Love Me, Harm Me

Can we stay like this (forever?)

"i've jumped through every hoop.
  i've made my longing a hoop.
 don't you see—i would jump through my own arms
 if it meant i could stay?" - Turnstile Jumping, Janelle Tan

.☀.🌑.☀.🌑.

Quietness is a rare thing in Meliodas' life. Peace, tranquility and other such luxuries were things he grew to survive within the absence of. With a life like his, with a father like his, it was difficult for someone like him to learn about coexisting with peace and stillness. Chaos and calamity was all that Meliodas had ever known. Violence and destruction was all he had ever been taught to recognise.

Turbulence was a constant in Meliodas' life. Always there to stir up trouble, always there to awaken chaos, turbulence waited. It existed. And it seemed that Meliodas would never be able to rid himself of it.

But then there is Elizabeth, his sunlight, his tranquility, his peace. The one small slither of stillness and serenity that he was ever permitted to own in his life. The one normality that always cut through the bullshit, the turbulence that constantly pushed his life around.

Tonight he has avoided her - another rare thing for him. After she had patched him up, warned him and disappeared into her room, Meliodas had just sat there, dumbfounded, melting bag of peas still in his frozen hand. Reality had set in for him then. The effects of what he does to her, what she sacrifices for him, became all the more glaringly obvious right then. And he hated it. He absolutely loathed it.

Anything that caused her hassle, anything that reminded him of how much of a hassle he was, always upset Meliodas. No matter how good the day was going. No matter how much he told himself - reminded himself - that getting upset about it would just make her even more upset too.

That's why tonight, instead of punching his usual spot on the wall and crying out in frustration - pure anger - he had skulked away to his room, sulking all the way. He was determined not to hassle Elizabeth anymore - to be that one big burden she always worried about. And from now on, from as soon as possible, Meliodas was going to make it permanent. Binding.

Is that why he's doing this now?

Frowning at the thought, Meliodas glared at his phone as he watched the group chat come to life, texts pinging from more or less everyone on there. Bright green lit up the top of his screen, indicating an ongoing call. Right now Meliodas was meant to be focusing; right now he was meant to be thinking about his old life - the one his father wants for him - instead of the new one he has found and wants to keep. The almost normal one he has built.

Over the past year, Meliodas had nearly gotten toward the pearly gates of normal life. One day it had just happened - he found himself more in line with normal people than people like him. People who spent their days passing the hours with meaningless, every tasks; people whose biggest worries consisted of finances and the daily stresses of society: those were the people Meliodas wanted to be like. They were the people who led lives he could never have.

A year ago, when his father had first disappeared, Meliodas thought he could find that peace. For once, he had truly believed that he'd escaped his father's iron grasp. But then, like the omnipotent god he was, Meliodas' father knew just how to find him. With little effort, he knew just how to rope Meliodas back into his plans once more - as if he'd never left them behind in the past.

Now Meliodas was here, staring at his phone, loathing the position he has found himself within once more. Hating everything except her, the girl who had dropped her notes all over the pavement in the middle of a thunderstorm.

"Are you listening, Meliodas?" Zeldris, his brother, stoic, plain, blunt. Unlike Meliodas, Zeldris didn't bother with the bullshit hopes and dreams of a normal, distant life. Everything with him was based on reality; everything he did was a reluctant action of resignation.

"Yeah, of course," Meliodas automatically responds, careful not too sound too defensive. Zeldris was like the ultimate sniffer dog when it came to Meliodas telling bullshit truths - a side effect of being around each other all their lives, he thinks. Only that would be giving their father too much credit for a pretty useful and humane skill.

"So what did I just say?" Zeldris deadpans, not at all sounding amused. From just his voice alone Meliodas can see him, looming over him, brows bent with disapproval, arms crossed over in disappointment. Yeah, that look was common in his brother as they got older; day by day Zeldris just seemed to get more and more pissed at his antics.

"Something about the old man," Meliodas guesses, rolling his eyes as he stares at the ceiling. Dark. Impossibly dark. Maybe it was a bad idea to turn off the lights earlier on.

"Too easy," Zeldris grumbles. A short puff of a laugh. "Elaborate."

"Alright," Meliodas sighs, sitting up. In this position he finds himself glaring at his bedroom door, shut in his simmering self-pity. A hand runs through his shaggy hair. "You were talking about how I should tell him no again. How I should block his number, change my name, address, everything, and just get on with my life. Ignore that he ever existed. Just like last time."

"Just like last time," Zeldris repeats. More quietly he adds, "Just like you did for me."

Silence passes between them - stiff, awkward silence. None of them liked to think about it - all that Meliodas went through to get one of them out of the shitty tangle of their family tree. There weren't any memories to stew over, any emotions and opinions that could be shared about what he did; between them it was just a fact. A single, solid fact that added to their laws of reality. Their laws of life.

"What if," Meliodas starts before pausing, swallowing. Licking his lips, he begins again, "What if I'm in too deep this time?" His hand tightens into a fist. "What if I can't just change everything?"

"Well, you're gonna have to find a way to," Zeldris answers automatically. Easily. As if any of this was easy or automatic. Uprooting one's life, changing everything about someone's life, was never a straight-forward process - let alone for someone like Meliodas. "It's that or fall for his bullshit again."

Meliodas doesn't say anything. Meliodas can't say anything. Instead he stares at his shut bedroom door, his only barrier stopping him from telling Elizabeth the truth - his truth - before he digs himself a hole so big that even he won't be able to clamber out it again. Trouble is coming; turbulence is imminent in Meliodas' life. Ever since his father came back, that was all Meliodas had expected, all he knew. Every moment was just a moment spent waiting for the bomb to explode.

Ultimately, he knows it's not fair to leave Elizabeth in the dark. Not letting her know, hiding all these truths about himself, is only more damaging than healing in the long term. His good intentions, his own good nature buried deep within the selfish and greedy caverns of his heart, mean well; Meliodas means well.

Yet, when he finds the strength to crack open that bedroom door, to see her sitting there in the living room, alone and content with her daily dose of Netflix soap operas, perfectly content with normal, mundane life. Meliodas can't tell her. He just can't.

So he silently treads back to his room, words hanging heavy in his throat as he stares at his phone, the call still going with Zeldris and thinks: Why can't we stay like this (forever)?