Love Me, Harm Me

(I will always be there) To patch you up

"Funny: you let me into you like love
living through the snake plant no matter my sometimes-neglect." - Snake Plant, KB Brookins

.☀.🌑.☀.🌑.

For once Elizabeth returns to an empty apartment, lights switched off and the heavy evening gloom casting lengthy shadows across the walls and floors. Usually, especially on a work day, Meliodas would be there to greet her, either lazing about the living room or anxiously awaiting her arrival. Some days, when Elizabeth would push open that front door, exhausted beyond belief, he'd tackle her into a hug, arms wrapped firmly around her waist, muscles tense and tight as if he'd never want to let her go again; other days, much slower days, she'd find him at ease, saying some kind of greeting while highly focused on whatever task had taken his fancy. 

Highly enthusiastic or extremely nonchalant: with Meliodas, there could only be the extremes; there was never really an in-between. Over the past two years, Elizabeth had to quickly learn and adapt to his mannerisms and moods. Initially, it had been quite unsettling - although in the first few weeks, he'd definitely not been as clingy nor agitated. No, when Elizabeth had first moved in, she remembered everything being as close to normal as it could possibly be.

Almost daily, they would have small meaningless back-and-forths about logistics and rules. Within a week they had about ten rules, both of them finding faults with each other that were rather ridiculous now that Elizabeth thought about them. One such example, Rule Seven, stated that Elizabeth would have to pay into the ruler-breaker jar if she bought more than two tubs of her favourite ice-cream - naturally a flavour Meliodas absolutely LOATHED. Others, such as Rule One, (which detailed how Meliodas should never set foot in the kitchen unless Elizabeth was present) were more sensible and practical.

About of month of this went on, both Elizabeth and Meliodas refusing to relinquish the rules, adding and editing as they saw fit. At least, they were until Diane interfered - rapidly embarrassing the both of them when she uncovered the truth behind Rule Six: a jar dedicated to bets and inappropriate interactions. After that, the pair swiftly scrapped all rules and surprisingly began to peacefully coexist.

Rules were traded for a routine that began to feel like second nature, Elizabeth (the early riser) often taking on the more mature role. While Meliodas kipped away during the morning, she would catch up on errands, go through letters and top-up the shopping list. Meliodas, who had the entire evening on his hand before work, then tackled the more 'undesirable' tasks: shopping, dealing with their prick of a landlord and (what Elizabeth always blessed him most for) laundry. Laundry day was always the worst.

Frowning at the memory of laundry day, Elizabeth shivered, setting her keys on the hook as she kicked off her work heels. Yes, laundry day was the worst - at least from her perspective.

She didn't know why, but for Elizabeth, sorting through washing and loading it into the machine always unsettled her. Part of her believed it was because her mother told her that a magical whirlpool activated in the machine, transporting kids who hid in it to a world filled with child-eating giants. But then, now she was an adult, there had to be a better reason, right?

Sighing, Elizabeth brushed away the idle thoughts and padded toward the kitchen, her stomach now craving something filling. Inside her body, her guts and intestines tangled. After the initial surprise of finding the apartment empty, they demanded food. Immediately.

Effortlessly, Elizabeth yanks open the fridge door, ready to peer inside, only to pause. Right there, in front of her, was a note, covered in the messy yet somehow legible scrawl of her roommate: Went to work early. Don't stay up worrying, I'll be back in the morning.