AN: I know I KNOW… Its been FOREVER! Truthfully, it takes me a loooong time to pull out a chappie for this story.. Its kind of because Im very busy, but also because I ran out of watching and re-watching the Soul Eater fics and shit happened through the year and well, yeah, so anyways, Im still working on it, and I apologize about the horrible space in time. I know a lot of you have been supportive and sweet, asking for another chapter. So I decided I was bitch enough, here you go… I promise to try and work more on this! Love,
Soul didn't know where he was going. The streets were blessedly clear, and the sky was cloudless. He could not remember what he had done, but it was as if there was something in him, some other entity. He could hear a faint, ringing laugh around him and he stopped to look around. There was no one near.
He took to walking again and tuned his ears to any sound out of the ordinary. There was nothing, no one. He grit his teeth, this totally sucked. He'd just blown off on Maka, whom he knew had a hero complex. If there was anyone n need of help, it was Maka who always tried to do the right thing. He tried looking at it form that way but his hands were shaking with rage.
Why couldn't she just for once, put him above her need to help? He had jumped to save her life, and she accepted his would-be-killer with ease! He couldn't get over how much that hurt, and the frustration of realizing that it shouldn't left him even madder.
There was that laugh again! He spun around quickly, and the laugh was behind him again! He turned teeth bared, but nothing.
He ran a hand through his messed up hair, and winced at the soft ache across his chest. How long had he been out? What had he missed? He didn't remember whether someone told him, he remembered only rage. He sighed, realizing where he ended up when not looking.
He was on the outskirts of the city, where the old cemetery was. No one buried their dead here anymore, the place was too small, and had become a place most avoided, the people who used to once come and care for their loved ones had died a long time ago themselves. There was no one to remember those people now.
He was waling along the tall bars that surrounded it. The gate was closed, but he could not see a lock. Gently, disbelieving it would work, but deciding to try nonetheless, he pushed against the gritty, old metal.
With a loud creaking sound, the metal swung into the graveyard, leaving Soul an open path into the silent forest of cold stone and dried ash.
He stepped it, noting the crunching of the old leaves that carpeted the floor. It was obvious that no one came here. He stepped cautiously, worried that he'd be spotted or that some drunkard or crazy made this his personal home. Quickly, the thought was dismissed; there was no one here, period.
He relaxed, and let himself enjoy the serene quiet and quirky beauty of something very much forgotten. He had never the chance to visit here before; usually he was busy and preoccupied with work, training and missions. This was eerily pleasant. He walked slowly, looking at each tombstone in turn. Old names and dates he didn't think were possible jumped out at him.
There was a small chapel on the end of the road. He looked beyond. There was a steep cliff drop right behind it, and below, an ocean. It was calm and glittering with silver tones as he looked over, hands in pockets. There was use for that moon after all. This was it, to bathe the night in a cape of hope. He looked up, the mangled, barren branches of the dead trees around him seemed to agree. He sat himself on the tombstone closest to the edge and relaxed against a carved cross.
The dried leaves gently skipped and raced on the floor, crashing against the stones and falling over the precipice. He watehd them, smiling slightly. Out of all the places, this seemed to be one made just for his solitude. He could relax, most importantly, he could reflect.
And there he was, standing sitting cross legged on the grass, looking up at him, a visage of himself. White eyes boring into him. It opened its mouth, forming words, but Soul couldn't hear him at all. It was strange, he should be terrified of seeing himself looking all evil and shit, but he wasn't. It felt like he was meeting an old acquaintance, one he knew quite well.
It was laughing now, at seeing Soul's confused expression. And he could hear that!
"Who the fuck are you?" he shouted, eyes wide.
The visage smirked and answered no sound.
Soul walked up and extended his hand The visage did the same their hands caught in a grasp Should felt the cold flesh underneath his warm palm The visage pulled him towards the precipice and he was calm oh so calm and instead of worrying about what the thing wanted he followed looking up at the moon smiling at its beauty and wondering why he had never seen it like this before and the moon had no face hanging like a light bulb in the sky expressionless and he though that this was a much better way for the moon to be but he didn't say anything he looked at the visage and it was smiling and pulling harder and he heard his own laugh escape him and he didn't do a thing to stop himself and finally the visage let go and turned to face him and he was all dark and Soul couldn't see anything but the pair of white pupils and those smiling teeth and the thing just let itself fall fall fall... forward.
Soul creamed and tried to grab hold, nothing, He crawled forward daring to glance at the sharp rocks assailed by the waves below. Not a sign of a body… then the laughter came again, and now he knew, it was inside his head.
He ran out of the cemetery silently, not daring to make a single sound. The only sound now was his heart, and blood pumping in his ears. He was flushed, hot, shuddering, gasping. He needed to get home, needed to see her, know that this was all made believe, that he had had a bad dream.
He hit the street, tripping over the curb in his hurry and landed in the moist gutter. There were laves stuffing the gaping holes that the water ran through, cigarette butts and plastic wraps lingered too. He didn't have the power to get back up; he choked on a small whimper. What the hell was wrong with him? Gone was his good, calm mood, and here again was his anger. He was completely out of it.
The fall had scraped off his palms, and he looked at them now, unsure of who's they were. He ignored the burning sensation and pushed himself up. It felt like the weight of the whole universe was on his back, he had never felt so heavy getting up.
H edidnt have to see his way to get to his house, somehow, he had placed himself on remote control, maneuvering and finding himself face to face with the heavy double oak doors that led to the staircase which led to his apartment. Their apartment.
He sighed and place done foot in front of another, slowly making his way up the impossibly steep staircase. All his life was gone, he was tired, he had a huge scar running the length of him and no friends that thought along the same lines as him. It was all he could do not to fall against the stairs and cry. What normal person had to go through that?
There was no way he could drop out now, he was one of the best, and most prominent losers in Shibusen. On top of that, he could never stand the look on his brother's face if he came home a sore loser. Wess was perfect at everything he did, so why couldn't he? Maybe he wasn't as good, but he wanted to prove himself, and this incident looked like he fell a couple of steps from his path to glory. He snorted at himself, who was she kidding? There was no glory for him. There was Maka, who could at least wield him, and she had that anti-demon wavelength thingie. BS was a ninja, nuff said, and Tsubaki was as good as a weapon could get, and perfectly able to fight on her own as well as with BS. Crona it appeared could hold his own too, which he had plenty of proof of, in the form of stitches. So why couldn't he do shit? He had to admit to at least himself that it was his ego that was hurting as well.
He plucked the key from his pocket, feeling the cool, smooth texture of it on his palm. It reminded him of the visage at the cemetery. A shudder ran through him. He silently opened the door and stepped in.
The place was covered in a thin sheet of dust, further proof that no one has been in for a while. There were footprints on the floor, and he followed them with his eyes to the couch. Where two feet were dangling off one end.
The lights were out, so he had to let his eyes adjust, squinting down at Maka's unmoving form. She was snoring slightly, probably trying to wait up for him.
His hand moved on its own accord, wanting to touch her ankle, just to feel her presence. He shook his head clear and stepped back instead, that was a bad idea. Better not do anything stupid.
He sighed over her and stumbled into his own room instead, closing the door and locking it silently, so as not to wake her. He didn't feel like taking a bath, and he wasn't ready to see himself in a mirror just yet. He could worry about that later. For now, he needed to sleep.
Without pulling off the covers, he fell on top and was gone that fast.
AN: ok… so, like, don't kill me please? O.o?