Part I: Death the Kid
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN SOUL EATER
I should hate you.
You, Black Star, I should hate you. I should hate everything about you. Your messy hair, that garish shade of blue, your eyes, that unsettling green. That utterly asymmetrical tattoo on one and only one shoulder.
Everything. That is what I should hate about you. You, the one who has caused me so much trouble.
The one that I simply cannot bring myself to hate.
Maybe, in the beginning. No, not even then did I hate you. I might have told myself I did, but it would have been a lie simply to preserve my preconceived notions of beauty.
Beauty. You are beautiful. Your hair, unkempt, and such a fitting color, bluer than the sky. Your eyes, emerald green. And of course, your tattoo, the asymmetry of which seems to somehow suit you.
I should tell you.
But how could I? Even if I tried, would you listen? Or, more likely, would you walk away, laughing your heart-breaking laugh?
I should hate you, so why is my soul telling me otherwise?
Maka can see it. She promised not to tell anyone, not to tell you.
If she can see it, why can't you? Or am I outshone by your selfishness?
You are selfish. There is no denying it. That selfishness is one of the things about you that I should, but somehow can't, hate.
Why can't I hate you? I don't understand it. I almost wish I could. That, at least, I can understand.
I should hate you.
But my soul won't let me.
I might decide to make this a two-shot later on, but for now it'll stay like this. Black Star's chapter just doesn't want to be written, I guess. ChiCho… out?