Soul Eater Ch. 11

A/N- Sorry for the wait. Fanfiction wont let me post and its really pissing me off. Without further ado...


"Nice of you to drop by."

My voice was colder than I meant for it to be, but I didn't mind. I got their attention, didn't I? Maka's head immediately snapped in my direction and I watched as her eyes went from normal to saucers instantaneously. The boy pinning her down looked in my direction belatedly, an uncaring look on his face. Obviously, he didn't know who I was. Maka, on the other hand froze, a horror-struck look on her face.

"Soul! Um…this isn't what it looks like…" My eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, and I'm the damn tooth fairy."

I scrambled to my feet, pushing the confused teenager off of me while yanking the drooping cloth of my robe back onto my shoulder. Soul's scarlet eyes seemed to be burning my forest ones, his stare unyielding. His eyes were filled with a smoldering emotion that was unknown to me, not that I was surprised by that, I'd never been good at reading those sorts of things anyway.

It could have been my desperate need to keep things exactly how they were right now though that allowed me to turn a blind eye to the sorrow, happiness, confusion, anxiety, and undeniable love that shone ever so obviously in my best friend's eyes, but for now, I'll just pretend. If only that could last forever…

"Soul." I said, slowly realizing what seeing him meant. I was really here, in the Evans mansion, and Soul was one of them. It wasn't some big lie they fed me just to get me here for some evil plot. He was rich, famous, and talented while I was a poor (I refuse to use papa's money!) and very unattractive nobody. On top of everything he was that I wasn't, Soul was a Death Scythe. This new development only further proved how wrong we were for each other.

If it was possible, my mood only got worse once Ian decided to open his mouth.

"You mean the Soul Eater Evans? The long lost Soul who-," It seemed like one second Soul was at the top of the fifty stair eccentrically beautiful staircase and the next he was kneeling over Ian, who had stupidly never risen from the ground, hand covering his mouth. The fierce weapon's features never wavered and stayed stolid as he conveyed a message I knew all too well from when he gave it to Black Star.

"Shut up or die"

Usually, it was used when his best friend wouldn't stop talking about in appropriate things or if he started on a subject Soul obviously didn't want me to know about.

Speaking of the blue-haired idiot… where was he? Last time I saw him was in the kitchen for breakfast this morning with his head under the coffee machine faucet. Hopefully it wasn't like the last time he had caffeine. Tsubaki had him banned from it ever since…

I heard a thump as Soul let go of the cuff of my babysitter's shirt and Ian slid to the floor, thoroughly scared. Soul wasn't a death weapon for nothing. I could have smiled at that. I wasn't scared of him though. Soul would never hurt me. He would hurt Ian though and I almost felt bad… almost. It was his fault for refusing to give me my clothes back after I'd showered before proceeding to chase me around this over-sized excuse for a house!

As he slowly scooted away from my livid weapon, I shot the auburn haired teen a smug look before turning to meet Soul's contemplative gaze. I managed one step backwards before his mouth turned upward, showing off his unnaturally razor sharp canines, and he lunged forward. My feet left the ground first, and I wrapped my arms around his neck because I wasn't a fan of falling…ever. Then I felt my body turn and a second later here I am, being held by Soul Eater freaking Evans bridal style.

"I was going to put you over my shoulder but we wouldn't want to give that idiot over there a show now would we?" Soul stated, his usual smirk plastered onto his face. I 'hmphed' in defiance. Partially because he knows what "that idiot's" name is and also because he's not allowed to know how comfy I feel in his arms like this.

Denial isn't just a river. It is a way of life.

"His name is Ian you idiot." I stated, tapping him on the head a bit for good measure. His smile only got bigger and I realized, a bit late seemingly, that mine did as well. How long had it been since I had seen him? A week maybe, but it felt like ages!

When Soul first became a Death Weapon there were stories all the time about how they would go on long missions that took months, or even years to finish. So far I've been allowed to go with Soul on every mission longer than a few weeks even. I've been very lucky because of the fact that Soul specifically said he only served his meister. In other words, he wasn't going anywhere without me. What would I do without him around anyway? Read?

"So where are we going?" We had lapsed into a comfortable silence and I felt a bit guilty for bringing him out of whatever he'd been thinking about so deeply.

"First my room to get you some clothes, then to my… hideout. I guess you could call it that anyway." That hardly answered my question but I supposed I had to be patient for now. There was no way I wasn't getting to the bottom of all of the secrets and lies today.

Finally, Soul turned down a hallway painted a soft gray that was full of tall black doors. There were music notes and other symbols I assumed were somehow musical carved intricately into the suave looking paint. Each door looked the same and it vaguely reminded me of a house of mirrors. Who knew what lied behind any one of them?

"We're here." Soul whispered as he stopped at a pair of large double doors. My mouth slowly dropped as I took it in. The handles were a midnight black to where smudges wouldn't be seen by the average person, and had simply smooth and slick feel to them.

The door itself towered over all of the others, almost reaching the ten foot ceiling. It was a deep crimson, just a shade darker than his eyes, and looked more like a glassy paint on blood. It reminded me of flames, blood, stop signs, fire ants, red wasps, and all things bad.

It screamed, "Stop. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Turn back now."

Yet there were good things that I thought of too. Like apple pies, plaid skirts, and blushing cheeks, or even the red bow he got me for our meister/weapon anniversary. There was nothing carved into the door. It was smooth and hard, being devoid of the complex twists and turns the other doors held.

This was Soul's room. Above it, there was one phrase, painted neatly in a curvy silver handwriting:

"It spreads and consumes, till you are one with it"

Somehow, I had a feeling I knew what "it" was. Soul shifted me a bit to open the door, and I held my breath. His room was… not his. It was perfect. Too perfect. Perfectly clean, perfectly furnished and perfectly… everything. His room back at our apartment was messy with clothes littering the floor and homework strewn all over the desk. He even had some of my stuff, stolen of course, hanging around like my favorite hair tie and my neon green tattered blanket from my childhood.

This… was not the real Soul.

"I haven't been in here since I left when I was thirteen." Soul commented quietly. "It's been four years since then. I-," he paused, running a hand through his pale, messy locks, "I haven't told you a lot about my past Maka. And I was so stupid, but please, please don't judge me. I need you of all people to understand, because you matter Maka."

I nodded my head noiselessly as his grip tightened around my legs and back, before he gently set me onto his white silken sheets. There was a large shirt of his on a nearby chair and I quickly grabbed it and pulled it on. Then I sat and watched in silence as Soul crossed the black and white tiled floor, which oddly reminded me of the Black room, of his room over to the baby grand piano I'd so plainly missed in my original scan of the room.

Soul sat down on his equally ebony bench as he pulled the lid off of the keys, his practiced fingers immediately finding comfort there. A soft sort of background music (swing maybe?) sounded and I closed my eyes, getting lost in it. If I hadn't been listening so attentively, I never would have caught the words flooding softly from his worry worn lips.

"I'd always known there was something off about me. Ever since I was about six. I never voiced anything, but I just knew. Sometimes when I was really angry, cuts would appear on my arms out of the blue and they would bleed erratically.

The blades weren't able to fully form at that point so they just cut me from the inside out." Soul's eyes were zoned, completely taken in by a memory too far away for me to reach. "It was painful. Everyone thought I was cutting myself though. That I was just rebelling by hurting myself, so they ignored it in hopes that the 'phase would pass'."

Soul's music suddenly got darker. It was still jazzy but with darker undertones waiting to consume the entire piece. I clutched the shirt a bit tighter, waiting for him to continue.

"It wasn't a phase though and it kept on happening. It seemed like the stronger the emotion the more intense the physical pain." I cast him a worried look. Did it still hurt like that to transform? Was I causing him pain all this time? "No Maka, it doesn't hurt anymore now that I know what I'm doing." Soul stated without ever meeting my eyes.

"How…?" I whispered to myself.

"Because I know you, Maka. You're bound to worry about every little thing especially, no matter how undeserving I am, when it involves me." The tone switched again; this time from a darker jazz to a mellower classical tune.

"Once when I was eleven I was so angry after being yelled at for not playing the piano as well as Wes plays violin, and flute, and cello, and the freaking saxophone that I turned a few fingers into blades. I blamed it on a freak accident and never told anyone. Even when they questioned how I managed to shred my favorite pillow into confetti.

I knew then, that it wasn't something normal or curable. I was different than them and I needed to find out how and why. However, those plans were put on hold when my father decided to get a new girlfriend, Eleanor Lestrelle, to replace my mother.

She died giving birth to me, another reason for my family to despise me, and though I never met her I hear she was beautiful and kind. Everything Eleanor isn't and I hate her." Soul spat vehemently. Taking in a breath, he gathered his thoughts as the music started again.

"June 29th was the day I first changed all the way. I was thirteen then and I had just found out about my father's engagement to the Wicked Witch of the West. I was so upset. It was the ultimate betrayal. He put that evil woman over his own family. I just cried and cried but when I realized that she would be living with us and bossing me around and mooching off of our family's money I got angry. Then, the next think I knew, my arms were razor sharp. That wasn't an exactly an everyday occurrence for me though and I screamed.

If I were smart I'd have shut up but it was too late for that already.

Two people who happened to hear me rushed into my room and in my fear and anxiety, I whirled around." I heard Soul choke back a sob as the flow in his music hitched for a bit. Apparently, I'm going to have to figure this part out myself. He turned around with his arms in weapon form. The people were behind him. Soul is crying. Oh Shinigami, he didn't!

"Did you kill them Soul?"

I whispered, my voice disbelieving. He was silent; eerily so and even his sobs had stopped.

"I cut them really bad and as soon as I realized what happened, I knew I couldn't stay here any longer. I had to go somewhere I could fit in and be me. Not Soul Eater Evans the musician or famous kid, just Soul. I took some basic necessities like food, water, and money before I snuck out for good. The next day in the paper I learned that they'd died of blood loss. Then, a week later Julian Evans, my father, died of unknown causes. Though everyone thinks that somehow I killed him but I'm sure that Eleanor did it." Soul finally turned toward me, his eyes bloodshot from crying and irises molten with emotion.

"So, now that you know my past can you understand why I didn't tell you about being an Evans? Can you truly say you aren't disgusted by me or that you can still trust me?" He seemed to be holding his breath in anticipation, as I crossed the tacit barrier he'd put up between us and pulled him into my arms.

Was he really so stupid to think I'd leave him over something so entirely out of his hands? Soul's arms tightened around my waist protectively, the air whooshing from his lungs.

"You idiot," I whispered calmly, "don't ever keep anything from me again!" He just laughed in acknowledgement, and maybe even out of relief. How long had this been bottled up inside of him? Either way, that was one mystery solved and only a dozen more to go! I laughed along with him, my spirits higher than they'd been in a while.

"So what happens now, Soul?" I questioned merrily, my eyes twinkling in excitement. I felt like I was stuck in one of those mystery novels I always read, but this was only the start. The bad guy always loses in the end though. Always.

"Now, I tell you my plan Maka." And as he laid it all out step by step, my smile only expanded. Eleanor may think she had it all figured out, but by the time we're done with her people will spit in disgust at the mention of the name Eleanor Lestrelle.

A/N- Well I finally have this entire arc planned out. Yay me! Hopefully since school ends in a month for me I'll have time to post from now on and I can finish by the end of the summer! Let's cross our fingers, guys:)

Also, if you have any suggestions for things that you'd want in the story pleeease send me a message or leave a review because the more muse the better! Thank you!