come alive
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Puberty has not been kind to the young scythe meister, nor her weapon.
Soul finds himself in the grocery store, grumbling as he debates between chocolate ice cream and chocolate fudge bars, and ignoring the smug grins of the clerks as they ring up his purchase.
Maka finds herself constantly locked out of the bathroom in the mornings, and she has absolutely no idea why. What she does know, is that if she is late to school one more time because of her partner's antics, she'll kill him. She's said that nearly every day for the last three months.
Soul, he has discovered, is on the receiving end of a lot more Maka Chops, but also a lot more snuggling and hand-holding; secret, special touches reserved just for him. He isn't sure how to feel about this just yet, but a certain part of him most definitely is, and he feels a lot like Chrona because he quite simply doesn't know how to deal with it.
And they both find themselves at the mall, hunting for a new shirt or pair of pants because theirs just don't seem to fit them anymore, even though it's only been a few months.
Then there are his nightmares. Ever since his shoulders started to broaden and his voice started to dip, his nights seemed to be getting rockier and rockier. Maka finds herself in his room nearly every other night, brushing his hair and humming one of his favorite tunes to lull him back to sleep, and it is beginning to show as she goes about her daily activities. Her hair and eyelids droop, her feet drag, and she becomes frustrated with such petty things nowadays.
She can't take much more of this. She really, really can't.
The worst part, she thinks, is the fear. The fear that maybe, this time, he won't come back.
Maka wakes to the sound of dull crashes in the adjacent room.
"S-Soul?"
She lifts herself out of bed, pads quietly down the hallway to his room, curls her toes just slightly as she musters up the courage to push open the door because she already knows what to expect…
And there he is, slammed against the wall of his bedroom as if thrown by an unseen force. She can hear low keening, almost a dog's whine, as the wall rattles from his weight. A harsh pant escapes his lips. His arm has transformed, and she can see the beads of scarlet glistening on the carpet from whatever injuries he has inflicted on himself. His hair hangs over his eyes, thick and crazy with sweat as his entire body convulses and shudders.
She rushes to him, head full of the same melodies that flitted through his own mind sometimes, and she forces these enticing notes into his brain, imploring him to feel his – her – their music. She doesn't know the nature of his nightmares, but she knows his nature and she hopes that it will be enough to bring him to the surface again. He won't tell her anything about his episodes, and so she can only stumble in the dark with her hand outstretched for him.
Maka gasps as his hand closes around the front of her sleep shirt and pulls her to him. He slams his forehead against hers, their lips so close she can almost taste him, his sweat-caked skin scorching her own. His eyes are scrunched tightly. She leans into him instinctively, hands wrapping around his neck, careful of his blade. His body is still quivering, she notes with concern.
He's not quite there yet. A little more, she just has to keep calm…
Her body is suddenly smashed underneath his. She lets out a small squeak before her mouth is engulfed by his, and then she can hear him screaming in her mind. As his hands dance along her skin she can hear him calling, but his voice sounds… wrong, as if he's somewhere far away and not pressing desperately against her small form. She can't make out a word he's saying.
Then he has pulled away, and he sits on his haunches, gasping for breath. Maka remains on the floor, heart still pounding in her ears, gaping up at him. Her partner slowly seems to calm down, rubbing his face with clammy hands.
"Maka," he murmurs, flicking the sweat from his nose. He exhales noisily.
She feels her shoulders relaxing. "Soul?" She sits up cautiously, and peers at him.
He looks and smells like her partner, his low voice rumbles and teases her ears just the same way her partner's does, his hair sticking up in its typical, crazy fashion. Even his wavelength, though understandably frayed, seems normal.
"Soul."
She stumbles toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Relief fills her. He's back.
"Maka," he whispers against her neck, sending shivers down her spine.
His body is still shaking.
"Soul, it's okay, it's over," she hums reassuringly, and she can feel him nod.
"Yeah. It is."
They both look up at the same time. Maka smiles, and he grins his toothy grin.
Her eyes flit to his lips, and heat rushes to her face as she remembers his… earlier assault. She wonders if he even remembers, and then realizes she's still holding him like an idiot even though he's just fine now. What if he got the wrong idea?
She hastily moves to stand up, but his arm snakes around her waist and holds her in place. "Don't go yet," he whispers. "I just want to feel your wavelength a bit more, okay?"
She looks at him, confused and still flustered. "Soul?"
"If it's okay with you, I mean. Don't want any more un-cool nightmares…"
"Er…"
He chuckles, quickly pressing his forehead against hers. She recoils, face flushed even more at his sudden proximity. "C'mon. Just a little. What're you so embarrassed about?"
"N-nothing!"
She scowls, irritated, and forces her wavelength to expand and brush against his silky strands. Her eyes flutter closed.
"There, see?"
"You're still holding back."
"No, I'm not. Shut up."
"Didn't you like it when I kissed you?"
God damn him. Doesn't he know when to quit? "Argh, dumbass!"
She growls and crashes her mouth against his. He responds eagerly, and their mouths dance together for a few moments before she breaks away with a smug look. He chuckles.
The sound is so close to her ear, and it leaves goose bumps on the flesh of her neck. Her eyes snap open, and his eyes are only centimeters from her own. She finds herself pressed against the floor, smiling up at him, and that's when she notices.
His eyes. What is wrong with his eyes.
"Soul," she gasps as his hands pin her arms against her sides. His forehead touches hers once again, and she feels a rush of cold and darkness and…
Insanity.
She shrieks. His lips cover hers once again, muffling her, and more ice seems to flood her veins. He takes advantage of every little touch, each special touch she always held so dear, to send jolts of madness rushing through her.
He grins against her lips as she struggles.
And she can hear it again. The screaming of her partner, as if from underwater... from somewhere much, much too far away…
His hand brushes roughly over her thigh. She lashes out, but he quells her movement with his own body.
Her body is alive with the sensation of his touch, and despite herself, she delights in every bit of contact, even though she knows it leaves her mind completely vulnerable, even though she knows this is the little demon and not her beloved partner.
Got you, got you, got you, she can hear the demon chanting with glee, and she can just picture the vile little thing chewing its fingernails in excitement.
Where is Soul? she demands, for the moment ignoring the violation of her body.
Ah, Soul. Lately he's been having such interesting dreams. And all of them involving you, little meister! And so distracting, too; I was able to infiltrate him so easily, it was only a matter of time. This was the last push, really. I'm surprised you didn't notice my efforts earlier! He cackles. The boy is so easy to read, especially at this, ahem, stage of his life.
And you, too! If only I had known it would be this easy to overcome your pesky little wavelength...
Shut the hell up and let us both go, Maka hisses. The demon ignores her.
As much as I loathe you, and believe me, little girl, my irritation with you knows no bounds, the little imp sighs, I suppose I should thank you for providing me with this opportunity. Hmm, now where to "dump the bodies"? Metaphorically speaking, of course. Both of those belong to me now. He howls with laughter again.
God damn it! Maka growls. And, to her horror, her body is now responding, and very vocally at that, to what it perceives as Soul's touch. Oh, hell no. No, no, no.
Well, this should be fun, the demon drawls. Anyway, I think I've had enough of you for an entire lifetime… so, I suppose this is goodbye, eh?
No! Fuck y-!
She is plunged into darkness.
.
.
.
"Maka."
"Nnguh?" She cracks open an eye and attempts to focus on the face in front of her. "Soul?" Her throat feels hot and raw. Swallowing hurts. Ugh.
"Hey." He grins at her.
She smiles back, somewhat uncertain. "Soul? What happened?"
"You were having a bad dream. Kept shouting for me. I think you might have a fever or something." He presses his hand against her forehead. "Fuck, Maka. Why didn't you tell me you didn't feel well?"
"I-I'm sorry," she murmurs, frowning as he leans closer into her personal space. "Hey, wait. Soul. What are you doing?"
His smile widens and he lets out a laugh. "Idiot. I'm gonna punish you, of course."
"Hah? S-Soul?"
He bends down to her neck, leaving light kisses as he trails slowly downward, until he's kissing her exposed collarbone, and lower, and lower.
She gasps, back arching. Her hands reach out to rake through his hair, eliciting a low hiss as her nails slide against his scalp. He responds by digging his fingers into her arms, nibbling at her clavicle. She squirms. His other hand is tickling her stomach, inching upwards.
"S-Soul, don't!"
She squeaks as his fingers reach their destination, drawing music notes into her skin. His other hand lets go of her arm and begins an achingly slow journey along her thigh. Her heart freezes.
"Wait! Soul!"
No, this isn't right. Her bed has never been this soft, this perfect. Her partner isn't like this. He wouldn't do this, not when she told him to stop it, not if he felt she wasn't ready, no, what was she thinking, he wouldn't do this even if she asked him to because she was Miss Tiny Tits, boring old bookworm Maka and this… isn't…
Her breaths are getting heavier.
This is a trick. This is all a trick.
Where is she? Where is her partner?
She has to find him. She has to find the real Soul.
She dances in and out of dark, smoky rooms and cozy rugs by fireplaces, and steamy showers and rainy mornings. Each time it is harder to pull away from his embrace, and each time she wonders if waking up is worth losing this endless fantasy. But then, she remembers, it's Soul. He won't leave her, just as she won't leave him. Whatever his feelings for her are, and now, she isn't quite so sure because this is just as much his dream as it is hers, he will stay by her side. He's proven it enough times already, she thinks.
She wonders if it's time for her to prove it, as well.
He is becoming harder and harder to find, the gaps between darkness and light ever widening. And when she does find him, he is harder and harder to pull away from. The farther she falls, the more Maka finds herself fearing that she'll simply end up alone at the end of this labyrinth. It makes it even harder to tear herself away from each dream. What if the real Soul has simply disappeared?
No, she can't think that, or she won't be able to go on. Still, in this cold, inky darkness, it's a difficult thought to shake.
.
.
.
He doesn't recognize the girl in front of him, but she seems to know him from somewhere, because she whirls to face him as if struck by lightning the instant he passes by. He feels a small jolt, himself, and wonders what it means.
She smiles instantly at the sight of him. "Soul!" she cries, hurling herself at him. He catches her out of some instinct he didn't know he possessed, but what was it she called him? Soul?
"Thank god I found you! Thank god it's really you!"
Found him? Was he lost?
He looks around. The club is with writhing bodies, and pulsing with awful music that he would never willingly choose to listen to.
His name is Soul? Why does that seem so familiar?
And this girl, her bright green eyes slowly growing dull as she fails to see any recognition in his eyes. Who is she? He aches to see her smiling again, not this anguished look. Why is that?
So he grasps her hand, tells her, "Yes, I'm Soul," because he wants to see her eyes light up. But she shakes her head.
"No, no. It's okay." It clearly isn't. He's only met her, and already he's disappointed her. How could he have failed someone so quickly?
"Let's… let's just get you out of here, huh?" She smiles, but it isn't the same. The girl tugs at his hand, trying to lead him away, but he pulls back roughly. A panic grips him. He doesn't understand, but he can't reject the sudden sensation, the overwhelming fear.
"No way," he hisses at her, eyes narrowing. "I'm staying right here."
"But, Soul-" She calls him that again. He shakes his head.
"And you are, too. It's safe here. And… it's only here that you'll stay with me, and see me as more than your partner. So, I don't want to leave."
What is he saying? Partners?
"But Soul, we have to go, or we'll be stuck here forever."
He avoids her gaze.
"What about becoming stronger?"
"There's no point, 'cause you're just gonna leave… or they'll make me leave you. Either way. No one will listen to my music and clap and smile for me."
This feels like the truth, even if he doesn't understand it.
But she looks about ready to cry, and he shuffles guiltily. He looks around, as if he can see the sound waves, and tries changing the subject. "This shit sucks."
She grabs his arm with her other hand, startling him. "Then let's take a walk, okay?"
He turns suspicious eyes on her.
She bats her eyelashes at him imploringly. Her eyes are so close to his. "It's only a bit of fresh air. C'mon, you'll live."
He nods once, still frowning at her, but then her face lights up like a beacon and he doesn't regret his decision one bit. A little walk can't hurt. Besides, he really is itching to leave this scene, and this wretched noise.
Somehow, the name Soul seems to suit him as he walks alongside the girl. The air is brisk, but invigorating. Those things he said, the way they tumbled from his lips, he feels like they are the truth. He feels like, maybe he understands himself, and maybe this girl isn't the only one with abandonment issues and… wait, why does he know that about her, when he doesn't even know her name? There's still a piece of this puzzle missing. But he doesn't want to know. For some reason, he doesn't, and yet he does. It nags at his mind.
Why can't he just stay here with her and forget?
"So… those things you said… do you know who I am?" she asks, eyes piercing.
"No," he replies, anxiously glancing at her face for any hint of that crestfallen look. But her expression is placid.
Still, when she smiles, it seems a bit sad.
Then her hand stretches out toward him, and she says, "Well then, my name is Maka Albarn, pleased to meet you."
His head aches as he shakes her hand.
They keep walking in silence, the world seeming to melt into view as if from a fog.
"Where are we going?" he asks finally, looking down at the girl at his side.
She smiles up at him, and he glimpses something in her eyes, but he can't tell what it is. "You'll see," is all she says.
Maka is petrified, and on the verge of bursting into tears. She wants him to grin and drool and slouch and look her in the eye, maybe tug on her pigtail and laugh at her for being such a nervous wreck. That way, she can Maka Chop him and remind him how serious their situation is. That familiar routine… she thinks it would be enough to calm her ragged nerves, somehow get them both out of this nightmare.
But this Soul, if he notices, doesn't know what to do about her anxiety. He keeps pace with her, and occasionally glances at her face, but he says nothing.
She can only keep walking, and hope her soul can guide them both in the right direction.
"What is this place?"
The building is so nondescript it almost seems to be hiding from prying eyes. It puts him on edge almost instantly.
"It's an old concert hall."
"A what?"
She meets his startled gaze with firm emerald eyes. He shakes his head vehemently, fixing her with a blood red gaze.
"No way. We can't go in there."
"Why not?"
"Because… because…" It makes me think of things I don't want to.
She juts out her lower lip, and does that thing with her eyelashes again that makes his heart flutter. "So, you won't play for me?"
He gapes at her as she looks down at the ground, wondering if she will cry. But her eyes are determined, and so sincere it makes him feel guilty for denying her.
"… I really do love Soul's music."
And so he allows her to take his hand and lead him into the building.
She takes a seat on the piano bench and peers up at him.
"What?" he questions, standing awkwardly behind her.
"Sit," she commands. He does so without thinking, settling in next to her.
The room feels smaller than he remembers. It's like it's just her, him, and the piano.
"I know I'm probably in the way, sitting here, but," Maka's eyes are like a magnet for his own, he thinks, "please play for me like this." There is no way he can deny her.
And so his fingers fly across the keys, dancing a crazy dance of accidentals and brief jazz chords, dissolving into a frenzied flood of notes that crawl over each other for dominance, assailing her ears and making her heart ache. She whispers something in his ear and then pulls away.
"I want to be a part of your music."
His eyes widen as the words hit him. He nearly fumbles and stops playing altogether, but when she rests her head against his shoulder, the notes pour easily from him again.
This time, they are gentler, with a jazzy edge that just screams 'Maka'. His chords are soft, and while dissonant, there is a sweetness and rightness to them that his music just lacks, as heartfelt as it is.
The piece ends on a long, exaggerated G.
"Maka."
She claps, beaming up at him sincerely, and he can't help but grin back.
Then her look of joy turns to dismay, and he looks around in confusion.
It's melting. The room is melting into blackness all around them.
He moves to stand, to run, automatically reaching for the girl next to him, but the seat is pulling him in. He whirls around to face his companion, heart racing, and suddenly he places it. That's fear in her wide, sparkling eyes, as she too is pulled into the dark depths of their shared leather bench. Pure terror grips her. Her nails dig into his skin.
His eyes widen.
Maka. His meister. His meister needs him. Even if he's scared about their future, right now, she needs him.
He grips her hand and looks into her eyes, silently telling her that he remembers. She gasps.
And out loud, he says, "Trust me, and don't let go."
Her face becomes resolute, and she nods.
He brings their interlaced fingers to the piano, lifting her pointer finger with the pad of his thumb and bringing it to rest on a single key.
She closes her eyes.
The room spins, whirls, and finally settles into its familiar shape.
The Black Room.
The demon is perched on top of the record player, gnawing on its nails and looking like the cat that ate the canary. It might be humorous, Maka thinks, if she weren't so furious with the little bastard. Soul marches over to the little demon, tugging his meister along by the hand, and glowers down at the creature that shares his mind.
"Your dreams were nice and all," he drawls, and squeezes his partner's hand, "but I think I like reality a lot better. Now." His eyes narrow. "Disappear."
The demon scowls. Soul bares his teeth, and the demon reluctantly slinks away with a shrug of its shoulders. "Fine, fine. I know where I'm not wanted."
"Like hell you do," Maka hisses, but the demon has already vanished.
She is still glaring when Soul turns her to face him. She avoids his gaze.
"Oi, Maka. It's alright now, it's over. Really."
She looks up at him, reluctant, and he's surprised at the moisture in her eyes. She stamps her foot. "He's still not gone, Soul! He's just going to pull this same stunt again, or try something different, and eventually, he's going to win and we're going to lose each other."
Now it is her turn to be surprised when he crushes her to his chest, burying his face in her hair. "Not a chance in hell. Maka, together, we're unbeatable. And I'm sorry you were scared."
"I wasn't-!"
"But if it's us, we can do it. I meant what I said. We'll just have to make reality better than any dreams he can offer. Then what can he do?"
She stares at him, biting her lip.
"But… reality isn't at all like… like that." She blushes. "I mean, I trust you to stay with me. I trust us. And I know that should be enough, but… it's weird. I'm thinking of this, of us, in a whole new way now because of that bastard. And I don't want my weird thoughts getting in the way, you know?"
There is a long pause before he speaks. "Was it really… so weird to imagine?"
"Well, yeah, I mean stuff like that just doesn't happen because it's us…"
"Yeah. You're right."
She looks up at the sudden change in his tone. "Soul?"
"C'mon, I think we're done here. We've got school in the morning, right? So we should probably get out of here and get to bed."
"Uh. R-right…"
She takes his hand, wondering at his sudden odd behavior, and they both disappear.
He is straddling her, her top in a heap somewhere by his bed, her hair tumbling loosely over her shoulders. Her hands are underneath his sleep shirt, busily tracing each line of his stomach. His hands are buried in her hair. Both meister and weapon freeze.
They stare at each other for a moment, faces scarlet, but then Soul calmly stands up and turns his back to her. He clears his throat. "Well. Good night."
Maka scrambles to her feet and bolts for the exit, not bothering to grab her top. As she reaches the door she turns to wish her partner a hasty good night, but a brief glimpse of his face stops her in her tracks.
"Soul?"
His back stiffens. She walks toward him, arms crossed over her chest. "Soul?" No response.
"Soul Eater." Her tone is sharper now, and he grudgingly turns to face her. His eyes carefully avoid any exposed flesh, cheeks still flaming.
She puffs out her cheeks, and he knows he's in for it. Fantastic. "As your meister, and considering all of the shit I just went through to save both of our asses, not to mention these last three months of pure hell, I demand that you tell me what's wrong so that I can fix it."
"'S not something you can fix," he mumbles, still deliberately peering at a point over her head.
"How do you know, huh?" she snaps. "And look at me, god damn it! Am I that ugly?"
"Of course not, you dumb shit…"
She is suddenly right in front of his face, and he chokes on his words. A strangled "Maka!" escapes his lips as she comes somehow even closer. He can feel the heat of her body. Shit, shit, shit. A bead of sweat trails down his temple.
"Then why won't you look at me, huh! Is it because you can't stand the thought that no tits, no ass Maka might actually turn you on?"
"What-?"
"What did I look like in those dreams of yours, huh? Is that why you didn't want to leave, because you finally had a partner that loved your music and was actually shaped like a woman?"
"Maka-!"
"I knew it, deep down you're all the same…"
"Maka, shut the fuck up and listen for a sec!"
Her jaw snaps shut.
"Jesus, you'd think with a brain that smart you'd actually listen to what I say instead of making stupid shit up like that." Soul sighs. "I already told that demon, do I have to tell you, too? I. Like. The real. Maka. I don't want any stupid fantasies. And Maka, you and I both know that I think your body type is sexy as hell.
"Besides, what do you care if I think you're attractive? You said it yourself, we're just partners, anything else would be weird, right?"
She is flabbergasted. "What?! That's not what I meant at all!"
"Then what did you mean?"
"I meant," she snarls, "that since there was no way you could have any real feelings for me, it would be awkward between us for a little bit until your hormones settled down!"
"Hormones? You think this is all just hormones?"
She stares at him like he's some kind of an idiot. "Um, yes?"
Soul makes a valiant attempt to rip all of his hair out. "Holy fucking shit. Shit fuck. Holy fuck."
"What." She's quickly losing patience with his limited vocabulary.
"Maka. HolyshitMaka. Let me explain some things to you, okay?"
He places both hands on her shoulders, bends down and crushes his lips to hers. His mouth moves urgently against her until she finally responds, and their tongues tangle in a velvety mess of heat for a bit before he breaks the kiss to say, "This. This isn't a temporary thing. Cool guys don't just look at their partners as some kind of sex object, and then dump them when they've found something better like you seem to think. I'm not your creepy dad, chasing after anything in a skirt. I'm not some drooling glob of hormones, either. This… this is for real, okay?"
Maka nods, though her eyes are still bulging at her partner's sudden declaration. He scratches the back of his head at her blank look, suddenly sheepish. "Uh…" he mumbles, embarrassed. She's going to reject him now, isn't she? So un-cool…
His meister brushes a lock of hair out of her eyes, still seemingly dazed. "Hey, Soul?"
"Hmm?" This is it. He steels himself mentally.
"I know I ask this of you way too much, but…" Maka worries her lip, and tentatively meets his gaze. His vision is a field of green.
Her eyes harden, and her voice is a hoarse command. "I need you to prove it."
"W-what?" His voice just cracked. Fuck, so un-cool. Well, she is still missing her top, after all…
She laughs. "Not like that, idiot."
His throat is dry; he can only wait for her next words.
"Just… we'll try it, okay? I don't know if I can trust you with this part of me yet, even if I feel like…" she blushes, "it's already yours. So, wait for me, okay?" Her smile turns sultry then, and it does funny things to his brain.
"It shouldn't be too long, anyway. I've always been a fast learner."
She kisses his cheek and excuses herself before he can even stammer a farewell. The door clicks shut quietly in her wake.
After a few moments, Soul grins, and plops down onto his bed.
His dreams, that night, are sweet.
.
.
So uh. This is what I did instead of homework tonight. Anyway, thanks for reading this instead of doing something productive. I am eternally grateful.