Chapter Four
"The path is too dark and I can't walk
I can't move, be with me
So don't let me down
I'm here because you're here."
- Swear, Tommy Heavenly6
"Still feeling guilty, Soul? You can't feel guilty if you give in to the madness."
"It's because I gave in at all that I'm feeling guilty," Soul retorted. "Shouldn't have bothered dealing with a little demon like you." He leaned back against the armchair. "What are you, anyway?"
"You."
"You're not me." Soul snapped. "Like hell."
"Hell is inside your head. Believe what you want," the demon shrugged. "You can't deny the truth forever. And sooner or later you'll realize the power I can give you. Insanity cannot be suppressed."
"I don't believe you."
"You will," The demon chuckled. "Now, isn't it time you left the room?"
"No. I want to stay here," Soul shook his head and sank deeper into the chair, gripping the armrests with all his might.
"Here in the dark?" The demon smirked. "Don't you want to go back to the light? Back to your precious Meister?"
"Not if it means hurting her."
"What makes you think you have a choice?"
He choked on his scream as he woke up, again drenched in sweat. He felt sick. There had been so much blood this time. Her blood. It had felt so real, he could still smell its metallic scent and feel it on his hands.
Gagging, he stumbled out of his room and down the dark hallway to the bathroom. There was just enough moonlight streaming through the bathroom window that he could make out the toilet. He reached it just in time for last night's dinner to come back up. He was vomiting for several more long moments before the light flicked on.
"Soul, are you okay?"
Maka sounded incredibly worried. He wanted to say something to reassure her, but the moment he opened his mouth to do so he had to turn his head back over the toilet. He heard bare feet on the bathroom tiles and then felt his Meister's small, warm hand on his back moving in soothing circular motions. When he'd finally emptied his stomach, Maka handed him a paper towel to wipe his face.
"If you were coming down with something, you should have told me," Maka said in concern. She put one hand on his forehead and the other on her own, and held them both there for a few moments, "You don't seem to have a fever."
"I'm... okay," Soul coughed. His throat hurt and his mouth tasted like vomit. He still couldn't get the smell of blood to go away, even though it had been a dream.
Maka tugged him up gently, "Come on. I'll get you some water."
He felt kind of clammy and shaky, a side effect of throwing up, so he gratefully accepted her help in getting to the couch. In a few moments Maka had the kettle on the stove and a cup of cold water for him. Soul sipped it slowly, letting it wash out the foul taste and sooth his burning throat. When he'd finally downed the glass, he set it back down on the coffee table.
"Well, I guess it was a good thing you weren't going to school today in the first place," Maka said. She still sounded worried. "I'm making you some peppermint tea. It should settle your stomach."
"I'm okay," Soul repeated his earlier words. "You don't have to..."
"You've been taking care of me for the last week. It's only fair I do the same," Maka said stubbornly. "You better not have been hiding the fact that you were sick from me!"
"I wasn't feeling sick until I woke up."
At any rate, he already felt better, because she was here and alive with him, bustling about the kitchen, worrying about him like she always did. A couple minutes later she was putting a cup of tea down in front of him, sugar already mixed in the precise measurements he always drank, and then she sat down next to him, keeping a wary eye on her weapon. He mumbled thanks and sipped the peppermint tea. Almost instantly, his stomach settled considerably, and he began to feel very drowsy, his lack of decent sleep catching up to him. He drank the rest of the tea quickly and yawned.
"Do you want some more?" Maka asked instantly when he put the cup down. She started to get up, but Soul caught the edge of her sleeve, pulling her back down to the couch.
"I'm good," he yawned again. "Thanks, Maka. I feel a lot better."
"Maybe you should go back to sleep," Maka suggested. "You look really pale."
"Mmm," Soul leaned on her shoulder, already starting to doze..
"I meant in your bed," Maka giggled.
"I'm good here," he replied sleepily, eyes slipping shut.
Maka smiled at him fondly before carefully shifting, intending to get him a pillow and some blankets, but he was still gripping her arm.
"Soul?" she wondered if he was actually still awake. If he was, it was barely.
"Dun' go Maka..." he mumbled in his sleep. Maka hesitated for a moment, and then sank back into the cushions, Soul half-curled in her lap.
The rest of his sleep had been mercifully dreamless. When the sun started filtering in through the window and woke him up, he found his head resting against Maka's knee. Soul shot up, blushing furiously. The movement woke Maka, and she stirred, rubbing her eyes sleepily.
"Morning," she mumbled. Soul turned brighter red.
"I... uh... Why were we...?"
"You didn't want me to leave. I guess you don't remember."
Soul looked away, scratching the back of his head nervously. Now that she mentioned it, he vaguely recalled clinging to Maka's arm as he fell asleep. Crap. Uncool.
"Sorry," he muttered. He quickly got off of the couch. Maka got up and stretched with a wince when it tugged on her injury. "Oi."
"I'm fine," Maka waved off his concern. "Do you want some soup?"
His stomach still felt a bit iffy, "I can make it."
"No way! You were throwing up last night. You should go lay down."
"You're still injured."
"I can make a can of soup," Maka rolled her eyes. "Shoo, shoo!" She waved her hands at him. Soul rolled his eyes, but headed back to his bed. There was no stopping her when she was like this.
It was aggravating, but it wouldn't be Maka if she gave in easily.
Soul wasn't sick.
Not in the way Maka thought. It wasn't some stomach bug or bacteria. The problem was in his blood and it had already spread to his soul. He was messed up.
The logical part of him wanted to tell Maka about the dreams. He knew that she could help him. Maybe not right away, but her support and her presence would ease the agony of his dreams. It wasn't as if he didn't trust her - he trusted her more than anything.
His logic was almost immediately stamped out by his desire not to make her feel more guilty. It was bad enough that she blamed herself for the scar and the black blood.
No, it was better this way.
"Soul. Soup is ready," Maka said softly. She pushed the door open the rest of the way, bearing a tray with a bowl of soup on it.
"You didn't have to do that."
Maka blushed, "Just eat your soup. You should rest today, alright? Is there anything else you need?"
"I'm good. Thanks."
"All right... I'm going to get you a bucket though, just in case," Maka hurried off.
Soul sighed and shut his eyes, "Not cool." He mumbled. "No matter what I do I end up worrying her."
A/N: Poor Soul. Humm, I actually liked this chapter as it was for the most part, so it stayed pretty much the same.