harmonicalsoul | who could ever have known?

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who could ever have known?

There's this substance that's black, hey. It happens to live inside some people, hey! It's black blood and can do a lot of shit, yeah. It can also drive you quite insane, note that.

Lingering affects are easy dealing with them is hard - there was no way they were letting him leave the infirmary there was no way he was kicking back and sticking around there. Go home go home the mantra in his head, and they've come full circle really, from one stupidity to another.

Can't get there, gotta rest. Can't get there, hurts like shit. Soul can choose to sit on the sidewalk just fine. It's awesome. Almost as great as where he just was!

Sanity, it's good to be back.

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Soul hums, twitches at the faraway pain, and smiles. "Happened inevitability happened? Poison the treats and eventually the bread-bearer will get shafted."

Hehe, step on the cracks, whydontcha? Step on each one and eventually fate'll getya.

"It fell down," Soul disagrees. "Fell down, all fell down. Can't build it up if nobody's watching!"

Mortar and steel and brick and everything all on the ground in a crumple of a crumple of blood!

He raises his voice high then, even though it's scratchy and it breaks and singing makes it hurt. "Dong, Dong, dongdaemuneul yeoreora. Nam, Nam, namdaemuneul yeoreora. Yeol dusiga doemyeoneun, muneul danneunda~!"

Black eyes, black scrapes of blood, injuries the infirmary had left alone because once they unsealed, it wouldn't be that bad. The black blood is never kind when it fades away, but this time - this time, he is so overwhelmed with pain when his blood runs red that he drops to the bed in a fuckin' fetal position.

That ain't the worst. The worst is the tears, tears for the pain, tears for Crona, and tears for Maka, still going through god knows what back there.

But even if - even if all of that, he still feels the gift of absolute love Crona just gave him, brightening his heart and lightening his pain. He uncovers his eyes enough to peer up at his boyfriend. "We din't - it's no--"

Words just ain't workin'.

Soul clings and pulls and kisses; he whines in the back of his throat and tries to get Crona on the bed to hold onto. Either he'll find his words ~~no chance in hell of that one~~ or someone'll call to "inform Crona of the situation", but he's not letting go until then.

Maybe not even then, either.

Soul's dissociating at this point - then is not now and therefore did not happen, the pain is not here and therefore is an unknown sensation, etc, etc. It's not exactly the best thing to do, but it's letting him off the hook for the mental breakdown, just for a little while.

But it means that he absolutely does not notice that when the black blood unsealed his wounds, some of them weren't exactly bandaged perfectly. All he really notices is that there's something on Crona's dress.

"Um," he says, sounding completely confused, and more than a little worried for the wrong person. "Crona, you've got red on you."

Soul follows because Crona wants him to, but he doesn't want to. He doesnt know why, he just doesn't.

"I don't know where Maka is," he says, because that's the answer to his current state, really. "We're supposed to be on assignment, she can't have ran - we should call - "

Or someone else could, as the phone rings right then. For some reason, the noise sends electric shocks deep down into his soul.

"If I don't touch it anymore," Soul says, staring down at their hands, "An' she only gets it through me, what the hell would cause an incident?"

Isn't repression fun when it's inconvenient?

"You're not - "

Soul stops Crona in his task, pulling him into a hug. He doesn't care what's bandaged or unbandaged, there are other things to treat.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry for. No matter what happened, you didn't do anything to cause it."

"What could you have done?" Soul asks, frowning. "Would it overwhelm you, too?"

He didn't want that.

"Whatever happened... Maka couldn't stop it. So I don't think any of us could have."

Unfortunately, that was the end game, here, wasn't it?

He can help with his own wounds, if Crona lets him. He reaches for one of the bandages to try. The faster it gets done, the faster they can lay down, and stay as close as possible until tomorrow.

Maka is sitting in the kitchen of the apartment. On the island counter, to be specific, eating cereal right from the box. The kitchen is a mess of boxes around her; how she performed this with hardly a sound is but a mystery. Her eyes are dark and ringed with black, she's bandages in many places, some of them reflecting tar-like stains, some dark like old blood.

She escaped from the infirmary, it seems. She escaped so swiftly that there is still an IV port in her left arm, although unconnected to any tubing of any sort. It doesn't bother her. A lot of things don't bother her, right now.

"Why aren't people awaaakee," she exclaims, suddenly deciding to be loud. The box gets tossed at the door to Soul and Crona's room. "Change it!"

"Crona," Maka says, her eyes brightening. "What a surprise!" She giggles, the sound almost sane - almost. Whatever the difference is between this giggle and her regular one makes it a rather shaking force of its own.

"I can't get down," she says, quite casually. "I seem to have this sharp scythe in my back, and I do not want to scratch the lovely countertop!'

Ooh! Sudden noise and the scythe withdrew! "Hey, it's gone!" she says, oddly cheerful, and jumps down from the counter. "I'm okay!"

She's not sure why she wouldn't be. Mostly. "Someone's hiding Soul, though." She frowns now. "Do you know where they're hiding Soul? I have to get him back."

Her eyes are intense as she looks into Crona's own, and the noise cuts through the air as if through glass when two scythes appear now, as if to back up her statement.

"We've got to - he's the only one that can make it go away, I need him - he'll fix it, why isn't he fixing it -- "

Keeping her away was probably a good thing right now, because she'd probably go a little bonkers trying to wake him up. Soul hardly wakes up well and this certainly isn't waking him up now.

"I'm hurt, too," Maka says, and her own emotions show through for but a moment, her eyes full of emotional pain, her voice wavering. "Did that stop mattering somewhere along the line?"

"Are you afraid, Crona?" Maka tilts her head a little, and smiles then. "Of me?"

The scythes slide back in, but the air is heavy, and that smile is odd.

Then it is a good thing they have so many sharp things around, isn't it?

"If you are not afraid of me," Maka says, and reaches for Crona's wrist, to pull him away from the bedroom door. "Then you must simply prove it."

"Wrong," Maka hums, pushing Crona away, a small scythe out of the wrist, pressed ever so lightly against the boy's throat.

"Still scared, still thinking, still lying. " A flash of the eyes a twitch of a smile, a hint of a growl. "Save your frightened song for when there is really something wrong! Nobody believes a liar... for he he is never telling the truth!"

"Go back to school and stop screwing up your nursery rhymes."

When did that bedroom door get yanked open? Yeah, right about now. When did the heaviest book he's ever owned get tossed at Maka's head? Yeah, right about now, too.

Lights out, on the floor, Soul smash, baby.

"You okay?" Soul asks in a hushed voice, tipping Crona's chin up with a thumb to examine the other teenager's throat, kisses gently over the spot where the blade had been. "S'not her fault, she didn't mean it - I remembered, they got stupid and tried to tranq her when she was still recovering - "

Edited 2009-05-27 01:03 (UTC)

Soul is perfectly aware that Crona could have handled it. He wouldn't ever unederestimate him. But Soul wanted to put a stop to it before he had to.

"I guess they've decided to start handling it by trial and error."

Soul kisses Crona again before kneeling by Maka, checking all the vitals that you're supposed to check. "We gotta get her on a bed - I'll sit by, if you lay with her and hold her hand, she'll have familiar people around when she wakes up. That'll fix it."

She's too smart for this.

Their room is the only place in the house Blair doesn't go naked (or as good as) anymore, probably out of some form of respect for Crona. So yeah, it's a good assumption.

His arm is messed up but he still manages to pick Maka up, out of sheer force of will. There's a certain pride in having a partner, and part of that is always taking care of each other. He's glad for Crona in more ways than he can express, but he's gotta be the one that gets her there.

Soul pretends it doesn't hurt and he gets her to the bed, and he drags his desk chair over to sit by. "Lay and sleep," he says, and takes Maka's hand, just like he wants Crona to take the other one. "I'll watch over."

He might have the ability to fall asleep wherever he wants to, but he also has the ability to stay awake wherever he wants to as well. Handy, yeah?

It's no good to wake up after the night Maka had. After the night they all had. It is not that she remembers any of it - far from that fact, actually. But while the memories are shattered apart, the feelings are all crystal clear, and any theories to gather on those are not very nice.

The way she hurts, and the blade cuts that feel all too familiar from when she was still screwing up as a newbie scythe tech, make it all the worse. Her head is pounding a mile a second, and - okay. Quick check, now; calm down, Albarn.

Too easy for Maka to figure out she's not in her room. Not the school infirmary, though, either - so it's Soul's room, and she is not alone. Crona on the bed with her, Soul in his chair, both holding onto her hands and fast asleep. She pulls her hands out carefully so that she can sit up, and the first thing she does is attack the tape holding that IV port in her arm.

Quietly, of course. Waking anyone up is not acceptable. Removing obstructions and then investigating is.

"Crona, don't - " Maka doesn't ever want to see him cry, let alone be a part of causing it to happen. She hugs him back, hoping the touch is enough; when he's hugging her so tightly, she can't just fix it by wiping away the tears.

"It's alright. I am alright." Even without remembering...

"Hey, don't lose faith, now," Maka says, her voice lightly scolding. It's not a scolding that she means, but one to attempt to help, and she is banking on Crona understanding that. "I can get through anything that happens, right? Can't let Blackstar get away with outliving me."

The way she hurts, it must have been something like that, but she thinks she's happier not recalling, although she is not sure why.

"Stop pretendin' yer invulnerable to make us feel better," Soul says. He woke up faster than usual this time, mostly due to needing t'use his instincts. "It doesn't really work. We just wanna know that you're tryin'."

Claiming invulnerability wasn't. Just look at Black*star when they all started out.

Maka's not facing Soul, ergo, she is not looking at him. She doesn't really want to. Why doesn't she want to?

"I don't think I'm - " she starts to argue, but Crona's face convinces her otherwise. "If I'm invulnerable, it's only because I've got you guys."

Humble Maka does not usually exist!

Soul stands up from his chair, and he ruffles Maka's hair, messing it up far more than it was before. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," he says. "We'll make sure they did everything right."

Of course they did, it's an excuse to let Maka and Crona talk if they need to talk, considering everything that happened.

He can be a smart guy if he wants!

Maka's face is tinged a little pink from the cheek kiss. She takes her hair out of the hopelessly wrecked ponytails, staring down at the blanket as she pulls it back into a half-working bun - enough to get it out of the way. "I - didn't do anything worth getting angry over?"

As if Crona could ever be angry at her.

Maka had known it, of course, but she smiles at the reassurance in any case. She smiles, she hugs him tightly again, and then rolls her eyes as she points a finger towards the door.

"He's going to eavesdrop in a minute, you know," she says, "He's always afraid of hard feelings."

"Tell who what? Nobody's worried around here."

Except how he never got a first aid kit and how he looks guilty when he comes back and - he can still pretend he manages to pull shit off.

Heh.

Maka laughs, because he never, ever fools anyone. Sincerity was the only way, Soul!

"Okay," she says, "Now I'm tired again."

Or she never stopped being so in the first place.

"We should all sleep," Maka says. "The bed won't break this once."

Especially if it hasn't broken under whatever else these boys have done. Which she avoids the thought of, thank you.

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who could ever have known?

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