"Reality continues to ruin my life."
― Bill Watterson, The Complete Calvin and Hobbes
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Work was never interesting. After working within this industry for a total of three years, Elizabeth had quickly lost the bright-eyed and optimistic views most people held towards journalism. Sure, at times it could be interesting and exhilarating - especially when given a good story about something that piqued your own personal tastes quite well - but most of the time writing articles wasn't all it was decked out to be.
What was once an industry that thrived off feeding the general population story after story, churned up by bright-eyed and passionate journalists, was now an industry that was becoming a brutal free-for-all. Now, anyone could write anything and get published. Know the right names and say the right things and you could easily replace a more experienced and vetted writer on a paper. Freelance work was just as profitable as signing yourself away to work for a big company such as the Britannia Mail.
So when Elizabeth finds herself at work, staring at her laptop screen, bored out of her mind, she often finds herself thinking about home, about Meliodas. Most days, when she was off work, he'd shuffle out of his room at about eleven, yawning and stretching and a mess of golden hair. Every time she stayed home, she caught a glimpse of his vulnerability; mornings were never his natural habitat. One foot socked and the other bare, he'd pad about their apartment, first to the use the bathroom, then to backtrack to the kitchen, before finally checking in on her.
Often, Elizabeth would laugh and tell him that he should really aim to get up early like most adults do. In response, he'd say something about how eleven am was early for adults who worked night jobs. For nearly half an hour they'd have this same debate, going back and forth about who was the more adult out of them both. Back and forth, jabbing and joking, mentioning who does more. Then, at twelve, she'd notice that it was lunchtime and would offer to make lunch, knowing very well that Meliodas couldn't be trusted anywhere near a stove. And he'd always agree.
Right now it was still early, ten am - definitely too early for Meliodas to be awake. Yet Elizabeth was bored, her brain blank as she stared at her laptop screen. One week, she'd been working on this huge article about some important charity project for a week. In that week she'd spoken to many people, interviewed so many different people, and still felt like she didn't have enough. All she had felt subpar. Bland.
Sighing, Elizabeth allowed herself to skim over her half-written article. 'With the construction of this new clinic, many families will...' God, her brain was falling asleep just looking at the text! It was so bland, so unoriginal, so... unlike her.
Usually, when Elizabeth was going through these writing stumps, Meliodas would shake her out of it. Determined, he would force her into her coat, grab his wallet and drag her out of the apartment. Together they'd traverse the city, taking a random stop from the tube station and wandering around from there.
Last time they had ended up at South Bank. On a whim, Elizabeth had said to get off near there, practically carrying Meliodas with her as she rushed to leave cramped swarms of the tube station. Hand intertwined with his, she'd then weaved them both through the crowds, down the bustling stone steps and toward the towering frame of the London Eye. Grinning all the while. Telling him that this would be the thing that would break her out of her slump.
And it had.
Spending that afternoon at the South Bank; going on the London Eye, pointing out every little landmark to him - no matter how obscure or minor; and getting absolutely sloshed later on had made her lose her writer's block. Spending time with Meliodas, her muse, always made Elizabeth much more creative than usual. So much more creative. That entire day, spent thinking about little things, meaningless things, had been so much more productive than today.
Plus there was the matter of her boss, Ludociel. He didn't look very happy when she and Diane had arrived, giggling and red-faced from their sprint up the steep street.
"Elizabeth," A sharp cough from behind her alerts the woman to the intrusion of her desk. At its arrival, she reddens, feeling like a child caught red-handed with their hand stuck halfway in the cookie jar. Ludociel never liked it much when she daydreamed.
"Ludociel," Trying to remain cool, calm, Elizabeth turned to face her boss.
Ludociel. Same age, same year, same university. Always leagues ahead, always looking down on her with that impossibly arrogant attitude of his. Well-kept suits, polite and crisp and perfect professionalism - god he was everything that Elizabeth wasn't years ago. Honestly, it was no wonder how he ended up progressing much faster than she ever had, kissing the asses of all of the higher ups in their company. Even though Elizabeth worked ten times harder. Even though she put her heart and soul into her work. Just his presence alone made her want to punch his face.
But, like the professional she was, Elizabeth bit it back down. She always bit it back down. Only later on, once she was back home, and probably indulging in way too much wine to be healthy, would she finally vent her anger. And that was if Meliodas wasn't too busy distracting her.
"I want you to show Mael around today. He's new, and since you are the most capable in this department, I trust you the most to make sure he feels welcomed," Ludociel addresses her directly - for once - nodding toward the person stood beside him. Someone who Elizabeth had not entirely noticed until Ludociel pointed it out.
Someone new - someone she didn't know. He was tall, definitely as tall as Ludociel if not taller, and wore a suit that looked just as expensive and well-kept as his companion's. However, despite the similarity, Mael appeared different, not as... snobbish. There was an air of humility, a sense of nobleness and kindness that often hangs around people that are naturally tuned to act with a heart of gold around him. Maybe it was because of the silver sheen to his hair, or the slightly scruffy look to his overall appearance.
Whatever is was, that small glimmer, that tiny hope, stuck with Elizabeth as she formulated her response. Perhaps he won't be another one of those assholes Ludociel picks up from the higher ups. Perhaps, for once, reality has not given her the shit end of its stick.
"Of course," Elizabeth responds, checking that her voice didn't sink to a low whisper or hiss. Often, when she talks to Ludociel, she finds that her voice never wants to be normal. Instead it likes to be either too timid or too hostile. Never was it in between.
"Great," Ludociel grinned, already turning away without a second thought. With only a fleeting pat on the back to Mael, the man soon left, disappearing in almost complete silence.
At his absence, Elizabeth let out a large sigh, shaking her head as she closed her laptop and looked Mael in the eye.
"If we're doing this, we're going to get coffee," She says, packing up her stuff and ready to leave her office. Effortlessly, she heaves her satchel over her shoulder. "I can't take another second staring at this goddamn screen."
YOU ARE READING
Love Me, Harm Me
Fanfiction"Sometimes he would have his better days. The days where he would be loving, caring and sweet. But then the bad days would come..." Elizabeth believes that somewhere, deep down, Meliodas truly loves her. She knows he does. She sees it on his better...
