Breakin' Me Down
by. Poisoned Scarlet
Overload: Soul Resonance
She's here again.
He's here again.
It's like stepping on stage only without the fright and judgmental eyes staring up at her.
A spotlight illuminates her and the lacy black dress glitters under hot-baking lights. Her shoes are heeled, strapped on her feet tightly. Her dress is form-fitting; modest around her chest yet accentuating the curves that dip around her hips dangerously. Her pigtails are tied in black ribbons; black, silk, gloves pulled over her hands and up her arms.
He's in that sinful pinstriped suit of his. He stands far off from her, by the grand piano that sits in the middle of the Black Room, adjusting his jacket on his person haughtily. A slight grin is on his lips, scarlet eyes smoldering as they drape down her body in a way that makes shivers crawl down her spine.
A snarky voice interrupts their appreciative gazing.
Yeah, her again.
Little Ogre sits in that cushioned, wrought iron, high chair of his; demonic eyes dark on her person as she steps forward from the raven-black curtain, the clacks of her shoes loud in the suddenly silent room. The demon slides off the chair, dragging forward with a curious twinkle in its devious eyes. "What are you doing here so suddenly, little girl?"
Maka spares a glance at the small demon. "I—!"
"None of your business." Soul cuts her off briskly.
Little Ogre is only too amused by his protectiveness. "Well, now, that isn't any way to treat a friend, Soul. And here I thought you had more class than that..." Its eyes stray back to her, foreboding and dark. Its grin only makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand. "Let me correct myself: what brings you to my humble domain, Maka Albarn?"
Soul lifts the piano's fallboard, ignoring the imp.
"Soul Resonance." She replies softly. Yes, Soul Resonance brings her back to his soul's room. They are fighting a strong Kishin, she clearly remembers, and they bonded souls once more due to it. Kid and Black Star are out there, too, only they haven't Soul Linked as of yet – no, she wants a few seconds on her own with him while on the outside they're just starting to charge up for the imminent Witch-Hunter that will weaken the formidable Kishin that starves for their souls.
"Well, then..." Little Ogre bows, almost ridiculously since his arms are far too big for its cramped body. The clown grin on his face makes him look more demented than how he already looks. "On with the show!"
He snaps his fingers.
A clash of notes startles her.
Soul saunters forward as if given a cue, ever so smooth with that cunning grin of his. He reaches for her, hand stretched out for her to take, and asks with a devilish mischief she can't place yet: "Let's dance?"
And she can only takes his hand in hers.
She can feel that demons eyes pierce through them while Soul leads, a soft song playing on the suddenly autonomous piano.
She doesn't recognize it but she assumes it's one of Soul's creations that he hasn't let anyone else but himself listen to to.
She can't help feeling smug that she is the only person other than himself to hear the sweet melody... It makes her feel warm and gain confidence.
She squeezes his hands and he squeezes back, his smirk widening at the emotions that pulse between them.
"You're getting better." He whispers into her ear, hot breath making her heart stutter. She swallows, lowering glass green eyes to the checkered floor in uncertainty. It's always like this in the square room: they dance, the piano plays, the demon watches like a hawk, and she threatens to dissolve into a thousand shards of glass from the single act of him holding her in his capable arms. "Left."
She obeys, because what else can she do, really?
She's in his domain.
She's in his soul.
She's helpless, vulnerable, because she can feel the thrumming of his emotions just as clearly as he can feel hers.
He's a distraught mess of excitement, nerves, and something else, something like intense care that borders on passion, and she only reflects this.
She often wonders why they don't do something to relieve these building tensions between them when they're so close it's painful. Why do they always act like nothing happened when they return to their proper minds?
They know each others feelings in this form; there's no way to hide the intense adoration they feel for one another.
It's impossible to.
And even if there was a way to hide them, bury them, stash them away so no one could find them, she wouldn't do it because she simply can't ignore the humming call for his soul whenever he's near; the wash of his warmth over hers as they sway to the discordant play of the piano behind him...
He always feels so different whenever they're in this room: more real, less fake, more emotional, less impassive.
She wonders if she's any different, too: less violent, more caring or less prideful, more willing.
His arms tighten around her waist, bringing her in even closer to him; forcing her to inhale the blissful, musky, spicy scent of himself. She doesn't reject him, because she has to be far down in the strings of madness to reject Soul Eater Evans, and merely laves her fingers with his own in silent devotion.
She's always so vulnerable in this Black Room.
She can't find it in herself to hate it, either.
Maybe when she leaves the confinements of the room can she mourn the loss of her pride and emotions to his puppeteer hands that simply love to make her twirl and dance to his every command; his every gaze and grin.
Since being so emotionally exposed has always been embarrassing for her – her adoration for him is ridiculous, she sometimes thinks, when she's lying in bed and sleep won't come.
But then again, so is his...
He guides their arms, lifting them up into the sky that is only a square of polished black. The spotlight is on them again, bright and blinding, and she can only see the unnatural smoothness of his cheekbone as he gazes at something she can't see.
His arm becomes tighter around her waist, pulling her so close to him there's no space between them, and she finds herself on her tip-toes just so she could continue to crush herself against his sturdy build.
It causes that spark to ignite.
That urge to be disarmed by his smoldering gaze.
She can feel the flames that stir within her start to grow out of control...
The piano has struck a single note this time.
She allows herself an absent moment to wonder just who is playing it – Soul or the Little Ogre that's watching them with a wide grin of knowing? – when it hits another deep note that reverberates throughout the walls of her soul, causing her to utter a silent gasp.
He suddenly looks down, scarlet eyes molten with a desire that makes those flames kindling inside of her shoot up to unimaginable lengths, and the large smirk that spreads across his face takes her breath away.
She doesn't know what to do.
She knows what's coming, though.
His mouth hovers over hers teasingly, his free hand gripping the silk of her dress; scrunching it up in his fist. Their arms are still extended in the air and she feels as if they've been paused in time for a split second while her mind tries to catch up with what's about to happen.
"Go for it."
She feels like dropping to her knees from the sheer amount of undiluted emotion, raw sensations that exterminate all rational thought, that threaten to drown her but she finds that she can't: she's too frozen.
Go for what?
"Do it before it's too late."
Lean up? Does he mean lean up and kiss him and ultimately char with the heat he exudes and she burns in? She doesn't know anymore. Her mind still hasn't caught up with her yet – it's still lost somewhere up in the onyx sky along with her heart.
"No, you idiot." Soul chuckles richly into her ear, sending more goosebumps up her gloved arms. His lips dare to brush up the plane of her cheek, leaving a single kiss on her temple.
Her knees feel so weak.
How can he reduce her to such disgustingly low levels with a simple sharp note or deep baritone? With a single glance or grin?
"The attack." He murmurs, eyes closed as he holds her in his arms. The piano still plays behind them. He grins at the dazed and swimming emotions that thunder through her being and into his, and hides his face in the crook of her neck. "Remember...? You better do it now or Kid might die for real."
"WITCH HUNTER!" She screams into the black of the night, snapped out of the picturesque moment she had been previously melting in; back to the gritty battle against the Kishin that has caught the blow with its shoulder and only watches in horror as her scythe slices clean through putrid flesh and bone and eventually hits concrete.
I knew that...
She swears she felt his lips press against the corner of her own right before their resonance cuts and they're both one of themselves again; tearing into malignant humans once more and thrust back into reality, where they will both pretend they have not witnessed the powerful pulses of their emotions coursing between them.
Where they'll get lost in the mindless dramas of every day life.
Where they'll watch each other from afar.
Where they'll let pieces of their love show in small gestures and touches; rare smiles and soft gazes.
Because he was cool-guy Soul Eater Evans and she was bookworm Maka Albarn and goals weren't reached without hard labor and strife – they wouldn't take the easy way, not this time.
Breaking each other down to their most raw sentiments, their most raw, innate, senses, was something they wanted to do in reality.
A/N: I know. It's short but I really wanted this to be a special ending to a special series. Now, I might get some things wrong about soul resonance but to me minutes in the black room translate to split seconds in reality! That's how I see it, at least...
On a final note, I'll probably be making another collection. That is, when I find a suitable collection to start... You can all throw out ideas if you want!
Thank you for your supporting reviews :D
They make me feel all fuzzy and 'aww' inside...No, seriously, they do, and sometimes I find myself insanely thinking that it isn't normal and maybe I should go get checked up by Doctor Stein.