While writing CAFÉ EVANS, I was listening to my mp3 player. "So Sick" by Ne-Yo began to play. I sat there and was like, "Wow, haven't heard this song in a long time." It inspired this one-shot. If you haven't heard, please go listen to it. It's his best song. Even though the song is about a coupe who broke up months ago, it's mostly the chorus that inspired me.
Valentines Day is coming up, got your sweetheart something? ...My sweetheart spent the night in jail. He got drunk and disturbed the peace. He only has to pay a fine, lucky for him. Yes, I do have a sweetheart. He's an idiot but he's my idiot.
There's a slight spoiler for chapter 69 (hee hee, 69... -.-;), but it's not anything that no one suspected. You can read in at OneManga or something. I prefer OneManga because of less spam. For anyone who's read the chapter, do you pity Kid or were you laughing at him?
Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater, "So Sick," or "Teardrops on My Guitar." They belong to their respective owners and creators.
Stupid Love Song
by infidelityONcrank
"Said I'm so sick of love songs so sad and slow
So why can't I turn off the radio?"
— Ne-Yo, "So Sick"
Silence. It was what he wanted, but it was all over. The radio, his mind, his work, the coffee shop he went to every morning, the college he attended, his parent's house. Everywhere.
He couldn't escape the sappy words, their cliché stories, their endless wailing, their teeny-bopper beats, their continuous choruses, their longing, their wanting, their passion that reminded him of someone.
He missed that someone, he missed her. Missed her smile, missed her lingering smell, her tiny frame, her cooking, her soft footsteps in the hallway, hell he missed her constant nagging.
He had loved her, though he hadn't have had the courage to tell her. She didn't believe in love. He life had been full of heartache and crying. Kami, had there been crying. She had cried at night, thinking he never heard her. She needed those healing tears. She always put on a brave face for everyone, but it was he that had felt those hateful and hurtful feelings her wavelength gave off.
He had gone to her once, to try and comfort her. She had pretended to be asleep, but he knew she was awake. Her wavelength revealed everything to him. He hadn't told her that, she figured it out on her own later when they were closer friends.
But she hadn't been able to figure out why he was so protective of her. She hadn't realized why his wavelength comforted her in the dead of the night when she thought he was sound asleep. She hadn't realized why he rejected all of those offers for other Meisters. She hadn't realized a lot of things, but she probably suspected a deeper reason other than his excuse, "You're my Meister. Besides, no one wants a girl like you, a girl with no sex appeal."
...Her response always hurt. But it was true in a way, no guy wanted a girl with no appeal, but it was her lack of appeal that made guys like and admire her even more. They felt that they were unworthy... and because he was always by her side.
It was everything around him that reminded him of her. She would have liked Europe. It was perfect for her soothing soul and it's beauty could almost compare with her's.
Sighing, he walked over to his radio that his mp3 player was connected to and flicked it on.
"—reason for the teardrops on my guitar.
The only thing to keep me wishing on a wishing star.
He's the song in the car I keep singing, don't know why I do..."
He flicked off the radio, paused the song and plugged his headphones in. He pushed play.
"Supid love songs." he muttered, grabbing his jacket but not changing the song. He slipped his arms into the sleeves and hiked his shoes up on to his feet, tapping the toes on the mat that said "Welcome!" in bright cheery letters.
Outside was no better than his apartment. Giant red hearts that were metallic and reflected the sunlight. Naked little boys with a red bow and a arrow shaped like a heart winked, blushing and giggled silently, as if they knew something he didn't. Red roses were withering in windows. Signs promised the finest chocolate in their boxes.
He was almost tempted to buy one and send it to her, but she would be receiving a ton from others. He hoped she would remember to send some of her home made chocolates, misshaped as they were.
He smiled in memory of them melting in his mouth, how their sweetness soothed his aches and pains given to him by girls trying to gain his affection. They were the perfect ending for his day.
"You thinking of someone special?" someone giggled.
He looked over to where a woman older than him stood, smiling knowingly. Her pale hair shone in the light and curled delicately around her cheeks.
"You need something special for her, right?" she asked.
"Yeah, I guess." he said.
"I have a daughter about your age. She called me up yesterday to tell me how much she missed me and this boy she liked. She wished he would be home in time for today, but he won't be. She said he was needed here in Europe."
"Sounds sad."
"Yes, she was hoping he'd get her something nice."
"Something nice?"
"Yes, you see he plays the piano and she's only heard him play a few times for her privately. She hoped he would send her something special. A song."
"A song?"
"She loves his playing."
"I see..."
"I hope you get your sweetheart something special and don't disappoint her!" she said, turning and walking off.
Maybe Maka would like a song. he thought. Songs take forever to write, though.
He sighed and continued to walk to his destination, the post office. He checked his box and talked to the woman at the desk. She seemed irritated to be working on today.
"You got a date tonight?" he asked.
"Why, are you hitting on me?" she snapped.
"No, just curious. I've got someone else to think about."
"The girl who sent this?" she asked pointing to the box that Maka had sent him. His was a large box with a lot of stamps. "Wonder what she sent you? Chocolates? A giant card? Whatever it is, I'm sure she spent a lot of time on it. A guy like you seems to be quite the catch."
"Yeah, well, she probably has a ton of guys fawning over her."
"Is she pretty?"
"To me, she is." He sighed and dug out his wallet and found the picture of him and Maka before he left for Europe. It was a party for him, just him, Maka, and their friends. She had worn her hair down that day.
"Gosh! She looks so young! Do you have, like, a moe complex, or something?" she asked referring to the picture underneath. Maka was wearing him clothes, that engulfed her tiny frame.
"She's eighteen." he said, taking his wallet back.
"Huh." the woman puffed. "I'd peg her at maybe fourteen, maybe fifteen."
"Good genetics. Have fun on your date." He tucked the box under his arm and waved to her as he left.
When he got back to his apartment, he plunked the package down on the table. He took out the scissors and cut the tape that bound it closed. Inside was a Styrofoam container filled with packing popcorn. He dug in the popcorn and found a small bag tied shut with pink and red ribbon. A small card was attacked to it.
She was clever like that, a big package to protect something so little. Something to keep the delicate little chocolates from melting.
He smirked as read the card.
"Soul,
I know how much you like chocolate,
so I made some specials ones for you.
Happy Halmark Holiday!
With (love?),
Maka
P.S. You better send me something!"
Chuckling, he untied the ribbons and sat down to think about what to send her. It would have to be something he could send fast. An email? An ecard? One day shipping with an apology on it's lateness? A song?
He took the chocolates and moved to the piano bench. It was an old, worn bench, like the piano that matched. It was finely tuned and ready for someone to play a song. Plus, as a bonus, it could be hooked up to the computer. The downside was, it still needed to be watered.
His fingers gently started to plunk out a tune.
She was a 'G.' He hit the note with his left thumb. The sound reverberated through the room.
And it hit him.
He grabbed his cords and hooked the piano up with his computer. He hurriedly sat down on the bench and began to play.
It started off as a slow melody so soft, it was barely audible. But as it progressed it became louder and faster. A fermata rang out and then he began to play softly again.
It was Maka's song. No, it was Maka. It was what her wavelength felt like to him. Powerful and strong, even in the times of silence.
He held out the last note on the lowest G, ending the song two octaves below where it began.
He quickly sent it with a short, but sweet message.
"Maka,
The chocolates are good, like every
year. Hope you like this song. It's
you... in song form.
-Soul"
He pressed send before he had the chance to rethink. After all, it was just a stupid love song.
I have never really played the piano in my life. There was that keyboarding thing in middle school, then I was in choir and band, but I sung and played the flute. So what little I know, I learned by watching. And yes, pianos do need to be watered. It amuses me, too.
I think I've been listening to "So Sick" since I started writing this... and hour and a half ago.
I got tired of Christmas music and now sappy loves songs are all over the radio.