A/N: Sorry that it's short and it might be confusing .-.
I don't own Soul Eater.
Warning: Self-harm, implied suicide.
Are you made of stardust, too? Are the angels after you?
Symmetry was necessary; without it, there would be no balance, without balance, there would be no peace. While organizing the papers on his desk by date, and smoothing out any wrinkles on his bed, Kidd reminded himself of this. Finding the letter from two days ago, the paper to be set on top as if it wasn't already foremost in his mind, Kidd reminded himself that the author of the letter, Crona, was not symmetrical. And like Crona couldn't deal with the world, Kidd could not deal with things that lacked symmetry.
Kidd folded the letter into a perfect origami crane and perched it on top of the books that he was currently reading, organized by genre then alphabetically. The way it was folded, one sentence stuck out.
I don't know how to deal with this.
The handwriting was shaky, and he could imagine that if Crona attempted to tell him in person, he'd be crying and pushing Kidd away.
Kidd didn't know how to deal with this either.
He reached out and picked up the crane, inspecting what he already knew to be perfect, before throwing it across the room. He sat down in the exact center of his bedroom, hoping to allow himself some peace.
But of course, all he could think was that 'Crona' is a pretty name, and that the holder of the name also owned the only hair that Kidd had ever wanted to touch without the intention of fixing it.
.
When Kidd saw Crona a week later, nothing had changed, not really. Crona still tended to shy away from everyone, and squeak at sudden noises. Or, nothing had appeared to change at first glance, but there was something different about the shade and expression in Crona's eyes, and if you pay attention to detail like Kidd does, you'd notice the fading black marks on Crona's hands. He stammered a bit more than usual, and hesitated for approximately 5.7 seconds every time he spoke. While nothing seemed to change, Kidd knew that, in reality, so much had changed.
.
Crona didn't know how to deal with the world, only because he never had to. In return for solitude, Crona was left with limited knowledge.
He wasn't sure how to grieve or love or how to start sentences perfectly.
Yet Crona did know honesty, because he was brought up to never lie; and he might not have done it perfectly, but Crona was honest with Kidd.
.
One minute and thirteen seconds. That is how long Crona waited until approaching Kidd. Although he had wanted to be confident when doing so, Crona found himself blubbering and mumbling a stream of apologies.
"Ki-Kidd-kun… I-I'm so s-sorry!"
Maybe it was a bit morbid, but Crona did look beautiful with tears running down his face.
And despite Crona's cries, Kidd wasn't sorry at all.
.
It took Kidd hours to write a perfect reply, but even then it was a wasted effort. There wasn't anything to say. A shinigami and a witch spawn were supposed to hate each other, kill each other. In a way, seeing Crona shun even Maka, it did feel somewhat comparable to death. As if he was choking, and for some reason he tasted strawberries.
Kidd liked strawberries.
Only because Crona smelled like the sweet berries when he walked by.
.
Crona expected to be hurt when Kidd said nothing of his breakdown. Hurt even more when Kidd appeared to be ignoring him.
He couldn't even feel the fresh black marks that tainted his skin. He didn't feel anything when Ragnorak bullied him, or even when Maka yelled at him.
Crona couldn't tell if that was because nothing hurt, or because everything hurt enough to make him numb.
.
One month isn't a long time if you think about it; or maybe it was the fact that Crona wasn't thinking that made it so short.
Kidd was supposed to understand. He was supposed to realize everything weeks earlier and Crona was supposed to be alright.
Kidd should be here for him, like he'd been hoping from the beginning. Maka was still trying, but Crona wanted Kidd. Of course, Crona never got what he wanted.
As he stared at his bleeding hands and cried for the first time in years, Crona knew that nothing was "alright."
.
Kidd still worked on his letter everyday, but he knew he'd never send it.
As much as he wanted to reach out to Crona, make him comfortable with the world, the selfish, awful part of him wished that he had never met Crona.
Another part was developing violent, incoherent thoughts, because in a way, it had been lied to.
Most of Kidd, however, decided that he did not know how to deal with life, just like Crona, and he felt so vulnerable in that truth that he finally understood.
.
"Crona!"
The name echoed through the emptiness and loneliness and all of their worries.
It didn't break it, no, it spread it further until they were drowning in mutual pain.
Or maybe it was the blood that was drowning them. The black, sticky pools that covered everything near Crona.
"Kidd…" It was hesitant but controlled, and Crona decided he knew exactly how to deal with it all now.
"Kidd-kun, did you know? My blood is black."
With those words, Crona tasted death.
It tasted of strawberries.