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Series: Soul Eater

Chapter: 1/1

Author: Maniac Tenshi Makenshi

Genre: Romance

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Kid/Crona


Summary: They each have their own anxieties, their own demons that afflict their minds. They’re lovers, they’re best friends, and they’re strangers depending on the time.


Disclaimer: The owner of Soul Eater is Atsushi Ōkubo. The lyrics are from the song “Obsessions” by to Marina & The Diamonds. This work of fiction is composed entirely by me. I gain nothing material by writing this and do it solely for fun.



Sunday, wake up, give me a cigarette

Last night's love affair is looking vulnerable in my bed

Silk sheet, blue dawn, Colgate, tongue warm

Won't you quit your crying? I can't sleep

One minute I'm a little sweetheart

And next minute you are an absolute creep


She wakes up tired and used, body feeling ragged like the way her hair looks. Her reluctant pale eyes spot the person in bed with her, the warm body that would usually be awake long before this time of day. At first she thinks he’s asleep as he’s so still and turned on his side away from her. He looks so comfortable, which she thinks is fitting even if she’s still not used to it. But he slowly sits up and looks at her, making it clear to her that he’d been awake before her and had been lying there. Probably too tired, too unwilling, too unsure to move from this shared furniture. She understands that.


His morning greeting to her is sliding over to her and hovering above her, moving closer and closer until she complies with lying down again. It’s wordless, something that doesn’t concern her. He just stares with his amber and gold eyes down into her pale gray blues. They’re so sharp, his eyes seem luminescent, something that she’s become very fond of. They hypnotize, make her shiver, and she likes it that way. She trusts him enough.


Little to her knowledge her eyes affect him as well, though not for the same reasons. They’re just hers, clear and deep, and he enjoys looking into them as if he can see her soul. Of course he can. Not through her eyes but through soul perception. But he’d rather stare into her eyes, watching how her expression usually softens and how she subtly admits submission to his advances.


The next part of his morning greeting is ending the minute of eye contact and enjoying the mutual body heat of bare skin. She anticipates the stale taste of an unbrushed mouth, but her eyes flutter with surprise at the minty taste. He’d brushed his teeth while she slept. His tongue is welcomed without a grimace thanks to this, and she arches her back so their stomachs press together comfortably. The kissing is gentle and slow, taking their leisurely time. This goes on for however long they feel like, which is only a few minutes this morning.


A hand of Kid’s slides down Crona’s soft side to beneath the covers. He feels the soft flesh of her thighs, under her knee, and up to under her back. He realizes he made her sweat during the kissing. Her breathing hitches almost anxiously. His eyes stray back to her face at this, and he reassures her with a light kiss that she can relax as he removes his roaming hand. After this he leaves her, leaves the bed, and she lies there wondering as she always does what this is between them. It’s mornings like these that make her feel as if everything will be alright and life is worth suffering through. Other mornings she doesn’t know what to do with herself.


We've got obsessions

I want to wipe out all the sad ideas that come to me when I am holding you

We've got obsessions

All you ever think about are sick ideas involving me, involving you


The specifics of the issues never matter. Not when Kid takes each nitpick he has like a piece of paper with a complaint written down and puts each into a metaphorical jar. He sees how his criticisms all slosh around together with barely any progress. Each time he fixes one thing, another nitpick comes to him. He’s obsessed with perfection to the point he’s driven to panic attacks. His friends find that nutty about him, but no one understands how he wracks his brain so often. He doesn’t want to. But he can’t help it. It’s how he is, how he’s been for so long.


He looks at Crona sitting next to him on the bench. She’s the only person who has understood his anxiety. She can be just as bad. He reaches for her hand, startling her out of some kind of daydream. But she smiles, and it soothes him in a way so deep he’s become addicted to it. He squeezes her hand almost too tight then loosens enough to where it’s comfortable. She takes this as an opportunity to move closer and lean against him, head on his shoulder. He relaxes, his body losing most of its tension it’s acquired without intention, and he’s at peace.


As much as they understand one another, there are often times they can do nothing for one another as they clash. Sometimes she screams at him if it gets bad enough, because he said something hurtful without meaning to. He’s too blunt, he’s been told. Sometimes he panics and nothing she says manages to get through to him, and then she’s crying, watching him suffer his own little insanity helplessly. And sometimes they just rub each other the wrong way without meaning to.


She’s in one of her moods. Kid usually knows better than to do certain things when she’s feeling like this. But he makes mistakes, because no matter how he’s tried he’s not perfect and never will be. She loves him for this, for just how he is. Even so, she can’t handle seeing him as worrisome thoughts plague her. She feels sick, so sick, with herself. She cradles her head and cries in pain at the fact she can’t ever be free from her anxieties or her insecurities forever. He listens and tries to comfort, but she just gets more and more frustrated and sad. She blames herself. She’s hurting so badly and he hates it so much. It angers him. So he has to leave the room for a moment, which makes her cry harder as his absence makes her suffer all the more.


When he returns to the room after having calmed down enough, he hugs her close. The security fills in the emptiness that her fears cause her. She weeps against him, and he holds her as it’s all he can do with an occasional soothing word.


When they go shopping it starts another fiasco.


Supermarket, oh what packet of crackers to pick?

They're all the same, one brand, one name, but really they're not

Look, look, just choose something quick

People are staring, time to go quick in

Skin is on fire

Just choose something, something, something

Pressure overwhelming

Next minute I am turning out of the door, facing one week without food

A day, a day when things, things are pretty bad

But don't let it make you feel sad, the crackers were probably bad luck anyway

Can't let your cold heart be free

When you act like you've got an OCD


She’s not used to living with him just yet. Same for him. It’s awkward trial and error. But she grabs his hand, he smiles, she smiles only more shyly, and they’re reassured that everything’s fine. That is until one of Kid’s compulsions happens in the middle of the supermarket. This happens every time they go shopping. Sometimes it’s just him commenting relentlessly over a crooked food label which turns into a rant over carelessness; other times he’ll stop in the middle of an isle and start crying and berating himself.


It’s stressful, and Crona is the type of person who is stressed easily to begin with, but she’s willing to do whatever she can to make Kid happy. This time he can’t decide between two boxes of crackers. They’re the same brand, same price, but he’s nitpicking for quality. One box has a dent in the corner, and the other looks like someone tried to open it already. He stares at them intently while she waits. Usually she waits patiently, but today is just not one of those usuals. She expresses her distress with a heavy sigh and trying to pick for him. He argues with whatever she says. It aggravates her further. Sensing this, he begins a rant.


Her face burns with embarrassment and a cold sweat spreads over her body. He doesn’t stop. He’s louder than he needs to be. People stare, a few wondering if they should intervene. She tears up as her emotions boil over. She forcefully takes the boxes from him, puts them back on the shelf. One falls immediately, crashing to the linoleum and driving a desperately frustrated groan from her before she rushes off in the opposite direction.


We've got obsessions

I wanna erase every nasty thought that bugs me every day of every week

We've got obsessions

You never told me what it was that made you strong and what it was that made you weak


They each have their own anxieties, their own demons that afflict their minds. They’re lovers, they’re best friends, and they’re strangers depending on the time. He hides more than she does, so he always seems stable beyond his OCD. She always seems fragile, but there’s a strength inside that’s kept her alive and given birth to hope. They’re both broken at times and sturdy at other times. They drive each other to the edge of what they can handle and then push the other over.


We've got obsessions

I wanna erase every nasty thought that bugs me every day of every week.

We've got obsessions

You never told me what it was that made you strong and what it was that made you weak


With all of their weaknesses and strengths that they conjure by themselves, it never quite matches what happens when they’re together. Their interactions are unique chemical reactions that can both strengthen and weaken.


We've got obsessions (Made you weak)


In spite of this and because of this, they stay together. They love each other.


At night, at bedtime, he settles in with her. He hugs her from behind, knowing she feels safest this way and will turn around if she wants to hug him. They’re both vulnerable; they’re both fierce; for their own reasons in their separate lives. Even so, they share themselves and their lives with one another and sleep well in the comfort of being together.


Sunday, wake up, give me a cigarette

Last night's love affair is looking vulnerable again

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