Hey, there! Wow, it has been too long since I wrote any fanfiction. Well, I have my reasons, haha, including lots of teenage high school girl drama. Fun times. . . Anyways, I'm back for some amount of time, though I don't know exactly how long. So I'm taking a shot at writing for Soul Eater. I love this series. It has seriously been my lifesaver though the latest tough times. So anyways, here's my latest fanfiction attempt. I hope it serves you all well!
Disclaimer: Me no owns Soul Eater. If I did, my life would be a whole lot better, lol. Nor do I own the poem "A Ring of Endless Light". That was written by Madeline L'Engle.
Laundry Days
By: Sally White (a.k.a RDH)
Soul groaned. It was laundry day. His least favorite day, or at least one of them. Laundry day meant that Maka became easily aggitated at even the smallest of things. So if he even looked at her in a way she thought was mean and/or wrong, he got Maka-Chopped. So far, he'd been Maka-Chopped four times already. And he'd really only deserved one of those!
He crossed his arms and sank back further into the couch, which he was sitting on. He loudly breathed out a big puff of air, waiting.
"Soul!" Maka called from the laundry room.
"What?" he called back, making sure to keep his voice neutral.
"Do me a favor and go strip our beds and bring me the sheets," she called.
Soul had to swallow back a crude comment and just replied, "'Kay." He got up off the couch and walked down the hall to his room. After he stripped his bed, he put the sheets in a pile just outside of Maka's room then went into her room. Being careful not to touch anything he wasn't supposed to touch, he started to strip Maka's bed. Just as he tugged the last sheet off, a small black leather-bound book went tumbling to the floor, landing open.
Soul paused and stared at it. A diary? he thought. He brooded for a moment. I really shouldn't. . .
Quickly, he picked it up, closed it, then dashed to his room and hid it under his bed. Then he went to give his and Maka's sheets to Maka.
"Thanks," she said when he dropped them off in the laundry room.
He waved her off then hurried back to his room. He went in and shut his door behind him. Then he sat down on his now-bare bed and pulled the little book out from under his bed. He stared at it in his hands for a moment. Now, I really shouldn't read this. A smirk broke out on his lips. BUT she really shouldn't have left it where I could find it. He opened it up to the first page and a poem greeted him.
"So this is where she writes her poetry," he murmered. He settled in to start reading.
The poems were actually good. He couldn't find it in him to stop reading. They were deep, and most of them were depressing. They expressed her inner longing, sadness, anger. He was shocked and slightly worried to discover that she had contemplated suicide, even. He felt like he was seeing into his meister's soul.
The very last poem, which was about half-way through the book, especially intrigued him. He read is softly out loud to himself:
"A great ring of pure and endless light
Dazzles the darkness in my heart
And breaks apart the dusky clouds of night,
The end of all is hinted in the start.
When we are born we bear the seeds of blight;
Around us life and death are torn apart,
Yet a great ring of pure and endless light
Dazzles the darkness in my heart.
It lights the world to my delight.
Infinity is present in each part.
A loving smile contains all art.
The motes of starlight spark and dart.
A grain of sand holds power and might
Infiniry is present in each part,
And a great ring of pure and endless light
Dazzles the darkness in my heart."
Soul breathed in deeply. It was deep, enlightening, and passionate. It was beautiful. It was so . . . Maka.
He smiled softly. He turned to the next page, which was empty, grabbed a pen, and started writing.
Maka's favorite part of laundry day was when it was over. She wiped her forehead and looked at the clock in the laundry room. 8:00 pm. She'd been at this for twelve hours. But now she was done.
She walked out of the room and went to her room. The bed was made, since she'd handed the clean sheets to Soul two hours ago and asked him to make her bed and his bed. But, to her surprise, her poetry book was laying on her bed. She suspiciously went over and picked it up. "Soul, if you read this, I swear I will Maka-Chop you so hard," she seethed.
She saw a bookmark sticking out of it. Curiously, she opened to where it was, and handwriting that was not her's greeted her. It was Soul's! Intrigued, she began to read quietly to herself:
"To Maka -
My meister
Reading this from cover to cover
I have found you
You have talked on some dangerous things
But some happy things, too
No matter what you go through
Easy times to hard
Through thick and thin
I will be there with you
Every step
If you cry
I will hold you
If you're angry
I am here to listen
To be your punching bag
If you are scared
I will hold you
If you are threatened
Hide behind me
I will protect you
I am your weapon
Your scythe
Your safeguard."
Maka gasped and whirled around to see Soul at her door, who had been reciting the poem with her as she read. Tears of gratification welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. She managed to get out, "Soul? . . . Wha -"
"I mean every word," he said solumnly, his face and eyes calm.
Maka bit her bottom lip. More tears welled up in her eyes.
Soul let a half-smile grace his lips, and he held out his arms to her. "C'mere."
Maka threw the book onto her bed before throwing herself into his arms. "Oh, Soul!" She wrapped her arms around his torso, crying into his chest. "It's one of the sweetest things that anyone Has ever done for me!"
He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Then don't cry, silly girl, it's so not cool."
She let out a choked laugh at his words. "You and 'cool'."
"Yeah," he murmered softly, holding her tighter.
She lifted her head to look up at him. He stared into her eyes, his gaze intense. Without warning, he closed his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers.
Her eyes went wide with shock. Before she could react, however, he pulled away.
He grinned at her. "That's what cool guys do."
Her brow twitched.
"MAKA-CHOP!"
"OW! What the hell, woman?"
"That's for ruining the moment," Maka stated, standing over his fallen form with a book in her hand.
Soul stood up, rubbing his head grumbling. She smiled, setting the book down. She reached out and grabbed the labels of his jacket in her hands, pulling him close to her.
"And this is for the poem," she said softly, leaning in and kissing him on the lips.
He kissed her back, then she leaned away, releasing his jacket.
He smirked. I love laundry days.
The End
Soooooo fluffy! Ahh! But I like it. This took a lot for me to write, because the poem Soul writes is actually an adaption of a poem my ex wrote for me. . . Anywho, let me know what you think of it, 'kay? Laters! Peace - Sally White