Oh God. What could have happened...?
Throughout the quiet streets of Death City, the consistant buzzing of a motorcycle was all any plain pedestrian would hear. What the meaning of the young teen speeding to his destination was something only he and a few others would ever know.
Soul was scared. He's a calm, cool, and collected guy, who's definitely been through more frightening things then most people could imagine. He's numb to fear- he's been that way since escaping the grasp of black blood, the horrid substance which ravaged him and his meister's sanity. As you can imagine, something truly tragic must have happened to cause this rock to break to the greedy emotion known as fear. Who wouldn't be scared? The only other people that were as close as he was to his love had called not too long ago, frantic and almost in tears. They could barely speak, trying to describe their meister's frightening condition in attempt to convince the white-haired scythe to come to their house so late. Of course, convincing wasn't really necessary- he cared about his lover more then he cared about being cool.
And he cared about being "cool" a lot.
His motorcycle was barely even at a complete stop before he jumped off and ran to the door. Liz must have been waiting at the door, because it opened before he even withdrew his hand. She was holding a tissue to her cheek, and was shaking, Even the always hyper younger sister, Patty, looked gloomy. Not a word had to be said as Soul followed the sound of sobs and screams coming from the upper floor of the huge mansion. The weapon's scarlet eyes were already beggining to gather salty droplets of sadness's mortal form at their edges as he reached for the doorknob of his love's room. Opening the door a bit, he peeked in to see the prince of Death on his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. He was surrounded by wripped pieces of paper- everytwhere. What was more frightening was... they were scattered. In no pattern whatsoever. A mess... a plain mess in the room of Death the Kid, the most symmetrically obsessed child in Shibusen- hell, the world. And what was most unsettling... he wasn't trying to fix it.
Oh GOD what could have happened?
Pools of honey met pools of blood as Soul shoved the door open to its fullest. Those pools of honey were painfully stricken with red from so much crying, so many tears which seemed to want to stay with Kid as they clung to his soft pale cheeks and stained his white shirt. Seeing Kid's shirt- Oh GOD, what was that? It can't be... no...
Blood. Bright red, pure crimson blood staining the... sleeves, Kid's shirt's sleeves. Thats when Soul noticed the small blade. The blood soaked blade.
"Oh god what did you DO?"
Kid sobbed even more— its surprising he had any tears left— covering his face with his bloody, shaking hands. It was all Soul could do not to breakdown and yell at him for being so stupid. Instead, he knelt down in front of him and held the sobbing shinigami's head to his chest, running his fingers through the striped hair. Whatever had happened, whatever it was causing his love to behave like this, Soul would just wait until Kid relaxed enough to tell him. And whatever had done this wouldn't live to see the light of a new day.
Soul scaned the room, for any signs of where the ripped papers had come from, hoping for a clue to what was his lover's horror. Spotting the loose book cover with only a few pages left, he strained his eyes to get a closer look at the title.
Scarlet spheres grew huge when the book's title was visible-
It was the Bible.
Soul instantly understood. Everything.
"Kid—"
"I wish I was dead!"
That was about the worst thing to ever come to the weapon's ears. His sweet, innocent Death God wishing for death itself.
"Don't say th—"
" Why are people so cruel? Its not fair! What's so wrong with me… with us? What did I do wrong…?"
The young shinigami could barely get the words out through all his choking and gasping… through all the tears.
Before the scythe could utter a comforting word, Kid continued to voice the frustration that plagued his innocent mind.
"What kind of God is that? One who can't accept people just because of who they choose to love! My own father— The Grim Reaper, God of Death, is a more just God then that! How could people believe in this—"
The Death Prince was cut off when his lover forcefully pulled him into a tight hug, with one hand in his beautifully asymmetrical hair and the other around his waist, as if both their lives depended on it. The small droplets of honey that were the shinigami's eyes were sparkling sunshine from the tears slowly claiming his cheeks— which were noticably pink against his pale skin.
"You must be tired… its okay, you can relax, now."
To Kid, Soul's voice sounded as calming as his piano playing.
"Don't listen to those jelous assholes. They just wish they had real love instead of the fake shit that goes on every damn day. Just ignore them... you don't deserve to die over them. They just have nothing better to do in their pathetic lives then to make someone they know is better then them feel bad.
Besides, there are still so many of us who couldn't live without you."
Kid gripped Soul's shirt as he spoke, feeling the greedy tears starting to back away. He was ready to slow his breathing, now… A little more relaxed then he had been just a few moments ago, the reaper closed his shining eyes and melted into his lover's embrace.
The next day, Shibusen was an ocean of purple.
Purple, and smiles.