Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater or any of its characters-they belong to Atsushi Okubo. Hope you all enjoyed the fluff so far. Here, take some sadness :'D. SoMa Week Day 5: You Make Me Strong.
XxX
I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I fell for you. I can't believe I fell for someone like you.
"Maka, where do you want this box?" Tsubaki called from the other room. I poked my head out the door.
"Oh, bring that one downstairs," I replied. She nodded, lifted it up off the floor with some effort, then left down the stairway. I returned to my room.
So far, I had packed most of my stuff. It took way longer than I had expected it would take, but I got through it. Sorting through everything was a pain in my ass.
"Why do I even have this?" I mumbled to myself, holding up a pink and red polka-dotted tank top. I rolled my eyes as I remembered that this was a gift Papa bought for me one Valentine's Day, the image of his stupid face as he handed it to me intruding my mind. I immediately shoved it in a black trash bag, along with all of the other clothes I'd be giving away. The thought of Papa put me in an even more sour mood.
"Hey, Maka-"
"What?" I snapped, whipping my head around to send an unwarranted glare at the person speaking. It was Black Star.
"Whoa, didn't mean to set off a bomb," he joked, throwing his hands up. "Just wanted to know if you were keeping this."
He held out a book, the appearance of which I did not recognize. It had a red cover with a gold spine. Why had I never seen it before?
"Bring it here. I'll look at it later," I told him. He sauntered into my room, taking his sweet time looking around at the space. There wasn't that much to see considering I'd practically ransacked it while going through my things. He blew a bubble with his gum, let it pop, and eventually tossed the book on my stripped mattress. It bounced once before settling.
"Nice place you got here," he said with sarcasm. I hummed a response, not really giving him my full attention as I continued to dig through my closet. The room was silent other than Black Star's open-mouthed gum chewing and the occasional shriek of a hanger sliding across the rod.
"So, you're moving to California," he remarked.
"Yep," I replied absentmindedly, not in the mood to chit-chat.
"It's going to be lonely without the Great Me there."
"Uh huh."
"And you might fall into the ocean. You know, earthquakes and all that."
"Yeah."
"I bet you'll live, though. We're both too tough to let a silly little earthquake kill us, right?"
"Sure."
There was a long pause. I could hear him kicking the toe of his sneaker on the carpet. Here it comes.
"So, about Soul's room-"
"I'll get to it."
"Yeah, but Maka-"
"I said I'll get to it," I repeated sternly. The blue-haired ninja let out a sigh before exiting the room. I noticed my grip on a hanger had tightened, and I let it go. I walked to my bedroom door and shut it, too tired to deal with him again, or anyone else for that matter. I leaned my back against the door and took a look at the mess I made: clothes in piles, trash bags, or randomly strewn about. Books in stacks. Knick-knacks in cardboard boxes. It reminded me of your room.
"Soul, what the hell?" I screamed as I entered your room.
"What? It's not that bad," you said as you lied on the bed, a magazine in hand.
"Are you kidding? There's clothes everywhere," I argued, gesturing at all the loose t-shirts and boxers splattered haphazardly across the floor. "And is that a pizza box?"
"I got hungry!" you tried to defend yourself. I placed a hand to my face in defeat.
"Why can you never keep this room clean for more than a day?" I questioned. I stared down the box for a second, then angrily snatched it. "Just...try to keep it cleaner."
"Yes, mom," you mocked me. I gave you a threatening look before leaving, taking the empty pizza box with me. I stopped before closing the door, watching you flip a page in your Musician's Digest. I smiled as the door clicked shut.
I slid to the ground, my back scraping against the wood. Out of all of the harsh injuries I've endured, the roughness of the door seemed to hurt far worse than I imagined it would.
"Look what you've done now," I whispered. I placed my head in my hands and did my best to block out any more memories of you. After a few minutes, I lifted my head again, shook away the strained-throat feeling I get when I start to cry, and stood up. Putting both hands on my hips, I scanned the room, assessing what there was left to do. I took a deep breath and dove in.
XxX
"Thanks, you guys," I said to Black Star and Tsubaki as they turned to leave. "I don't know how long it would have taken me without you."
"You're lucky you have the Awesome Black Star to help you," the boy bragged. Tsubaki gave me a sympathetic look. Whether it was because of her partner or you, I'm not entirely sure. I looked up. The clouds were dark gray.
After they left, I dragged myself back up to the apartment, exhausted from the long day of packing, sorting, and travelling up and down multiple sets of stairs hundreds of times (at least, it felt like it was that many). Once inside, I flopped myself down on the couch face first. I was tempted to just fall asleep right then and there, but I knew the move was happening tomorrow, and I still had a lot left to do. I groaned into the couch cushion.
"Keep. Give away. Give away," I spoke to myself in monotone as I sat on the floor finishing up going through my clothes. I tied off the black trash bag of give-aways, sighing a finally before throwing it out the door into the hallway. I leaned against my bed behind me, blowing stray strands of hair from my face.
Just then, my head hit something hard. I twisted around to find the book Black Star had set down there. I reached my head up and pulled it off of the mattress. It was somewhat heavy despite its small size, and the cover felt cool and smooth under my fingers. I noticed there were no markings or anything to indicate wear and tear, meaning it must have been well taken care of. The golden spine shone brightly. Opening it up, I was greeted by my own face.
"What the..." I murmured, confused as to why a picture of me would be inside. It wasn't even that great a picture at that. It was slightly blurry, and I was simply reading in the library. There was nothing note-worthy about the quality or the scene of the photo. I turned the page, plastic film cracking as they broke apart from one another.
This time, it was an image of Tsubaki and me. We were in a restaurant laughing together, the menus in our hands almost covering our mouths. I remembered when this was. A year ago, Tsubaki brought me to my favorite place to eat for my birthday. You and Black Star were there, too. I flipped to the next page.
There I was again. It was a close-up of my face, beads of sweat shining on my features. Trees in the background suggested I was outdoors, so I figured at that time I was most likely sparring with someone. My fists held up close to my face was also a good clue. I shivered, becoming increasingly more creeped out. I was not aware in any of these pictures that someone was photographing me, and it made it even worse that I did not know who it was who was taking them.
I quickly looked through the rest of the book, each one causing a growing feeling inside me that I was being watched at that very moment. Picture after picture, it was clear that I was definitely the focal point, with other people only showing up here and there. I had to stop occasionally to eye my room, half expecting to see another person in there with me, camera in hand.
Then I reached the last page and all my paranoia faded away. There you were, your sharp-toothed grin spreading across your face. I was standing next to you, a dusty, bruised face smiling along with you. My eyes were closed, but yours stared right at me with a look I couldn't quite decipher. Your arm reached out toward the image and it dawned on me that it was you taking the picture. I recalled this instance as well.
"Soul! We did it!" I cheered. We had just finished a particularly hard mission in which I had encountered plenty of near-death experiences. You were worried out of your wits for me. I, on the other hand, was being as reckless as always.
"Yeah, only ten panic attacks later," you growled as you transformed into your human form. I puffed my cheeks out at you, then playfully punched you in the arm.
"Shut up and take a picture! I want to remember this," I said. You rolled your eyes, but complied with my request anyway. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and held it at arm's length in front of us. I pushed my shoulder against yours to get in frame.
"Say 'beat down'," you joked as you tapped the button. I laughed, which was a mistake as my ribs had been injured pretty badly. I put a hand to them and crouched to the ground in pain. You immediately helped me to my feet.
"Soul..." I breathed. Had you taken all of these? Why? Why me?
I closed the book. Mustering up all my strength, I lifted myself from the carpet. Carrying the book in one hand, I walked out of the doorway of my room and down the hall a few steps. I stopped at your door. I opened it.
Upon entering, I was hit with the mess: clothes all over the floor, magazines piling up on the bedside table, and dirty bowls littering the desk. I smirked. Even when you were gone you were a filthy nuisance. I began cleaning up.
"Seriously?" I said, removing a pile of clothes from the floor to reveal an empty pizza box. I snorted, not believing that you would do this again. I took the box in my hand and picked it up. Then, I froze. Underneath the pizza box was a photo-a photo of me.
"So it was you," I whispered, suspicions confirmed. The feeling in my throat was coming back. I set the clothes and pizza box down on the floor and grabbed the image. I sat at the desk chair, staring intently at the photograph. Yet again, I knew when this was taken. It was five months ago, just prior to you disappearing from my life. It was the night before we left for that awful mission. I was cooking dinner, a wooden spoon at my lips as I tasted it. It was the last thing that I ate that had any flavor to it. Since you left me, nothing tastes the same.
"Maka, for the love of God, please be more careful. One of these days I'm going to get killed because of your lack of restraint," you pleaded as we barreled down the highway on your motorcycle to our next target. The clouds were a deep shade of gray, indicating a storm was coming. I held on to you tighter.
"Relax, you'll be fine," I reassured you. "Take a right."
"Why did you have to..." I choked, suddenly realizing I had been crying. "Why did you have to be right?"
The image of you, pushing me aside and taking the blow, filled my thoughts. I watched the replay of the moment the blade passed through your chest as I sat, helpless, on the ground beside you. I remembered it all: the water droplets falling on your face, the feel of your hand on my cheek, the blood pooling around us. I remembered telling you that I would help you to your feet and carry you out of here to safety as you did with me so many times, but my words were drowned out by the thunder. I remembered how you were always there to support me when I needed you most, and that's what gave me my bravery and courage to face whatever battle was thrown our way. I remembered how you never got up. I clutched the picture to my chest, tears blurring my vision. You made me strong; now, you are my only weakness.
I got up from the chair and moved to the bed, wrapping myself up in your blankets, picture and album still in hand. I stayed there until morning. I woke to the sound of rain.