A/N: I am revived? This is the first fic I've written in a year and a half, and I sorta just wanted to write something so there's not much plot at all, sorry. But I hope you enjoy it!
Sharp Edges.
By AliceUnknown
Living in a desert had its advantages. Like winter sunsets for example, when the sun ducked below the horizon and the eastern sky blended seamlessly from hues of blue to violet. Even in absolute emptiness, even when it was so cold that the air blistered your skin and chilled the flesh of your ears to a dull burgundy, there were things to be found that were goddamn beautiful.
Hell, though, what did he know of beautiful things? He was all sharp edges, and piercing irises, and sardonic expressions. He was always the observer, he figured, of what was truly beautiful and pleasant.
Soul's breath stilled as he thought this, a twitch in his finger, his arms folded over each other on their apartment's balcony railing. It faced east, away from the setting sun and towards the dusk's cloudless sky, wherein the faintest hint of stars peaked. Away from Maka, who was only ten feet away, inside.
Yeah. Always an observer.
Maybe a little too indiscreet of an observer at that. A lot of people had noticed his incapacity towards subtlety in admiring his partner, and it had almost gotten him into trouble before. A cocky friend (who should not be referred to by name) got so fed up with what he called Soul's "pathetic puppy dog eyes" that he nearly lost it and told her. Luckily, the only thing stronger than his need to be right was his loyalty, and the lovestruck weapon was spared from probable humiliation. Still, he apparently was pretty obvious about his affection for Maka, and Soul's egocentric friend wasn't the only one to take note. His and Maka's mutual friends rather unanimously confessed to knowing about Soul's love for her.
He breathed out, expelling the too-heavy air from his chest.
He really didn't know shit. He knew nothing about how any of this was supposed to work. He always thought he was born for solitude, for perturbing music played by the hands of an even more unsettling young man, for centuries of distance between he and effervescence. The Midas of dismay, he was purposed to produce chaos, not to love a girl with blonde pigtails and a perky demeanor.
He peaked over his shoulder, through the translucent sliding glass door and into their quirky living room, where his partner rested on the couch, a book predictably rested in her lap. She breathed deeply, immersed completely in some novel he knew nothing about, blinking slowly.
He'd usually thought of himself as the more composed one in their partnership. His mind was steady and calculative in duals, so careful, so aware that if something went wrong, it would be her that would take more of a blow than him. He usually kept it together so well when it was the two of them. Somehow, he'd moved on from insignificant fights, from immature brawls and conceited shouts and raised fists in the air. Maybe it was after Maka almost got slashed in the chest by a psychopathic boy with an even more insane weapon. Maybe he became a little more careful from then on, a bit more responsible.
In any case, she was fire on missions. Like an incarnation of Athena herself, she brazenly faced any creature willing to oppose her and threaten humanity with a ferocity that energized him out of his fear again and again. And she was smart. Not just booksmart; she was tactical, and not to mention physically lithe, quick-footed, and strong. A girl created for a battlefield. Above all, she fought with ever fiber of her body, and there was nothing quite like being metaphysically linked to her when she was in the zone.
However, there she was now. She sat oblivious to her own capabilities, her mind calmed by her leisure.
It was all so picturesque, he thought, so perfect. Every second, the sky became richer in color, even more vibrant, while Maka read, at peace on their sofa, whole and safe. Soul wished this moment could be removed into its own separate reality, where time couldn't alter any of it, where he could look at her and love her and where she could be out of the way of any monsters that would try to kill her.
That was their life. Every mission was a risk to their safety- more so to hers than his. Almost as unacceptable a prospect to him as something happening to her was something happening to her before he could tell her. All he really wanted was to be with her, to be her partner for the rest of what he hoped would be their very long lives. This was why his throat clamped up and he couldn't verbalize his confession to her every time he tried to say it. Why ruin what was already working so well?
But he knew he wouldn't really be satisfied with that. He was already too aware of how fast his need to tell her was overcoming him. He wanted her to know. Soul didn't exactly know why, or what would come from it, but he knew well how miserable he'd feel if she died and he could never say it to her.
Actually, he had already made up his mind. It had to be done, and the brilliance that presented itself in a cerulean-to-indigo spectrum, in colors that stole the erratic breath from his lungs, colors that couldn't stay and were already faded, alerted him that he could no longer be a bystander to every beautiful thing. He couldn't keep her forever, couldn't hold on to her any more than he could the dusk hues. Every second, they were slipping towards some imminent change, some anticipated, fatal "maybe". He could never be sure when their last peaceful day would be, or when she could be separated from him. It had to be done. And it had to be done now. There was just no time for waiting anymore.
Soul straightened his spine, bringing his arms down from the railing and rolling his shoulders back. The final moments of the sunset were ending, and the darker parts of the were sky nearly black, which meant the desert winter night would soon pierce through his warmer layers and shiver him. He took a deep breath, enjoying the scene.
In two minutes, Soul would begin to feel cold. He would turn away from the newly-settled dusk, towards the apartment. He would open the sliding glass doors and shuffle into the living room. Maka would look up from her book, meet his eyes, and smile at him. He would smile back to her, unsteady, feeling the momentum of his whole relationship with her about to alter irrevocably. She would notice this, and before she could ask him if something was wrong, he would sit down next to her. He would ask to talk to her.
A new moon reigned the skies over Death City that night, and the streetlights which began to illuminate were accompanied only by the brilliance of desert stars that even a populous city like theirs could not mute.
A/N: I'm a huge fan of super vague endings for some reason. Sometimes, I think, the more important thing is that the characters do love each other and will always be partners than the details of their relationship? I just suck ik ik I'm sorry.
Please review! c: This is my first fic in nearly two years and I'd love some feedback! Do you like vague endings like me? Are you upset I didn't show what happened once Soul fessed up? Are you just bored with this fic? (You're probably just bored I know)