Faded Memories
By Fatal Melody
A/N: Hey everyone! It certainly has been a while!
So, a few of you may be wondering where I went. To answer that, I'm going to need 3 things.
Time, Preparation, and a lot of tissues.
I'm not going to say anything until I'm ready, so I'm sorry that you won't know yet. Maybe one day I will be able to tell you without getting so hurt about it.
Regardless, I'm here to stay this time. I'm not putting this hobby aside for anything else.
I would also like to say one thing. I'm taking the first steps in overcoming my depression.
I've noticed that I'm improving, even without anti-depressants. I don't know if it's because I'm practically surrounded by my friends in college this semester, or if it's because of the steps I've taken personally to improve myself, but for whatever reason, I'm getting better.
Your support meant so much to me, everyone. Even if you didn't leave a review saying you care, the number of favorites on Toothache speaks for itself. I'm so happy that my writing is entertaining for you all!
This part of my life is something I used to bury when things got to be too much, but now I see that it's as much of a part of me as anything.
I love writing.
I realized it when I was reading some of my old works. The story, the development, I love it. It makes me happy to write things in detail.
Now. I said earlier that my depression is getting better. This story is sad, but not because I was depressed when I was writing it. It's just the inspiration I had at the moment.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Soul Eater.
Faded Memories
The apartment was cold. One may describe it as lifeless. Nothing really had color to it anymore.
Maka, now the age of 28 years, went through the motions. Wake up, take a shower, brush her teeth, make some breakfast, wake up Soul—
Except he wasn't there anymore.
She found herself at the door out of habit, prepared to scream at a white haired "cool guy" who was no longer there.
Instead of waking up her former partner, Maka went to the bathroom and downed her medication: anti-depressants and a few painkillers.
Memories. That was all she had now. All that was left of her lovable partner.
She looked at the toilet, where she once spent the night emptying her stomach after a night of drinking on her 21st birthday.
"Jeez, Maka. Not even I can handle 4 shots of straight vodka. Honestly, I expected worse after all that you had tonight" Soul said to his partner, holding back her hair as she praised the porcelain god.
"S-shut up Soul" Maka shot back, head pounding and throat burning.
Maka left the bathroom as quickly as she could, wishing to escape her memories.
She should've known that wasn't possible anymore.
Everything in the lifeless apartment reminded her of him. The walls, the couch, the TV, but most of all, the small upright piano in the corner.
Soul's fingers jumped around the keys gracefully, speaking of his mastery over the instrument.
It was a melancholic tune, filled with dissonant chords and haunting melodies.
Maka, at 18 years old, sat on the couch, her attention completely on her partner's hands. She was mesmerized at his skill, watching the seemingly effortless action.
As he finished the song, Soul noticed Maka staring. He looked right back into her eyes, just barely stopping himself from getting lost in the deep green pools. They both turned away quickly, blushing.
A single tear rolled down Maka's cheek. That particular memory still brought her immense pain, as it was in that moment she realized she loved her partner for everything he was.
She walked to the kitchen to clean the aftermath of her breakfast. Her eyes drifted to a second plate, food still steaming slightly on it.
"Soul, you really should slow down. You're going to choke one day, and I'll be able to say I told you so" Maka, 17 years old, chastised her partner, who was scarfing down food at an alarming rate.
"Relax, Maka. I've eaten faster before, and I haven't choked once yet" Soul replied.
"That's the problem…" the scythe meister retorted.
Tears were flowing down her cheeks as she scraped the extra portion into the trash.
She washed both plates, putting them on the drying rack.
She made her way to her room, stopping at the accursed door leading to what was once Soul's room. The letters had faded considerably over the years.
She touched the doorknob, the cold metal giving causing a chill to run down the woman's spine. She hadn't entered the room in 6 years.
She pulled her hand back, not ready to face the hell that came with the room itself.
As she walked into her room, she kicked a cat-food bowl on accident.
"Blair, where are you going?" Maka asked the magical cat.
"I'm, well, I'm moving out. I've been a bother to you both for years now, and I think it's time I get my own apartment" the witch-cat spoke quietly.
Maka teared up at the revelation. "Y-you'll still come to visit, right?" the meister asked in slight desperation.
"Of course!" the busty magic-user said, a bright smile on her face as she left.
The magic cat had indeed visited a lot over the years. Even more so ever since –
Maka stopped herself. She wasn't willing to let herself remember.
As if on que, a knock on the door signaled the cat's arrival.
But it wasn't.
Instead of finding the familiar face of the purple-haired cat, she found a box of mail.
Every single envelope was from her mother.
And on every single postcard within the envelopes, was the word that granted her the power to defeat Asura all those years ago.
Shujaat.
There were maybe 20 letters with the word scrawled on a postcard.
Maka couldn't help it anymore. She broke down on the ground in tears as she remembered her fight with the Kishin, her first use of the fabled Kishin Hunter against the demon, and celebrating with her best friends.
Maka, age 16, was the youngest person to ever have defeated a Kishin.
She and her friends were at Kid's house, with music, food, and a rather embarrassing round of Twister.
She missed those times, when she was so carefree.
But now, she was alone. Completely alone, with nobody she could turn to.
Maka stood, tears rolling down her cheeks freely. She ran to the door that contained the worst memories of all.
The memories of him.
She burst into the room, dust flying everywhere.
Memories flooded into her head, flashing by at light speed.
She remembered how she had confessed to him one night, when she was 19.
She remembered her first kiss, her first make-out session, her first time cuddling with him while watching shitty horror movies.
She remembered all the good times, now turned into daggers that each took their turn stabbing viciously into her heart.
But the final knife, the last nail in this coffin of emotions:
This was where Soul had died.
Maka, age 22, sat on the edge of the bed that held her partner, her love, her fiancé.
Soul was terminally ill, diagnosed earlier that year. He coughed weakly, pain radiating across his chest as he felt the disease taking its toll.
"M-Maka," the scythe started, "c-can you get me some water?" he asked weakly.
"Yes. I'll be right back, ok Soul?" she responded. He nodded to her question, and she left him in bed with a quick kiss to the cheek.
"I love you, Maka" Soul said as she left the room.
"I love you too, Soul" Maka replied, stopping in the doorframe and smiling at her fiancé.
As she pulled a glass out of the cabinet, she was startled by a furious bout of coughing from Soul's room.
She put the glass down and ran to the bedside, gripping his hand.
Soul had stopped coughing, and was clearly in pain. And yet, he had a radiant grin on his sickly pale face.
"I always knew I'd die with a cute girl by my side" Soul commented gravely, a bittersweet smile in his eyes.
Maka had called an ambulance for him, but when they got there it was already too late.
Soul had died in Maka's arms.
Maka felt tears pouring down her face as she clutched the pillow to her chest for dear life, as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to the world of reality.
She still wore her ring, a dazzling rose-gold band with a beautiful diamond set in the center, surrounded by tiny rubies and emeralds.
Maka simply couldn't take it anymore.
She ran outside, and practically bulldozed a very concerned witch-cat.
"Maka, is everything alright?" Blair asked, holding her long-time friend.
Maka could not respond through the tears. Blair instantly knew that she had done something to remember everything. The last time Maka had cried like this was when she lost him.
Three days had passed.
Despite all of her efforts, Blair couldn't stop her from doing it.
Maka Albarn, age 28, had killed herself.
The funeral site was filled to the brim with people who wanted to pay their respects.
Lord Death himself conducted the service, burying her directly next to the grave he had made for Soul.
Soul's originally had its own headstone, but was replaced with a double-marker.
"Soul 'Eater' and Maka Evans.
United in life
Married in death"
A/N: Fuck, dude, I'M crying! I wrote the damn thing and even I'm tearing up at that!
That's the saddest thing I've written. Like, ever.
I'm gonna grab a few tissues…