Author's Note: It's a Sad Eater fan fiction, I'm so sorry. I don't own any of the characters. Wish I did, but alas, not mine. Enjoy?
It starts with a ping, a notification from your soul perception that something wicked is near. You break off mid-argument, leaving Soul to stand there confused, wondering why you're no longer yelling at him for his latest screw-up. "Er, Maka?" He asks hesitantly, not sure if you'll snap at him or if something is really wrong.
You focus on him, face serious. "Let's go. There's a pre-kishin a few miles away, in a residential area." You don't wait for a response, simply rush out of the apartment, only stopping to shove your feet into sneakers. A pre-kishin wouldn't care if you're in your pajamas or usual uniform, you figure. It turns out that you end up having to wait for Soul at his motorcycle because he apparently feels that jeans are important.
The only words exchanged between the two of you are the directions on how to get to the pre-kishin. Soul keeps glancing back at you, but stubborn as you are, he's not getting off so easily. "I'm not through with you yet, by the way, Soul Eater," you scowl at him. You can almost feel his eye roll. You had just opened your mouth to say something snarky back to him about his lack of response, when you were sent flying through the air by a large creature that rammed the side of the motorcycle. There isn't even time to scream before you smash into a house. Before blacking out, you hear Soul yell your name echoed by a roar of the pre-kishin.
It's only been about a minute and a half, but when you come to, you can feel that something is off. Wincing, you get to your feet, tripping over the broken bricks that surround you. A glance over your shoulder reveals the source of the rubble: you left a crater in the wall of the building. Your ears catch the sounds of a battle ending, and you limp in that direction, hoping that it was another Meister-Weapon team who had come to the rescue and not Soul attempting to fight the pre-kishin without you.
A crumpled figure just outside of the circle of flickering orange cast by the streetlight catches your eye, and you sprint toward it, nearly tripping over your own feet. Your soul perception has already told you who it is, but your brain is too numbed by fear to comprehend the familiar jumble of notes. From the distance you are now, a shock of white hair and a puddle of dark liquid is all you can see-but it's all that it takes to make you stumble to a halt and fall to your knees, hands clasped over your mouth.
"SOUL!" The word is ripped out of you, though you're not really sure how you spoke since your heart is currently taking up all the room in your throat. Your movements are mechanical as you crawl the last few feet to the body of your partner. Closer up, you see there's a red soul floating next to him and feel a flash of pride toward the boy before it's once again drowned out by dread. The sight of his torn and bloody torso almost makes you throw up, but you swallow down the urge and steel your stomach. With shaking hands, you hesitantly reach out and touch his cheek. A rush of adrenaline floods your body when his eyelashes flutter and you feel that his skin is still warm.
Carefully, you cradle him in your arms, brushing back his sweaty bangs from his forehead. "Soul, can you hear me? Soul!" You want to shake him so badly, but that can be done later when his blood isn't soaking into your clothes and dripping down your arms. "I know you're alive dammit! Answer me, Soul Eater. Soul! Please, just open your eyes, stay with me. You're fine; we're gonna go to Stein and he's going to fix you up like he's done a million times before, and everything will be okay. C'mon, Soul..." You trail off and rest your forehead against his, your tears leaving clean tracks on his dirty face.
"Maka," your name is little more than a pained sigh. With a gasp, your eyes fly open and you pull away to look down at him. His eyes are slitted, the red irises barely visible. He coughs, spitting up blood. "Smile one last time for me."
"It's not going to be the last time, dumbass," you choke out, running your thumb over his cheek. His breathing is thick and you can barely hear his whispering voice.
"Yeah, it is, Maka. Kim can't fix me. Please, just-" He can't finish his sentence because of a particularly violent coughing fit. You force your lips into a pathetic imitation of your normal smile while you wipe the blood off his chin with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. Soul reaches up to touch your face but can't do it, so you grab his large hand in yours and hold it on your cheek. In return, he gives you a small version of his shark-toothed grin and a confession that makes you cry harder.
"I'm in love with you, Maka. Have been since we fought Crona in Shibusen." You open your mouth to tell Soul that you do too, but he continues talking. "Sorry I wasn't cool enough-" He closes his eyes, bracing himself against a wave of pain. One last shuddering breath is all you get, and then you're left to be haunted by the last sentence he never finished.
Your heart stops when his hand goes limp in yours. "Soul?" Your voice cracks on his name. You shake him, pinch his cheek, flick his nose-anything to try and wake him up. When there's no response from him, your world shatters. Your whole body goes numb, and you pull him in close, desperately trying to keep him with you. Your mouth stretches in a silent scream, unable to get enough air into your lungs to make an actual sound.
You're hyperventilating, and you know you should stop but you have no control over your body. Soul can't be dead, you think, he just can't. He's your best friend, your anchor, the only one who can make you smile through your tears. A few porch lights flick on and front doors open, and your brain absently registers this news. One sympathetic woman kneels down next to you, and you hold Soul's body closer to you, burying your face in his hair. She starts talking to you, but you can't comprehend the words. The woman puts her hand on your shoulder and you shy away from her like a scared animal.
Red strobe lights flash across the crowd gathered around and two people in paramedic uniforms kneel down across from you. When they reach for Soul, you try and fight them but don't have enough energy. You watch the men lay Soul down on a gurney before the woman next to you pulls you into a hug, and you sob into her shoulder, fisting your hands in her blouse. You don't see them pull the black sheet over Soul, which you're thankful for later.
The paramedics ask you if you could come with them to the hospital for paperwork, and the woman you're clutching starts to respond but you cut her off. You get shakily to your feet and wipe the tears off your face, leaving smears of blood like war paint. "I'll come with you." And then you smile. It's the least you can do for him, after all.