Crack
He can't even count how many times he's considered suicide since the Demon Swordsman Crona took him down.
His head was just that, his, and even though he cared about his Meister more than anything, he struggled with having her in his mind as much as she was. Maka was kind though, and she never looked around unless it was absolutely necessary, or he gave her permission. She was the kind of brain scratcher he could tolerate.
Soul couldn't handle the Demon.
He was always there, whispering in the back of his subconscious, promises of power echoing with his laugh as he insisted on invading Soul's train of thought. Maka knew about the Demon, knew how badly the little fucker liked to bother him when they were fighting.
What she didn't know was how much worse the Demon was when Maka wasn't there.
Vicious, cruel, and an entire lifetime of low self-esteem and an inferiority complex for the books, Soul Eater was absolutely helpless at fighting the Demon back. There wasn't anything he could do to stop it. Soul could be sitting on his bed, headphones buried halfway up his ear so he wouldn't have to listen to Maka and Blair squeal about that stupid show they both insisted on watching, and the Demon would wake up, the blood inside of Soul lighting up, heat traveling through his veins in a way that made him want to inject ice. It hurt, and it hurt badly, but he'd try to ignore it, try to pretend it wasn't there.
Don't ignore me like you completely ignore your family. What kind of son burdens them for years with his mediocre playing, then never talks to them again? What kind of son leaves his mother to cry, and his brother with the burden of having disobeyed his father?
Why do you let people ruin their lives over you?
Soul only turns up his music louder, until the bass is vibrating the headphones in his ears, and the tenor causes him to wince.
But it's better than hearing the Red Man who dances in his soul, playing with his memories.
The Demon has an uncanny ability to read the world through Soul's eyes, and it's because of the Demon, that Soul notices the stares.
He's a Death Scythe, even if it is just in name and he eyes of his fellow students boring into him like they were just waiting for him to break, waiting for him to succumb to the madness that had beaten him earlier that week. If anything, his newfound rank only seems to increase the fear around him. Between him, the Black Blood, and Crona, he wouldn't be surprised if he was thrown out of the school.
Crona had destroyed Moscow, and Soul had almost lost his sanity just observing what the nervous little friend of his Meister had done. And apparently, the pink haired witch, and her over heated Weapon couldn't be trusted to keep their mouths shut about the incident.
Most of the kids from his class just gave him a lingering glance, just a little more attention than they normally would, all of them obviously wondering where his Meister was, and why he was alone.
Doesn't it bother you? Demon asked, giggling in his mind. All the hard work you've put in for these people, all the hits you've taken in the name of this school and this is how they repay you. With fear, like you're the next on Lord Death's hit list. Nothing you do for them will ever change the fact that you're a monster, Soul, and that's all you'll ever be.
His teeth cut into the side of his lip instantly, filling his mouth with the bitter liquid. As he gets up to rinse out his mouth, he decided to just keep walking, past the bathrooms, past the lockers, and out the door, past Stein, who glances at him once before permitting him to continue walking, and right past his Meister without a second glance.
She stands behind him, and she calls his name, pulls at him with her Wavelength, but he doesn't turn around, doesn't trust himself to.
Good call, run from her. After all, she's the only person who hasn't left you high and dry, might as well break her heart while we're at it.
He can't take much more of this creature. He can't take the constant berating, can't take how easily the Demon cuts through years of self-esteem recovery.
He really can't take how the Demon's voice and his voice are starting to sound similar.
He doesn't sleep that night, doesn't even try. He just lies in bed, feeling his Meister's soothing Wavelength as she sleeps, and he considered his chances of suicide vs. the Black Blood hardening before it's too late. The Demon has no trouble pushing Soul to the very brink of his sanity, but he doesn't ever let him make the jump, doesn't let him commit to dying.
The Demon just wants him to want to die, to feel like that's all he deserves, and he can't even have that.
It's getting worse, much worse, the only time the Demon is ever under control is when Maka is in his head, her Anti-Demon Wavelength truly fucking the little creature over, and his head can clear. Then he can remind himself that he's so much stronger than the Demon, and all he has to do is remember that, and it should get better. However, when Maka wasn't there, the Demon was constantly on him, waiting for the moment where Soul's sanity would break, just a little bit more, so he could get a foothold in his head, and wait.
You're only as strong as I let you be.
"I beat you." Soul reminded him, his voice breaking the silence of his room. "Remember? Maka wasn't anywhere near my head, and I took you down by myself. I'm Soul Eater. You're picking on Soul Evans."
You don't sound like you believe that anymore.
"How can you even tell the difference?"
Because I'm not about to hurt your precious Meister, so you really don't care if I beat you. As long as she's okay, I can drive you to insanity, and you won't even put up a fight.
Soul wants to tell him that he's wrong, that he'd fight the little fucker tooth and nail, and that his sanity isn't negotiable. But at that moment, staring at the ceiling in his room, the same cracks he's been looking at since he was a kid, he doesn't have the strength to try. He just wants peace, for five fucking minutes; he just wants to be left alone.
The Demon was driving him to insanity, and he wasn't even trying to fight anymore.
He closes his eyes, and wondered when exactly he'd become the Demon.
He skips training.
Normally, he'd have to be on fire to even entertain the idea of standing Maka up, and even then, he'd probably still attempt to show up, so she wouldn't kick his ass as much when she found him.
He can feel her before she gets into the building. Anger, thick and burning floods their bond, and he knows he's in for one hell of an ass kicking. He should have gone, he knows that, but he couldn't. it'd been almost a week since they'd resonated, and Soul didn't want her in his head right now, the Demon had been having a field day with his head lately. Memories he'd buried had suddenly been unturned, rushing though his head with surprising clarity, immobilizing him, keeping him from wanting to leave his room.
Maka slammed the door behind her, and he could vaguely hear Blair hiss at his Meister's aura, before scampering past his door to go hid under Maka's bed. Soul only closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the wall, counting her steps until she was standing in front of his door.
She busts in without a knock, or greeting of any kind, and her eyes are on him quickly, having already pinpointed is position when she was looking for his soul. Her fists were clenched at her side, and her eyes were bright, like they always got when she was angry. He hadn't even realized he'd opened his eyes to look at her, but she had locked onto his burgundy eyes, and she doesn't even have to speak. He can feel it, everything she was about to say berates his mind with its abuse.
Between her anger, and the Demon's glee, a wicked headache threatens to rip apart his skull, dragging it to opposite poles. He brings his hand to the side of his head, and locked his hand in his hair, and released a shuddering breath.
She kneels down in front of him, obviously still angry, but worry starting to take over the anger she had been fanning for the last hour. She doesn't say anything still, but the question in her eyes is enough to make him frown, and breathe through the pain as his mind shatters.
"I think I'm more demon than I am human." He spoke, his voice strained. Maka put her hand on his forehead, and flinched under the heat he was giving off.
"You're just sick."
"No." He shook his head, eyes closing as another wave of pain rushed through his senses. "I think I'm a demon. I think he's more me than I am."
"Come on, Soul." Maka whispered, helping her Weapon up and moving him towards his bed. She gets on first, then pulls Soul down his head falling onto her lap, as she reaches for a pillow, and makes him lift his head once more, before he settles back down in the blue fabric of his pillowcase. Maka's cool hand came to rest on his forehead, and she runs it through his hair. "What's going on? You haven't been eating, and Blair said she hears you stumbling around at night. What're you trying to do to yourself?"
"That fucking Demon won't leave me alone." Soul muttered, pain in his head spiking when he talked about him. "He's hellbent on breaking me lately, and I don't know why. He's starting to sound like me, or I'm starting to sound like him, and I don't know why. I think…I think I might be a Demon."
"You're not a demon, Soul." She whispers, playing with his hair.
"Easy for you to say, Angel." Soul spat back, and Maka felt her face color with blush.
"That's just a name, Soul. I'm not actually an Angel."
Her Weapon snorted, and shook his head. "You can shut the Demon up. Without even trying, you're an Angel, Maka, and if Angels exist, why wouldn't Demons? And if Demons exist, who's to say that I'm not one?"
"You always get so existential when you're sick." She smiled down at him. "Even if you think you're a Demon Soul, you're not ever going to be like the little one in your head. You're stronger than he is, and you've proved that to him, that's why he's been so hard on you."
"He's mad about that, he keeps punishing me, he pulls memories I didn't know I had up and distorts them. I can't fucking deal with him anymore."
"Then why didn't you come ask me for help?" She whispered, her hand still running though his hair. He frowned, and closed his eyes.
"I'd think about it, and the Demon would flip, make it worse. I didn't want to bring you in if he was going to pull out all of the crazy stops on the way."
Maka pushed his hair out of his face, and pressed her lips against his forehead. "Your little Demon can't beat me Soul, remember? I'm an angel. Don't think twice about coming to me for help, okay?" She closed her eyes, and she nudged her soul against his, until he opened up to her.
Inside the Black Room, Maka was surprised at the disarray it was in. Papers everywhere, candle sticks knocked over, the Piano bench was on its side, and the old record player was off, the record nowhere to be seen. The Meister only sighed, putting her hand on her hips. "You two made quite the mess in here."
A scoff was her only answer, and she found Soul, sitting behind the piano, his knees drawn up to his face, and his head hidden in his arms. Slowly, she knelt down next to him, and pulled his face up. His eyes were dull, and he looked tired, the mental strain of the Demon's tantrum obviously weighing down on him more than he'd care to admit. "How long as this been going on, Soul?"
"Oh, he started to lose it a few days after he'd almost killed you, the witch, and the Screw Head." The Demon's voice welcomed her, and she looked over her shoulder, the red man sitting there with a grin on his face, as he picked up another piece of paper, and ripped it down the center, causing Soul to gasp, and bury his head again.
She turned to face the little Demon, her eyes flashing as she reached down and picked him up. He scrambled in the air for a second, before glaring at her as she held him at eye level. "Every time you try this, I'll be back, and I will destroy you." She snarled. "It would be in your best interest to stop."
"I'm not throwing anything in his face that wasn't already in his head." He answered, crossing his arms. "Your partner is the demon, not me."
Maka only closed her eyes, focusing her Wavelength through Soul. The Anti-Demon soul flooded through his mind, and the little Demon howled, wiggling out of her grip, and he ran off into the shadows, leaving Maka with Soul again.
She walked back over to her partner, careful not to tangle her dress as she knelt down, and gathered him up into her arms, trying to heal him with proximity, rather than overpowering him. He lay against his Meister, and forced his mouth open. "Told you I was a demon." He mumbled, eyes closed as her wavelength filled the cracks in his head.
"Then you're my demon." She shrugged. "And I'm your angel. We can protect each other. Okay? So next time he starts this up, just come to me, and let me help you."
Soul only nodded, and shook his head.
"Does this mean I have to call you Angel from now on?"
"No." Maka smiled. "You can just call me master."