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Hopeless
Silvery forks and knifes could not ever cut through the tension in the air between the two. The sun had long gone out of its hiding place, the warmth of it radiating from the sky as it laughed at the citizens of the city who were to endure it's heat, Soul Evans was one of those people and for once in his life, he really wished he hadn't kept on drinking last night. The memory of the events after he was led out by the female –who he encountered various times after and simply ignored her- to the garden were at most, blurs, things that even if he tried to remember, would bite him back in the ass with the migraine he was currently trying to hide, though it was pretty obvious by the way he slumped against the table and his ruby eyes screamed with pain.
Soul could only recall waking up in a clean fresh room, nothing smelled old, the maids had done a very excellent job and for once in a long time, he actually decided to go down and have breakfast. Of course he knew that would mean simply having to sit down at the table and have to see Wes, who at this point Soul wondered what exactly he was doing here in his house. Wes had his own mansion, he could easily go to his and not have to endure Soul anymore, but the oldest Evans simply replied with things like "I just really enjoy being around my little brother, that's all." Soul called bullshit on that. So yes, he sat down on the table where Wes was already eating; he never batted an eyelash at his younger brother, not like Soul could even bring himself to care.
When one of the maids came, he simply asked for bacon and eggs and more anesthetics. He swore that out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Wes shaking his head disapprovingly.
Which led to Soul sneaking glances at him, who was sitting at the opposite side of table, every two minutes or so. The only sound was that of the forks hitting the porcelain plates. It's only a matter of time before he starts spewing bullshit, Soul thought. When Wes took a drink of his glass which upon further notice was some sort of wine, or so Soul thought it was, Soul only kept on eating. Four…three…two…
"You do realize that last night was unforgivable right Soul?" Ah yes, there it was. Soul only looked up from his plate and found himself staring at ruby eyes -his reflection- and shrugged. Wes didn't say anything, but kept on staring and Soul only did the same, the tension in the room growing. "Which is why I had to take responsibilities for your actions."
Soul rolled his eyes; of course he would take responsibility for his actions. It just gave him a more flattering image. Soul could already see it in the headlines of Death Times. The Evan's pianist punches the mayor's son in what seemed to be the cause of a love triangle. Tabloids would have had a field day if they got a hold of it; however, Wes had stepped in before anything else would have happened. In all honesty, Soul couldn't remember much of what had happened, one moment he's back at the bar drinking two more shots and the next he and Kid –an old friend of his- are beating each other up. For what? He couldn't recall, but something must've happened to make him lash out, otherwise he would be lamenting his black eye and how his rib cage hurts like hell.
"You didn't have to, you know." Soul glares before popping open the lid to the medications that was brought to him by one of the staff members not too long ago, pops in three in his mouth and swallows. He'd give anything to die of an overdose. "I'm twenty, soon going to be twenty one. I can handle my own shit bro."
Soul thinks his eyes fooled him, but for a second he saw something so different to Wes eyes that was uncharacteristic of him, he seemed… angry. But as soon as it was there it was gone, in a blink of an eye. However, his voice was almost like it was spewing out venom, Soul noticed as he finished eating his bacon, he had lost interest in whatever it was that Wes was going to say.
"It doesn't even look like you're an adult Soul." Ouch, okay that hurt him but Soul brushed it off. "You look like a spoiled brat! Someday one of your actions is going to cost your life. Wait, if I recall correctly, it almost costs you your life." Then Wes's standing up, and before Soul could say anything, even though at this point he was trying to erase the memories of the event. He's already gone, leaving Soul in the dining table alone.
Soul doesn't even have the energy to go after Wes, doesn't even try calling out to him as he hears the main doors open and then shut. Doesn't even bother opening his eyes and pulling his face out of the empty but greased plate of his as the car outside leaves. The headache is killing him again, and for the first time in a while, Soul's crying.
If he has ever felt more miserable than right now, he can't recall when it would've been. The pounding in his head is almost unbearable and unwanted memories come flooding into his vision. He recalls the scene so vividly, that he almost jumped out of the chair when her scream filled his ears. He doesn't feel bad about his decision to punch Kid at all –maybe because he was drunk and he was known to be quite aggressive when not sober- neither does he feel bad about almost losing his life to protect her, he regrets not remembering if she's alive or not. That sets him spiraling down, what would've been the use if he didn't know if she was alive. For all he knew, after he was wounded and passed out, she could've been killed.
Wes never answered his questions; neither did any of his so called friends. He was alone, truly. With that in mind, Soul shakily stands up from the table, his pajamas slightly wet with his crying, he sniffles before slowly making his way up the stairs and into the second floor, ignoring how each step he takes only makes the pounding in his head grow worse by the second. He's almost at the top before he realizes he's sweating and his breath is becoming hard to regulate. Had it been this hot before?.
He didn't know. All he remembers is losing his footage just as another memory comes, his chest burns and Soul's letting out a blood curling scream as he slowly watches everything blur as he falls down the stairs. His head collides with the cold floor and then he sees black spots consuming his vision, the sound of footsteps quickly making his way towards him.
Soul's hand reached up to his head and when he puts his hands up so he can see, he's rewarded with the smell and sight of blood in his hand, and then he's weakly laughing before closing his eyes and letting darkness consume him.
When he wakes up all he feels is the coldness that envelops his body. There's a silence in the place and without him having to open his eyes he knows where he is. He doesn't want to stand up, Soul prefers to lay on the floor because sooner or later he'll get bored of waiting and send him back into reality. This nagging feeling at the back of mind however, tells him to stop acting like a coward. After all, if the Little Ogre called him back to this forsaken place he has his reason –however, he has been prone to calling Soul into this place various times because apparently he wants to talk, there's only so much one can do trapped in a place that he can shift into whatever desires he wants- and maybe, if he got it over with and talked to the red little bastard, he could be back at the mansion.
His ruby eyes open and are greeted by darkness, the tiled black and red tiles at his back are cold as ever, colder than he can remember them. Soul stands up, ignoring the small pain at the back of his head and fixes his suit so it's not wrinkled, same black with white thin stripes on it only adorned by a vibrant red that resembled his eyes. Soul looks around the black abyss, there's not a single soul to be seen, and he frowns. Usually there's a door or a table, but this time, all he can see as far as the eye can see is darkness. He remains rooted to the spot until his ears pick up the familiar sound of a piano being played.
He's not much aware of when his feet began to follow the sound, he's calm, collected and for once in a long time, he feels at ease or rather, more at ease than back at his house. He reminds himself that this is his mind, he controls this realm over anything, he could stay in here forever but that would mean having to deal with The Little Ogre, a demon that only wants to mess up with his mind.
The tiles slowly loose color as he proceeds, the bloody red turns into a light grey that sucks the energy out of him, the color is so monotone and he prefers to avoid looking at the floor, as there is a mirror besides him and a red curtains that contrast against everything that has now taking a black and white color, Soul avoids looking at the mirror besides him. He knows what's in there and he'd prefer to not give the thing –as it would never be him, it's an animal with no color. Teeth sharper than his and insanity bouncing strongly off of his presence- the satisfaction of acknowledgement, so Soul stands there, not really sure what to do.
All he thinks about is the music coming from the piano, it doesn't sound like its him playing –rather the other him, who upon Soul taking a quickly glance to his side, he notices its not there anymore- but at the same time, he can never be sure. His mind, though he's in control, likes to fuck with him. Soul lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, his eyes are strained on the curtains and he finds himself taking a step forward, his pale hands grip the red silky curtains and he pulls them aside, stepping in with the most unbothered expression.
Ruby orbs find themselves scanning the new room, taking another step forward; Soul catches the faintest sound of the curtains behind his form slowly vanishing. Leaving what he could awesome was a wall without a door, no exit. The thought made him gulp and then head towards the small table with three chairs at its side.
The room he finds himself in, he notices that it's not at all familiar. The walls are a white color that seemed to resemble grey, the tiled floor which he stepped upon was that of black and white checkered spaces and the table was made of glass. Upon the walls hung various frames with pictures of his childhood, somewhere along the way. The pictures stop –he thinks around the time he was turning thirteen- and there's a huge gap in between those photos to the next amount.
Soul wants to get away from staring at the photos in the wall, however his body doesn't stop and he's found himself looking at the last three frames that hung on the wall. He takes the last one, his breathing hitches when he notices that the last picture is that of-
"Come along boy, there's no time to waste by looking at those" The voice catches his attention and Soul drops the frame. He stumbles back as to not let the glass cut any part of him, but much to his surprise, once the frame touched the ground and the glass broke, it disappeared and didn't even make a sound. His eyes trailed from the floor to black shoes and then he's found himself start at the Little Demon.
Without another word, the latter begins to walk away; the room begins to change as he advances and Soul doesn't have another option but to follow after him. It feels so weird to him, foreign to say the least. When was the last time he had been inside this place? Spoken to Little Demon? Quite some time ago, probably around the first week of suffering but he later blocked him out.
When he comes to his senses again, Soul's sitting down on another table; the sound of the piano is closer now. He blinks and notices that Little Demon is sitting at the opposite side of the table, two cups of a liquid he can't tell what it is appear out of thin air and he watches cautiously as the red-skin individual takes a sip from it. Little Demon motions for him to drink and Soul obliges.
He wrinkles his nose.
Coffee.
"This is quite a nice surprise Soul. You haven't visited me in here for at least a couple of months" Little Demon only waited for an answer, his face clearly insulted by the way Soul pushed the glass away. Childish.
"Yeah."
"Not talking much are you? Such a shame, neither does the other Soul speak. I was hoping you and I would have a chat." He states. Soul's eyes trail off to the side and sure enough, to his suspicion, the other him was sitting in a bench stool playing the piano. The music coming from his fingers as he rapidly danced with the keys, hitting each note with such a passion, almost reminded him of himself. However, the music the keys emitted were nothing similar to his music.
Soul's attention is brought back to the table where he's at, the music filling his ears he slowly eases it to the back of his mind. His eyes are settled on the familiar demon before speaking, "A chat about what exactly? I didn't ask to be here you know."
Little Demon nodded, his hands resting on the table, he sighs before snapping his fingers, the two cups vanishing in the air, Soul doesn't even question it at this point, whatever the hell goes on in these rooms, inside those curtains from where he came from, are no longer part of his domain. They are Little Demon's.
"About your behavior boy. I've seen you go through so much yet you crumble like a weakling by the sight of her perishing. Sad, pathetic even." The demon says, shaking his head in a manner of disappointment.
It takes Soul a whole lot of self-control to not lash out, however, before he's able to mutter a single word Little Demon continues.
"So, let me ask you. Because I'm sick of looking at you mop around, what good would do you to let you have access to that night's even? Obviously none."
He bites his lips, he knows he's right… in a way, but he has to know. Because as much as it pains him to know that a part of him is actually okay with not knowing what actually happened only led him into a false sense of hope and happiness that maybe he saved her. On the other hand, it only rotted his mind more. He could tell, it wouldn't be long until he succumbed into madness.
He glared at the red individual; he'd want that wouldn't he? Soul wasn't stupid, obviously if Little Demon was actually willing to give him the information everyone withheld from him, he'd want something in exchange. But the curiosity was biting at him, demanding him to ask and to give.
"I'd know if what I think is right or wrong." He replies, Soul leans back on the chair and finds that there's no chair anymore. His eyes widen slightly and he's falling all over again, he grits his teeth and closes his eyes waiting for the impact. However it never came.
He didn't want to open his eyes.
The music had stopped after the moment he felt the sensation of falling, there was a light breeze that covered his body, his torso, and he wasn't wearing a shirt anymore. Soul takes a couple of deep breaths before attempting to open his eyes, the sound of chirping and water slowly make its way into his brain and when he could finally open his eyes he quickly shuts them, groaning, moving a bit to make himself more comfortable.
He knew right away he was outside, probably in the garden. His head hurt like crazy however that didn't stop him from trying again to open his eyes. He tilted his head to the side as to not meet the sun's direct rays of light to burn his eyeballs, Soul opens them slowly and his heart stops when he finds himself staring at a color he wasn't sure he'd want to see this moment.
Two orbs of a jade color that sparkled under the sunlight locked with his own ruby ones. A smile to accompany the pretty eyes was displayed on the woman's face.
"You're awake."
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