3,000 Years

I'll Hold Your Hand (October)

It was October.

Yeah, he knew that - it was October. Mid October, the time when things began to shift and change upon the earth to prepare for the coldness of the winter ahead.

Trees would lose their green leaves, the emerald blooms shriveling and drying up to form orange, red and brown dusts; the sky would darken with swirling clouds and days of heavy rainfall; and the fruits of the year would prepare for the biggest harvest of the agricultural calendar.

Yeah, it was October, autumn, fall, and Meliodas knew that. He knew it clear as day. But it didn't feel like October. It couldn't be October.

But it was. The calendar said it; his phone said it; the news said it. It was October, mid October, and Meliodas couldn't pretend that it wasn't anymore. He couldn't ignore the fact that this time of year had come back round again, the pain and grief that surged with it resurfacing once more for its annual destruction of his newfound peace and routine.

Why it had to come back up, Meliodas did not know. He did not know why October was the dreaded month for him. It used to be one of his favourite, the time of year that reminded him of the happiest moment of his life, but now it was dulled out. It was destroyed by the shadow that overhung the otherwise beautiful season.

"I thought I'd find you here..." Elizabeth stands by his side, warm and loving unlike the memories that swarm within his mind. 

Her gloved fingers lace with his, her pretty features painted with concern as she gazes at him. Blue eyes shine with innocent worry, her reddened nose and heart-shaped face looking out of place in somewhere as bleak as here.

"Are you alright?" Her lips press at the sight of him standing at that same spot once more, his gaze fixed to the gravestone.

He always came here, always came back to think over that event. Why he did so, Elizabeth could not say, but she knew that it was significant to him in some way. It was some sort of coping mechanism for October - or rather what had happened in October. Which she did not know of since Meliodas never seemed to talk about it.

The female released a sigh, frowning at the grave. It was pretty, fresh flowers and little cards placed around it. Clearly there was some sort of significance with the person buried beneath, a lot of people appearing to love and miss them, but the site was also a grim reminder. It showed the true meaning of this place of emerald grass and changing trees: death. Pure, stark and unforgiving death, the reaper never being picky with whom they choose to take with them.

That meant it left a lot of victims behind.

"It's October," Meliodas speaks out, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket. The words are thick, heavy, like molasses or black and sticky tar, as he responds. Blonde hair covers all possible angles of his eyes, the man having not moved from the proximity of his brooding grounds.

"Oh..." Elizabeth breathes with realisation, her own features darkening to match his own. Her hold on his hand does not falter, instead she offers a small squeeze, sending a gentle smile his way. "You'll make it through. You always do."

He looks up at her, gazes at her, but then turns away. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The placing of her voice, the way she smiled - it wasn't like he remembered, wasn't like the one he'd been seeing throughout the past year. 

This woman, this person, it wasn't Elizabeth. It wasn't the same as her - wasn't like her at all. He only believed that she was like her because - because he was desperate to convince himself that she wasn't truly gone. He was convincing himself that it wasn't Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, who had been the true victim of that October.

But she was. She was gone and gone for good. She wasn't there smiling at him; she wasn't there to hold him in the night or worry over silly little things like she always used to do; she wasn't even there to see the wreck he became every time October rolled back round: because Elizabeth wasn't there.

Elizabeth was gone, her legacy written in the stone that he looked directly at: Live for both of us.

"Both of us, huh?" Meliodas scoffs a little, his breath leaving in icy mist in the crisp autumn air.

It was October; but he really wished that it wasn't.