a songfic from Gavin Mikhail's "You Grieve." I DO NOT OWN SOUL EATER OR THIS SONG, BUT I WANT THEM ALL FOR MYSELF, MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Enjoy!
"We Stay"
A fight. It didn't really matter, they'd fought before. Hell, they fought almost everyday. Kind of a given when there's two hot-tempered teens living together. It was not even an argument of any significance; he already could not remember what wrong thing he'd said. He never did remember it.
Soul sighed and scratched the back the back of his head. "So uncool." But he could not specify who was the uncool one: her, or him.
Maka was locked in her room, her retreat. A forbidden place to him in times like these. He could not enter the mine field, so he'd have to lure her out.
Soul blinked tired eyes and stood back from her door, where he'd been crouched, listening first to her angry outbursts, then to her muttering, then to crying. She was a soft crier; it took his sharp ears to catch the sound.
He strode to the keyboard in his room, something he only touched when no one else was home. He stoked the keys; he could feel the bones in his fingers, his nails ahrd on the white surface, the blood in his veins.
He began to play, and more: a sound even Maka had not before heard. Soul was singing.
So many times we've come undone and sold our lives
We struggle all the time
And we forget to choose the sides
With every passing sign
The soft, mourning piano drifted to her ear, though she had buried herself beyond recognition in her sheets.
"Soul." She said his name like a punctuation to her thoughts.
Maka rose and brushed the wetness off her cheeks, made her way to her door, trembling all the while.
I breathe you in and can't let go
Of all the things I know
I'll be the one to take your soul
She froze, just as he knew she would. Maka felt some place inside her give, as if her world was falling out from under her, as if her soul itself was shaking—from what? Was she afraid?
Before she allowed herself to answer herself, Maka threw open the door. Soul's door was open, open like arms.
But if I go
Will you watch me leave?
Still love me though you grieve?
And if I go
Will you watch me leave?
Still love me though you grieve?
Soul pounded the keys with his fingers as if trying to communicate to them his feelings. He heard her step quietly into the room, wanting only to listen, hanging on every note like a breath to keep her alive. He didn't look over his shoulder at her or stop—this was too important.
If we lose so many times the game we play
Why do we play it all the same?
Something more than I wait for
That I can never change
Nothing had ever changed between them, it seemed. Since the day he first played for her, since he bared his soul to her, they had been clasped tightly together like hands in prayer. He'd die for her; he had proved it over and over. He'd forfeit breath and body for Maka, his meister.
Check the sides, hear the lines
We've said it all and so
You'll be the one to take my soul
But she, the fool!, had followed him to the very brink of madness, death, the abyss he could not define—had dove right into the his darkest corners to retrieve him. Maka had clasped her arms around him with her fresh, pulsing body and given him relief. She came for me, he kept thinking. She came all the way here for me. There were no questions; Soul belonged to her entirely.
But if I go
Will you watch me leave
Still love me though you grieve?
She watched his back without wavering. His back bent over his hands, and she saw the muscles and bones work in conjunction, like a dance, like music, as he threw off his veil. He stole her heart. He silenced her. She would do anything for that back, the fragile spine and strong shoulders, for that mess of hair that never cooperated.
But she had endangered him countless times through her recklessness. That day that Crona had wounded him to near annihilation—he still bore than damned jagged scar across his chest. She remembered the feel of it beneath her fingertips. She had failed him that day, and she would never forget.
Though you hand it away
Caught in the middle of the silence
Stays a little longer everyday
We stay
Soul closed his eyes, reveling in his own message, remembering the cool earth against his cheek. She had stood alone, just Maka, against Asura. He remembered keenly the sounds of her running, panting, attacking and dodging. It was horrible, like a nightmare. He was useless to help her; kishin hunter had failed, and Soul could summon no strength to his weary limbs. Maka sealed her mind away briefly, only to awake to bodily pain so intense that her cries ripped through him and stayed inside. It almost did not matter that she had succeeded; he still ached from that echo.
We stay
A simple idea, that of remaining together. Diligence, discipline, determination.
Stay. Stay with me, Soul, she silently pleaded, but he was still playing.
I breathe you in and can't let go
Of all the things I know
I'll be the one to take your soul
Ah, yes. It was that easy, wasn't it? As easy as breathing. Natural, though Maka was having trouble with it just then.
But if I go
Will you watch me leave?
Still love me though you grieve?
But if I go
Will you watch me leave?
Still love me though you grieve?
Love. They had never said it before. How could they, when every moment was so easy, as easy as staying, as nature, as rain from the sky and plants thriving below? Every moment was love. Neither of them had ever thought of leaving.
Soul was deep, of sound reasoning and self-awareness, and he was capable of astounding loyalty. He pushed himself beyond his limits to accompany her. And she, Maka, a perfectionist, rooted deep in the idea of human goodness. She peered straight through the shadows to a person's real self. She had with Crona, and she had with him. What couldn't they do together?
The last notes fell from his hands. Soul was quiet a moment before he turned around: no cheeky, toothy smile, but an intensity not seen outside of battle.
But Maka was crying again.
He hadn't heard it this time, but she was here, in his room, wiping her eyes in her soft hoodie and softer hair. Relief, again, sweet, cool relief. He came toward her, his face relaxing.
"It's cool, Maka," Soul murmured as he gathered her in his arms. "You know you're the best partner a weapon can have."
"Soul," she said, and put her palm over his chest. She found that terrible scar.
He took her hand off it and brought it to his cheek. Maka felt his smile under her fingers and looked up.
"Just here, dummy," he told her, "just keep your hand here."
Color bloomed across her face. Yes, she was still Maka, enough to be embarrassed when he was tender with her. He loved this face almost as much as her triumphant grin.
Then she moved, placed her ear over his heart. Maka closed her eyes, listening for the beautiful percussion.
B-bump. B-bump. B-bump.
She sighed; he recognized it as a prelude to a comfortable yawn. Only this sound, she decided, could put her at ease this way.
"You know, I am sorry about what I said." Soul closed his eyes.
"You don't even remember what it was."
"Do you?"
"Of course not." Maka laughed her bubbly laugh. There was no trace of fear or pain in the sound. He grinned in triumph; she did not see.
"Maka."
She looked up at his tone.
"Say it. Say it just like you did before."
She grinned like an imp. "Was it cool?"
He chuckled his deep, resonant chuckle.
"Soul," she said in a hushed tone. "Soul. Soul. Soul.
Soul.
Soul.
Soul."
It was a spell in her mouth, one that bound him to her even more firmly than ever.
"We stay."
What'd you think? My first Soul Eater fanfic. Hope you enjoyed it :] R&R!