A/N: this has no plot. i'm just writing.
I don't own soul eater
His voice rolled through his vocal cords in groggy waves, producing only a mostly incoherent mess of words and sounds. One arm was draped over the edge of the couch, a pen loosely dangling in his fingertips with its tip touching the floor, while the other hand still loosely clutched several papers. Thick textbooks lay out on the coffee table, all still open, baring their information for all to see. Of course, now, the little black letters on their yellowed pages sat ignored, meaningless without a reader.
At least he was on the couch this time and not in the dining room.
Kid's chest rose and fell rhythmically. His lips lay parted slightly if only just to let out any words that still lay in his throat that were so desperate to escape that they could not wait for him to wake. They were supposed to be on the paper, though. They were supposed to be part of his essay. Most of them, anyway. Some were unimportant to the assignment and were only coherent to his dreaming.
He had been writing, with his left hand specifically. He couldn't have used his right hand for this one. He'd used his right for the previous essay he'd written for that night. Left always followed right. He was thankful he was ambidextrous. His school life would be hell if he wasn't. Left always came after right and right always came after left. It was how the world worked. Or perhaps, how his did.
The essay had been almost done, as it always was by the time he'd fall asleep. It took him too long to get it perfect far too often. The type writer sat up in his room, still waiting. He would never hand anything in written by hand. His cursive was atrocious in his opinion. He hated that it leaned to the left. He wished it was more upright, centered, but he could only do that if he forced himself which far longer.
Liz listened to the little snippets of his mind as they trickled out through his lips, if only momentarily. She supposed she should move him, put him in his bed, but she didn't want to wake him up. After all, he might not fall asleep again for another two hours afterward. Then his alarm would go off at six and he'd only have gotten an hour and a half of sleep.
She should've gone to bed herself a while ago, she supposed. She had been working on the same essays he had, but she'd finished long before or simply given up. She'd gotten used to staying up far too late, though. She'd done it all her life and now with the frequent missions that often lasted well into the early morning, her sleep schedule was nonexistent, as was her meister's.
As the grandfather clock in the corner ticked out the seconds, she wondered if she should attempt to move him. She knew he slept like the dead, but she also was glad that he had not fallen asleep at the table. The couch was far better, even if this one was the least comfortable one in the house. At least he was laying down. She reached over the swirling wooden detailing that bordered the top edge and pulled the papers gently from his hands. She watched his fingers curl around air in response.
She walked around the couch and placed them onto the coffee table. She started to feel slightly inadequate when she saw that he'd written three pages already when she'd only written one and a half. His handwriting was much smaller and tighter than hers was as well.
Liz then wondered if she should get him a blanket. He'd done so for her, she remembered, several nights ago when she'd collapsed on the couch after a rather tiring mission. It hadn't been this couch, though, with its black and white stripes and high, arcing, back and wooden arm rests. Though this couch was beautiful with its victorian essence, it wasn't particularly comfortable. She guessed that was why there were so many pillows on it, but she didn't feel they helped.
The couch in another living room, the one with the TV in it, was her favorite even though Kid thought it to be hideous. For once, though, this wasn't to do with symmetry. He just didn't like it. He simply found it unappealing. This is why it was in that room, because he rarely went in there.
She moved softly out of the room and into the hall, deciding it to be best to return the favor. It had surprised her slightly when he'd done so, too. She slept much less soundly than he did, a side effect of living on the streets. She'd stirred, she remembered, but had not gotten up. She hadn't had the energy. He'd also told her to just go back to sleep.
Her bare feet were cold on the tiles in the hall. She tread as quietly as she could, though, as it felt wrong to make any sound under the influence of night. The door to the closet clicked open and she winced at the noise. It was odd to her that she felt this way. Living in New York City, she'd always hated the quiet at night here. It had taken her so long to adjust. The city was always moving, always lively, never quiet. There was always the sounds of cars and of talking and yelling and sometimes of people playing music for money. There was no quiet. When they'd first moved here, she and Patty had had a hard time sleeping without the lull of constant traffic.
Liz slid a blanket off of the shelf and wrapped her arms around it. She walked quietly back into the living room, glad for the warmth of the rug on her toes, even if it was just an area rug. She remembered a day when they'd invited Tsubaki and Maka over to spend the night, both of whom had the same need to spend time with other girls and not just their partners, and Kid had felt the need to comb the fringe on the rug's edges so that it was perfect. He wouldn't let them go into that room until he was done.
She unfolded the blanket, still listening to his incessant mumbling. He said the oddest things in his sleep. She sometimes wondered what one earth he could be dreaming of, specifically now when he whispered, "...you can't eat symmetry..." practically through his nose. She just shook her head and spread the blanket between her arms. When she lay it overtop of him, his eyelids fluttered. However, he did not stir. She did, though, vaguely think she heard him thank her.
Maybe it was just late.
She wrapped her fingers around the lamp's neck and pressed the switch. It clicked and the warm light he'd read by was gone, replaced instead with the pale blue light of the moon. It drenched his porcelain skin in its soft glow.
She looked at him, in all of his peace, in such a rare state. Kid did not normally relax. He did not normally look so wonderfully calm. The easiness in the way he breathed and the way his arms were draped so naturally was great to her. She stared at his mouth as his lips moved just slightly with each muffled word. This was all that was not relaxed.
She tucked a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear as she bent down toward him over the wooden armrest. She looked at him, upside down in her eyes, for just a moment longer. She then silenced his rambling and pressed her lips onto his softly. She held for several seconds before pulling away. His eyes fluttered again, this time opening fully. The moonlight glinted off them, glazing them over with light in a way that once had frightened her. He looked so surprised.
"Just go back to sleep," Liz told him.
His eyes shut again without another thought as he rolled over onto his stomach. He noticed the blanket, then, and pulled it closer around himself. As she walked silently out of the room, this time she knew she heard him thank her.
A/N: I have never written anything close to romance before. Any romance story I've ever written has been abandoned before I could get to the actual romantic part. xD
I know that was short, but I hope it was sweet. No pun intended.