Disclaimer: Wouldn't it be easier just to have a big disclaimer on the FFN page, saying that none of the writers herein own anything except their original story ideas and creations? Eh, maybe I think too much—in any case, I don't own Soul Eater. Author's Note
Guh...
That was the noise Marie made when something disgusting (their individual definitions of the word were on completely opposite sides of the spectrum, since when was a roach disgusting?) skittered across her path. Stein was almost too familiar with the utter. He no longer bothered checking on her, unless it was followed by demolition that sounded a little too expensive. He picked up speed in his typing once more. With Marie now a constant in his house, the absence of noise was slowly becoming less of a relief and more a sign to worry. The odd part? The transition hadn't bothered him in the slightest. He didn't quite know what to make of that, no matter how many rotations his screw completed.
…Nngh.
Stein had done something over the top with yet another test subject—or he wasn't organizing his thoughts with the bolt in his head—or maybe he'd been staring at the computer screen for too long. Whatever the case, his sleeping insanity was yet again giving him grief. A majority of the attacks weren't successful, but there were always times where he wasn't so lucky. Marie flinched slightly at the thought of having to fight her childhood friend should she once be too late. She put down her book and dashed down the hall to make sure he was all right—after all, even if it was the smallest, she'd chosen the bedroom closest to his lab for a reason.
Ompf.
Stein barely tried to keep the smirk of his face when Marie slurred that she was home. The goofy smile of intoxication was written into her expression—it was strange, to say the least. She normally stayed away from drinking, but then again, tonight was the annual something-or-other party at Shibusen. Someone had spiked the punch bowl again. He watched in amusement as the woman stumbled into his lap (she'd attempted his name several times, but simply ended up squealing), and quickly fell asleep. Stein didn't quite have the conscience to leave her there—that is, until she started to sleepkick. It suddenly seemed safer to let her fight it out in her own bed. Besides, tomorrow was a day of investigation, and he would deal a punishment rivaled by no other when he found the booze-happy culprit.
Shh…
Without exaggeration, most eight-year-olds controlled their emotions better than the open book named Marie. Such honesty came at a price, however—she knew the night after BJ's death was the night she'd be up at some disrespectful time just past midnight, bawling her eyes out. And so Marie let it happen. She bit her lip and buried her face in the pillows and hiccupped about how weak she was for being unable to stop the murder. In the midst of it all, Stein's hunched form had somehow appeared on the edge of her bed, and Marie felt even worse. She attempted an apology for being so bothersome, but he put a finger to his lips and gently shushed her. Eventually, the occasional sniffle was all that remained. Several times that night she'd fallen asleep and woken up; all the while Stein gazed into the darkness. Despite the very real danger he could become at any moment, she'd never considered herself more out of harm's way.
Thank you for reading.
--Blitz