O Valencia.
You belong to the gang, and you say you can't break away.
Ms. Albarn looked at the oil painting; its grand mahogany frame seemed to shine in the afternoon sun, which glanced off the canvas in an ugly glare. The royal shades of her father's blue suit and her own sequenced dress seemed to be washed out by the gray and militia green of the high backed upholster chair. The young Albarn examined the portrait, letting her eyes slowly take in the supercilious look of distain tainting her pretty features, it was such a shame. The game they all played. The game of nothing but over bearing hate and petty squabbles. And it wasn't as if the house of Evans did much to calm the fire. If anything that piano playing idiot, Wes, only fueled the flames. Albarn shifted her eyes down to the floor with a small frown.
But I'm here, with my hands on my heart
The small pang of something down the hall was enough to wake Ms. Albarn from her restless thoughts. With a cocked eyebrow she passed it off as nothing, but before she could leave the sound came again. An urgent whisper against the last rays of day. The light padding of bare feet and the rustle of Ms. Albarn's pink skirt escorted her down the hall. The door to her room stood ajar and as she leaned against the frame a small gray flash clicked against the window pane on the opposite wall. With curiosity she crossed to peer out into the swaying grass and summer warmth caking the last hour of sunshine. Albarn's mouth swung open transfixed with the scene before her.
And our families can't agree.
The war between the Albarns and the Evans had been raging since the first days of Death City. Neither party could tell you why it started and neither party cared much to recall. It seemed like the only one still asking why the families hated each other were the cops. But as Death the Kid (The chiefs only son as of 1952) would inform you, if ever you asked, 'it isn't about keeping the two families from feuding, it was about keeping their power balance.' Which was more than a difficult job. Especially when at least once a month, a high ranking social event would bring the two together.
I'm your father's sworn enemy.
Shinigami knows why Mr. Albarn seems to hate the youngest Evan's so much. It had just been a friendly jab Chief Death had made on one of those late nights when the social event had petered out to a gentle jazzy hum. But Mr. Albarn had taken, 'Maybe you're little Maka should marry that Albino Evans! Might calm things down. Finally settle this ridiculous fighting.' It was, without a doubt, the wrong thing to say. Mr. Albarn wasn't against a little…under cover activities, and the scene of that poor boy on his knees, the rain causing long streaks of white hair to cluster around his eyes, as the barrel of a gun was thrust into his face was still burned in Kid's mind. Pulling Spirit away hadn't been an easy task.
But I shout out my love to the stars.
But despite the over baring danger of his presence Soul Eater Evans was kneeling faithful in the dusty Nevadan heat. With a wicked smirk he let his gaze wonder to the window, where his love stared at him with a slack jawed gawk. No matter who her father was, he wasn't leaving. Soul was furiously loyal. And not about to give up on the only girl he'd ever remotely felt interested in. Of course she had to be a small chest-ed, bookworm. And to top it all of an Albarn.
Maka didn't know whether to smile or scream. But she found her resolve melting as those red eyes barrowed in and gazed at her very soul. He was dark, and mysterious. And above all an idiotic, numbskull, who seemed to think the world of himself. And worst of all he was an Evans.
So we'll wait for the stone on your window, your window.
With a heavy sigh, an act only for the show of the walls, barely representing her true emotions, Maka through open her bedroom window and slipped easily out into the sweltering heat. It didn't take her long to shimmy down the side of the building. And land gracefully at the feet of the now straightened boy. Before she could get the words out, Soul had her arms around her, twirling her in a blur of blonde hair and pressed white clothes.
"Soul! You idiot! It's dangerous." But her words were dissolved in a burst of bright, booming laughter. The contagious sound soon had giggles spilling over Maka's lips as she pulled away and smiled as bright as the sun, beating down on their backs.
So we'll wait by the car then we'll go, we'll go.
Taking her hand Soul led her to the motorcycle sitting patiently; attracting far more attention then was safe. But of course, as he mounted the flaming metal death trap, Soul Eater Evans didn't care much about safety. Maka smiled as he offered her a hand and she took he place behind him. As the motor roared to life and the dust around them formed a barrier away from prying eyes, Maka wrapped her arms tightly around Soul's muscular back, content in burying her face into the fabric of his shirt, right between his shoulder blades.
Soul smiled contently equally enjoying the warmth.
When first we laid eyes, I swore to no compromise till I felt my caress on your skin
Soul hated these events, he hated dressing up, he hated acting polite, and he hated being an Evans. He didn't even know why his family bothered to bring him. Wes would inherit the family business and he would be left the forgotten son. With a sigh he ran his hand over the glossy keys of the piano. He liked it back here though he liked the silence, it offered so many possibilities. He tested one of the keys, surprised to have found the instrument in the first place. Especially in a police station.
He didn't even know why the cops invited to the two rival gangs to a party. But I guess money was power and if there was one thing that Evans and Albarns had it was power. Maybe this was all just a fancy accuse to keep an eye on them. But the tension in the other room had been stifling. Especially between that maid flitting about the place as if her life depended on it, her black pony tail and slender form swaying as she bounced on her heels.
It wasn't anything to start a fuss over, Albarns daughter had returned from France (a country he didn't much care for, the Evans hailing from England, themselves) from boarding school and the entire world seemed to be up in arms about how much 'older' the girls was, and how 'mature' she had gotten. Soul hadn't even seen the girl with the group of people surrounding her like a cloud. The closest he'd been was when Kid had fitted over to talk about how delightful and polite she was.
The whole thing made Soul sick. And not just because he was an Evans. Because it was all to overrated. Another prissy rich girl was just what he needed at these parties, which were already unbearable.
Pushing the thought from his mind he pressed a few keys, testing the tempo. Then, slowly, he turned all the way towards the keyboard. His fingers began the melancholy dance; it was slow and sad and dark. He poured his frustration into it, his anger, and his fear. His parents would kill him if they saw this.
With a satisfied smile he let his arms fall to his sides, limp after such an excursion of emotional strength.
A sound startled Soul from his quiet reflection. A girl stepped from the shadows, but not just a girl, an angel in a black evening gown. She clapped politely, a smile playing on her rosy lips. "It was amazing. I didn't quite understand, but it's beautiful." The girl crossed to where Soul sat with wide eyes. "Maka Albarn," She offered holding out her hand.
"Soul, Soul Evans," he said, finding his smirk.
"An Evans? My, my, tell me are you going to kidnap me and hold me for ransom now or later? Everyone seems to be convinced that that is my inevitable future, so if I have any say in it, I might as well get it over with."
"I think," Soul answer taking her hand, "I'll wait for later." Then with a gentle touch he placed a kiss on the silk of her glove. Man, his parents would really kill him if they saw this.
But how soon we were betrayed, for your best friend gave us away.
"Soul. This. Is. Stupid," Maka muttered, her breath strained against his lips. "Oh Ms. Albarn, don't be such a goody two shoes." Soul growled, slipping his hands into her hair. Therain beat down on the portion of Soul's body perched on theoutside ledge. Only his forearms and head leaned into the welcoming glow of the inside. "And what's so stupid about ourlove?" Maka scoffed, "You're too much." Leaning in again Soul pressed his rough lips to hers, tenderly scrapping his teeth against her mouth, "You love it." All stressed drained from her body as she leaned in fervently.
"Ms. Albarn I was wonderin-" Tsubaki stopped mid sentence, dropping the basket of laundry she was holding in the doorway. A very red faced Maka turned away from the window as if she'd been slapped, while a flash of white disappeared with the slam of the window.
Tsubaki grabbed her friend with a livid glare. "You're telling Mr. Albarn. And you're ending whatever that was now!" And with that she turned, her cries of 'Mr. Albarn!' reaching the floors below.
Soon she'd been kneeling by his arm chair, painfully describing his daughter's irrational actions with tearful maudlin behavior.
And your father came all unhinged.
The door clicked with a resounding lock, heard clearly over the rain, which was finally dying down. Maka let out a sigh. Her father's hysterical tears still fresh in her mind. The size of her betrayal had been almost too much for anyone to bear. And so while the house reeled with emotion, Maka sat quietly sighing in her room, knowing that her treachery would be unforgivable. She could be disowned. Not that she cared. Or worst, sent back to France. Away from Soul. Oh, Soul! What would his parents do when they found out? It was only a matter of time!
"Hey Pigtails," Maka jumped from her bed as the smirking face of her admirer appeared at her open window, "Idiots forgot that there's more than one way to break out of house." Maka ran to him, tears running down to the carpet, "Soul I'm sorry. I'm too much trouble than I'm worth."
As she knelt in front of the section of his body sticking into her room, Soul stared at her bewildered. He'd never seen his love so flustered. He ran a hand through his damp hair before say quietly, "You know I don't care about the trouble…I care about you. I'm 18 now, and you're 17. This has been going on long enough that I know what I want. What I've always wanted, and it's you. If things get to bad, we'll just leave town. They can't force us to stay."
Maka looked up at him blinking, before rocketing into Soul's arms.
"Now come on," he muttered, "Let's get out of here."
So we'll wait for the stone on your window, your window.
Soul helped Maka out of her room and down from the darkening sky. The motorcycle was the emblem of freedom of the two and as the two sat on its firm leather seat, Maka leaned into to whisper into Soul's ear. "Where are you taking me," she giggled. Soul shivered with her light breath on the back of his neck, "That's for me to know and you to find out." He laughed lightly as she squealed with the engine.
We'll wait by the car then we'll go, we'll go.
The field stretched in all direction, the swaying of the dry yellow grass looked healthier in the dusty light. The stars perked up in the heavens, taking their place in the sky. Maka twirled in surreal evening still, "Soul…its breathtaking." Soul nodded, a tranquil grin playing on his face before he took her hand in his own. The two started a slow waltz comfortable in each other's arms, the tall reeds barley playing against their ankles, before rushing forward in one wave of wind.
Oh Valencia! With your blood still warm on the ground. Valencia!
Soul sat in the tree, his body warm as he pressed Maka's own thin frame into his chest. The night had hit them full force,and as darkness set in they had climbed up onto the large oak that accented the pasture. Soul squeezed her hand as she slumbered peacefully. Her blonde hair haloed her face perfectly. Her breath coming in soft, peaceful bursts. She wasa real angel, and he was a lucky boy. Despite all the fights,the close calls, the various books that had been smashed intohis cranium, they had never even considered stepping away from one another. All the bad times had only fortified his resolve. He would never love anyone ever again, only Maka. AnAlbarn. What has the world come to?
Soul smiled as she shifted back into him. Squeezing her hand, he looked towards Death City. A million different lights burned in the silhouette of the buildings. A fire burned in each one, lurking just below the surface. A molten flame ready to erupt from the simplest provoke.
And I swear to the stars, I'll burn this whole city down, whoa.
Maka woke up the rays of sunshine cascading through the leaves and a snoring Soul underneath her. Sitting up she pondered their luck of not falling from their perch to the soft ground below. As her weight shifted Soul woke with a start, the reflection of forest green staining his face and white V-neck. He smiled up at Maka reluctant to move. But as she winked and elegantly slipped from the tree, he felt the need to fallow. As she landed and straightened she let out small cry. Falling to the ground once again, plowed down by surprise.
MUSICAL INTERMISSION
All I heard was a shout of my brother calling me out.
Soul was beside her in a moment, her cry unnerving him greatly. But what he found shook him even more. Wes even stood there, his eyes full of lethal danger. The predator and it's pray. "How could you, Soul?" He hissed bitterly when Soul landed on the grass and stepped before her, blocking her from his brother's murderous gaze, "It's none of your business Wes."
And you ran like a fool to my side.
"None of my business Soul? I am an Evans. You are an Evans. She," he spat, "Is an Albarn. As the next head of his house this is wrong. Unacceptable." But before Soul could argue the small shining body of a pistol was pulled from Wes' pocket. He pointed it, and the world seemed to slow. Maka's hand gripped Soul's tightly and with one fluent movement she had thrown herself in its path.
We'll the shot it hit hard.
The shot hit hard.
And you're frame went limp in my arms.
Maka fell back into Soul as Wes threw the gun to the ground and ran. Holding her tight, Soul felt the warmth seep out of her body and stain his khaki shorts in a pool of red. Her hands feel to her side as she forced her eyes to open and look into his own. A small smile graced her lips, but its beauty was charred by the scarlet bubble out between them. Tears pricked Soul's eyes as he sat there in a state of stunned shock.
And an oath of love was your dying cry.
With her last bit of strength she reached up to run her hand down his check, whipping away the tears that had gathered. It ran down to his heart, where she whispered, "Soul. I love you." Her eyes fluttered shut, her fingers fell, and her weak heart simply stopped the pointless battle. She passed from this world in her lover's arms. Soul sat there, trying to wrap his mind around…anything, anything he still had. Her blood shown in the sunshine as the light inside's Soul's heart flickered and went black.
So we'll wait for the stone on your window, your window.
Kid exhaled noisily, sick of running in circles. He closed the case file and looked up at Mr. Albarn who had stopped crying long enough to be coherent and Mr. and Mrs. Evans who both were to angry too speak. Soul's testimony had been tearful and sincere, but it was hard to convict Wes Evans, who had been half way across town, at a charity concert, when the shooting had happened. The blood coated teenager had been found with his arms around a lifeless Ms. Albarn, the gun not too far off. Fairly straight forward. Mr. Albarn let out a soft cry, lunging forward across the desk to where the Evan's family sat looking disgusted.
"Thompsons!" Kid cried in shock. The two girls stepped from the shadows to drag the frantic father away, "My baby, you're son killed her! For nothing more than her sir name!" His yells dissolved into sobs as he was pulled from the room into the lobby. Kid didn't want to think about the repercussions. An eye for an eye was quite literally when it came to the gangs.
With a sigh he turned to Mr. and Mrs. Evans, "What would you like to do?"
Mr. Evans scoffed, "It doesn't matter, as of tonight, we only have one son."
Kid couldn't help but smile as they left the room.
So we'll wait by the car, then we'll go, we'll go.
Soul sat in the jail cell, listening to the rain beat the dusty ground. It was raining a lot for a Nevadan Spring. He smiled wickedly at the match he held up to his face. It was a weak smile. Unbelievable even to him. The flame flickered before him before he snuffed it out with callused fingers. A loud crack sounded beside him. Liz Thompson leaned against the metal bars of the dimly lit jail cell.
"Not used to so much dirt, are you rich boy?"
He examined her police uniform before scoffing, "Never thought I'd see you in one of those. Since you mugged Kid."
Liz laughed, "Attempted to," she corrected. Then a frown passed her lips, "Let's go."
Soul nodded.
Oh Valencia! With your blood still warm on the ground. Valencia!
The morgue door creaked open when faced with Liz's weight, the soft white light filling the hall. Soul stepped in. Eying the surgical tables suspiciously, before they came to rest on the one kid stood next to, holding the hand of a smiling blonde angel. A large grin spread over her lips. The two ran to each other, Soul twirling her in his own dirty clothing, stained with, the now dry and cracking, red temper paint. Maka let out a squeal of joy.
Kid cleared his throat, the two teens turning to smile at him. Kid held up a frilly checkered dress blemished with the same artificial blood and equally as fabricated bullet holes, "What do you want with this?"
Soul looked at Maka, smiling in his arms, "Burn it."
And I'll burn this whole city down.
It had taken hours to wipe all the fake blood off of Maka once the two families had left. Luckily for her neither had asked to see the body. Once clean she had slipped on a small white dress Liz had managed to spare. Then it had simple been a game of waiting, waiting for their parents to take the bait. Waiting for the station to close up, except for one young squad, that had conveniently agreed to shut down for the night. Kid had then loaded the two lovers into the back of his police car before driving off to the outskirts of town.
Valencia! With your blood getting cold on the ground. Valencia!
Kid leaned against the old Corvette smiling in at where Soul sat (in delightfully symmetrical clothes) holding the wheel.
"Really the only problem now is Wes. But I don't think he'll make any trouble. Soul Eater Evans kidnapped Ms. Maka Albarn after suffering from an extreme mental breakdown relating to the syndrome he's had since that accident several years ago. What did the doctors christen it, Soul?"
"Dr. Stein calls it," he tried to remember what the family physician had branded it as, "…Black Blood."
"Ah, well, yes," Kid continued, "Upon convincing himself that you two are lovers, he lured you out to that field where he shot you cleanly in the chest. Tomorrow we'll report that Soul Eater Evan's will be found hung in his cell. Then both bodies will conveniently go missing. You two will be free," Kid handed Soul a large manila envelope. "Here is everything you'll need for a new life, money, identification. I'm impressed with how well you planed this out Soul, though I assume most of the credit must go to Maka. Your new life is waiting for you, Mr. and Mrs. Eater," he finished with a wink. And then another from the other eye. For symmetry's sake.
"Cool," Soul muttered.
He revved the engine, "Thank you, Kid. Thank you for everything."
Kid nodded, "I'm just depressed that this love wasn't able to last in Death City. Might put an end to all this. If only she had fallen for Wes," he said nodding in Maka's direction.
"Don't even joke," Soul growled dangerously.
Kid smiled, "See you later Soul."
Soul smiled, "Yeah, see you."
"Oh and Soul, dye your hair."
A cloud of dust was kicked up around the three as Soul shoot off down the dirt road. As he rocketed away from all his troubles, all they heard was a laugh and the playful call of, "Take care of my bike, her names Valencia!"
Soul looked over at Maka, who was already smiling back at him. He slipped his hand into hers. Mrs. Eater, eh? They would have to have a ceremony.
And I swear to the stars, I'll burn this whole city down. Whoa.
The car sat before the large green and white sign, 'Now leaving Death City,' parked on the sandy inlet. Soul twirled Maka under the stars, dipping her low. The night sparkled with the city in the back ground. All its lights gave the distinct impression of it burning to ground.
'Let it burn,' Soul thought to himself.
He had Maka, that was all he ever needed.
...And they both lived happily ever after.