AN: I'd like to apologize for the wait. I have no real excuse. I had a fandom falling out. T_T But, one Soul Eater poster and a lot of time later, I'm back. And I'm finishing this story. Pronto. I'm blasting Coyote Kisses (me no own) and Gorillaz (me also no own) through my headphones to get me WORKING. Woo... Yeah.

I don't own anything. Not even my house.

Oh. Also, my writing style has changed quite a bit since we last spoke/wrote/saw each other. I personally think it's improved, sorry if you think otherwise. :P I might just rewrite my old chappie too, so it's not too much of a shift.

Life after shattering was very different. Sort of.

Everything got fuzzy around the edges, like old photographs and fish eye filters. He'd focus on one thing (Maka) and everything else would be so blurry he'd almost stumble around in a daze.

Or would he?

Everything felt methodical and repetitive and all around crap because Soul was faking everything. It wasn't like he wanted to, he just found himself doing it, day by day. Because he was numb. A lot of times he'd just pause, and try to figure out what he was feeling, but it all traced back to that weird feeling of emptiness inside. Like there was something missing.

He'd lay on top of his bed at night and will himself away, because it felt like something was gnawing at him inside. He didn't know what to feel. Glad? Or not? Or what? i want to know. I want to know what to do.

"You need to die." Came the ugly, horrible, get out of my head, ogre.

"Shut up." Soul thought offhandedly, feeling a bubble of dislike well up inside. Yay. Emotions? Sometimes he felt like he faked his emotions so much he didn't really know what he was feeling. What to feel. The mask he'd made for himself was starting to become so real, it was starting to feel like a coffin.

"Good. It should be. You should really just die. Or better yet, give me your body. I can make you feel things again."

"Thanks but no thanks."

Because they all knew how that worked out. Still works out.

Soul pulled out his phone, going to google. Since google is everyone's friend and no one cares about what you do on the internet.

"I feel numb," Soul said aloud, albeit softly, as he typed. Didn't want to wake Make up. Most nights she slept very lightly. "And I think I'm depressed."

The first results he got was from an answers forum. He scrolled through, trying to muster up a bored feeling. The term "Smiling Depression" turned up. Once. Twice.

Okay. What is that?

He looked up that next, and found it startlingly close to what he was feeling. The first thing he felt was a tinge of relief, because thank everyone, this wasn't because of the black blood. Or at least, it wasn't' some weird black blood condition. People beside him had it. He wasn't entirely alone.

Sort of anyway.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The next afternoon was a basketball game, and Soul spent more time in the bathroom getting ready then his utterly female yet totally tomboy partner. He was staring at the mirror again, taking his increasingly beastly appearance in stride.

Bloody eyes. Check.

Pointy shark teeth. Check.

Ghost skin. Check.

White hair. Double check. Can't really miss that. He fiddled around with his hair, pulling bangs into clips or bands or just something to make him looks less... Monster. Less monster and more human.

He settled on a slightly lighter color of his dark headband. It was very dark red. But he liked it better. Soul had amassed quite a collection of hairbands, headbands and everything hair care and beauty. Just in an effort. To look better. Nicer. More... Approachable? Maka liked to tease him about it, when they were alone.

"You're such the diva Soul. You never used to take this long. Isn't this supposed to be the other way around?"

"Shut it TT." He grumbled, checking himself one more time in the mirror next to the door. I look a bit better.

"Don't be ridiculous, there's no hope for you."

"Then I'll take that in stride too."

"What's... TT?" Maka locked the door behind them.

"Tiny tits." He should really think more before he speaks. It could get him into a lot of trouble. Or hospitals. Maka clocked him with a particularly hard book (must not have broken it in yet) and he hissed, rubbing his head.

"Maka—"

"Let's just go Soul. Before you decide to say something else." Something else like THAT.

Soul rolled his eyes. "Sure."

They walked in silence for a while. Just enjoying each other's company. Soul felt out of place and awkward. He adjusted his headband too many times to be considered "Cool."

"You know," Maka turned around from their walk to the basketball court. "You've seemed really... Off, lately."

"Oh really?" Soul asked, beating away a rising wave of panic. It could drown him, and then where would he be? He didn't actually know.

"Yeah, is anything bothering you? We can always talk about it. Since we trust each other..." Maka was clearly finding this a bigger problem than she let on. Her horrible attempt at making things non-chalant proved it.

"It's—" I can't lie to you. You'd know. "I... Appreciate it, but," You've got too much on your hands for a useless idiot like me. "I've got it handled Maka. I promise. It's nothing major. Nothing a cool guy like me can't handle." The words tasted sour, because he was still sort of lying.

"Soul..." Maka frowned. "Just... I'm here for you..." She seemed just a tiny bit hurt.

I don't want you to be here for me. You don't have to be. Go worry about your own life. Please. "I know... Maka. Nothing to worry about. Promise." Please.

Maka had basically accepted basketball as a normal Saturday thing by this point. She was still absolutely horrible at the sport, and probably shouldn't be allowed in a court, but no one minded. At all.

"So? What should the bets be?"

AN: Yeah. Not really a cliffy. But I didn't want to write more for this chapter. :3 So yeah. Toodles.

If you liked it. (Or didn't) Please review. :3 Because otherwise the other story I currently have is going to take precedence. Thanks! Have a nice day!

:D