a good thing.

"That was my fault," Meliodas admitted, shrugging. That was something he'd never hide. Losing all that money - all those years ago - was something he had done in order to escape the trap of this lifestyle. Pulling a runner, disappearing for a bit, was what seemed like the best option for him; it had worked for Zeldris and so there was no reason why it couldn't work for him.

But, foolish as always, Meliodas never accounted for how relentless his father could be. Zeldris was never the one he wanted to inherit the illegal organisation; Meliodas was always going to be the next leader.

"Well that's why you're still here," Derieri noted, sniffing as she took a seat at the table. Done with the moment of anger she was back to measuring out white powder, squinting at the tiny black electric weighing scale as she spooned minuscule amounts of powder onto it. Biding time - as always. Something she was infamous for.

"You know, I can always leave," Meliodas offered, lingering in the open doorway. Easily, he leaned against the door frame, a devious grin spreading on his face. "Or fuck it up even more."

"You even dare," Melascula abruptly stood up, thunderous as she hissed. Two hands were planted on her hips, dark eyes pointing heated daggers into Meliodas' face as she loomed over him - just those few inches taller in her noisy designer heels. "And I will make sure to pay that pretty roommate of yours a visit."

"Didn't you hear the news, Melascula?" Meliodas couldn't help the laughter. Part of him felt it was hysterical - especially with how it shook his shoulders and rumbled through his lungs and gut. Shaking his head, the blonde announced, "She's not my roommate anymore."

"What?" Melascula's wide eyes said it all.

"It's exactly as I said it was," Meliodas shrugged. Now he was smug, floating in the addictive feeling of having the upper hand. "It was never serious."

For a moment she looked like a fish out of water. Wide eyes, jaw agape - it wouldn't be a miracle if she just fell in those ridiculous heels of hers. Were they even practical for a drug dealer? Probably not. Nevertheless, Melascula remained standing, clearing her throat as she appeared to visibly back down, cool and calm and collected as she crossed her arms.

"If that's so, you won't mind us keeping an eye on her, right?" She suggested, still prodding even in her own surrender. Glancing over her shoulder, she addressed her colleagues. "We still have that link in the paper, right Monspeet?"

"Yes," The tall man nodded. He was also at the table, gloves on and tiny scraps of foil littered around him. "We do."

"Great!" Whipping back around to Meliodas, Melascula grinned. "It's all sorted!"

Only none of it was. No, in Meliodas' head everything was a mess, sirens blaring and alarms screeching as everything entered panic mode. Really, he should have never tried to pass as the careless, thoughtless bastard he once was; he should have known better. Much, much better. Alas, he was an idiot. A big, moronic idiot. And so he always thought he knew what was best.

"We'll contact you if we need anything, Meliodas," Melascula continued, now on her own personal high of being the obnoxious, righteous one. "Since you can't be trusted around the produce anymore, you'll simply have to deal with being out the loop."

"That's fine," He grunted out.

A smug smirk, "What was that?"

"I said that's fine," Meliodas grumbled, much louder than his previous grunt. Hands buried deep in his pockets, hiding their urge to clench and twitch, he turned toward the front door of the flat. "Just call me when it's ready."

Then he was gone, out the door, heart racing as he walked along the pathway and made his way over to the lifts. What had he done? What had he really just done? Right now, in one moment of insane stupidity, Meliodas had just undone almost ten years of hard work, sweat and effort to keep Elizabeth safe. One task - one task he had always prided himself on always doing right - and he had failed it.

Shaking his head, the blonde frowned as the lift doors opened and he stepped inside. Immediately, the musty scent of dust and a collective mystery mix of weed smoke and dog urine invaded the air.

Used to it - scarily used to it - Meliodas simply rolled his eyes as he pressed the green ground floor button. What was he going to do now? What could he tell her?

'Hey Elizabeth, you know that gang I was a part of. Well, they're kinda watching your every move now, funny right?'He was asking for her to cut him out of his life. Honestly, Meliodas wouldn't blame her for it. Maybe that was what she needed to do - properly. Maybe he needed to give her that final push, break her heart in a way that would render it irreparable.

But then, even the thought of doing it - shattering her entire heart - made Meliodas hesitate. He couldn't do that. Not now. Not after everything, everyone and everything, he had sacrificed just to be able to keep her safe and close.

You know what you have to do. He knew what he had to do. Now, before hesitation took over, he had to talk to her. Now he had to try and make something of the crumbling foundations around him.

Pulling out his phone, he calls the familiar number that would forever take space in his brain. Eleven little numbers, eleven little steps, just to get to her.

"Meliodas?"

"Hey Ellie," He couldn't hide the smile - even with the tension sitting on his shoulders. "How do you feel about going out?"

Maybe he would regret this, maybe this would just hurt her more. But he was an idiot and their time was being cut short. Why couldn't he just do this final thing for her?