I love Soul Eater, and now it's time to see if I can do it any justice. Fingers crossed!
Oh, it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing…
Soul closed his eyes. That didn't work. But that should have been obvious. Closing his eyes wouldn't make the music stop, it would just take him to that room, with that demon and that old skipping record. That was where it took him now, whisked away from his bed and in a pinstriped suit. He opened his eyes to check, then shut them with a quiet groan because the little demon was there, and the record had jammed now, repeating "do-wop" over and over again.
"You should turn that off," Soul muttered. "It's broken."
"It you dance, it will start again," the demon promised, his voice a growling whisper.
Soul smirked. "No."
"It's a good song to dance to." Its lips curled back in a horrifying smile. "Especially with a partner."
His eyes shot open and he stormed up, pointing a threatening finger. "You can't touch Maka."
"Maka?" It chuckled, turning its clawed palms up in question. "Why Maka? What not Black*Star, or Tsubaki? Kid? Liz? Pat-"
"Nobody's dancing," Soul snarled. "Put the old record on."
"The old record?" Maka protested. She was suddenly there, and smiling. "But I like this song. It's better than what you normally listen to."
His heart wasn't beating. He could feel it the second had frozen, when his chest started aching."We're not soul resonat-."
"This is fun to dance to," she cut him off as if he hadn't been talking at all, beaming like she had broken some awkward pause. She took one of his hands in two of hers and leaned back, tugging gently. "Let's dance, Soul. You can lead. Let's dance."
"You can't be here. We're not-"
The demon cut him off with a dark chuckle. "The girl wants to dance."
The do-wops grew louder, and her hands tightened on his. "I want to be stronger. Let's dance, Soul, let's dance."
"Maka, you don't know-" he protested.
"I know, Soul!" she shrieked, her nails dug into his wrist, drawing half moons of blood as the pain spiked up. "I know what will happen and I want to dance! Let's dance, Soul! Let's dance until the sun stops laughing and the moon melts and you can play the piano at the same time, Soul!"
"Maka, let go!" he shouted, ripping his arms back.
But Maka was gone, and there was only the smiling devil in Maka's body, its teeth sharpened and slim, red horns sticking out from underneath its hair. Its grip was tighter and the blood, his blood, slid down his arms in rivers, staining his clothes with wet, darker patches against the black of the suit. "It's time, Soul! Time to dance with me!"
And then he woke up, sweating, panting. Confused. He didn't know if it was the black blood. He didn't know if it was a dream. After a while the two had gotten so mixed up he couldn't quite tell them apart anymore. He stumbled to the kitchen, where Maka sat, studying for her next test. She heard him, though, when he walked in, and looked up with a scowl.
That softened fast though, once she caught sight of his face. "Soul?"
"I don't want to dance," he said weakly.
She stood, searching his face for some meaning. "Okay, Soul. You don't have to. Do you need a doc-?"
"No." He shook his head, coming to his senses. "Bad ramen."
"Sorry I couldn't cook tonight." She cringed. "You sure you don't need a doctor?"
He nodded, went to sit beside her. "Do you get this?"
She did. He didn't care. Really, he didn't know what the subject even was. All he knew was that Maka looked very, very sane as she leaned over the text and began explaining. It wasn't a voice anyone would consider soothing, he supposed. He knew that he had a nicer, smoother voice than she, but it was familiar. It was comforting. And, since it belonged to Maka, even the whispers she talked in as she tried to keep the neighbors from waking up all furious seemed loud. Which was good.
Because Maka could drown out the music.