I apologize for my sadism. I know it will take a few chapters before you forgive me.
Eyes forward. Soul ordered in his head as his red eyes shined back at him in the mirror. Blood on his hands always brought this nondescript feeling, the syrupy consistency and color never spurring anything more than vague acknowledgment but as soon as it was swirling down that drain, as soon as he was coming clean, that was when the momentary flash of terror always took him. His only choice was to stare himself in the face and repeat the order as he scrubbed.
Black Star waiting for him outside of the washroom didn't help, especially as his crossed arms only seemed to tighten as Soul exited. "Boss wants to see you before you go."
"Of course," Soul sighed as he checked his arms for any last bit of splatter.
"I can't come in with you," Black Star murmured.
Soul gripped Black Star's arms, trying to steady the both of them at the same time but only feeling more disjointed. "New rule, huh?"
"Just wants to close the deal, she said," Black Star sighed. "I don't like it. If she does anything-"
"You'll be outside the door," Soul finished for him. "But we're not going to do anything stupid tonight. Play it safe. Give you time for plan B."
"Plan fucking B." Black Star broke from Soul's touch and started down the hallway, hearing the other man close behind him. They ascended the stairs together but as soon as Black Star got to the landing all he could do was move aside and let Soul past him to the door in front of them.
There wasn't a point in knocking, Soul popping open the door without ceremony or slowness to find an empty room. As his head turned to the side to take in the nooks and crannies, the door slammed shut behind him. Almost immediately her arm was draped around his front, pulling his back to her chest as a lover would. "I love you, Soul, you know that."
A sigh shook up his throat as he tried to press her arm away. "Haven't you ever heard the saying that if you really love something you should let it go?"
"That's sweet," she murmured as her arm slipped back to his shoulder. Medusa started the walk around him, her hand gliding up his shoulder to the back of his neck where her nails dug into the soft, sensitive skin of the nape of his neck. "But I let you go, didn't I? Let you have your time and you wasted it."
His skin felt raw under her fingers but he didn't flinch, his eyes focused forward to leave her without satisfaction. "Is that why you wanted to see me? Just to tell me I've fucked up again?"
"No, darling, just to get the goodbye I deserve." Medusa had both hands on him now, holding him like a middle school girl at a dance. "We've been together for so long."
"You're not actually letting me go," Soul growled.
"But I am," Medusa blinked innocently, "A deal is a deal. What I told Black Star was the truth. You worked for me tonight, we call it even."
Soul sucked his teeth as he threw his eyes away from her.
"That hurts, Soul," she cooed as she pulled herself closer. Her arms lazily hung around his neck as she rested her head against his shoulder. "I've never given you a reason not to trust me. You even went against our deal and I gave you a second chance."
Crescent moons seared into his palms as his fists tightened at his sides. "Why?"
"You've worked hard, don't you think you deserve just a little bit of happiness?" Medusa murmured, her voice low so it could only just drift to his ear. "You love her, don't you? Your first love, the first one you've allowed yourself to have."
His teeth ground together, holding back something close to a whimper. Don't. Don't talk about her, please. Just let me go, let me go back to the ruin I left at home.
"That's a special thing." One of Medusa's hands glided across his shoulder and onto his chest, pressing there. "The way she looks at you, like you're real, like you matter. There's not a minute of coldness, of fear, just pure love and adoration with every touch, every glance."
Barely a breath left his lips as they trembled to keep the thin line.
"Because that's the risk we run in our line of work," Medusa's face inched closer to the skin of his neck, her breath trickling hotly up towards his jaw. "Sometimes, it's really just fear. What these girls think is love is really just the rush, the thrill of being with someone dangerous. But as soon as you get too close, it explodes."
Her words were like a snake, slithering up the cord of his neck to his ear to sink deeply into his mind.
"Those girls will take all of you, sleep with you, but instead of those soft tender moments in the end it'll turn cold. Because when it's all over, they're disgusted," that was a slimy hiss that brought goosebumps to his arm. "At you, because they've seen what you really are and at themselves for letting such a low creature touch them."
"But that's not Maka, right?" A sweet sigh followed. "Oh, I just know she's not like that." Medusa threw her arms back around him, holding him tightly and her cheek seemed to dig deeper into his shoulder. "You'll be happy, I just know it."
Maka wasn't pacing the floor so much as practically climbing the walls as each minute sound from anywhere in the building brought her to her feet so she could rush to the hallway and watch the door. In between the scares, she rehearsed her lines. We need to find another way. This can't be how your life has to be. You deserve-
All of it turned to a puddle when his haggard face appeared in the doorway as pink light was starting to hit the windows. "Soul!" There wasn't a chance in hell her feet would slow and she heard the gentle 'oof' of the air leaving him as she threw her arms around him. As the air pressed out from between them it hit her, a scent that reminded her of the dollar store perfumes her mother would let her buy in her preteens when you imagined that cloying sweet was actually attractive. "Soul, what-"
Her words were interrupted by desperate pressure from his lips. Each kiss before had been tempered with hesitation but this was nothing more than need, a threat to swallow her whole. When he finally let her breath his mouth was moving along her jaw and to her neck, soft, painful whispers scraping against his throat on repeat, "I'm sorry."
The feeling wasn't unwelcome but the utter confusion of it all brought her eyes open as her hands tried to steady him. Instead, she found herself gripping tightly into the skin of his arms as her eyes fell on the collar of his t-shirt. The deep purple hue could have almost blended into the black fabric, lost if he wasn't holding her so closely, his mouth still frantically alternating between apologies and sweet caresses of his lips. As her eyes followed the lipstick, a hazy smear from fabric to just the edge of his skin, she found the red, irritated skin. Without hesitation she drifted her hand up to his shoulder to his neck, searching for an explanation with the pads of her fingers.
When her mind finally painted the picture of what was under her fingertips, Soul was capturing her mouth again, pressing her away from the doorway with tentative steps down the hallway. All the beauty in the kiss was gone as the bitterness of tears stung the back of her throat. How could you do this to me? How could you, Soul, when you know, I've told you, and I thought… Almost in disbelief, she let her fingers toy at the lines again, following the trail of scratches. That's what took him so long. Not Black Star but… someone else. And now he wants comfort from me.
How could he not realize he smelled like her?
How could he not realize that her lipstick was still on his shirt?
How could he not realize I'd notice the nail scratches on his neck?
Each sensation flooded over her again, the saccharine scent as he clutched her to his shirt, the deep purple smudge from fabric to skin, the three fine red lines she felt at the nape of his neck. He has to know. He has to. Which means he wants me to see, to know, to hurt.
Soul was moving her into his room as his hand slid under her shirt to touch the bare skin of her back, the fabric gathering on his arm as he let it travel up her spine. Maka couldn't count the times she'd imagined how amazing that would feel but all she could focus on was the image of his hand on someone else, the question of whose skin felt better poisoning her mind. She was breathless with horror instead of ecstasy as he brought her down on the bed, his weight pressed firmly against him.
Where is the man I've spent more than half a year with? Underneath it all, is this what he actually is? All that love and care just a facade that hid this? "Stop, please," her voice was hoarse from the pressure of holding back the tears.
He froze, hands no longer traveling against her skin put tensing in place. "What?"
"I can't," she whispered as her vision started to blur.
A weak cough of air left his mouth, a sad attempt at clearing his throat before he rolled off of her. "I… I'm sorry, I know I should have… I don't fucking know," he muttered off as his hands pressed to his face.
Maka sat up slowly, her fingers shaking as she straightened out her shirt. "Soul… how…" Which question could she even start with?
"Maka." His hand surprised her, no longer grabbing and needing but soft at the small of her back, bringing her eyes back to him. "I know I shouldn't say it again, but I'm sorry. You have to know how much I… I care about you, Maka."
He was wrong, history repeats itself. Because wasn't Mama here? Looking down at Papa's green eyes, hearing his apologies, his cries of love as she weighed how much it was all worth. But his eyes kept on pulling at her, that terror in her heart trying to keep hold in the face of that soft look. He sat up, his hand coming to her face and clearing away tears that she didn't even know were on her cheeks.
"Why are you crying?" he murmured.
"You…" Maka couldn't make sense of it. The endless gentleness of his touch, the sudden concern such a swift juxtaposition from the need, the obvious infidelity. Because you don't want to believe it. Because you're trying to fool yourself just like your mother that maybe it's not possible. Maybe he's different, or maybe he'll change or-
"I'm an asshole," he offered glumly as he rested his forehead to hers. "And I don't expect you to take any of my apologies. Just… stay with me, at least right now and we can talk it through after work. We've only got an hour or two before-"
"I told Liz we weren't coming in." Maka had at least planned for that. Not for everything to come to ruin, but at least for them to need a day.
"Smart," he sighed. "So let's sleep, or try to for a little bit, and then I'm going to keep my promise. I'm going to let you ask questions. I'm going to keep it equal like we were in the beginning."
It's never going back to that. She let a trembling breath part her lips. "OK." Because you are just like your mother, no matter what he's said. You're going to just give in to that soft smile until it kills you.
Soul's mind was going through the list of all the wrongs: I tried to push her, to have what I wanted just to prove a point. Just to prove Medusa wrong. I let that witch poison me and that's what the fear on her face was. That's the disgust if that's what it was at all. With all those scathing remarks he was awake when she slipped out from between his arms. Instead of reaching for her, keeping her from getting up, he waited, letting that venom drift back between his ears.
Maka wasn't watching him nor did she even afford him a glance as she moved to the hamper and lifted his shirt from tonight out. She held it in her hands, searching every inch as she brought it close to her face. Blood. She's looking for blood because she knows what you are. She's been awake this whole time with the fear that you're blood-drenched. That's why she wouldn't touch you, wouldn't kiss you, all because you're disgusting to her now.
A strangled groan barely eked from her throat as she threw the shirt back where it came from. He watched her tremble, her arms hugging her sides. It was impossible that he wasn't getting up, grabbing her, ripping the information from her lips but seeing her standing there, loathing him for all he was left him motionless. Medusa was right. All that interest, that fascination lasts until they're confronted with the real thing. Then they just see you as the monster you really are.
Instead of easing back towards the bed, she disappeared through the door. Again, his head called to get up, to follow her, but his heart was too busy ripping at the wounds that she had started. She's leaving you. She came just close enough and realized it wasn't worth the trouble and now she's leaving you. You beg, you apologize, and it doesn't matter, because nothing about you actually mattered to her in the first place.
Soul waited, listening to her footsteps as they moved through the apartment. It wasn't until he heard the unlatching of the deadbolt of the front door before the creek and shut that he allowed himself to sit up in bed. In the utter silence, he bit his lip until it bled.