Falling In

Praeludium

Soul looked around the empty room, surrounded by nothing but flowing black curtains. The darkness was creeping in on him, slowly edging its way towards Soul who stood motionless in the middle of the room.

I want to move, but I can't! I can't break free! Something's got me!

Soul struggled to move his body, but found that he was paralyzed with fear. Never before in his life had he felt such fear. He was all alone, and no one was around to save him. He was helpless and hopeless, and as he began to close his eyes and give in to this feeling of despair, he heard a voice calling him from somewhere outside of the room.

"Soul! Soul, where are you!"

It was a male voice, but Soul couldn't place it. It wasn't a voice he was familiar with at all; in fact, it sounded like a new voice, or at least one that he hadn't yet grown accustomed to. He struggled to move, and slowly, he felt the pressure holding his body in place begin to recede. He flexed his arms, and then his torso began to shift, until finally he was able to lift his foot off the ground and take a step forward.

Someone is here! I don't know who it is, but they are calling for me! They must be here to save me!

The darkness in the room began to falter as Soul felt his fears leaving him. His body began to move faster and faster as he ran towards the voice until finally he reached the edge of the room and plunged through the curtains.

Soul was at the beach, surrounded by sand and water, the wind blowing calmly as the sun sank below the horizon.

"Soul, where are you?" the voice called again, this time much clearer than before.

"I'm over here!" he cried, running towards where he thought the voice was coming from. The room with the curtains had disappeared, and he begun to wander around the beach, looking for whoever was calling his name. Every time he heard his name, he felt a sense of peace and warmth wash over him. It was like no other serenity he had ever felt, and every time he heard that voice call him, he wanted more and more to be with whoever it was. The voice was captivating; the peace, invigorating. He wished to bask in the warmth of the voice, and began to shed his clothes. When he had removed all of his clothes, he heard a deafening scream.

"SOUL!"

He ran towards where the voice had come from, and as he approached, he could see the silhouette of a body lying on the sand, the waves gently crashing around it. He ran towards it and dropped to his knees.

It was Kid.

Soul was in shock, not knowing what to do. He looked down at Kid, whose body lie motionless on the sand.

"Kid…Kid? What's wrong? Wake up! Please, wake up!" Soul cried, shaking Kid's shoulders.

Kid slowly opened his eyes—they were bloodshot; apparently he had been crying. He looked at Soul, and then smiled and whispered, "I thought I had lost you. You didn't come when I called you."

"I tried, but I couldn't find you. But now, I have. I'm here, Kid. I'm here."

Kid smiled and pulled Soul down onto the sand with him, embracing him and kissing him passionately, sliding his hands along Soul's naked frame, causing the young weapon to shake, sigh, and moan. He didn't understand what was happening, but it didn't take long to figure everything out.

"You called me, Kid," Soul said, breaking the kiss and looking down at the young Reaper. "Your voice made me so happy. Why? Why did it do that?"

"That's easy, Soul. It's because you love me."

Soul shot up in bed, panting heavily. He looked at the clock on his nightstand: four thirty-five A.M. He was sweating profusely, and removed his covers, only to notice a wet spot on his boxers.

"Did I...What?" he said, realizing that he had had his first wet dream. "But I dreamt about Kid? There's no way that this could've happened." He got out of bed and changed his boxers, throwing the soiled pair into the pile of dirty laundry next to his closet. He climbed back into bed and wrapped himself in his covers, trying to figure out what had happened. Today was the first time he had ever met Death the Kid. He and Black Star had fought him and, unfortunately, lost.

But why would I have that kind of dream about him? I just met him! And…I'm not gay…am I? No, there is no way. I've never had a gay thought before in my life. But…then again…have I ever had a straight thought in my life? I mean, I've acted like I like girls, but that's only because it's what cool guys do, right? I mean, that's what I'm supposed to be like, right?

He thought again about Kid and the dream, imagining the strange sensation that had come over him when he heard Kid's voice in his dream. It was the most surreal thing he had ever felt, and he had actually enjoyed it.

But, I shouldn't have enjoyed it… I mean, it's not right…two men aren't supposed to love each other like that, right? ...I wish this wasn't so damn complicated to understand; it's so uncool. And why now, of all times?

Soul sat up in bed and looked at his desk. On it, he noticed the leather journal that Maka had bought him not too long ago. He walked over and turned on his lamp, sat down, grabbed a pen, and opened it, and—for the first time since he could remember—began to write.

Tuesday,

I've never felt like this before in my life. It was a strange dream, and that should be it. I just got my ass kicked by this guy, so I can imagine that my brain is sorting through the feelings I have for him and, for some reason, this is what happened. I got that strange dream. And for some reason…it was a wet one…which could easily be explained by the fact that my dream was centered on intense pleasure. So, I guess the thing to do is not dwell on this, because if I do, then for sure I'm going to get caught up in something that I shouldn't. And if this should continue? Well…

Soul stopped writing, not sure what to say. He actually didn't know what to do if something like this were to continue.

I guess I'll just deal with it in the coolest way possible.

He finished writing and stared at the page, still unsure about what was happening.

"I'm sure tomorrow I'll be back to normal. It's just been an off day for me."

Meanwhile, Kid was lying in his bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, thinking about his encounter with Soul.

His hair is disgustingly asymmetrical, his red eyes are frightening, and his teeth make him look like he could be some sort of demon. He's rude, and he destroyed the symmetry in my hair! But… I still can't help but feel captivated by this young man. His appearance, no matter how asymmetrical, attracts me nonetheless, and his attitude appears to be a façade; his real self must be hiding somewhere underneath all of those layers. Perhaps he just needs someone to peel them back and expose him for who he really is. But, I think the most entrancing thing about him is his glowing red eyes; at least, that's what I thought when I first saw them. But when I was able to get a good look at them, I felt something that I hadn't felt in a long time: peace. Warmth was pouring from his body whenever he got near me. And I knew that I was the only one who could feel it. It was something that I had never felt before in my life, and when I did, I knew what it meant. I am destined to be his. He will be my friend, and when I am Grim Reaper, he will be my Death Scythe. And who knows, perhaps he may even be something more than a friend?

Kid smiled up at the ceiling, massaging his forehead, thinking hard about Soul. Kid knew that he liked men, and he had for a while now, but never before had he felt such unexplainable attraction to someone. Kid gripped his pillow, nuzzling into it as if it were a person. "Soul," he whispered.

It was love at first sight; it had to be. I can only wonder what Soul is thinking about all of this. But I know it to be true, I felt the connection. It has to be there! It just… has to be there.

Kid had fallen in, and there was no chance of getting out.