Author's Note: Yeah...so these ideas came from a poem I found that I wrote a long time ago about the different meanings behind tears and so I decided to create ten (well, that's how many are planned...) short stories about Soul and Maka with each emphasizing or mentioning tears. Not sure exactly how it'll end up being rated so I'm gonna stick with T for now, but there is one that I'm tempted to throw something a bit more explicit in. I'll probably update these weekly since I already have three (and a half) of them written. Maybe if I finish them all early, it'll be done quicker. Ah, well. We'll see how it goes!
Disclaimer: No way is Soul Eater mine! I'm flattered you thought so...also, the image for this story is most certainly not mine! It is from deviantart by the artist spiralDorgapy and is titled "I don't know..."
Summary: Maka really loves books and Soul never could quite understand why...until he discovers the true meaning behind the vicious girl's favorite weapon of choice.
Her Escape
Maka had an obsession with books. Big books, small books. Red books, blue books. It didn't matter. They were everywhere in the decent flat the two teenagers resided in. There were three cases lined edge to edge against one wall in the living room filled with them and stacked two rows deep. But even that wasn't enough space for her vast and constantly growing collection. Soul knew from his brief glimpses inside that her room had multiple shelves covered in stacks of the, in his opinion, depressing, intimidating objects. The topics of the books ranged from the most extensive and boringly detailed medical procedure to the topics they studied in school to material Maka read in her spare, and sometimes not so spare, time.
The girl never left the house without one of the leather-bound novels on her person. She said that she carried them around in case she ended up getting bored, but Soul and Black Star held the vivid theory that she did it specifically for those moments where their actions required a swift (and deadly) punishment. The two males also eventually discovered that just because one didn't actually see the aforementioned weapon did not mean that she couldn't produce one out of thin air should her desire to use it arise.
With books cluttering his living space and constantly bashing his skull in, it was no wonder Soul detested them. Books weren't cool and shouldn't be anywhere within a ten-mile radius of a guy as cool as him. But, with the threat of receiving a very painful Maka-chop hanging over him, he decided not to ever complain to his incredibly uncool meister about the vile, unwanted guests in his home.
Though, if he was being completely candid, these were miniscule bumps in the road in comparison to his true issue with the inanimate objects. It was so stupid, so unbelievably uncool, that when Soul consciously realized why he had a problem with the novels and his obsessive reading meister he demanded Tsubaki and he trade living arrangements for a month. He assumed an entire month dealing with the "great god-surpassing Black Star!" would not only distract him from the idiotic thoughts but also effectively eradicate his insane, dumbass mind of them altogether. Needless to say, the plan had not worked as well as he would have liked it to…
The thing was…Soul was actually jealous of the damn bits of ink and paper! When she received a new addition to her collection, Maka would quite literally forget his existence. She didn't cook. She barely cleaned. Hell, the flat-chested brat wouldn't even study as much when she obtained another "good book to read!" All the beaut-, ahem, boring girl would do was sit on her ass and read.
Soul cynically thought that whatever force held Maka's soul-stealing eyes to the black letters dancing across thin pages could easily sue Mr. Mason's Super Glue for false advertising—"strongest shit on the planet," his ass. Super glue had nothing on whatever trapped dainty hands and emerald eyes to a new book.
And what was so special about them? Soul couldn't tell. He had asked her once and instantly regretted it. A weird emotion passed over her pale face, eyes clouding over and the bottom left corner of her coral lips twitching. The scythe had cringed in anticipation of a Maka-chop worthy of a trip to the hospital, since her eyes and mouth did that occasionally when she was very angry, but it never came.
For a few seconds, Soul had thought that perhaps it had been so hard it had simply killed him upon impact. But when he finally gained the courage to open up his squinted eyes, the albino was surprised to see his meister staring at her folded, trembling hands, a soft blush lighting her cheeks.
"I don't know…they're just…kind of like my best friends I guess. I-I always learn so much."
And after receiving such a response, the young boy suddenly wanted a Maka-chop to knock him out. Because that hurt…in a really loser, uncool way. He would never admit it but it bugged him that her books took precedent over him. Soul should've been her best friend…not a collection of paper written and touched by people she had never met. As his feelings for the bookworm grew through the years, he found his hatred for her prized possessions growing, too.
Until that day…
It was a Monday. Soul remembers that fact distinctly. The whole day would forever be imprinted in his mind and on the back of his eyelids. Mostly because he relived and replayed it every chance he got. Yes, it had certainly been a Monday when Soul Eater Evans discovered the real reason Maka Albarn hoarded books.
The weekend before the fated Monday had been filled with equal amounts of joy and irritation. Friday night had been amazing. Kid, Liz, and Patty were absent; off on some mission in…South America? Yeah, something like that. Black Star and Tsubaki were nowhere to be seen (or heard from) either. Soul didn't actually bother to save this particular information. His best guess was that they were visiting Tsubaki's family in Japan. But, oh, did he preserve every single detail of the rest of Friday night. It had been just him and his meister. Home alone. On the couch.
Watching horror movies.
The scythe found it intensely entertaining that Maka, the bravest and most fearless person he had ever met, was scared of the compilations of fake blood, poorly acted screams, and pathetic monsters. Honestly, they dealt with and fought scarier stuff on a daily basis. Still, that didn't stop the petite girl from squeaking in distress or jumping three feet into the air every time something went "boo." It was about halfway through their second "horror" movie when it happened.
The killer had appeared quite literally out of nowhere and was chasing the diminishing band of characters when Soul felt something insanely warm against his right side. Startled, Soul's crimson eyes flashed in the semidarkness to find a tightly curled, whimpering Maka clinging to his arm. Presently, her face was actually sandwiched between his shoulder blade and the couch. His heart was quickly thrown into hyper drive, pulse thudding way too loudly in his ears. He could feel every distinct beat of the cursed organ, but couldn't quite force himself to regret what had thrown him into what felt like a heart attack.
On a whim, he lifted his right arm up and she threw herself at him. She was almost on top of him, lean arms encircling his waist in a shaky grip. Soft, floral-scented hair brushed against his right cheek and neck and sent tingles up and down his surprisingly relaxed body. They remained that way all through the night. In fact, Soul would've thought the whole thing a glorious dream if he hadn't woken up cradling a sleeping Maka against his chest.
That was Friday night.
Saturday morning was another joyous occasion. Instead of getting upset over what had transpired, Maka had actually thanked Soul. She even went as far as to tell him that was probably the best she had slept all week, which sure sounded like a hint that they should do it more often to the ecstatic teenage boy.
The partners had spent the afternoon together, content in remaining alone with each other in their apartment. They played video games, watched more movies, and Maka made her special mac and cheese for lunch. Soul decided they should go out to eat, and they did. He took her to a fairly nice restaurant and had paid the bill, hoping it might cause the normally oblivious blonde to realize he had feelings for her. She had protested to him paying, of course, and he was forced to use the excuse of it being his turn to cook dinner to explain his "date-ish" actions. His stubborn meister eventually relented, but only after they had agreed she would do all the cooking next week.
That was when the weekend turned sour.
They were walking home, hands lazily linked together, when they passed the local bookstore. Maka had squealed, her lovely green eyes widening in excitement, when she spied a newly released book by her favorite author. The second her goddamn gorgeous eyes met his, he knew the battle was lost. Soul had dragged the twittering girl inside and purchased the fucking object of her desire. And when they got home?
She ran to her room. The angry albino didn't even see her until Monday morning.
Maka read that stupid piece of shit the entire day, not even bothering to pretend to pay attention in lecture. Soul fumed in silence, more than a little upset at himself for being the inadvertent cause of his misfortune and really upset at the small green novel held tenderly in Maka's calloused hands. If looks could burn books, the damn thing would have been a bitter pile of ash on the meister's desk several hours ago.
And now…now the fucking thing was keeping him from dinner! His stomach growled and gurgled furiously and Soul didn't even attempt to quiet the strange squelches of protest. It was 8:00 at night and she was still reading the fucking book! Maybe if his stomach continued making strange noises it would distract her long enough to cook his dinner. Oh, sure, she had said that as soon as she finished this chapter she would get up and make it, but that had been a good thirty minutes in the past!
Soul muttered under his breath something about wondering if books were edible when a very loud THUD came from his right. The weapon jumped up and whirled around, his body quite experienced with dodging and answering clamorous sounds. He almost changed his arm into a blade out of habit until he located the source of the noise.
Maka's precious green book was lying in a strange position beside the far wall. Maka herself was standing and her chest was heaving as though she had just returned from a very long, hard mission. Her normally pale face was colored a bright red and her green eyes were narrowed and sharp. The expression she bore was one Soul knew well and the glare marring her beautiful face only reinforced his judgment of how she was feeling. She was angry, enraged. It was the same look she wore when taunted by a kishin.
But why was she glaring at the book? Had she…did she actually throw one of her beloved books at the wall? She had to of done so. It was the only explanation.
But why?
With a huff, Maka ran to her room and slammed the door, leaving a bewildered but starving Soul Eater and a book with a broken spine. The weapon stood there in the eerie aftermath for a few minutes before his curiosity won out. Carefully and quietly, Soul tiptoed over to where the book lay, keeping his ears and eyes pinned to Maka's closed door.
He gingerly reached down and picked up the abused novel, staring at the damage a single toss at the wall had done to it. Then again, it was his meister who had thrown it…he knew from experience that she had quite an arm. It was the only explanation for how such a slender girl could lift and decapitate monsters with a scythe on a regular basis and could concuss just about anyone with a single Maka-chop.
The white-haired teenager glanced worriedly in the direction of the beast's lair, but no sound emanated from behind the wood so he figured he was safe for the time being. Nimble fingers flipped through the pages of the tattered object and he was surprised to see that the owner wrote notes in the margins. The temptation to read the thoughts of his meister was agonizing, but Soul decided that could be done later. Right now…he wanted to find out what had sparked such a rage in Maka. A rage so great that she had thrown one of her "best friends" at the wall. Her actions were unheard of. Never in the years they had been together had he seen her react so viciously….well, towards her books.
Finally, Soul reached the chapter she had been reading. His blood red eyes studied the pages, skimming through the actions of the characters and the development of the plot. Let's see…there was a fight here, a meeting there, the main villain was outed as being one of the good guys, and the chapter ended with the two main characters having a very, very passionate love confession and…moment. His cheeks got hot when he read (yes, read not skimmed) that portion of the chapter, but he didn't think that was enough to warrant a meeting with the wall. In fact, he hadn't found anything that he thought would upset his meister. So...what then?
The scythe took a deep breath and shrugged, lightly tossing the book in the direction of the couch. Whatever. If Maka wanted to throw a temper tantrum and her books, that was fine with him. So long as his skull stayed in one piece…though with Maka locked in her room the chances of obtaining a proper dinner greatly decreased…
The screams of his stomach had reached the point where Soul abandoned reason. He was so hungry that he was willing to test fate and started in the direction of Maka's door. Just as he was about to knock and demand (more like beg) for dinner, he heard it.
A very light but very pain-filled sob.
Soul's tired (and starved) brain was slow to understand. Who was in Maka's room crying? Did Tsubaki come over without him noticing? No, no…he was pretty sure it was just him and Mak-
Maka.
Maka was crying.
A couple of more confusing seconds passed before Soul hastily threw open the door, a strange panic, like wriggling souls or heavy stones, settling in his hollow inside. What had happened? Was Maka okay? He had to know.
Curled in the fetal position, on the floor no less, was the indomitable Maka Albarn. Sobbing and shaking on the floor was his fierce, bold meister, the same one that never bat an eyelash at danger and imminent death. She was crying like a poor, wounded animal, green eyes wide but definitely unseeing, locked inside the prison of her mind and drowning in her tears.
She was so far gone she didn't even notice her intruder until he was in front of her, grabbing her, holding her, screaming at her.
"Maka! Maka! What the hell is going on? What happened? Maka, answer me! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital? Maka! Maka, what's going on? Please, Maka, answer me!"
Her sobs were louder now and she squirmed in his grasp, as though trying to escape.
"Let go! Let go of me! LET THE FUCK GO!"
But, he didn't. At this point, he wasn't sure if he could. He sure as hell knew he didn't want to. So, he refused to.
"No. Not until you explain what the hell is wrong with you!"
Her body froze, muscles tensing. He felt a pinch in his arm and it briefly registered that her nails were digging into his skin.
"…What's wrong with me?...Hah. What is wrong with me? That's the million dollar question, isn't it? I don't even know. I wish I did though…I swear I'd fix it. But I don't even know. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me…I mean, I keep waiting. And it's pointless. It's stupid. They don't even work anymore. It hurts worse. They don't work anymore."
Briefly, Soul relinquished his tight hold on her, but only to adjust her in his arms so that he could see her tear-stained face, light trails of silver shining in the moonlight from her window. He stared at her for a while, very aware of how she wouldn't look at him. Very aware of how dead and dull her usually lively eyes were.
"Maka…what on Earth are you talking about?"
She didn't respond for some time. He almost got irritated and was about to repeat his question when she took a shaky breath, a sign of incoming answers. Even then, it took another minute for her to open her mouth and a minute after that to find her voice. But, afterwards, Soul decided the wait was worth it.
"I…I learned a long time ago when Mama and Papa used to argue every night that if I just read a book…I could disappear. I got lost in them, in that other world. It was…such a beautiful discovery. I wasn't here anymore. And I wasn't in any pain…They were the means to my escape. When I read, I could become anyone, do anything. The rules of life don't apply inside my books. The problems are always solved. There's always a conclusion of sorts. You're left sad, but satisfied with the ending. But now…now they don't work…I can't escape anymore…i-it still hu-hurts…and th-they taunt m-m-me." And with a strangled sob, the tears began running down her face once more.
The boy sat there and allowed her to cry. He didn't know for how long, but he didn't exactly care they sat there. Yes, the floor was hard and cold and extremely uncomfortable, but the sensation of her weight in his arms and her warmth against his chest was worth it. Soul was content so long as this girl stayed next to him. He simply waited until she quieted, softly caressing her hair, her satin skin, his thumb outlining her lips and swollen eyes. Once her breathing had reverted to something somewhat normal, the girl's partner continued on in his quest for answers.
"Maka…what's hurting you? What are you trying to escape from? I don't understand…what's hurting you. I mean, I understand wanting to escape back then, but why now? You have friends that love you, and we don't do amazing but we have a good home and a happy life, right? And you have me so I don-"
"For now."
"…what?"
"I have you…for now. But I won't forever. You're a Death Scythe. You can do whatever you want. You can live your own life. And Soul…I don't expect you to be my partner forever. How else are you going to get married and have kids and a…a life? I just…I really don't want to hold you back, Soul. Especially since I-I…" Her voice drifted away, unspoken words floating heavily in the room. They didn't leave like she intended when she cut herself off.
Rather everything was suddenly so clear and sharp and made fucking sense. Perhaps it was their souls unconsciously resonating because of their close proximity and touching bodies or perhaps Soul wasn't as dumb as he seemed, but he figured it out. Images and sounds from the last couple of months surrounded him as he finally understood.
Maka at the bookstore fidgeting nervously-"Umm…I think I'll take this one…" "Hey, tiny tits, since when do you read romance novels?"
Tsubaki and Liz squealing, "Oh, Maka! You look beautiful with your hair down! I can't believe you've worn it like that all week!" "T-thanks…Soul says it looks better this way so…"
Maka smiling sweetly down at him as she tapped his shoulder-"Hey sleepyhead! It's time for dinner and I made your favorite: fish!" "Oh…don't you hate fish?" "Umm, well, yeah, but you love it so I thought…"
"Hey, Maka, what did that guy want?" "Oh, nothing really. Something about going to a movie on Sunday." "What?! He asked you out on a date?" "Well, I don't know if that's what it was, but it doesn't really matter. I said no." "…why?" She slapped him. "Because Sundays are our days, idiot!" He was gifted with her happy laugh. "And I wouldn't want to spend it with some other guy."
"Soul…" Maka blushed in an entirely too cute way. "Have you ever kissed a girl?" "D-don't ask questions like that, Ms. Nosy!" "So you have!" "I didn't say that!" Maka-chop! "Whatever, Soul. Do whatever you want. I don't care. I didn't really want to know anyways!"
The two main characters of her book confessing to one another…loving one another…"th-they taunt m-m-me…"
She…about him? Yes. Yes, he was sure. He knew in his very soul that she did. And the idiot didn't think that he…for her. Oh, how so like his fragile, naïve meister.
"Maka?"
"S-soul?"
"I think it's time we sell some of your books."
"W-what? Why?" Even in her depressed state he could see the flash of anger at such a suggestion, especially after that particular admission.
"Because. You don't need to escape anymore. Actually, fuck that. I'm not going to let you escape anymore. I'm not leaving you, and you for sure aren't leaving me."
She began to struggle against his hold again and this time, he released her. Maka kneeled in front of him, her eyes unsure and somewhat frightened. As though the whole situation could break her. As though he could break her.
They didn't speak for a time. The weapon-meister pair searched each other, souls occasionally brushing against the other's like gentle caresses between lovers in the darkness and white light of the grinning moon. Soul merely sat and watched the expressions and emotions dance across her face: happiness, elation, suspicion, fear, relief. He didn't focus on the reflection of his face in her glassy eyes. He knew what he looked like.
His mouth would be stretched into a lazy but sincere smile like a cat's spine curving under the sweet sun's rays. His white hair would be messy and unruly, the one disorganized thing Maka could stand and had admitted she liked. And his eyes…well, he was absolutely positive that they would be shining and glowing like embers. They would be a bright, vicious scarlet, the same color as the twelve roses he bought for her every year on her birthday, and there would be nothing to see but intense love deep within them.
And, eventually, Maka saw all of this. It was a hard night, but eventually the girl believed what she saw. Eventually, when he finally had the privilege to whisper his sweet, albeit cheesy and uncool declarations of love, she listened. And, though she had been too surprised to respond at first, she eventually moved her mouth and kissed him back.
Soul made damn sure the next morning to package every means of escape. He didn't burn them like he wanted to (Maka had said that books were still beautiful, amazing things) but donated them to the local library so his love could "visit" them whenever she wanted. But she didn't need them to surround her anymore.
Because now that Soul had her, he didn't dare give her a moment to make her escape.