#it’s funny because i watched ‘asura the city of madness’ right after and i didn’t know they were both in that too

[halorvic]

“You’ve been here as a spy, haven’t you? Do they still reward those who report spies?”

강철비 / Steel Rain (2017)

[zxanthe]

jealousy

for @soulxmakaweek day 3: jealousy

also available on ao3 and ff.net

side note: The Soul Eater manga was first released in 2004.

It isn’t that Soul is jealous, exactly.

Maka is, beneath the know-it-all and vaguely homicidal exterior, a kind person. It’s one of the things he likes most about her. He remembers the first time he played the piano for her – it feels like a lifetime ago, now – how she’d smiled and clapped after he finished, even though he knew she didn’t get it, really. But the wonder sparkling there in her green eyes, the open and gut-wrenching genuineness of the delight and enjoyment brazenly plastered on her face – no one had ever looked at him like that in his whole entire life, and even though he didn’t let it show he knew right then and there he’d follow this girl to the ends of the earth if she asked him to.

When she enfolds Crona in an embrace instead of dealing a killing blow, he doesn’t bother trying to keep the fond smile off his face, because that’s so typical of her. Always taking in strays.

So that’s why he wonders if it’s the madness, not just in him but in the world now that the Kishin Asura is free and raging, that makes a hard knot of something nagging and awful weigh in his chest like a stone when he sees Maka and Crona together. The Little Demon doesn’t help at all, always whispering ugly little nothings in the quiet in-between moments when he’s brushing his teeth or picking at the guitar he keeps on the wall of his room, things like she only cares about your weapon form you know and she loves them more than she ever loved you and (worst of all) she’s going to realize who you are and leave.

(It’s not like he isn’t used to people leaving. His father left him in all but name, preferring to shut himself up in his studio rather than deal with his children. His brother left him to go to college and make a name for himself. His grandmother left the planet entirely, going wherever dead people go.)

But he knows, deep down in his gut, that Maka isn’t like that. She takes her commitments seriously. She’s his meister, and he’s her weapon. He has to trust her. Has to trust that she wouldn’t leave him unless something bad happened. Something really, really bad.

Like a new best friend? the demon whispers, not bothering to hide the malicious glee in his voice. Soul just grits his teeth and tells him to shut the fuck up.

(He doesn’t want to resent either of them, despite the demon’s urgings and his own idiot, uncool feelings.)

But he can’t deny the reality - it feels like she spends more time with Crona than him nowadays. Soul isn’t exactly averse to that, but it still rankles, because Maka used to spend most of her time with him, or at least around him. But the kid’s had a hard life, harder than his by a long shot, and someone like Maka is good for them. In the short time they’ve been at the DWMA, Soul’s noticed them coming out of their shell a little more each day. It makes him wonder if he was something like that when he first arrived, fresh from New York, a fish out of water.

So that’s why, when Maka invites Crona over for a movie night one Friday after classes, he doesn’t object, despite the way his chest tightens a little.

“I-is that okay?” Crona asks, darting nervous glances towards Soul, who’s standing a little ways behind Maka. He doesn’t really know Crona all that well yet. The sentiment is mutual. Soul cringes inwardly, equal parts ashamed and nervous and just a little satisfied, damn it damn it not cool at all!

“’Course it is,” Soul makes himself say, and hopes that nobody notices the way his voice threatens to crack. “It’s Maka’s turn to cook, though, so you might wanna, uh. Eat beforehand.”

Maka rounds on him, her green eyes narrowed. “At least I don’t burn freaking rice!”

“Yeah, yeah, I was making a joke. Is that a crime?”

“Well, it wasn’t very funny.” She turns back to Crona with a roll of her eyes. “Anyway, tonight at 7 sound good? We can meet you at the Skullbuster.”

“Um…will there be many other p-people there? Besides you and…S-Soul?”

Maka shakes her head and smiles reassuringly. “No, don’t worry. I know large get-togethers still stress you out. It’ll just be us three.”

Crona darts one more glance at Soul. He’d smile, but his face feels like wood and his teeth would probably scare the kid half to death. He settles for a nod instead. One cool guy to another. Crona smiles hesitantly. “Yeah. That s-sounds great.”

“You good?” Maka asks him, once they’re outside the school and have said their goodbyes to their friends.

He shoots her a questioning look. “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You just felt a little off earlier, that’s all,” she says.

Damn her and her soul perception. Soul just shakes his head. “Maybe your soul perception is just malfunctioning.”

She whaps him with the paperback she’s carrying in her hand. “Rude!”

“Ow, fuck you too!”

They walk down to the Skullbuster after Maka finishes cooking, leaving a plate of brownies cooling on the counter and a foil tray of mac n’ cheese being kept warm in the oven. Soul doesn’t think he’ll ever get over their whacko naming conventions in Death City – did they really have to replace the classic Blockbuster logo with a lurid blue and yellow skull biting a movie ticket with its cartoonishly sharp teeth? No, no they didn’t, but they did anyway, so here they fucking are. Soul shoots it a cautious look – it’s definitely more interesting than the usual, all things considered. Crona’s already waiting for them directly beneath the sign, a tall slim figure in their black – robe? Dress? Soul still isn’t sure what to make of it. He raises his hand in a wave as Maka calls out a greeting and bounds over to give them a hug. Soul ignores the twinge in his chest, gritting his teeth at the echo of laughter he hears from the demon.

Crona still looks spooked at the contact, but at least they raise their arms and pat her awkwardly on the back this time. Progress. Soul offers them a fist. Crona looks at it uncomprehendingly.

“Fistbump,” says Soul. Jesus, poor kid. “You make your hand into a fist – yeah, like that, now tap it with mine.”

Crona does so, feather-light and hesitant. Soul offers them a smile and then withdraws his fist, wiggling his fingers as he does so. Crona imitates him, awkwardly and with a slight frown.

“See, easy,” says Soul, cringing inwardly. He shouldn’t have done the finger wiggle, dammit, Crona wouldn’t get it and it just made them feel weird, ugh, why is he like this?

Maka, meanwhile, is smiling at the display. She reaches for Crona’s hand, easily, naturally, and leads them into the store. Soul trails after them, trying valiantly to ignore the way the knot in his chest aches.

“So, whatcha wanna watch?” Maka asks Crona, whose eyes widen in fear in the face of making an evening-altering decision.

“It’s okay,” says Maka gently. “Soul and I are fine with whatever you pick, right Soul?”

“Yeah,” Soul says, though secretly he’s hoping that Crona doesn’t pick a kids’ movie or a rom-com or something boring like that. He’d probably end up falling asleep, and then Maka’d get pissed at him, and he’d probably be woken up by a hardcover to the head.

“Take your time!” says Maka. “Dinner’s already ready, we’re in no rush.”

Crona nods but seems content to follow Maka around the store as she drifts from section to section. They gently shake their head at all the titles Maka holds up – mostly cheesy feel-good flicks or (dammit Maka) live-action Disney movies. Soul’s eye is caught by the horror section, and after a quick glance at the other two he drifts towards it. There’s a lot of DVDs on the shelves – they really need to get a DVD player, this is ridiculous – but there’s still plenty of VHS tapes. He hunkers down into a squat, examining some more recent titles, when Crona’s voice comes from above him, startling him in its proximity.

“How about that one?” they ask, and Soul looks up to see them holding a notoriously gory and barf-inducing horror film. Soul hasn’t seen it personally, but he’s heard the stories.

Soul quirks an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” he asks, at the same time that Maka says “Uh, I’m not sure you’d like it very much…”

“I want this one,” Crona says, a note of certainty in their voice. Soul suppresses a grin, seeing Crona in a new light. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

They pick out two other movies, an action flick and some kind of weird documentary (palate cleansers, Soul thinks), before heading back to the apartment. Ragnarok erupts from Crona’s back at the mention of dinner and is only kept from devouring both his and his meister’s share by Maka angrily wielding her heaviest dictionary. They don’t talk much because everyone’s too busy eating. Soul won’t admit it, but Maka makes a mean mac n’ cheese. Even Crona goes back for seconds. Afterwards Maka grabs the plate of brownies and they all drift into the living room and settle on the couch, Maka in the middle.

“Oh, damn!” Maka exclaims as soon as her butt touches the cushions. “I forgot to get popcorn! I’m going to run down to the convenience store – don’t you dare eat all those brownies, Ragnarok, or I will kill you!”

The door slams shut. “Stupid bitch,” Ragnarok mutters, and starts hassling Crona for a brownie. Crona, surprisingly, holds their ground, and eventually Ragnarok subsides back into Crona, grousing all the while.

The apartment is suddenly too quiet. Blair is out, Soul thinks, glancing around in mild panic. Crona doesn’t say anything.

Put them in their place, the demon growls. Soul clenches his hand into a fist, nails digging into the skin of his palm.

“So, uh,” Soul begins, and then stops, because he has no idea where he’s going with this. He shoots a quick glance at Crona. They’re not looking at him, and instead are pressed against the hard metal arm of the sofa.

Something in Soul softens. “Hey,” he tries again. Crona’s eyes dart to his before flitting back to their lap. Inwardly, Soul grimaces. He’s never been the best at talking to people or making friends, not like Maka. “Uh, did you manage to get all your homework done today?”

Ugh. Lame, stupid, uncool!

“N-no,” says Crona softly.

“Eh, no biggie,” Soul says, trying for jocular and coming out strained. “You’ve still got a whole weekend.”

Silence falls again. The remote is on the coffee table, beside the brownies. Soul wonders if he should grab it and turn on the TV. Something, anything to diffuse this awkwardness. Soul notices out of the corner of his eye that Crona keeps glancing at him now, like they want to say something but can’t quite manage it. Soul sucks on his bottom lip. Maybe he should –

“Do you hate me?” Crona blurts.

Soul flinches, startled and ashamed in equal measure. “No, why would I,” he says, before his brain catches up with his mouth and he looks down at his chest, at the scar covered by the soft cotton of his t-shirt. It’s still a bit pink and raw, and it aches if he stretches his torso too much in any direction. He looks at Crona. “No,” he repeats, quieter this time.

Crona stares at him uncomprehendingly. “B-but I…” They make a slashing motion. Their hand is trembling slightly, Soul notes.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “And I’d do it all over again.” He smiles, and it’s more genuine than any he’s given Crona thus far. “That shit’s in the past. You’re here now, and you’re trying to be better. It’s the soul that counts, y’know?”

“S-so…you don’t hate me?”

“Not at all,” Soul says. “I’m a lot like you, actually. People scare me too.”

Crona blinks. “R-really?”

Soul nods. “Yeah. I used to live in New York. When I first got off the plane I was scared shitless, didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. And now I feel more at home here than I ever did there.”

They’re listening raptly, and when Soul finishes, they swallow. “How…how did you…stop being scared?”

“I never did. But Maka and Black Star and the others are a big help.” He chuckles fondly. He feels lighter. The demon is quiet. “It’s what friends are for.”

When Maka comes back, Soul and Crona are chatting easily and munching on brownies. They greet her and she smiles, evidently happy that they’re getting along. When she returns from the kitchen with an overflowing bowl of popcorn, Crona shifts so that they’re sitting in the middle of Maka and Soul. Ragnarok emerges to gorge himself on popcorn and brownies while Soul pops the horror tape in the VHS.

The movie is so gory that it makes even Soul and Maka’s battle-hardened stomachs turn, but Crona and Ragnarok seem to be enjoying themselves. They make it through the documentary and about one-third of the action flick before Crona falls asleep on Soul’s shoulder.

“They seem like they’ve really warmed up to you,” Maka says quietly over Crona’s head. “What did you guys talk about when I was gone?”

Soul shrugs. “Nothing much, really.”

“That so?”

“Yeah.”

Maka just shakes her head and smiles.