cleanse song

That night, the little demon set his record player aflame.

It had taken less than a week for the shriveled gremlin to realize that contact with his meister had become severely limited since her departure. He'd begun with almost imperceptible changes; darkening the blood red of the curtains, shifting the varnish of the piano so the feel of it set the young weapon ill at ease. Removing the shine of the piano keys. Moving the light source, so that the shadows of his soul were unfamiliar each time he looked.

He called his meister as often as he could, and she would always answer with the same lilting, birdsong voice, asking him about his day and then describing hers. He had come to associate her voice with an alto flute, capable of the high keens of piccolos but also the low, lecturing tones of saxophones. He'd come to appreciate both ranges as he listened to her talk. But he could hear the reluctance in her tone, the silent plea for him to stop calling and let me move on, please, Soul. She wasn't his meister anymore, not even a meister at all; there was nothing left for her at Shibusen, after all. Not even him. Because he still belonged to Shibusen, and she did not, and to stay would only leave them both feeling the bitterness of their lost partnership. That was how she'd explained it to him, anyway.

He thought it was funny how easily she took flight, in the end; just like her mother had.

While his coworkers did notice the sudden peculiarity in his behavior, it was Stein that finally approached him. The elder man had fixed him with a knowing, almost smug, look that had Soul grinding his teeth, but, yes, he'd join him for a cup of coffee. The stitches across the torn flesh of his chest were like a tiny reflection of the patchwork Stein's body had become. Which of Stein's scars had marked the beginning of his descent? Was the scar that bisected Soul's body the first of many?

Soul looked at Stein and saw his own future.

The coffee was like tar in his mouth and clung bitterly to his tongue. Stein sat across from him, leaning against the stitched upholstery of his sofa with a lit cigarette perched between his lips.

"The Black Blood is acting up because you've relied on Maka's cancelling wavelength too long. And further contact with her is simply making it worse. You're reaching for a shield that isn't there instead of defending yourself, leaving yourself open to attack."

He already knew that. But what was he supposed to do? He had never been the keeper of his own madness; Maka had always washed away the flames of his insanity and applied the salve to his burns, her sweet alto flute notes like a river flowing into him. Stein had been alone before Marie. He knew what to do to keep himself afloat. Soul did not.

"You have two choices. Become a part of Maka's life once again so that her wavelength can sustain you, or break your dependency and learn to face the Black Blood on your own."

"He's always talking to me, promising me things," Soul muttered. "Snapping a swing rhythm to a samba. Changing things around."

Stein smiled thinly. "The manifestations of madness can be very… persuasive."

They sat in silence then, the forms of their unwanted familiars taking shape in the dark corners of the room.

And so Stein became something of a therapist and a physical trainer, Soul stopped attempting to reach his estranged meister, and the nightmares and whispered promises began to ebb away.

Until the night the little demon lit his record player on fire.

Stein had told her not to return, not to reverse the progress they'd so painstakingly made. She'd told him where to shove it. He had been, still was, her favorite professor, but Soul was Soul.

Then he'd reminded her why Soul had been undergoing his process in the first place.

"It's because I can't be there for him, even if I'm there," Maka had said shakily, racked with guilt and frustration. "Because of his work. I thought it would be easier like this. We saw each other every day, but we couldn't even touch souls."

"You underestimated his persistence in holding onto you."

"Well, clearly." Maka released a humorless, slightly hysterical laugh. "Professor, don't tell me I can't see him, because you know I really hate disobeying a teacher."

"I am quite aware that no threats of discipline on my part could dissuade you, especially if your partner is part of the equation. Not that I could make good on any of them, anyway, as you are no longer a student of mine."

She blinked back tears. "Thank you, Stein."

"I expect to be seeing you soon. Oh, and Maka?"

"Yes?"

"I know how much you have missed your partner, but he will eventually need to be separated from you in order to truly master his insanity. However. This time, perhaps you can give him a reason to fight. Don't believe that Soul chose to remain here because of his career. Men like us do not dedicate our lives to justice. I am here because my Marie has asked me to stay with her, and because she is devoted to Shibusen. Soul is here because you did not ask him to stay with you. Younger men have a tendency to turn a deaf ear to unspoken questions, just as women don't hear unspoken answers.

"Well. I'll be awaiting your arrival, Maka."

The line went dead.

Soul, what would you do if you weren't here at Shibusen?

Honestly, Shibusen's the only place I've ever felt at home. I can't see myself anywhere else.

But he had never told her, it was only home because of her.

"Soul."

He opened his eyes at the sound of her voice, and without thinking, his wavelength reached out for hers.

It was as if she'd bent down and kissed him. Warmth flooded his veins and left his soul singing her praises, the dulcet notes of her soul smoothing every ache and pain inside of him. His stomach fluttered, her scent made his head feel light, and it was then he realized that she was, in fact, kissing him. Her lips were slightly cold and chapped, but then her tongue accidentally brushed his lip and the flash of hot silk had him moving his mouth against hers with sudden urgency, greedy for more. She constantly adjusted the tilt of her head to match his fervor, his aim was off, but each time they found a happy medium he thought he would melt from the heat and rhythm of her mouth on his.

When they finally parted, the cold hospital air left both of their lips tingling.

She stared at him, face flushed.

"Ah, I'm sorry, but it was like you called for me, and so I… and somehow… but then you reciprocated…"

"Stein's going to be mad," Soul remarked simply, voice slurred from sleep and medication. "I used your wavelength to clear up the madness."

"I already got my lecture," she responded. "Soul, I'm so sorry. I really thought it would be better for both of us, and even though I could tell you were hurting I still stayed away, thinking eventually it'd be for the best, that eventually we'd both move on. And now…"

She laid her hand on his side, where his own blade had punctured him.

"I should have stayed. It just… it just hurt so much, that we couldn't be like we were before. I'm sorry." Her mossy-green eyes were filling with tears, leaving Soul groping for her hand in hazy panic.

He did the best he could to stop her tears, but in the end, he could do nothing but hold her against his chest as the sobs shook her tiny body. It left a bad taste in his mouth. And when she told him she'd have to leave again, because Stein still had to help him, he thought his soul would crumble right there.

But then she peeked at him from under lashes wet and dark and clumped together from her tears, and asked him if he would come and live with her once Stein had deemed him stable enough to function on his own. And she said, "I know how much Shibusen means to you. I know you said you couldn't see yourself being anywhere but here, but…"

And that was when he told her the truth. Seeing her eyes widen, her cheeks flush and then her whole face light up with pleasure, Soul felt prepared to handle anything.

That night, the little demon hissed in rage, but Soul had a future free of scars and stitches. His future was filled with an alto flute and a forest of green. That night, he set the little demon's empty words aflame.

AN: I didn't like Soul Eater's ending. Honestly, I don't know anyone who did. But I've been wanting to write something, you know, to find some closure that the ending lacked. This didn't really do it for me, but I spent a while on it so here it is why not

..

well

as always, thanks for reading