Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.
Psychedelic Fantasy
She stood in front of two dark, intricately designed mahogany doors, each with a brass knocker fashioned in a gargoyle's likeness. She stared at it, marveling at the lifelike grimace on the gargoyles' faces.
"You do know it's rude to stare right?" the gargoyles spoke in unison.
She stepped back in alarm.
"You can talk?" she said incredulously.
"Of course we can. We just did. Now, how long are you planning to stand there gaping like an idiot? Are you coming in or not?" the gargoyle knockers asked.
She opened her mouth to answer.
Before she could answer, however, she noticed the carvings on the doors moving slowly. Mesmerized, she leaned in closer. She felt her eyelids growing heavy. Curling tendrils emerged and coiled around her slight form. Too drowsy to struggle, she lay limp as she was pulled through the shut doors.
She was standing in a room lit only by long white candles set in elegant candelabras.
"Eh? Wasn't I just outside? How did I get here?" she wondered.
"You wanted to come here," an impish voice said from behind.
"What? I don't even know where here is," she cried.
She turned around and saw a small red creature sporting horns on his head dressed in a tuxedo.
"Doesn't matter," the creature said.
"What do you—?" she started to ask.
She had been looking around the room when she spotted movement. In the far end of the room, there stood a piano with a boy sitting in front of it. The boy was lounging on the piano bench, showing no desire to play anytime soon. She turned back to the creature to ask him who the boy was, but the creature had vanished.
She walked towards the boy and tapped him on the shoulder. The boy turned around and stared at her with intense crimson eyes.
"Will you play something for me?" she asked.
"Only if you promise not to leave before the song is finished," he replied.
She smiled and nodded.
The boy flexed his fingers then started to play. A haunting melody permeated the air. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of nostalgia washing over her.
"I feel like I've heard this a thousand times, yet, I can't remember when," she said wistfully.
She felt a hand on her cheek. Startled, she opened her eyes. The boy was standing in front of her, wiping her tears off her face.
"Don't cry, stupid. I didn't play for you just so you could start bawling. Seriously, Maka, you are way too emotional sometimes," the boy muttered.
"Well, it's not like I wanted to cry you know. And don't go calling me stupid, stupid. We don't even know each other," she retorted.
At that, the boy grimaced.
"So you really don't remember me, do you? I thought you did remember me since you asked me to play for you. …" the boy trailed off.
"What do you mean? Am I supposed to know you? And if I did, why wouldn't I remember you?" Maka probed.
"Well, yeah. The little imp said something about your memories being the price for your visit here. So, since you don't know who I am right now, I guess I should introduce myself, huh? I'm called Soul," the boy said.
"Soul?" she said, testing it out.
A flash of something—longing? regret?—crossed his face before he covered it up with a smirk.
"Yeah," he said.
"Hey, um… Soul, I didn't notice until now but, why is the piano still playing even if you're not actually playing it?" Maka cried.
"You just noticed it now?" Soul chuckled.
"Well, then you probably didn't notice either that this is no normal place. Haven't you noticed that the candles aren't melting even if they're lit? Or that there are no walls, only darkness surrounding the room?" he continued.
She fell silent, absorbing the facts he had just given her.
"So, what does it mean?" she asked at last.
He looked at her and sighed.
"Dance with me, Maka," he said, extending his hand towards her.
"Eh? What are you talking about? Dance? Don't be stupid, Soul. Just answer my question!," she rambled on, her face reddening.
"Just do it," he commanded.
He grabbed her hand and took the lead. The notes swelled to a crescendo as they moved around the room, their bodies moving in time with the music. The darkness pressed ever closer. Maka eyed it warily.
"As long as you don't touch the shadows, you'll be fine," Soul reassured her.
Still, Soul could feel her tension as she tried her best to avoid looking at the darkness shifting towards them.
"Relax, Maka," Soul murmured against her ear.
She shivered as he held her. Then he guided her into a twirl. She could almost feel the music resonating within their bodies. As the music faded, he pulled her close.
"I love you, Maka," he whispered.
He pulled away from her. She stared at him with wide eyes.
"Soul?" she asked tentatively.
She reached for him. He raised his hand to meet hers halfway. She watched, horrified, as her hand simply passed through his. Soul was fading.
"Soul? What's happening?" Maka cried. She looked at Soul through eyes blurry with tears.
"I'm sorry, Maka. I couldn't…"
She screamed as thick, viscous darkness engulfed her.
Maka awoke to Soul banging around the kitchen, trying to make breakfast for the two of them.
"Hmm. Weird dream. What was it about again?" Maka wondered, trying to hold on to the details of the dream. It was like cupping water in her hand; the more she tried to hang on to it, the more it slipped away.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Soul said. "I already made breakfast, since it didn't look like you were getting up anytime soon. I'm not sure if it's edible though."
"Thanks, Soul," Maka smiled.
The two ate in comfortable silence, each not knowing that the easy days were about to come to an abrupt end.
Maka awoke, drenched in sweat and tears. She had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room of the apartment that she and Soul shared, waiting for him to come home from a trip with his friends.
"Why hasn't he come yet? He promised that we'd spend the day together…" Maka fretted.
Somewhere, a shrill beeping filled the operating room. At 10:34 p.m. on February 14, 2010, Soul Evans was pronounced dead.
"Dr. Stein, we found pills under Maka Albarn's mattress; it seems she hasn't been taking them for at least two weeks," the nurse said.
"How is she?" the doctor probed.
"She has reverted to the state she was in when she was first brought here," the nurse reported.
"And she was making such good progress too," Dr. Stein sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I guess going to visit Soul Evans' grave was too soon for her. I should have anticipated this," he berated himself.
"I guess I should go see her myself," the doctor mumbled.
"So, Ms. Albarn, how are we feeling today? Hearing any voices lately?"
Maka sat on her bed, staring out the window.
"Ms. Albarn?
"I'm not hearing voices, sir," Maka whispered.
"Are you sure, Ms. Alb—Maka?" the doctor asked.
"Don't call me Maka! Only Soul can call me that! Don't call me Maka! Don't call me Maka! Not Maka! Not Maka!" she shrieked, curling up into a fetal position.
The doctor sighed.
"Nurse, sedate her please."
The piano was playing a soft melody in the background, seeming to sense the atmosphere of the room. Drawn to the music, two people were dancing as if they had all the time in the world.
"Hey, Soul?"
"Yeah?"
"If I die too, will I see you again?"
"Sure."
Maka giggled and then nodded.
"Okay."
The piano was still playing, but the sound it produced seemed tired, as if it wanted to go to sleep after playing the best it could as a tribute to the two souls that made the room entirely theirs.
No one was talking. No one was dancing. The music eventually stopped. Silence resonated in the chamber. It was empty.
Darkness devoured the room.