The last thing I need right now is another story to distract me. XP But I was listening to "Nowhere Man" and well...THIS happened. ^^ Written in about half an hour of frenzied typing, so it's probably not that good...usually I think more about the plot before writing. Tell me if there are any mistakes, please. This will most likely end up as a two-shot, but I can make more chapters if you like this. The words in bold italics are the song lyrics. R&R!
Soul Eater belongs to Okubo-sensei. "Nowhere Man" belongs to the Beatles. In other words: I OWN NOTHING!
He was nothing.
Kid had decided that long ago, much longer than anyone could have guessed. He had sat for hours and hours on end, pondering what nothing really was. It was emptiness, it was mediocrity, it was the sinking feeling of simply blending in and slowly dissipating, disappearing into the shadows until there was nothing left.
He's a real nowhere man,
Sitting in his nowhere land.
Emptiness…
He had long since given up on emotions. They only caused trouble. What was the point? No one would pay attention to how he felt anyway. He saved his voice. He told not a soul about what he was feeling, because he felt nothing.
And yet, he did feel. Emptiness is tangible. And the more one takes out, the more that emptiness, that nothingness spreads. Oh yes, he felt it progressing throughout him and everything around him, gnawing at his insides. And you think he feels nothing? You think he can't perceive pain? How wrong you are—he feels himself being eaten alive each and every day by the incessant burning of hatred for himself that flared up without warning and blazed brilliantly sometimes for days, leaving a gaping hole where there was once happiness.
Doesn't have a point of view,
Knows not where he's going to.
Mediocrity…
He had no real accomplishments to speak of. Being Shinigami-sama's one and only heir? That was no success story. It was simply by his birth—a lucky throw of the cosmic dice on his part—that he was blessed with such a position. The finding of his two loyal pistols? The best day of his life, yes—but again, he had merely stumbled upon them, a coincidence and nothing more. He hadn't even made them into Deathscythes yet. In fact, he had never done a thing in his life for himself. He didn't have Maka's strength or Black*Star's skill. He could only fight because he used his death god powers as a shield—how pathetic. Everything in his life, all of it, had come to him naturally.
He was lucky…and he hated that.
Blending in…
He was nothing precisely because he was something. He had become just another figurehead, and why not? He was the son of Lord Death. He was suave, perfect. He had friends, and everyone respected him.
Wait. Stop. Rewind.
They all respected HIM? No, that's not right—they respected who they thought he was. They do not—could not—respect who he really was. How can you respect nothing?
It was quite obvious.
Death the Kid was a useless human void of nothing.
This is what he thought to himself as he sat by the window of his darkened room, with only the dull grayish light of the overcast day providing measly illumination. Not that it mattered—there was nothing to see in his room. He always kept it impeccable, after all. Wrinkle-free bed sheets, neat shelves, immaculate floors. Dust didn't dare settle down upon any surface in the perfectly symmetrical place.
"Symmetrical." "Asymmetrical." Two words that didn't fail to come out of his mouth at least twenty times per day. And once again, it wasn't him. The person that coughed up blood at the sight of improperly folded toilet paper wasn't him, but a stranger. That's not to say Kid didn't love symmetry—it was still his passion. But he didn't really feel the need to make a big show about it. He simply did so because those around him expected him to do so. He didn't think that having those three goddamned white lines in his hair made him garbage.
After all, he would be junk even with out the lines.
He's as blind as he can be,
Just sees what he wants to see.
Nowhere Man, can you see me at all?
He had been rescued from the Book of Eibon, from that horrifying blackness that threatened to swallow him. At least, that's what everyone else believed. And Kid allowed them to be blissfully ignorant—why spoil their fun?
He didn't let anyone know that he had not escaped from the darkness at all, not by a long shot. He was being agonizingly consumed, engulfed by the black that dwelled inside him…and that was much, much more terrifying.
Slowly, he wrapped his shaking, pale hand around the curved handle of the window. Slowly, he pushed it down.
And as it creaked open, very, very slowly…he looked down.
His room in Gallows Manor was located at least four stories above the hard concrete below. Would a fall like that kill him?
He hardly had time to wonder this before stepping out onto the ledge, his feet seeming to have a mind completely of their own.
He felt something touch his face—a single raindrop had made its descent from the drab ash-colored sky and landed on him. As more and more gradually began to fall with a growing intensity, he felt them run down his cheeks, caressing him…or were they his own tears? He didn't know anymore, and he really didn't care. All he cared about was his heart, which was beating faster and faster as the rain hit the ground harder and harder. It seemed to be pounding out a rhythm: Enough…enough…enough…ENOUGH!
Yes…enough. Enough of this nothing life. He moved his foot closer to the edge.
It was then that he heard a resounding crash behind him.