AN: This fic has some dark themes, but don't worry there's some fluff too. Enjoy!
Title: Just to Bask in Your Light
Prompt: Wings
Disclaimer: Don't own
He loves her Grigori soul.
He loves the way it feels when they resonate. It's like the wings of her soul were enveloping his in a warm embrace.
It's safe…
It's soothing…
It's reassuring…
Soul considers himself a dark person. No, he isn't evil, nor does he have any bad intentions; but there is something about his person that's grim—like if he weren't careful he could give into darkness, to insanity.
And it terrifies him.
The intrusion of the black blood intensifies this fear. His insanity becomes personified for Death's sake! A little red demon who constantly torments and tempts him—trying to gain control of his mind, body, and soul. Sometimes Soul will give in, but is clear in his convictions that he won't go too far. He wants to believe that he is better than that.
But sometimes he's not that strong. Sometimes the urge to give into madness is too much for him. Because life is difficult and there's the constant fear that he'll fuck up somehow. That he'll fail in protecting his meister. The mere thought of it raises his anxiety and plagues him with doubt.
But then he resonates with Maka and all that ails him just…fades away. Her courage inspires him, her determination motivates him, and the purity of her anti-demon wavelength staves away the madness that quite literally flows through his blood.
The little demon inside him sneers and hisses at the feeling of her Grigori soul. He often curses it, wishing it would go away so it wouldn't mess with his plans to take over Soul. Soul gives him a smug grin in response—it may be his job as the weapon to protect the meister, but Maka has made it her mission to protect him from the darkness.
It makes him love her more…
But her soul can't always protect him. Nightmares are still a thing, and Soul has always been susceptible to them.
Terrors of many forms visit him often at night. Sometimes he's back home, chained to the piano and forced to play for an audience who doesn't really hear him. Other times he's in the Black Room and instead of taking reign of his decisions against the little demon, he gives in and succumbs to madness.
And many, many times he has visions of Maka dying. The recurring one features him as her killer, unable to stop his actions before he performs the final blow and cuts her open with his scythe. In her body's place is the Grigori soul he loves so much. He sees himself caress it, leaning down as if to kiss it…
But instead of a kiss he opens his large maw—sharp, elongated teeth coming into view—and bites down hard into it, chewing it, savoring it.
This is when he wakes up in a cold sweat, lungs burning with how hard he hyperventilates.
He hates this dream the most because the thought of killing Maka and eating her soul makes him utterly sick.
Climbing out of bed, he frantically stumbles out of his bedroom. It's a habit he wishes he hadn't made, but it can't be helped. He needs her; he needs to know she's still there.
Opening the door to her room, he scans her bed and practically sags in relief upon seeing her slumbering form. Part of him wants to slump onto the floor and cry tears of joy, but he stops himself. That would be very uncool of him, and there's the fact it could wake up Maka and he knows how much she hates it when he uncharacteristically breaks down.
Sighing, he moves closer to her bed, stopping at the edge and watches her sleep. It's creepy, he knows, but watching the even rise and fall of her chest calms his racing heart.
Unable to resist any longer, he sits down next to her. The shift of the mattress, of course, rouses her from her sleep.
She's a little disoriented. Her big green eyes blink slowly up at him.
"Soul?" her speech is slurred with exhaustion, "Wha'samatter?"
Soul doesn't know what to tell her. He feels like saying he had a bad dream would be pathetic. He's practically a grown man at this point; he doesn't want to come across as childish to her. Instead, he shrugs.
Their bond is so strong it's almost scary. She can read him so well—as he can her. He doesn't have to say anything for her to know there's something bothering him. It doesn't help that he can feel his soul nudging hers, practically crying out for it to come to its rescue and soothe it.
Luckily for him, her soul happily answers the call.
Maka spreads out her arms to him, still sleepy but alert enough to let him know she's there for him, "C'mere."
He takes the bait, falling into her waiting embrace. He hates how clingy he is, but during this moment he doesn't care. She's his lifeline, his light in the dark. She'll make everything better, even if all she can do is hold him for the night.
"Shhh," she whispers, running her fingers through his hair as he buries himself in her chest. "It's okay. I got you."
And like that he feels the familiar wings of her soul enveloping his ragged one. It brings him comfort like nothing else. Makes him feel warm, safe…loved.
He clings to her tighter, repeating in his mind the promise he always makes to himself: that he'll always protect this woman, protect her Grigori soul.
Because without Maka there's nothing for him but darkness.
AN: Bit on the cliché side, but I love it when characters comfort others after nightmares.
Hope you liked it! Please review!