Authors Note: Hello there! This is just a little thing I wrote at like two in the morning, so if anything about it is incorrect (especially the way their first meeting went, I wasn't sure about that), please don't hesitate to let me know ^.^ Hope you enjoy! Reviews are encouraged and accepted, but never necessary :)
The soft sounds of the piano flowed through the room. Sharps and flats, an assortment of notes blended together, twisting in the air, pulsing through the young girl's heart as she followed the music. Her feet were silent as she walked, the tapping of her soles drowned out by the instrument's melody. One hand was bleeding, a small pool of red gathered in the palm of her hand.
"Soul! Where is he? What's happened? Is he- is he alright? Tell me what's going on!"
She finally reached the entrance, slowly pushing the door open with her uninjured hand and letting the increased volume wash over her. The song was familiar; it reminded her of home. Soft and sweet, and played with care that can only come from gentle loving hands. Shifting in tempo and dynamics, it was never constant, always changing, forever exchanging one idea for the next... So much like the person who sat on the black bench, pale fingers drifting over the keys.
"You mean he won't remember me? At all?"
"I'm sorry, Maka. It was the only way."
She didn't approach him. Just stood in the doorway of the small room, a safe distance away from him. She closed her eyes and leaned against the door frame, letting the notes flow through her, and soothe her recently troubled soul. He looked so comfortable here, instrument at hand, music pouring effortlessly from his nimble fingers. She thought of his hands, always smooth, despite their harsh training, fingertips soft and gentle when he was doing anything other than fighting; how gracefully his hands moved when he was working on something, or even just tapping on his desk. She now looked down at her own hands, calloused and worn and bloody, and wondered if he'd ever truly felt like his pianist's hands belonged in a world of war and bloodshed.
"He's forgotten... Everything?"
Dr. Stein had explained it wasn't amnesia. But the witch they had been facing had done Soul's mind so much damage that the only way to save him had been to extract the memories; not just of the witch and what she had done, but everything, including the DWMA, the friends he had made there... And Maka herself.
"Everything about this place. Including you."
She allowed herself a single tear before pulling on one of her masks, the ones that had gotten her through so much before, and that would get her through this now. She pasted a small smile on her face, willing her eyes to remain emotionless as she prepared to face the boy who had been like family to her for so long. She braced herself for the pain she knew would come when the boy whom had held her hands and helped heal her heart so many times looked at her with a stranger's gaze. She knew they would still be the same beautiful red they'd always been, but they wouldn't see her the way they once had.
"You should be happy, Maka. This is a chance for him. He can start over. Don't you want that?"
Of course she wanted that for him. He could escape the chaos of the life he once led, and return to the music that used to bring him such joy; he could go back to the way his life was before. Watching him now, swaying to the music as his fingers danced, she wondered if she could do the same.
"Can I see him?"
She had only wanted to say goodbye. Stein said his family would be coming to pick him up before sunset.
"He's downstairs. Good luck. I'm sorry, Maka."
As the song reached its final crescendo, the notes reached the peak of their range, Maka's heart broke, the pieces falling like raindrops, resonating with the final notes of the piece. But she kept her mask on, never letting the straps fall away, intent to not let him see her crack like he done so many times in the past. He struck the final chord, fingers poised over the black and white keys, and she grasped at the courage to speak before the room went silent, and before her bravery deserted her.
"You play beautifully."
She had always thought Soul played the piano better than anyone she had ever met. That had been her first thought when they met all those years ago, when they had become partners, and she thought it only fitting that she begin their ending in the same way.
Without turning around, he shook his head, white hair swaying like he had been moments before, answered in that low voice of his, the one that had always brought her comfort and the feeling of safety. "Thanks. Feels like I haven't played in forever."
He hadn't. Missions and training took up a lot of their time, and between school and friends Soul rarely had time for the music he loved so much. She had always felt badly about that, always in the back of her mind feeling like she had somehow taken away his true passion, but then he'd smile or laugh or eat a soul and she'd forget about the feeling. But she couldn't do that now, not when she once again witnessed how lively the piano made him.
She gave a weak smile, one he couldn't see, and turned her face to the floor, wishing she could sink into it. How had she thought she would be able to say goodbye? Stupid, stupid Maka. This had been a bad plan from the beginning. She should have just left it alone, left him alone, and let him leave without tormenting herself with memories of what he had once been to her.
So wrapped in her thoughts, she didn't realize he had stood until he was standing right in front of her, and by then it was too late to attempt to run. He looked her in the eyes, red meeting hazel, but without the spark of friendship that had always been there. "Did you know you're bleeding?" He asked her simply, pointing down to her hand. She hasn't realized that sometime between arriving at the room and now, she had un-cupped her hand, and blood was slowly dripping down and off her fingertips. She made a move to hide her hands behind her back.
"I know. I was just about to head up to the nurse. Sorry to bother you." She turned to go, pausing only when she felt a cool grip on her injured wrist.
"Nah," he said, shrugging. "I can take care of it." He started gently pulling her towards the piano, giving her a small shark-toothed smile. "Besides. Not very cool to let a lady wander off injured."
The smile almost undid her. Her mask faltered, almost failed, but she managed to get it back in place. Soul had always hated his teeth. He only smiled showing them off with people he cared about, people he knew he could trust not to make fun of them. The fact that he did so now, without knowing who she was, made her heart ache, and her soul reached out for his. She had to fight to keep it back.
He sat back down on the piano bench, pulling her down beside him. In one swift motion, he pulled a handkerchief out of a hidden pocket and swiftly wrapped it around her wound, tying it securely. "There we go. Better?"
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She knew she must look like an idiot, with this smile constantly on her face, but he didn't truly know her anymore, so it didn't matter. But even as she thought it the idea tasted like a lie. A sudden noise surprised her, and she glanced to see him chuckling. "It's better?" She nodded again, and he sent her a crooked little smile. "Then you wanna tell me why you look like someone just murdered your puppy?"
She frowned at that. Her mask must have fallen without her realizing, and he, of course, had picked up on it. Apparently even not knowing her didn't make him any less able to read her like the books she herself loved. She shook her head once, and then just to make herself clear, said a very soft, "no."
"Come on," he said, pulling the knot he had made around her wound a little tighter. "It's something. Keeping everything inside isn't cool. Tell me what's going on." And then the tears started.
Because she had spoken the same words not an 10 minutes before, to Dr. Stein, and the answer had made her weep with sadness and regret.
Because he had said the same thing 48 hours ago, when she had been moping around the house with a box of tissues because her mothers cat had just died, the one that had been there for most of Maka's childhood. Soul had agreed to allow a new kitten in the house, just for her.
Because he had said the same thing two months ago, when Tsubaki was in the hospital from an accident she didn't want anyone to know about, and Maka had been crying all day but wouldn't tell him why. She couldn't tell him why, but he had talked to her and made her laugh, and made everything better.
Because he said those same words so many times over the years, and he always made he feel better afterwards. But this time she cried because she knew that after this, he never would again.
She didn't sob, or weep freely like she had upstairs. She just let her mask crumble, allowed the tears to fall off her cheeks like raindrops. She didn't look at him, kept her blonde hair as a curtain between them, refused to meet his eyes, but knew he wouldn't let the matter drop. Because whether he knew her or not, he was still the same person, and Soul Eater Evans never allowed a question to be left unanswered. "It's nothing, really," she said softly. "I've just- lost a really good friend of mine recently. Very recently. And, I've just realized how much-" her voice broke, and she cursed herself and her stupid emotions. "I've just realized how much I'm going to miss him. I'm going to miss him so much." She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears to stop, wanting this to be over. Wanting the tight ache in her chest to go away, wanted the boy next to her to stop staring at her so intently, like he knew her, because he didn't. Not anymore.
She brought her uninjured hand up, wiped away the stray tears. "Sorry about this. I'm usually much more put together, its just... Everything else seems to be falling apart. So why can't I?" She let out a small chuckle, but the sound was hoarse, weak; it didn't belong in this room with Soul and his beautiful music. She made a move to stand, to leave what was left of her makeshift family behind, but once more his grip on her wrist stopped her. She sighed, twisted her head away, but remained seated. He shifted his hold from her wrist to her hand, not locking their fingers together, but merely letting their palms make contact. Memories played behind Maka's eyes, one of them being sick, or injured, or upset, and their hands were always in this position. The thought made her want to cry (again), but she repressed the urge and simply let him hold her hand.
His voice was soft when he spoke, reminding her of all the times he had comforted her, his melodic voice soothing her, calming her, making her feel sane when the world was engulfed in discord. "It's alright to break down sometimes. Totally cool." She smiled slightly at this. "But you don't always have to do it alone. If you need someone, find someone." She could feel him watching her, and she turned her head to see his unique smile, full-on teeth and everything. Holding out his hand, he declared, "I'm Soul. Need someone?"
Maka smiled at him, but only to hide the fact that her heart was beating wildly, thumping painfully hard in her chest. She could feel in in every part of her body and with every pump of her chest her mind kept repeating the same thing: not again, not again.This was beginning to get too close to when they first met; his offered hand, along with his partnership, and more importantly, his friendship.
The sound of the piano had drawn her to the room, where pictures adorned every inch of the walls. The albino's skills were great; he played beautifully. After discovering her, and her desire to be a meister, he had introduced himself.
"I'm Soul. Need a partner?"
No. Maka wouldn't drag him back into this. As much as she would miss him, as hard as her soul would try to reach out for his, she refused to suck him back into the whirlwind of madness that had brought them to this dark room in the first place. She loved him, she truly did, as a partner, a friend, and family... But she loved him enough to want more for him than the life of a Death Scythe, a life where he could play his music and never have to worry about the girl bookworm who constantly seemed to throw them both into danger. She just wanted him to be happy.
She shook his hand, more to keep up the appearance than anything else, and she hoped beyond hope that he couldn't feel her heartbeat through her hand. "Maka. And thank you for the offer; that was really cool of you." She offered him a smile, hoping that the slight compliment would make him happy. "But you've done more than enough already." Her grip on his hand tightened fractionally, trying to convey all of her emotions into a gesture as simple as a handshake. She hoped he would understand. "Thank you, really. For everything." She made one last move to stand, and for the third time, was stopped by his hand on her wrist.
He stared at the place where their skin touched, his hand just above where he had tied his handkerchief, a conflicted look on his face. His eyes snapped up to hers, and for a moment, she felt the spark again; her Soul was still there, somewhere. But she hoped for his sake that he stayed hidden, so this new Soul could live a happy life without her. "I'm missing something. Aren't I?"
She gently but firmly tugged her hand out of his grasp and smiled at him, a genuine smile, all masks hidden away for the time being. "No more than anyone else. I hope you have a great day." She finally turned to leave, hearing a soft voice behind her; "See ya later, Maka." She heard the piano start up again, something much softer and sadder than before, still familiar but full of emotions Maka didn't think an instrument could express.
She stopped one final time at the door, looking back at the last few years of her life, sitting content at the shiny piano. He still swayed with the music, his snowy hair shifting as he moved, and his fingers once more dancing across the keys like they were made to do. In his movements she saw flashes of their time together; the way he fidgeted watching television, how he could never stay still in class, and hundreds of others that she had noticed that he probably never even realized he did, that Maka could have spent days listing off. But she couldn't, because her best friend was now a stranger to her, and for the sake of his happiness she could never change that. Her heart once more thumped painfully in her chest, faster now than ever before, and she knew this was the last time she'd ever see him. The realization made her tear up, one final time, but he couldn't see her now so she let them fall. Let her sadness, pain, and regret mix together and fall from her face, and once more everything she'd never told him flashed through her mind.
I'm sorry I got you into this.
I love you.
I'll miss you so much.
Her soul stretched, reaching, trying to grasp the slightest bit of his but she once again held it back, knowing if their souls resonated that she'd never be able to leave him behind. With the music still ringing in her ears, if Maka closed her eyes, she could imagine they were home, and he was letting his CD's play, the ones Black Star teased him about because they were classical. If she really tried, she could pretend she wasn't leaving the biggest part of her here, that everything was fine, that she wasn't moments away from breaking down.
But she was tried of pretending everything was alright when it wasn't. Nothing good ever came of it. So Maka kept her eyes open as the tears fell from them. Kept her eyes open as she watched her very best friend slip through her fingers, the way his were now gracefully sliding across his rediscovered joy. She kept her eyes on him for as long as she could, walking backwards until she was forced to have to turn. She could still see him, playing the piano, breathing the music the way he breathed air, and she was glad that this would be her last image of him, because she'd lived with him for years but had never seen him looking so alive.
"Goodbye, Soul," she whispered, before turning and running up the stairs, away from the music that had stopped, and the boy who was staring after her.