She's Just So Beautiful
Summary: "Sounds like you two are rather close." Medusa closed her eyes and smiled warmly before straightening again and asking, "So, what's the problem that brought you here?" Her patient replied in a soft whisper, "She brought me here."
Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater. If I did, Gopher wouldn't be sitting on his butt and instead would be going ballistic and shocking us all by tearing Asura apart with abilities we didn't even know he possessed. ^^
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His fingers did an uneasy dance on the wooden top of the desk, tapping this way and jumping that way like popcorn kernels on a hot surface. Oddly enough, his eyes were more calm, focused in a dead and unnerving stare on a health poster stuck to the far wall of the nurse's office.
Medusa sat down in the squeaky, rolling chair across from the boy, crossed her long legs and leaned back in her seat, blinking coolly at her patient. To be completely honest, she wasn't exactly sure why he was here. With most of the students (and the occasional, stressed out Death Scythe that seemed intent on drooling ungraciously all over her leg every day), she could tell what was wrong just by looking at them. One would have their arm up in an awkward position, signaling a part was broken or sprained. Another would be holding their head. Either they were struck with something hard or got an earful of Black Star. Either way, something would clue her in on the type of injury or illness or whatever problem it was.
However, if it was something mental, Medusa would have to look harder to figure out what was wrong. She'd have to do a quick note on the group of friends the person had or what their family may be like. That was always a reliable source providing hints on the situation.
But for the boy in front of her, it was quite obvious something was going on in his head, sure, but what? From what she knew or could guess, he got along well with his friends. They couldn't have caused. . . wait. . .
Medusa leaned forward, giving the student her best 'we can work this out' smile. "Is it a headache?" she asked quietly, running through all the possibilities why that could be an option. Too much stress, for starters. Too many hyper wavelengths. The academy was known to have quite a few loose students with too much energy, much like unprotected, electrical wiring. It wouldn't be a surprise if some of that manic energy leaked off into his soul.
Only that wasn't it, for the child only shook his head forlornly, keeping his mouth clamped tightly shut.
Medusa resisted the urge to twitch her eyebrow in irritation. If that was the way it was going to be, she may be tempted to inject a snake into him, rip him to pieces, and then innocently say he did it himself because of his mental condition. . . whatever that may be.
The witch straightened her legs before firmly crossing them in the opposite direction than before. Deep breath. She told herself mentally. A series of quick wheezes brought her attention back to the boy in front of her; she noticed he was breathing rapidly through his nose, fingers twisting and bending strangely.
"Take a deep breath," Medusa murmured in a soothing voice. "Take one or two; however many it takes."
He took sixteen. She counted every single one as it whistled passed his lips.
Letting out her own long sigh of balefulness, she inquired slowly, trying to cut the exasperation from her tone, "Do you feel better, now?"
The student shook his head again from side to side like an unlatched door being restrained only by its hinges.
This brat. . . Medusa pushed away the thought to release just one, tiny snake straight into the child's soul and instead asked, "Oddly enough, I wasn't told what the problem was. Perhaps, being the school nurse, people assume that automatically knowing problems comes with my job description." She gave a nervous laugh, earning just a fraction of a smile from her patient.
To Medusa, however, this was not a laughing matter. Did everyone think she could read minds and immediately know what was wrong? Even as a witch, that was not one of the powers she was born with. That would be something, though. . .
No, the boy's problems had not been made known to her, and it appeared that he was not about to tell her. She couldn't ask the person who brought him to her because there had been no one. From what she could deduce, he had trudged, almost like a zombie, through the long hallways until he had reached the nurse's office. Once he had gotten there, he waited by the door as though there was an invisible wall blocking him from dragging himself inside.
Of course, this had confused Medusa, and she had given him an uncertain 'come in', pulling one of the chairs in front of her own so the boy could sit. And like a zombie, he had done just that.
Now the student, surprisingly enough, inhaled deeply and fixed his narrowed eyes on her gold ones and spoke four words in a low, exhausted voice. "She's just so beautiful."
Oh, so that's it. Medusa thought, a smirk playing on her lips, happy to finally get the answer. It was going to be a cinch to solve the problem with that little detail. Although. ..She tilted her head slightly, a confused look crossing her face. Isn't he a little young for a girlfriend? Well, what am I saying? It's not like I'm one to judge what these boys do in their spare time.
The witch nodded, already piecing together a story with that one tiny, fragment of a sentence. "I see," was all she murmured, closing her eyes and looking thoughtful. "Beautiful?"
"Very beautiful," her patient confirmed, and that seemed to be all he was going to say on his own, for he turned his attention to where Medusa was drumming her painted nails on the desk top with a melancholy look on his face.
Medusa quickly stopped tapping, mentally hissing at herself for what seemed like the fiftieth time that nail tapping was not a good habit to begin.
Instead, she interlaced her fingers before folding her hands in her lap, trying to ignore the boy's fidgety stare that watched her every move. "What can you tell me about her?"
"She's beautiful."
"Besides that," Medusa added sharply, hastily adding a smile before the child could sense her irritation.
"I can't stop thinking about her," the boy replied, folding his own long fingers together and resting them on his knees as he turned his eyes slowly to the tiled floor. "She makes me happy without even realizing it."
"Do you tell her all of this?" Medusa inquired, actually smiling as she saw a blush creep into her patient's cheeks, spreading out across the bridge of his nose. She understood the concept of love, just never brought herself to be captured by it. When she saw how flustered other people could get by just the mere topic (like now for starters), she knew that she didn't want much to do with it. It was just another weak point for some people, and she felt a sense of cruel delight knowing that it was just something she could take advantage of if the situation called for it.
The witch focused her gaze back on the patient in front of her as he began interlocking his fingers and releasing them, flexing and intertwining them nervously. "Yes, I do," he murmured quietly.
A rather bold child. Medusa thought, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "You do, do you?"
"Every day."
Medusa's mouth opened to say something and she stopped, closing it carefully and clearing her throat. Every day? Lucky girl. . .
Uncrossing her legs and resting the square heels of her black shoes on the floor, Medusa leaned forward and asked, "Does she return your affection?"
Once again, the boy shook his head and answered, "No, but I can live with that. Just the thought of her always being there when I need her is comforting enough."
"Well, even if she doesn't return your affection now, perhaps over time she will. You are one of the students at the top of your class, after all. But what I want to know is what happens when a time comes when you need her and she isn't there?" Medusa demanded, tilting her head so the long strands of gold on either side of her neck swayed to one side. "Have you ever thought about that?"
"That has occurred," the boy admitted, bowing his head, "but it always works out in the end."
"Sounds like you two are rather close." Medusa closed her eyes and smiled warmly before straightening again and asking, "So, what's the problem that brought you here?"
"She brought me here." The student turned his attention to the door, and Medusa turned as well, seeing just the empty hallway and bare, cream colored wall, only two gold candle holders to decorate it.
Bewildered, Medusa turned back to the student and asked distractedly, "Well, if it's your relationship that's the problem, it probably would've been best if I had talked to both of you."
The boy shook his head stubbornly, looking up at Medusa with a determined stare. "I don't think our relationship is a problem. It's just her. Well, that's what everyone else says; that she's the problem, I mean."
"Is that right?" Medusa inquired slowly, the chair creaking loudly as she rested her back against it, looking over the distraught student. "Well, why does everyone else think she's a problem?"
"They don't understand how one could come to love her!" the boy declared, all uneasiness in his expression gone, replaced by undying loyalty and admiration. "They don't understand how touching she can be and how she can bestow happiness onto people!"
Medusa let out a low cough in her throat and her patient settled down, though the corners of his mouth were still set in a permanent smile of pure joy. This girl really must be something to get him this wound up. She thought, shaking her head slowly. "Well," she began quietly, resting her neatly painted nails on a few files set in a neat stack on her desk, "what do your friends think of her? Do they like her?"
"They think she's bad for me, that she'll kill me one day."
Very dangerous indeed. And to be able to kill someone like him. . .
"Well," Medusa began, leaning forward and giving the boy an encouraging smile, "I guess if you love her—"
"I do, very much."
Medusa continued, a now forced smile through a cold stare, a warning to not interrupt again and continued edgily with closed eyes and a soothing tone, "—and you're happy with her, you should hold onto her for as long as you can."
The witch couldn't help but feel a small twinge of satisfaction and accomplishment. That wasn't such a bad speech, considering she was one who found the idea of love, romance, and a life time together in sweet bliss and harmony pointless and pathetic. For one of her first advices on the matter to a boy having girlfriend and relationship troubles, that wasn't that terrible.
However, when she opened her serpent eyes to look at her patient, she was surprised, as well as irritated, to find that his eyes had clouded over in grief and were starting to grow watery. What was he crying for? Wasn't what she'd said a good thing? Or had the declaration moved him that much?
Sniffing loudly and beginning to tear up immensely, the boy began whimpering and through hiccups, managed to get out in short gasps and sobs, "I-I know that I—" He hiccupped shortly, "—won't a-always be able to—" sniffle, "—be with her b-be—" Yet another interrupting hiccup, "—cause I. . ." He stopped there, sliding to the ground like Jell-O in a bowl, crying loudly and burying his face in his arms.
Medusa looked down at the new catastrophe she had just detonated with a troubled gaze. Just who exactly was worth all this trouble just to love?
Looking around nervously, the witch pulled herself up from her seat and crouched down next to the student, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "That's true for everyone, but you can't look so far into the future. Instead, just focus on everything that's happening in your life now and spend as much time as you can with this girl."
With a creepy sort of slowness, the boy looked up, the hopelessness and sorrow in his eyes replaced by confusion and indignation.
Medusa raised both eyebrows, staring quizzically at the sudden mood swing. Slightly unsettled, she shakily pulled her hand from the boy's shoulder.
"'This girl?'" he spoke darkly, eyes narrowing as if daring her to repeat herself.
Medusa exhaled until she felt her lungs begin to ache. What on earth was this boy getting at?! If it wasn't a girl he was talking about, then a guy maybe? No. He'd kept saying 'she' and 'her' so it couldn't be. What is going on?
The snake witch stood up as tall and as straight backed as she could, a clear sign that she was not in the mood for any more clipped phrases of infatuation or long, loving sighs. Golden eyes flashing dangerously (though she was more confused than anything), Medusa demanded, "Who on Earth are you talking about?"
The student tilted his head even farther back so he could meet the witch's impatient stare and then, quite slowly, pulled himself to his feet and dusted off his dark pants. The boy's gold eyes met her dangerous stare with a calm one and answered as-matter-of-factly, "Symmetry."
