Quote of the Chapter:

"I have taken my red lipstick
And written Help across my chest
He looks at it so kindly" - Red Rum, Dorothea Lasky

Chapter Forty-One: (I wish) You weren't temporary

He wasn't supposed to be the temporary plaster.

That single thought couldn't help but echo through Elizabeth's mind as she stole glances at the man across from her, half-hidden by the rim of her flimsy plastic-coated menu. When she had decided to lock Meliodas out of her life, posting her keys through the slot, Elizabeth had told herself that she wouldn't use others to numb the pain. Using others was wrong; using others to distract herself was even more foolish.

Years ago, growing up in a household engulfed within the imagery of God and his son, Elizabeth had experienced firsthand how grief could cause someone to lose themselves entirely. Her mother, bless her soul, had never gotten over her father; Elizabeth had been the victim of that tragic heartbreak. Elizabeth had been the temporary salve to the burn of that heartache.

And, seeing her mother worn down into a staunch woman hiding behind the security of her wooden cross and rosary beads, Elizabeth had vowed to never be like her. Using others - using anything - to numb the pain was wrong. Using distractions would never heal the gaping wound left right in the middle of your heart.

Yet, here Elizabeth Liones was, taking her lunch break with Mael, and Mael alone - because Diane had decided to bail on her for King on the last minute. No doubt it was revenge for withholding the details on the entire Meliodas' situation. Doing such an act wouldn't be new for Diane; if anything it would be typical. Expected. Really Elizabeth should have seen it coming from a mile away.

"So," Mael cleared his throat, both startling Elizabeth and gaining her attention as she quickly darted her eyes away from peeping at his face. Raising a brow, most likely oblivious to her ponderous staring, Mael dared to ask, "Are you finally going to share what's got you so down?"

Immediately, Elizabeth stiffened within her chair, "Me?"

Uncomfortable would be an understatement for how awkward she felt in that moment. Awkward would only cover about an inch of the kilometers that made up her obvious, blush-inducing shame.

"Yes, you," Mael nodded, humming his affirmation of the answer as he set down his menu. There was nothing teasing floating within his bright blue eyes, nothing to suggest a smart comment or an incoming joke. Instead, set deep within his gaze, was something akin to concern, crinkling his brows and pressing light wrinkles into the tan skin of his forehead.

For the past while, Elizabeth had been trying to avoid Mael catching on. That was why she had avoided him in Scotland; that was why she had chosen to take a more solo route in France. Being around Mael meant admitting that everything about her past life was a lie; she'd have to admit that everything around her was fracturing into a million, irreparable pieces.

If she had to admit that, then Elizabeth knew it was real. If she had to tell Mael, make it part of her new life, than Elizabeth had to finally accept that Meliodas didn't want her. She was the girl with too many cons, the girl who only looked good in photos. Meliodas didn't want her.

Letting out a long sigh, Elizabeth felt her shoulders deflate with defeat, "Is it really that obvious?"

"Not really," Mael shrugged. His eyes, however, gave away just how painfully evident it was that she was hurting, wounded, by the past few weeks of emotional hardship. "I just have a good eye for people's moods. Like Diane. I know she's secretly dying to corner you and grill you for answers. Jericho looks just as ready to hunt you down."

"Scarily accurate observations," Elizabeth chose to swallow his lie - because harder truths were always much worse to try and choke down. Biting into her lip, she averted her gaze from him, instead focusing back on the menu.

For a while they were dumped back into silence once more, stifling and thick thanks to Mael's inquisitive intrusion into her personal affairs. There wasn't much Elizabeth wanted to share. There wasn't much Elizabeth wanted to say. Even though she was touched by Mael's concern - the burning determination to try and cheer her up - she knew that it was all in vain. Mael could never help with the wound left after Meliodas; like a plaster slapped over a giant gash, a tiny piece of cotton wool on a large cut, he would end up destroying himself trying to soothe her.

"Did I cross a line by asking you that?" Again Mael dared to ask another question, sheepishly glancing at her from his side of the table. Like a child, someone uncertain as to where they stood in a conversation, he regarded her with a timidness that Elizabeth recognised. With Meliodas she was often like that; when it came to Meliodas, Elizabeth never knew where she stood.

Deeply, it pained her to see that she was doing the same to Mael: when it came to figuring her out, he was like a child faced with a complex puzzle.

"No, you didn't cross anything at all," Sending a strained excuse of a smile, Elizabeth tried to assure Mael that he had done no wrong. Because how could he? There was so much he didn't know. There was so much that she didn't tell him. All he wanted to do was make her feel better. All he wanted to do was absolve that overwhelming sorrow within her heart. That was all.

So why wouldn't she let him? Why did she always have to be the long-suffering girl, worn down the bone by her own stubborn resolve? Why couldn't she just... crumble, deflate, roll up and press flat like cotton wool dissolved within a glass of water?

Honestly, Elizabeth didn't know. Maybe she was just as damaged as Meliodas, so used to suffering alone that sharing it became a burden.

Biting her lip, Elizabeth shook her head as she sighed, "I just... I don't want to burden you with my own personal problems."

"Elizabeth," Mael glanced at her with a softened crinkle to his eyes, his hand reaching over to hers across the tabletop. Usually, she would flinch away. Usually she would keep herself guarded. Today she accepted the small human comfort, enjoying the warmth of someone else's concern. A tiny slither of silver within her gloomy existence. "Your own problems would never be a burden to me."

Quickly, his tone changed, gaining an almost nonchalant edge, as he sat up a little straighter, "I mean, you helped me when I first came here, a clueless bumbling idiot, to fit in. If you can do that and expect nothing in return, then I can listen to you and be a shoulder for you to cry on. It's only fair."

Staring into Mael's deep blue eyes, his thumb tracing comforting circles into the skin of her hand, Elizabeth couldn't help but consider his words. Kind words. Human words. Words that soothed her aching, throbbing heart in a way that so many people failed to these days. Everyone always spoke about space and moving on. Jericho advised Elizabeth to take a path of independence; Diane had urged her to take a path of envy. But Mael, gentle and listening and compassionate, had told her another way: a path riddled with support, relying on those she trusted to help her to become stronger.

Stinging, fresh tears were brimming in her eyes. Everything was still so raw. Everything was still so new. Only now, in the calm of a stupid restaurant, was Elizabeth truly absorbing her newfound reality. Meliodas didn't want her.

"Yes," Sniffing, Elizabeth retracted her hand, depositing it safely beneath the table. Far away from the comfort of her plaster. "I suppose you're right. I should rely on others more often."

As if noticing the growing silence at the table, a server soon approached. Silence was avoided by the common practice of ordering, Elizabeth keeping her input to a minimum as she sunk into the depths of her thoughts. So many people had noticed her shift at work, especially after she came back from her visit with Margaret. That visit, in Oxford, changed things; that visit changed a lot.

Maybe she should mark that with actually accepting her reality.

"It's Meliodas," Elizabeth chose to suddenly admit, her voice a quiet thing as she took a sip of her water. Chilling, it slipped through her system, calming her nerves and extinguishing her blushing cheeks. "He's the one on my mind."

"Your roommate?" Mael quizzed, frowning a little. Resting his face on his right palm, his brows furrowed as he dug a little deeper. "I thought you guys were only roommates?"

"Well, he i- was more than my roommate," Elizabeth sighed, already regretting her split-second decision to spill most of the truth. Taking another calming sip of water, grounding herself, she lowered her voice a little more, signalling to Mael that this was a private conversation. "Before I continue, you have to promise not to tell anyone at work. Deldry's been dying to get the scoop on my 'cute roommate'. If this gets out, I'll know."

For a moment Mael just looked at her, taking in the warning grimace that had made its home on her face. Then, with a supportive grin, he nodded, almost seeming relieved that she had finally decided to open up to him.

"Your secret's safe with me," Mael assured her, placing a hand over where his heart would lay. "I promise."

"Thank you," Elizabeth found herself smiling, genuinely, a gentle tug twitching at the corners of her lips. However, it soon faded, replaced with a timid voice and full-face blush, spreading down the contours of her neck. "Meliodas and I were... casually-messing-about."

"Messing about?" Mael echoed, seeming somewhat teasing as a grin stretched across his face from her rushed-out whisper tangent. Humming, he feigned innocence, raising a brow. "Really?"

"Yes," Elizabeth squeaked out, her eyes now glued to the tabletop as her fingers anxiously toyed with each other. Never before had she said it out loud; usually everyone else around her put the pieces together and confronted her on it. Diane had always been an avid expert of the entire Meliodas and Elizabeth saga - ever since their university days. Everyone else, they just loved speculating.

"Elizabeth," Mael cut through her awkwardness, almost like an elder sibling who was teasing their younger one about something trivial. Trying to keep a straight face, he repeated the thought echoing through his mind, "Are you really feeling nervous about talking about sex at twenty six?"

"Yes," Elizabeth immediately nodded, flushing as red as a beetroot in a red room. Even after all these years she still had those good-girl rules wired into her - including the one about having any sort of interest or conversation about the birds and the bees. "My mother raised me to be a traditional and devout Catholic. Her dream was for me to become a nun and... spread joy and peace around the globe."

"Oh," Mael seemed almost frozen.

"Anyway," Too overworked to dig up that chapter of her life at the same time, Elizabeth dragged the conversation back to the recent past. The catalyst to her abrupt departure from the office for a while. "Meliodas and I have a much more complex arrangement than just 'being roommates' or even friends. For years we've been doing this thing where we dance around each other, one admitting how they feel and the other acting oblivious to it. We've never broken the norm of pretending that we're more than friends."

"But," Elizabeth sucked in a deep breath. There was never anything that simple. There were moments, short, fleeting moments, that felt like so much more. All of them - every last one - had been snuffed out by his deception. All of them were highlighted with the bold truth: Meliodas didn't want her. "Recently, I learned that he lied to me. There's a reason why he always danced around my advances and made it awkward to make my feelings obvious."

Because he'd never cared that much. He'd never valued her like that. Meliodas didn't want her.

"And that was?" Mael was the grounding factor, a calm within the torrent of thoughts in her skull. Through her blurring vision and pounding head, Mael was there, gentle and waiting and guiding her along. Guiding her back to safety.

But, even so, Elizabeth couldn't share it all with him. Mael could not become her temporary plaster. Not when he was her new anchor to reality. Because, at some point, once he was all soaked up with her blood, limp and curling from the residue of her healing heart, Elizabeth would only throw him away. All plasters eventually ended up in the bin - no matter how wonderful they were.

"I can't share that," Sighing, Elizabeth shook her head. Because she couldn't. Not yet. "I'm sorry."

Before Mael could respond, the waiter arrived, delivering their overdue lunch order. For a while they didn't speak, Elizabeth consumed with getting through the rest of the lunch hour and Mael stuck in whatever realm his thoughts had taken him to. But then, just like how he'd begun this deep dive into Elizabeth's mood, he spoke once more.

"Elizabeth," He caught her attention, a kind and understanding smile on his face. One Elizabeth could have sworn she'd seen before, in the past, hidden within a crowd of a million other university students. "Just so you know, I'll always be there for you. No matter what you confess to me."

And that's when part of her realised, made the connection. There was a reason why Mael stuck to her like glue. There was a reason why she felt so comfortable around him. Young again. That plaster-like quality, the feeling of nostalgia, clung to him for a reason; he was from a memory.

"Thank you, Mael," All Elizabeth could do was smile. "Really."

He really didknow her.