Между слов (Between words)by Eminda English Translation
Soul Eater I do not belong in any case
Of course, they were both still children. Soul too stubborn to say something out loud, and Mack is too innocent, so to speak between the lines and pick up lowered sense. Not that it's much they hurt. Rather left touch of frustration, like a frost on the grass down. Admit - too much for the already-not-children and not-yet-adults.
- We'll be late. - Smiling, "says Mack. Their eyes are on one level, because it stands on a low fence next to the steps the school. It could say "let's'll stand a little more, but there is no certainty that this is so.
The missing words are compensated light, gentle touch when Maka clears white forelock off his forehead and then kisses the skin on the hairline. And pretty smile - it's easy to feel - when the soul in response to strong hugs her, lifting and holding in the air.
Then she stops, looks into the distance, and green eyes get incredible expression - disbelief, fear, awe, hope.
You can not even ask anything, because the woman, which looks Mack, can only be a single - his mother.
A woman looks at them, apparently appreciating, looking the same eyes, what her daughter peers into the soul.
Then he catches rushing a girl - with her a girl, small, fragile and insecure.
Between them immediately runs spark - from the moment of shaking hands, from the moment, like Mack, radiating happiness, represents the soul, says that already made him a scythe of Death.
Rejection is so powerful that the facial muscles themselves spread out in a friendly grimace, tongue says stupid and unnecessary phrases.
And the Mac still can not hear the real questions raised by team-mate, a kind of questioning in order to pull all of it, maybe even - turned inside out.
Saul sits in the side, lounging on the couch and looks at the Mac. Outwardly, they are absolutely incredible similarity - physique, facial features, the same bushy, light hair, probably the same rustling motion. However, even from afar, with every movement visible and stunning difference. Cometh strongly, strongly doubt that the Mac - is really a copy of the mother at her age. Woman, this woman sure of herself, it is luxurious, no doubt about that, whether it will - each and every one will notice immediately and it was her. Surely she was the best student, not because she wanted someone to catch up, but just the same awareness of their own uniqueness and a relaxing waiting deserved - a priori well-deserved awards. Probably never, and no complexes had not had, and next to the Mac than ever it seems small, shy and lost, lost in his own admiration for her mother, bordering on love. Becomes clear why the Spirit was married to this woman - an uncompromising when it comes to relations with her, discreetly imperious.
One can see how much is actually similar to Mac's father, both unsure of themselves, open and completely blind to other people's indifference.
- Soul! - Lady screaming, quite happy, beaming. Heart stops and leaps into her throat. - We can go to ...
But it is terminated, smooth firm motion - hand on my elbow.
On the face of a girl in turn give way to bewilderment, disbelief, shock, then she looks at the Soule wide-eyed, feverishly licking his lips and again turns to his mother.
Scraps of conversation are enough to understand - she was invited to travel the world together with the living and family idol, but was invited to one.
And it has nothing to oppose such incredible power.
On the contrary, it could spoil everything. Because the soul sees - and it's not jealousy, to his horror, that the full truth - that occupies the entire space of the woman she loved, patronizing love, then takes a maternal tenderness, she loved her daughter, a little girl fighting trim, incredibly tied to the ideal mother. And now the girl has grown, it all just a little behind the mother, especially when it comes to confidence (this is the same and your job, man). And she had almost got here, under the wing, girl, you do not need to respect - how can we respect the blind lover, who made an idol of man?
- Not true! It is different! - Jumps up Mack and bites her lip.
But she's got it - noise, a sudden, the wrong factor. The other, unlike the Spirit - of course she sees it. Although it tries to convince her own daughter in another. And it says so in good faith because she was the mother and wants to protect her child from pain and suffering from future mistakes.
And Mack not hear mezhdusloviya, even from afar understandable Soul - envy. Horrible feeling towards her daughter. Disbelief that foreign women in what she, so beautiful, elegant, compelling, broken heart, broken heart of her lover and her daughter - a modest, trustful, a girl, she can choose correctly, and, apparently, has already chosen but it can not be trusted, not because we then find that happiness in something else, elusive.
Their mutual hostility reaches a peak when the Mac drops her head and leaves the room. Soul is no longer necessary to "keep face", he grimaces and leaves.
He really has nothing to oppose a little sick baby daughter's love of the mother.
First, Mac hears the silence - she does not want to make a choice between a mother and ... oh Sinigami, she does not know whom she has soul, but she's not ready, and then a child isolates himself from the world, escaping into one of the dark corridors Sibusena, developed there by the wall, a small lump of uncertainty, as if she again eleven and only that their family is split.
Then consciousness distinguishes voices - seemingly familiar but unusually quiet and serious.
Adults.
And did not come fully into her, she listens to the sounds, and begins to isolate the strange intonation, fragments of thoughts, tails untold proposals.
Eavesdropping is not good, but it is her parents.
- You're still the same, you know. Eyes do not tear.
I still love you.
- And you all say your naive compliments.
I do not forgive.
- Violently. - Easy Spirit laughs, but the tone is heard desperation. - I heard you welcome McHugh travel.
Do not take it from me.
- Well, she's my daughter.
You'll never get it do not.
Maca is tight lips, starting routinely wind up on the fact that its fate is being decided without its participation.
- If she agrees. - Resorted to the last and desperate move Spirit.
I know her better. It then holds.
- Well, it's a matter of time.
It means nothing.
- You think - short? - Almost an open confrontation, these paternal instincts.
You do not know.
- In the end, the boy has cometh. - The voice heard as she rolls her eyes. Maybe even twist his lips.
This boy is the same as you.
- So what? He needs it. Pushover though. - Voice of the man's sarcastic and slightly warm.
No, and you can see it myself.
And here she is losing patience. It is not clear - which is why, perhaps because they are still loyal to her soul of man does not agree, or because he sees things better than it is - a stupid, stupid Spirit. Perhaps because of the dark and stubborn, absurdly faithful eyes boy, incomprehensible and strange tenderness with which they were standing there, arms around each other, are included in each other.
- What are you talking about what needs to, he's just a stubborn kid, like all of you ...
Mack enters somewhere in the back of mind rejoicing that she was not crying, and now her eyes are not red.
- No way! - She cries, denying it all - it is not a thing, and Soul is not a thing, and it is not their business, whatever they thought of themselves because their family is no longer a family. She has a family.
- I did not give up! - Strongly says Mac, but looks in the eyes of his father, and it turns out, as if I do not give up, combining them, such a diverse, contending the man runs into his childhood and precocious boy responsible.
Then, his legs carrying her carry on, on here, from the unusually calm and kind blue eyes, father and from shattered faith in the man whom she wanted to be, from this new ability to hear and speak to the failures of language, the new changes and deja vu divorce.
Poppy so sniff that it lays the ears and eyes have long been not see anything, much easier to close them than to constantly wipe the tears, and her feet are and shall be, and it seems that it flies, but maybe she and the truth flies - who knows, maybe she accidentally fell down from somewhere, and the wind rustling nice hair, not to hear, and feel the scalp.
Time passes and she feels the heat in the chest, strong heartbeat, and have a bit of consciousness to understand - it's not her heart, and the wind blowing in her head, it's because she's sitting on a motorcycle, just before the soul, and pressed to him, burying the face of the jacket collar, clinging T-shirt with all his might. Maybe even the fabric bursting - it has not yet hear.
With the return of view, it becomes visible to the strong jaw, tight muscles - from the ear and the neck, trembling at every sob.
They are personal and do not talk, just come home, and her feet never touch the ground until the Soul fast and not very carefully brings her to the apartment, and Mac monitors, so that hands are not for a second get off the neck.
Perhaps this is love - the immense, unspeakable gratitude with which she notices every little thing, coming to himself. And an incredible understanding of what it is in place, that everything is as it should be - exactly as long as he's around until you can look at the fine line the lips: a mixture of discontent and unrest.
Nothing to oppose? What do you mean childish adoration in comparison with the huge, seething a lump in the breast, which Mack vyplakivaet in yellow T-shirt, clutching the only person who could collect it again - and does it so wonderfully confident that boiling under the ribs is more, although perhaps is that possible?
Disappointment in the mother and the astonishment of the father is nothing compared with the boiler, which, as she seems to cook her lungs and heart.
And the soul lies beneath it, staring at the ceiling, not feeling the dampness of tears and pain, when it is stronger than squeezing his ribs. Just lies and waits in a cool, numb - otherwise he himself would blow from the pain, the pain, when you think that is helpless.
Then Mac goes to sleep for a while convulsive sobs in his sleep for a long time without releasing the yellow cotton. And only then did he, wincing tingling in the neck and back, takes a pale green gum, and a neat tie, a soft light skirt. While the Mac again seizes him, not allowing anything to do with the shirt - to hell with it.
She's smiling in his sleep, drawing even closer, so he falls asleep.
And wakes up from a terrible sense of soul, which only happens when you, the unwashed and dressed asleep in bed - the elusive lack of sleep, as though the cake did not put enough sugar, a little nesvezhesti under the skin.
Mack sits next to the bed, on-student elbows on the bed sheet and looking straight at him. Washed, groomed, smiling - it seems that even the tips of the hair in her laugh, and unusual facial expression - very, very open and happy.
- Good morning. - Said it loud enough, but it neatly and carefully separating the words, so that gaps falls tender
I love you.
- Yeah. - Soul Meets with grunt gets out of bed. Mack laughs - trouser leg during sleep in braids Death almost screw zavilis.
- Do I even undress not given. - He grumbled, letting pauses to stretch.
I love you - longer and stronger.
What they do have other children.
A / N: Xs, Mother Macs can be very good, and is such a bitch, but I prefer to think about the second. Very much it is caring, right pipets. And I love the Spirit. He idiotik.