A/N: Yo yo~!

Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews and favorites/alerts! I really appreciate them all!

Sorry this was so late! But, if I were you, I wouldn't expect quick updates, but rather, once month updates. My muse is picky and I'm struggling with some personal things, so I've been having a hard time spitting out some words, heh ^^;;

Anyway, I hope you enjoye this chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater.

(Warnings/Reasons for M-rating has changed)

Rated M for adult/dark themes, lemons, and minor cursing.

2. Tuez-moi (Kill me)

A week later and he is starting to make her giggle.

Soul believes this is an improvement, compared to the dry, boring conversation that they used to have. But now they pass jokes back and forth, laughing like death didn't surround them everyday, that life wasn't cold and lonely being stuck in a hospital, that everything was going to be okay.

However, his identity is still a mystery.

They said they couldn't do a fingerprint scan because he had no insurance, he had no money, had nothing to his seemingly non-existant name. They couldn't do anything for him until someone, particularly a family member, proved he was a part of their family.

But, no one came to claim him.

His story was on the news, face plastered on the dull screens, showing his dull, blood-red eyes tinted with flicks of black, his tan, scarred skin, bleach white hair,and his jagged, shark-like teeth that seemed intimidating. Some bored children drew poor pictures of him and pasted them on the hospital walls, little scribbles under his face that read, "Do You Know Me?"

He decides not to dwell on it, because he knows he'll just get a headache when he tries to remember what happened - "an accident" was all they told him - so he turns his attention to Maka, the nerdy bookworm in the room next to him with a dying voice, but a fighting spirit.

Soul is about to speak up before he hears a gross retching sound. He frowns and sits up a little bit, as if that would let him hear better through the thin plaster of the walls. "Maka?" he calls out nervously, worrying his bottom lip with sharp teeth.

He receives a cough plus a sound that sounds vaguely like someone spitting in return. There's a slight shifting of movement and he tries not to grimace as she hacks again into...whatever she's heaving into. Soul doesn't actually know what's wrong with Maka exactly that causes her to stay here for so long, but he has his guesses.

"Maka?" he tries again.

"S-Sorry Soul," Maka coughs and wipes her mouth clean of any remaining vomit. His voice sounds timid and unsure, not like its usual sarcastic, dry tone that it usually holds. "I'm not feeling so well."

"Did you want me to call a nurse?"

Maka shakes her head, pushing her damp bangs out of her face and off to the side, lying back in her seat and letting out a slow, easy breath of air, letting the rolls of nausea settle. Her eyes fall closed and she feels weak, but she refuses to give in. Passing out was not an option. "I'm fine. Thanks though...,"

"..." Soul thinks that he should probably make her laugh, to lift her spirits, so he grins even though she can't see it, which might be a good thing. He doesn't really like his appearance - it scares him, to be honest. It's like looking at a monster in a mirror. That's not what he wants to look like to Maka, who, he thinks, probably looks as sweet as she sounds. "Maybe you're sick from all those books you read, huh bookworm?"

"If I could Maka-Chop you, I would,"

Soul paused and then looked up, "Can you walk? I mean, couldn't you just walk over here and we could actually see each other? I mean, it's kinda cool to talk through walls, but...," He scratches his snow white hair. Wait. Was it dyed or was it natural? "I would like to see who I'm talking to."

Maka crossed her arms over her chest, feeling a bit stupid that she hadn't thought of this idea before. But, she was so weak physically, it was hard to just sit up in bed. "Why don't you walk over here then, if you're so interested in seeing what I look like?" Honestly, she didn't want Soul to see her. She was plain. Average. Her honey-colored hair, put up loosely in two pigtails, hung down her shoulders limply, her forest green eyes no longer shining, her face washed out and pale. She looked dead - she felt like it too.

Soul didn't answer for a little while. Maka was starting to worry, about to voice her concern, but suddenly he spoke up, his voice tense against the prolonged silence that had transcended between them.

"...Both of my legs were shattered. I can't walk right now,"

Immediately, tears flew to Maka's eyes and she covered her mouth with her hand, feeling a sharp pain in her heart. She felt terribly, using that annoyed tone of voice with him earlier. She didn't know! How many other injuries did he have?

"Soul?" She whispered, blinking back the wave of tears that threatened to fall.

"Yeah?"

"What happened to you?"

Soul shook his head, gritting his teeth. He squinted his eyes shut and looked away from the wall, clenching his fists. "Don't ask, Maka," He forced the words out from between his teeth, "I don't know and I doubt I'll ever know."

"You won't ever know if you don't think positi-,"

"Don't give me that bullshit!" He sat up too quickly and immediately groaned, feeling a sharp pain wrack his body, the large scar sewn up with stitches that crossed from his left shoulder to his right hip pulsing with torturing pain. He resisted a small scream, checking the inside of his shirt for any blood. He panted a little, feeling his body break out into a cold sweat from the sudden invasion of pain. "I don't believe in those kind of sayings."

Maka frowned, hearing a flurry of movements from his side of the wall. He seemed to be in pain. Possibly from his broken legs? Either way, she wanted to help him. Sitting up, Maka nearly gasped as a strong roll of nausea bubbled up in her throat, forcing her to swallow it back down. Taking a few deep breaths, she stood up from her bed side, grabbing her IV pole to bring along with her - mostly for support. She could hardly stand, but she was going to make it to his room no matter what.

Inching her way to the door, she opened it quietly, praying that it wouldn't squeak like most of the doors in the hospital did, letting out a small exhale of relief when it stayed silent. Making sure she didn't spot any nurses, especially Nurse Nigus or Nurse Marie since they were the toughest about the regime, she tiptoed out, her IV stand rolling softly behind her.

Knocking on the door to Soul's room, she whisper-called, "Soul?"

"Come in,"

Hopefully he wouldn't mind seeing a walking dead girl while she didn't mind looking at a boy tortured by the missing facts of his life.

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