Work Text:
Day 1
He smirks at the £5 he gained, fumbling the coins over in his hands before sliding them into his trouser pocket. The poem was for Veronica, one of the daughters of the headteacher and a feisty tomboy on the girls’ football team. Griamore contacted him a week ago, begging for a poem to catch the attention of his crush. With expected money, Meliodas complied easily, and he'd admit, the poem wasn't too shabby.
He lifts his hands and places them behind his head, nodding at a nearby girl who'd been staring for a while now. She blushes, face like a strawberry, and hurries past him. He walks into a packed corridor, eyeing the school pictures dotted over the cream walls, managing a few lazy steps when someone yells his name.
"Meliodas! Wait!"
Footsteps rush towards him, and he swiftly spins to see the person who shouted for his attention. It's probably a friend, he thinks as the figure gets closer, or someone who owes me cash.
"Mael?" Meliodas raises a brow, bringing his hands down to his sides to shove into his pockets.
Mael comes to a halt in front, doubling over to catch his breath before straightening up rigidly. "Yeah, that's me." It’s a forced, awkward smile since there’s no reason for them to talk. Mael's family works at a business that opposes his fathers. They grew up attending a few meetings together, but a mutual dislike is tangible.
"I never thought we'd talk school."
"I don't want to." Mael retorts, nostrils flaring slightly. His cheeks are already a light pink, looking so close to turning back into the chattering crowd of students who are leaving the building. He lightly mutters something under his breath."But I don't know who else to go to."
Meliodas snickers. “Whatcha need, sunshine?"
Mael’s face reddens as he clears his throat. “A poem. For someone.” Though the premises is noisy, the tantalizing silence amid them prickles his skin. He rhythmically taps his foot against the floor, waiting for a response.
Meliodas hooks his bag up to his left shoulder, leaning against the wall with the other. “Must be desperate if you’re asking me , Mael.”
“Trust me, I am.”
He hums, a teasing, almost devilish smirk crossing his lips. “Who’s it for? I can only attempt to write it if you say their name.”
“Would you even write it?” He narrows his blue eyes. “We’re not even friends.”
Meliodas yawns, face stoic. “Listen, tons of guys in this school are too scared to approach me. You’ve just proven how desperate you are. All that will happen here is you pay me extra, I write a poem, and you give it to her. Then we go back to never talking. Is that a deal?” Mael searches his face, probing for any sign of lying, but eventually, hesitantly, nods. The air between them prickles, about to ignite. “So who is it?”
"You might know her-well, you do know her.”
“Name?”
And it’s as the usual smell of Dettol drifts into his nose, as people playfully bicker, their boisterous laughs echoing as they slowly exit, as a wave of nerves washes over his heart, that Mael forces himself to murmur her name.
“No.”
“What? Why not?”
His tone is laced with more grit than before, his words emphasised as if explaining something to a toddler. “Why not? Because I can’t stand her. My father despises her; he works against her mother for God’s sake - why should I bother?”
“I’ll- I’ll pay you extra.”
“That won’t-”
“Look, it’s one poem.
One.
I’ll pay you as much as you want, but I really really need it.
Please
.”
Dark, forest eyes stare at him- into him -burning his skull. Hatred radiates off Meliodas, like a bubble on its edge, about to explode with biting venom.
Later, he hopes that whatever poem Meliodas writes will be something Elizabeth likes. He did go through all that effort. Plus, it’s costing him a pretty penny.
Day 2
“Hair?”
“Long and uh- silver.”
Long and silver he pens in his notebook. Ban, throwing a grape in his mouth, peeps over, “Sorta got a fringe, write that.”
Sorta got a fringe, Meliodas scribbles, raking a hand through his tousled hair and rolling his shirt sleeve up. He harshly bites into a red apple, the juicy flavour exploding onto his tongue and looks up to glance at the table in front of him, where a girl sits in his direct view.
Average height. He scrawls.
Has eyes.
“‘Course she has eyes. That won’t help ya.”
“What colour are they, then?”
“Dunno, man. How would I know?”
Meliodas grumbles, whipping his head to check the clock on the limited time he had left that day. “Stupid poem,” he mumbles, ignoring Ban’s quip of ‘you want the money’, and lowers his gaze to Elizabeth, attempting to note her eye colour while squinting.
He stops breathing for a second when their eyes meet, the outside world quietening as he’s caught red-handed. Surprisingly, she waves, a little smile stretching across her features like how a spring flower blooms. And Meliodas is entranced, drawn into gushing streams and stirring currents and vertiginous maelstroms and-
“Meliodas? Meliodas?”
-and clarity returns to him, clamorous sounds flooding into his ears. He overlooks the gleeful skip in his chest.
“They’re blue.”
“Blue?”
“Her eyes- they’re blue.”
“What? Like the sky?”
“No, no, that’s too-”
“The sea?”
A smile flitters over his face as he pencils down:
Ocean eyes.
Day 3
“Elizabeth is one of the kindest people I know,” Elaine tells him, seated comfortably next to Ban. “Why don’t you just talk to her?”
“He’s convinced that they hate each other ‘cos their parents work against each other,” Ban drawls, stretching an arm behind Elaine’s chair.
“She wouldn’t hate you for something like that,” she giggles, resting her face on the palm of her hand on the table, “no way.” The classroom door opens as she speaks for more students to pour in, bringing scents of the outdoors and hushed noises into the room. Elaine points to a person in the group, “she’s right there.”
Meliodas glances in the indicated direction, and his eyes immediately widen upon also spotting a brunette. “She’s talking to Diane? Elizabeth and Diane are friends ? Diane’s never mentioned her.”
“They’ve been close for years,” Elaine explains with furrowed brows while Ban snickers. “Maybe you haven’t been paying enough attention to notice.”
“Why would I willingly pay attention to her?” Meliodas says, lips a thin line. “What was it you said about her again?”
“She’s kind. Loving.”
Kind. Loving. He scribbles as the teacher hurriedly walks in and commences the lesson.
Day 4
“Oh, she’s an absolute blessing.”
“You’re both friends with her?”
“Sorta grew up together,” Howzer shrugs, “like a sister to us.”
“Of course, she is,” Meliodas grunts, tapping his pen against his notebook and leaving millions of irritated dots across the page. “How come she was with you two when you’re not related?”
“When her mother was busy, which is quite often, Bartra would babysit her,” Gilthunder says, sipping his coffee. “That’s how she got to know Margaret and Veronica, and then me, Howzer and Griamore were always around.”
“Let’s get to the point. If you had to describe Elizabeth quickly, what would you say?”
A breeze whirls into the cafe’s open window, disrupting Howzer’s hair as he grins. “I see, someone’s asked you to write a poem for her? My bets on Mael.” At Meliodas’ arched brow, he says, “pretty obvious he has something for her. Sometimes I spot him drooling.”
“Doesn’t matter who. I need words.”
“Understanding, uh- encouraging-”
“Cheerful-”
“Funny, she’s made my belly hurt-”
“Meliodas, it’d be easier if you talked to her for a bit, get to know her maybe.”
He ignores him, focussing on his growing list of words.
Day 5
“Meliodas. Talk to her.”
“No. She hates me.”
“She’s not like that.” Melin shakes her head, velvet-black hair flying. “Elizabeth is a great person. One of the best I know.”
“What is she to you, anyway?”
“A big sister.”
“...”
Day 6
The corridors are silent, the clock almost ticking to the start of the next lesson while Meliodas and Ban unconcernedly saunter around the school to locate their maths classroom. “If I trip her up, then it’ll give us an excuse to talk, and it’ll help me write the poem, so I can get it over and done with.”
“Trip her up? What happened to start a conversation?”
“That’ll seem as if we’re friends. We’re not.”
Ban steps ahead of the curve in the wall to view the path they’re on, ruby eyes sweeping the expanse of the next corridor. “Damn. Maths is on the other side of the building.” He swivels around, bumping into Meliodas, who falls straight onto the floor with a thud, the books in his hands flying over the floor.
He ignores Ban’s guffaws as he swears, dusting himself off and grabbing his exercise books. “Thanks for that.”
“My pleasure,” he wipes a fake tear from the corner of his eye. “Should’ve seen yourself, eyes went wide and all.”
“ Haha .” He grumbles, absentmindedly counting his books. “Damn it- I’ve lost my chemistry book.”
“Is it this one?” A voice asks from behind. Ban’s stopped laughing, now smirking, and he swivels around to be greeted with deep, blue eyes and starlight hair in a french braid with a bag hooked on one shoulder. Meliodas blinks.
He looks down at the book in her hands, taking it into his own. “Thanks.”
“And this slipped out of it,” she hands him an A4 piece of paper full of his crossings out and scribbles. “I didn’t mean to read it, but the first few lines caught my attention. You have a knack for words.” Elizabeth smiles, and he’s distantly reminded of a blooming flower. Meliodas coughs to dig the flutter in his chest from receiving a compliment away and cringes when he realises that what she read was the start of an abandoned poem. “Whoever it’s for is lucky.” She comments, waving and moving past him.
“Oh, and Ban?” Ban dips his head slightly as a response. “I think you should give it a go with Elaine.”
The boys are stock still as she walks away.
“She was right about that,” Meliodas starts, smirking at Ban’s face. “You should ask Elaine out.”
“Yeah? And what happened to you being sure about Elizabeth hating you? And the whole ‘I’ll trip her up’ when you just did.”
Meliodas sulks as he cackles again.
Day 7
“You’ll never be able to do anything with your life,” a lanky guy sneers at a raven-haired girl, her head bowed and fists clenched tightly. He leers into her face, almost spitting, mouth twisted up and eyes taunting, sinister. “You path-”
“Leave her alone .”
Perplexed, the boy turns to the interrupting voice as the girl lifts her head. “What?” he snorts.
“I said, leave Guila alone .”
He chuckles, dark and low, sending a slither down Guila’s spine that’s backed against a wall. “and why should I listen to you? You ain’t my mum. You’re a girl. ”
“A girl that isn’t afraid of fighting you, if that’s what you want.” She steps closer, chin held high.
Guila sinks in relief as he leaves her, slinking towards Elizabeth instead, leering. “Oh, yeah? I’d like to see you try .” It’s silent for a moment. Then he lunges, throwing an aggressive punch as Guila covers her face with her hands, peeking through the cracks. She gapes in awe as Elizabeth stands calmly, holding his fist with her right hand.
“But I won’t fight you,” she says, gently removing his arm. “I’m better than that.” She gives him a long, slow look, jaw set and firm, before advancing to Guila, holding her in a hug and murmuring into her hair. Guila thanks her again and again, beaming, skipping off to find her friends.
Interestingly, Elizabeth approaches the boy. And she talks to him, neither happy nor sad. Just trying to understand and help.
They are unaware of the jade eyes peeping from the opposite end of the corridor.
Day 8
Y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶e̶y̶e̶s̶ ̶r̶e̶m̶i̶n̶d̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶a̶n̶ ̶o̶c̶e̶a̶n̶,̶
̶p̶o̶r̶t̶r̶a̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶j̶o̶y̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶e̶m̶o̶t̶i̶o̶n̶s̶,̶
̶r̶i̶p̶p̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶f̶l̶o̶w̶i̶n̶g̶
a̶n̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶s̶o̶u̶l̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶g̶l̶o̶w̶i̶n̶g̶
Day 9
̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶k̶i̶n̶d̶n̶e̶s̶s̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶ ̶b̶o̶u̶n̶d̶s̶,̶
̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶l̶a̶u̶g̶h̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶f̶a̶v̶o̶u̶r̶i̶t̶e̶ ̶s̶o̶u̶n̶d̶
M̶y̶ ̶f̶e̶e̶l̶i̶n̶g̶s̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶s̶l̶o̶w̶l̶y̶ ̶g̶r̶o̶w̶,̶
̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶d̶a̶y̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶y̶ ̶m̶a̶y̶ ̶o̶v̶e̶r̶f̶l̶o̶w̶,̶
Day 10
The air is stiff and stuffy as Meliodas undoes his top two buttons, loosening his red tie with one hand, his other elbow planted on the square conference table and examines the people around him as his eyes droop.
Zeldris, on his left, is blatantly texting someone on his phone underneath the table. But Meliodas isn’t in the mood for calling him out and merely huffs. His father, exuding aggressive energy on one end, is paying rapt attention to the current speaker, Drole, who pronounces his words slowly, deeply and clearly, engaging almost everyone’s concentration. Seated on his right, Diane, his niece, in a floor-length, orange business dress, looks as if she’ll fall asleep any second.
Gloxinia holds a small smile, dressed more casually than anyone else. Elaine, in a white frock, Gerheade, and Harlequin, who’s staring at somebody else, are settled next to him.
On the far edge of the table are Elizabeth and her mother, who acts as if she’s above everyone in the room. Elizabeth’s head is titled, focusing on Drole, but cheeks a light tint of pink as if she’s struggling not to laugh at Diane. She dons an azure, halter-neck dress, complimenting her eyes, that reaches above her knees and reveals porcelain legs. Her curled hair rolls over her shoulders, resting with a cute bounce.
Though he won’t admit it, it’s admiring how she helped that girl a few days ago, how she didn’t tremble or quake. He’d arrived just before she, and considered stepping in when she had herself.
Elizabeth’s eyes shift to the clock behind him that ploddingly ticks and subsequently land on his face. She cocks her head, motioning, and his brows draw down a bit as he checks his left.
Zeldris is grinning, shoulders shaking as he hunches over. Meliodas purses his lips, nudging him forcefully with his foot to shut him up. His younger brother straightens as if lightning had lashed at him. Meliodas returns his gaze to Elizabeth, a jubilant smile forming over her pink lips. He bites the inside of his cheek to not grin back.
An hour or two later, where he pretends to not be staring at her, the conference finally finishes with a passionate debate between his father and her mother. They all stand, moving to shake hands.
However, Elizabeth does not approach him. She does not shake his hand.
Day 11
“I told you. She hates me. Why else wouldn’t she shake my hands?”
“Why does it bother ya this much?”
“... It doesn’t.”
“ Sure. ” Ban yawns. “ Ask Zeldris.”
.
.
.
He finds Zeldris lounging on the leather couch, switching between TV channels with an open, family packet of crisps next to him that smell like Prawn Cocktail.
“Hey, Zel,” Meliodas leans one shoulder against the wall. “Do you know why Elizabeth wouldn’t shake my hand?”
Zeldris regards him bewilderedly. “Yesterday at the conference? I thought you two weren’t friends. Why would she shake your hand?”
“But she shook your hand.”
“I didn’t see you approaching her.” He shrugs, returning to the wide TV on the wall.
He thinks it’s stupid that the thought hammers his head. “So I should have approached her ?”
“Don’t you remember years ago when she came to you to shake your hand, and you did nothing?” Zeldris says while munching. “Why should she do it again”?
Oh , Meliodas thinks. Oh yeah.
“Surprisingly wise words to escape from
your
mouth.”
Zeldris launches a fleecy cushion at him.
Day 12
“Have you finished it?”
“No.” He grouches. “Wait a bit longer, will you?”
“I already paid-”
“I never wanted to write a poem about
her
in the first place,” he snaps, hardening his eyes. “Suck it up and be patient, sunshine.”
Day 13
“I would like Elizabeth to sit there,” the teacher says, gesturing at the desk at the back of the classroom and stroking the tip of his growing, white beard. Posters of the periodic table, fractional distillation and atoms are scattered across the sapphire walls, the peppermint smell strong. Mr Barzard scans his students as he organises the new seating plan, wondering who to place in the empty chair next to her. He surveys Ban, a slow smile forming on his face, and prepares to say his name when Ban raises a brow and shakes his head.
Mr Barzard squints in question.
Ban points at the student next to him, who’s distractedly staring out the window at the orange trees outside. He mouths ‘ choose him ’.
And he considers. Considers whether having Elizabeth and Meliodas next to each other would result in a good pair, a hard-working pair, a chaotic partnership. He figures there’s only one way to find out.
“And Meliodas to sit next to Elizabeth, please.”
The class immediately swivel to face the blond, who purses his lips. Cain Barzard hides a chuckle as Ban thumps his back.
.
.
.
They’re quieter than he expected. These two passionate, interesting, explosive souls aren’t saying a word to the other.
It takes another ten minutes for Meliodas to nudge her arm grudgingly. It doesn’t take any longer for Elizabeth to smile at him and talk him through the question. It doesn’t take Cain any further to notice the fleeting looks he displays, how he pretends to be disgruntled, but his face is directed to hers, and his eyes are shining and glistening. Like he’s trying to remember the small, insignificant details.
When the class is dismissed, and everyone rushes out in haste for food, Ban lazily approaches him. “I ship it aswell, Sir,” he says, smirking, then slouches out of the classroom.
He does not know what ‘ship’ means in that context but has a feeling that he agrees.
Day 14
“Are you busy tomorrow?”
Elizabeth’s pen stills as she raises her head to her partner. “Free until six, why?”
He gulps, twiddling his biro between his fingers. “Could you help me with the work? Not that I want you to or anything- but I’d appreciate the help and-”
“Of course, I’ll help. Time?”
This is for the poem, he tells himself. Get to know her better by hanging out.
Day 15
The finished chemistry worksheet rests neatly in the middle of the circular table, surrounded by mugs of rich coffee and the sweet aroma of caramel. Tawny walls enclose a cosy space of scattered, deep brown tables and toffee armchairs that sink when a person sits. The background noise of chatter draws Meliodas into the tranquillity, his heart swathed in a gossamer blanket of peace, his drink leaving a blazing trail down his throat.
He’s not here to enjoy himself. Or to relax.
Slouching in a seat opposite Elizabeth, observing her explain a story about her family is strangely relaxing. He’ll quip in a sardonic comment, and she’ll laugh and respond. It’s interesting to discover more about someone, and he’s learning subtly, invisibly.
The way she patiently explains, how she’ll go through the method until he understands, how her phone is faced down, so her focus is on him, how she tucks starlight hair behind her ear and wears one dangling azure earring. How her eyes sparkle when he answers the questions correctly, her smile widens to a radiant beam, how she said thank you to the waitress and tipped her. How, when having a conversation, she asks questions and listens.
“The first pet I wanted as a kid were chickens,” she says. “I knew that they sat on warm eggs to hatch chicks, so I’d hide eggs all over warm places in the house! Like in beds, under the radiator, in shoes…”
Meliodas puts a hand over his face, laughing as he imagines her mother’s feet cloaked in egg yolk and a young Elizabeth expecting chickens to flounce around the house. He laughs as she talks about a snowball fight with her friends and hiding from a grumpy neighbour, and she laughs as he mentions his failed, horrible attempts at cooking. He chats about himself, about his brother and his friends, the shield in his head slipping, standing, and slipping.
It’s five-thirty, in the cafe in the corner of town, and he’s laughing way too hard, feeling happy -truly happy- for the first time in what feels like a long time.
It’s quarter to six when Meliodas realises he’s screwed.
(There’s a crack or two in his mentally fabricated shield).
Day 16
The ceaseless, shrill ringing of his phone the next morning stirs him from his troubled slumber. He grumbles, then shuffles, lethargically opening an eye to snatch his phone from the table, swiping the green answer button and holding it to his ear. “What?” His voice is husky with sleep.
“How was ya date yesterday?” A tone he recognises as Ban teases
“It wasn’t a date,” he groans, ignoring the excited prickle in his stomach and squinting as his eyes blink wearily in the seeping light. “Not even close.”
Day 17
“Elizabeth’s over there.”
“Where?”
“With Mael.”
He snaps his head to the people in front of him, where Mael sits closely next to Elizabeth and their friends as they eat their lunch. She’s giggling, eyes half-closed, shoulders shaking. Meliodas’ jaw clenches, gripping the green apple in his hand as he says something again, probably a stupid joke, and Elizabeth’s laughter resonates with the people around her, her face brighter than the moon on the darkest of nights. He wants to be there.
“Hey- Meliodas! Are you alright?”
Blinking, he twists to see Diane, King and Elaine joining him and Ban at their table. Ban straightens up a tad as Elaine slides onto the seat next to him.
“Uh -yeah. Diane,” he gulps, “are Elizabeth and Mael dating?” He can feel Ban’s teasing glance at him at the question.
“Elizabeth and Mael?” She says, tilting her head. “Nope! She would’ve told me.” The brunette looks over his blond mop at the pair. “Though I have a feeling he might ask her out soon… why?”
“No reason.” He answers quickly. “They just hang out together. A lot.”
Diane snorts. “Not really.”
It doesn’t matter to me anyway , he tells himself. Elizabeth and Mael would be great together.
Definitely.
Day 20
Meliodas plops himself on the seat next to hers in the maths classroom a bit early, grabbing the necessary equipment out of his bag as pupils reluctantly enter.
“Hey,” she says when he smacks his textbook on the desk, “can I have your number?”
“My number?”
“Yeah, so we can text? You don’t have to give it if you don’t want to.”
A warm, lumpy liquid cascades in his belly like fiery leaves in the chilly month of October. He scribbles his number on a ripped piece of paper from his book, and as she thanks him, Meliodas finds himself furtively looking at her.
“Your eyes are blue,” the words spill out of his mouth before his brain could process them. He cringes.
Elizabeth pauses, taken aback. “Yours a green.”
“Sorry,” he apologises, wanting to curl up so he won’t say anything else embarrassing. “They’re a nice colour.”
“Thank you,” she smiles sweetly, her gaze melting. “Yours remind me of a forest- or spring.”
Meliodas prays Elizabeth doesn’t notice the pink tinge on his cheeks.
Day 21
W̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶I̶ ̶d̶i̶p̶p̶e̶d̶ ̶u̶n̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶t̶e̶r̶,̶
̶I̶ ̶e̶x̶p̶e̶c̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶r̶e̶t̶u̶r̶n̶
̶B̶u̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶b̶l̶u̶e̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶ ̶b̶o̶r̶d̶e̶r̶,̶
̶I̶ ̶d̶i̶d̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶y̶e̶a̶r̶n̶,̶
̶ ̶S̶w̶i̶m̶m̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶v̶e̶s̶
̶C̶u̶r̶i̶o̶u̶s̶̶ a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ t̶h̶̶e h̶i̶d̶d̶e̶n̶̶ m̶o̶n̶s̶t̶e̶r̶s̶̶ u̶n̶d̶e̶r̶n̶e̶a̶t̶h̶
̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶t̶a̶n̶g̶l̶e̶d̶ ̶s̶e̶a̶w̶e̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶b̶e̶h̶a̶v̶e̶s̶,̶
̶A̶n̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶r̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶’̶s̶ ̶w̶r̶e̶a̶t̶h̶e̶d̶ ̶
̶I̶t̶’̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ ̶I̶’̶m̶ ̶g̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶w̶i̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶l̶y̶
̶T̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶l̶i̶s̶e̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶r̶t̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶p̶o̶u̶n̶d̶i̶n̶g̶
̶P̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶,̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶g̶i̶v̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶
̶F̶o̶r̶ ̶n̶o̶w̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶a̶m̶…̶
̶̶d̶r̶o̶w̶n̶i̶n̶g̶.̶.̶.̶
Day 23
Meliodas was never a huge fan of chemistry. The origins of the periodic table, the story of the atom, hydrocarbons, the homologous series, chromatography, ionic, covalent and metallic bonds are a whirlwind in his mind, hissing and throbbing with random bouts of knowledge that he doesn’t always retain.
Today, the last hour before the weekend where students have no effort or energy to engage in the lesson, they’re learning about the giant covalent structure of diamonds. Something about carbon atoms being joined to other atoms- perhaps asking Elizabeth for help means they could spend time together-
Not that they should.
The quote ‘diamonds are made under pressure’ rings through his head as Mr Cain explains their worksheet. He looks at Elizabeth. One hand is in her hair, the other jotting notes, and her pink tongue pokes out of pink lips.
The rest of the world could be as rough, as coarse and rugged as it required, and she shines. A spark inside that draws people in that could never be taken away. He muses over the pressure and difficulties Elizabeth must have encountered to become the person she is. Nobody can make it this far in life without stumbling. He wants to know her.
Day 25
Hii! This is Elizabeth :)
As his father had gone for work, and as Zeldris is hogging the TV, Meliodas stands alone by the kitchen counter, staring cluelessly at the new message on his phone while his fingers hover over the keyboard. The clock ticks, approaching five-thirty, and he peers out the window. He knows that in autumn, sunset is around six, and the merging blazes of colour in the sky are another hint to the end to the end of the day. Sometimes, he’d witness the sunset in amazement, entranced by the glowing, flourishing hues, calling it a graceful gift from heaven.
The thought of whether Elizabeth has seen such a beautiful sight crosses his mind.
Meliodas
You busy?
Elizabeth
…no why
An unanticipated grin spans across his face, his chest already tingling.
Meliodas
Heard of komodo park? It’s near both of us
Elizabeth
Yeah, what abt it
Meliodas
Wanna meet up there?
Meliodas holds a breath, realising how risky the invitation was. He chews the inside of his cheek, his focus on the three dots on his screen.
Elizabeth
Sure! See you soon :D
He bolts to his room to grab his purse stashed with money he’d raised, throws on a hoodie, tells Zeldris he’ll be out with a friend- leaving out the part of who in particular- and rushes out the house into the chill outside. White frost kisses his face, the wind breezing past him, fluttering through his hair as he calmly walks.
He enters a familiar cafe on the way, purchasing two hot chocolates with marshmallows, the scent wafting into his nose as he elbows the gate into Komodo Park, immediately spotting silver hair standing next to a canopying tree, her back to him. A few families are dotted around, huddled closely for warmth as they view the sky, and Meliodas saunters past them, careful to not spill the drinks, a carefree, exuberant bubble bouncing in his gut.
“‘Sup, Elizabeth!”
She squeaks, hands clasped over her chest. The tips of her ears, nose and cheeks are pink, her bangs over her forehead, the rest of her hair tied into a messy bun, and she melts into a smile.
Meliodas gulps. “D’you want one?” He offers her a cup, his question forming into a misty cloud.
“Thank you,” she practically whispers, gently grasping the cup from his hand, “that’s really thoughtful of you.”
“No problem,” he says. Taking a sip, the chocolatey liquid is delicious on his tongue. “How come you’re not busy?”
“Mum’s at work. She won’t be back until it’s late.” Her eyes somewhat glitter like jewels. “Is there a reason you wanted to meet up?”
“I— wanted to thank you. For helping me with my chemistry.”
Elizabeth beams. “Anytime, Meliodas.”
The thought of asking her a question about whether she’s ever disliked him like he had her flickers in his mind like a butterfly’s wing. He decides it isn’t the time. Instead, he motions for Elizabeth to follow him through the damp, dark grass, past the sets of swings and slides, to the top of a medium-sized hill. “And I thought you might want to see the sunset.”
Every majestic colour glazing the surface of the sky is a delicate brush from an artist creating a masterpiece, each feather-like stroke melding into another, the last, intimate rays of the sun peeking out the horizon. Meliodas looks to his left, where Elizabeth is admiring the pinks and golds, her lips slightly parted, and decides, as joy and satisfaction collide inside him, that it’s the most beautiful sunset he’s ever seen.
“Meliodas- it’s stunning,” she says, awe-struck.
“Yeah.”
And so is the look in her eyes.
(His mentally fabricated shield is wavering.
Day 27
Two hours into the meeting and Elizabeth’s eyes are still locked onto her lap. The one time she glanced at the clock, Meliodas swore her eyes were shining, but that could also be down to the glaring lights. Her shoulders are hunched. Sometimes they quiver.
She excuses herself, shuffling out the spacious room and her mother fluently resumes debating money affairs.
After ten minutes, Meliodas plucks his phone out of his pocket.
Meliodas
U ok?
Elizabeth
Yeah
Zeldris quirks a brow when he excuses himself.
The corridors are beige and musty, and he loosens his tie, along with his top button, as he pokes his head around a corner, and another, and another, unable to find silver hair. His footsteps fasten, worry growing as he rounds another bend, leading him to the toilets, and he rotates just as his ears catch the sound of a door creaking. He turns.
Her hands grasp the edge, fingers wrapped around the doorframe as she steps out and regards him, rosy cheeks and shiny eyes round as plates. After a moment, she offers a watery smile, her breaths deep and slow.
“You didn’t come back- I wanted to check on you,” he says into the silence.
Elizabeth’s lips tremble. “Thank you,” she says quietly, closing her eyes and looking away.
“So, you wanna go back? Or-” Meliodas stops as a crystal tear streams down her cheek. “
Elizabeth
-”
“I’m sorry,” she sniffles, wiping the tear away while more spill out her eyes for her to swipe. She inhales. “I didn’t mean to, I’ll- I’ll-I’ll be- It’s nothing -”
His heart heaves, a dense weight of boulders inside him as she bows her head, hands clawing her face and is about to return to the toilet when he advances and wraps his arms around her waist. Elizabeth stills, then her arms squeeze his neck, her chin resting on his shoulder. Meliodas strokes her back as her body quakes. He wishes he could take some of her pain, to see her smile and laugh again, but it is all he can do to be a quiet sense of comfort.
Elizabeth isn’t a loud crier. She muffles herself against his shirt, clutching harder when the overwhelming emotions are too much. Holding her in his arms with the scent of cinnamon drifting is natural . Humans deserve to cry, and this proves that she is beautiful in the way that she is human.
“I’m here to listen if you want,” he mutters into her ear as she draws away. He lingers.
Her eyes are poofy and red, and he swipes the dried tear stains with his fingers. “Honestly, it’s nothing. Just- my mum, and- and Jelamet, and school.” Elizabeth runs her fingers through her hair. “Thanks, Meliodas,” she says softly as his fingers retreat, “for looking out for me.”
The growing feelings in him bend, twist, hurt, because of the way she looks at him. How could somebody like her smile at him like that? But the hurting is worth it as she gives him a small smile.
They retreat to the meeting at separate times to not cause suspicion, returning to their seats. When the conference concludes fifty minutes later, everyone stands to shake hands.
The prolonged second of the touch of her palm against his swims through his head that night.
(His shield is wobbling).
Day 28
“Ya lookin’ happy,” Ban drawls a few minutes after Meliodas sits next to him the next morning. “You’re smilin’.”
“Didn’t know that would be a huge issue,” he grins. “You look tired.”
“I am.”
Two hands slam onto their desk, startling them. “ Meliodas . It’s been-” And Mael straightens as he realises that Ban is also there.
“ Ah. You’re the one who wants that poem for Elizabeth. Shoulda figured that out from the puppy way you stare at her.” Ban intones, stretching his arms. “Don’t worry. Lips are sealed,” he says when Mael reddens.
“About that poem, sunshine -it’s not finished.”
“It’s been a month since I first asked you for it!”
“Why don’t you ask Elizabeth out for coffee first?” he plants a fake smile on his face. “To slowly start dating.”
“I heard my name and coffee together!” Elizabeth emerges from behind Mael, giggling between Elaine and Diane. Her gaze lingers on Meliodas.
Mael glances at the two boys in apprehension and advice. They hesitantly nod.
“Would you like to get coffee with me, Elizabeth?” He manages to say quite smoothly. Meliodas purses his lips. “I’m free tomorrow after school?”
She pales. “Oh! Uhh-sorry. I’m already busy tomorrow.” Meliodas hopes nobody catches his sigh of relief, though Ban raises a brow in his direction.
“That’s fine... mind me asking what you’re doing?”
“I’m meeting up with Meliodas!” She focuses on him. “Right?”
Ban, Elaine and Diane’s necks snap to him. “Oh yeah! Almost forgot about that!”
After Mael grouches off, after Elizabeth thanks him, and after Elaine teasingly winks at him, Ban taps his shoulder, smirking. “ So ~”
“What?”
“Hah. Nothing. Nothing at all~”
Day 29
“Thanks for going along with it,” Elizabeth says, sitting closely next to him, on a sofa in the corner of a cafe, where they’re mostly secluded.
“Anytime! Why’d you decline him?”
She takes a long sip of her milkshake before answering. “I have a friend who likes Mael. She already suspects he has feelings for me, and I’d feel horrible if I’d accepted his invitation.”
Meliodas hums. “If she doesn’t like him, would you have gone with him?”
“...nope.”
He comprehends at that moment, as he smells her lavender shampoo, as their shoulders bump, that Elizabeth has weaved her way through his mentally fabricated shield. She hasn’t cracked or splintered it. She’s melted it. Into a puddle.
But Meliodas swallows those feelings.
He has a question.
“Hey, Elizabeth? Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
Around a month ago, he was confident Elizabeth hated him. He had hated her. Because he was told to by his father when he first saw her sitting next to her mother. It became normal.
“Have you ever hated me? ‘Cos of our parents and their jobs?”
She giggles. “No, Meliodas. I never did.”
The years he spent loathing her, privately sneering, purposely avoiding her choke his body like a vicious flood. A waste of time when he could have a friend- could have allowed her energy into his life. He itches to travel back in time, to shake the shoulders of his younger self, to order him to stop blindly following his father’s words like a lost puppet.
“Why the hell not?” His voice cracks a little, his throat dry despite the warm drink.
"I had no reason to dislike you as a kid. Growing up, I always thought that you weren't as dark as you wanted people to believe."
How could someone be so kind?
“Let’s catch up on lost time then! Quickfire questions?”
“Hmm…dream career if your dad had no choice in the matter?”
“Owning a bar.” His answer is fast. “Seems enjoyable. How about you?”
Elizabeth sighs, crossing her legs on the couch, her knee brushing his thigh. “I have no idea. I don’t want to do whatever my mum has in store for me, but thinking that far ahead is terrifying.”
“Why?”
“I’m scared of how things will change, of how different everything could be.”
“Well, I won’t be going anywhere!” After she lets out a laugh, he asks, “What is happiness to you?”
She directs her face to his, a gooey, burning object pounding in his chest. “I don’t think it’s when everything is perfect, but when you look beyond what’s not perfect. Something that humans deserve more of.”
Day 30
“I can’t do it, so I’m returning your money.”
It started with writing a poem, a love poem. And now, he wonders how he can squeeze somebody so wonderful into a few stanzas.
Mael narrows his eyes, ignoring the cash in the outstretched hand. “Why not?”
“Dunno. I just can’t.”
Day 31
Diane waves her over, pointing to the seat between her and Elaine. “Ellie, over here!”
Elizabeth slips through the crowded, clamorous canteen, beaming as she sits down in a vacant spot. “Thanks, Diane.” Meliodas watches as the girls talk opposite him, his heart slowly hammering against his ribcage as she turns to regard him.
Blue meets green. She sends a soft smile, and he grins back.