Note: Soul Eater does not belong to me, those rights belong to Atsushi Okubo. This is rated T for language, dark themes, and hinted sexuality.
It takes a longer time for her to notice than she'd ever care to admit, but when she does, it scares her so badly.
He always angles himself so he can see all exits of a building in his periphery, and how his shoulders are always tense. He wears sunglasses everywhere they go and sets them on the table, which she realizes far too late is a method he uses so he can always see what is behind him.
She has to hand it to him, even in his eternally freaked out state, he's still quite creative and discreet, considering it was a month before she could recognize his little quirks for what they actually were: paranoia running rampant in his mind and soul.
The padlock on their door was what tipped the scale.
"What are you, preparing for the apocalypse? Did you ditch Star again, cause if he breaks down that door one more time I swear to Death I'm gonna do the same damn thing to his skull.."
"Just want to be safe is all. Don't worry about it."
"Soul..?"
"Huh?"
"Are you okay..?"
"Wha-yeah! Fine! Just uhhh. Precautions? Yeah. It's fine, really."
Gritty fingernails drag across the interior walls of his soul and he tries not to wince as the demon cackles gleefully, gathering up metaphorical boards from nowhere and nailing them across the threshold of the black room.
Come on Soul, hurry up now. Don't let the monsters in to take your girly away, surely you couldn't live with yourself if that were to happen, could you? Oooo and don't forget to lock the windows!
He rushes into his bedroom, the one that he and Maka have shared for over a year now, locking the window and checking his closet thoroughly before jamming it shut and wedging a chair in front of it. Maka calls for him from his doorway, and he's so startled he accidentally shifts the limb grasping his desk chair into a blade, slicing open the fabric easily. Snowy stuffing pours from it as curses and pleas pour from his mouth, blade shifting back to bone and flesh as he frantically tries to set right something that can't be undone.
"Soul.. resonate with me?" He doesn't realize he's shaking until she places a hand on his shoulder. He squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that he sees those little pinpricks of colours dancing across the insides of his eyelids, trying desperately to reach her soul with his own.
But he can't. The door is locked and boarded up, and that conniving little red-faced shithead is throwing a one man jamboree inside. Soul's head pounds, and he morbidly wonders if Mr. Demon man is tap dancing on his piano in golf shoes. When he turns to look at Maka, she almost looks offended, and suddenly he's so, so very exhausted..
"Maka, he-"
"No. I'm coming in. He can't keep me out of the place i know best. You aren't his to take." There's a tugging in his chest that blooms into a sharp pain, reminiscent of tearing a fingernail off, but far more unpleasant with the unsettling knowledge that the feeling originates in the entirety of his being.
Within, she's ramming her shoulder into the door to the black room repeatedly, shoving, then kicking, then shoving some more. She lets out a frustrated screech when her shoulder starts to ache, nearly jumping out of her skin when a hand grasps hers before she can hurl herself into the door once more.
"Stop it. It won't budge, I've tried. I've tried everything.. it's a place inside my own soul and I can't even fucking reach it myself, you giving yourself whiplash isn't going to change that." He looks so tired, broken, older than any twenty year old boy should, shadows alarmingly pronounced under his dull burgundy eyes. A month now, he's been clawing at that door, trying to escape the darkness that engulfs them, and she didn't fucking know until now.
How dare he.
"Fuck you! You're going to let him win?! You're going to let him take your soul just like that?! Well guess what! Your soul is a part of mine too. Think of it this way, it's like you trying to sell our apartment on your own, you can't because I need to sign the papers too and guess what, Soul! I'm not signing the fucking deed to your soul over to that piece of worthless filth."
"Maka, stop. I.. I have an idea. The room, it's not actually my whole soul, obviously, since I'm still out here with you. So I may still have some kind of control over it."
"I'm not following, can you open the door or not?"
"I can't. But maybe if we can resonate well enough out here, I can get back some control of the room."
"Okay. We can try, but, Soul..? What has he been saying to you? Cause you've been acting really messed up. I know it's been a while now and I'm so sorry I didn't catch on earlier..Just.. what's he been saying to you?"
"He… He said that if I wasn't careful, someone would come and take you away from me. He told me that if I wasn't always cautious, I'd lose you for sure. And I know how fuckin' stupid it was for me to listen to him but logic wasn't really a concern when I thought I was going to lose everything I care for most in the world.. I was doing so well, you know? I was tuning him out, I could ignore him so easily, but when he said that to me… what if I tuned him out that time and he ended up being right..?"
He seems far too young now, arms crossed protectively across his chest, eyes wide and glossy. She sighs, pulls him to herself and tucks his face into her shoulder, playing with the little baby hairs at the nape of his neck.
"Soul.. do you know how fast I would slice someone who tried to hurt you or me in half?" He can hear the smile in her voice, and he feels so dumb, cause yeah, Maka can probably take care of herself in that kind of situation. But still..
"Hey fuck off, I already said logic wasn't with me!"
"Well that much is obvious."
"Just shut up and kiss me."
"Oh my god, Soul that's so cheesy!"
"Uhhhh for the sake of my soul, please kiss me?"
"Ugh fine. But you owe me hot coco and good sex when we get home you know. C'mere."
It really doesn't take much. His fingers combing through her hair, her fingertips tracing his ribs delicately while she nibbles at his lip gently. Now, he can hear her inside his head again, the only voice there that is ever truly welcome.
No matter what anyone says, I'm not going anywhere. I swear. Not when I have you to come home to.
She smiles against his mouth as she reaches past him for the doorknob, twisting it with a satisfying series of clicks. She slips her other arm around his waist so he doesn't stumble over the threshold as she jams the door open, boards splintering and giving to her will. They're greeted with a nauseating stench of singed curtains and spilled wine.
The place is a fucking wreck.
And in the center, there is a very confused looking demon, frozen in his place upon the piano.
Soul attempts a step toward him, but Maka is far ahead of him, hands wrapped around that tiny, infuriating imp's throat. His eyes bulge comically, her tendons fluttering beneath her skin as she torments him. His flesh sizzles in her grip, and she smiles sweetly.
"If you ever put my partner through that kind of pain again, ever hurt him the way you did, I will erase you from fucking existence. Do you understand me?"
His tongue lolls out of his mouth, and he nods vigorously, legs kicking at the air and fingers at war with hers to free himself. She tosses him to the side, and he tumbles into the corner in a heap, gasping and poking at his neck to evaluate damage done.
A raspy, enthusiastic little chuckle forces it's way out of him. He points to Soul, but addresses Maka.
"I only ever show him things that already exist in his mind you know. It isn't my fault that your boyfriend is loony toons."
"Alright I think I've had enough of you, bye bye now. Soul, door?" She grasps Oni by his collar and tosses him out of the open door, locking it behind him and smiling triumphantly. That little shit deserves to have to wander aimlessly for a good while. Hopefully he never finds his way back.
When she turns back, Soul is sitting at the piano, toying halfheartedly with the keys of the higher octaves, forehead marked with deep worry lines. Now she sees, the gouges littered across his piano, places where the enamel has been carved out and chipped away. It can't feel good, she's sure of that..
She sits beside him on the bench, running her fingers over the gouges, watching curiously as they mend themselves beneath her touch, making him shiver and groan. He flips down the fall-board, placing his cheek upon it and sighing tiredly. She pushes his bangs back from his face, and his eyes slip closed.
"You know," he mumbles lethargically, "He's right. I am fucked up. He just brings up stuff I try to repress is all. It's my fault, really." He looks so convinced that what he's saying is the truth, it makes her ache.
"No. You're not fucked up. You're normal.. or if you're fucked up then so am I. Just… don't listen to him, okay? Tell me when you're feeling this way so I can help before it gets like this.."
"Yeah.. I will. Promise. Hey Maka?"
"Hmm?"
"Lets go home. I owe you some hot coco, right?"
"Don't forget the good sex!"
"Wouldn't dream of it, love."