#reads as 'I am an endless what nonsense is this?' because he's pretty dead eyed about the whole thing

[rainbowvamp]

I would really like to spend more time talking about how hilarious the conversation Dream and Johanna have is if you know comics lore. Like... I'm obsessed.

[zxanthe]

hello!! for the au prompts — maybe 14 or 22 or 32 for soma?? (love your writing btw!!)

phew, sorry for the wait, anon! this got a lot longer than i expected it to. have ~3.5k of complete and utter (though fun to write) nonsense. i decided to go with #22, the two miserable people meeting at a wedding au.

(prompt from here)

***

Crona lets her down gently.

“I don’t hate you,” they tell her. Even over the phone, Makacan hear the way their voice gets all high and reedy like it does when they’rereally stressed, and she feels absurdly guilty for a moment before sheremembers she’s in the middle of getting broken up with.

“It’s just, I, I know you want sex, and there’s reallynothing wrong with that, but, but I don’t think I want that, sex I mean, and Ijust feel really bad –“

“Crona, no,” Maka says, because even though she knows something’sbeen wrong for weeks and that something like this was coming and a millionother different, more subtle things, she does love them, really, and so she hasto try. “It’s fine, I’m fine with it, I’m fine with you. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do. Ifyou don’t want sex I’m okay with it! Really, babe, I am!”

“But I’m not. Not okay with you being okay with not wantingit even though you do, I mean. Maka,” they say, and their voice goes reallysoft and gentle. “I love you and I appreciate you and I’m so glad you werethere for me when…when…when all that stuff happened back then. I just…you neverput yourself first. And. And I really wish you would sometimes, a lot, becausea relationship isn’t focused on what one person wants, but I feel really g-guiltybecause I don’t know if I could deal with a lot of the things you want to do,not just sex, not because they’re bad or anything, but because I still have alot of issues, and I feel like I’m holding you back.”

“You’re not!” There’s something thick clogging up Maka’sthroat. “I swear you’re not, you were never a burden – “

“Please don’t lie to me,” and Crona’s voice is the steadiestshe’s ever heard it. “I think, that we want very different things out of life,and that I can’t keep using you as a crutch forever, and that you shouldn’t letme use you like that anyway, it’s not good for you. I need some time to be bymyself, and figure things out.”

Maka opens and closes her mouth several times, unable to getany words out past the tightness in her throat. The phone line crackles withstatic.

“M-Maka? Are you still there?”

She sucks in a deep, shuddering breath. “Y-yeah. Do you…doyou still need a place to stay? Or…”

“I-I’ve got something l-lined up.”

“Great. That’s…really great. I’m really proud of you,Crona,” and her face splits into a smile, even as the tears spill over down hercheeks. “I can help you move when I get back.”

“N-no, it’s fine, I don’t want to inconvenience – “

“It really wouldn’t be – “

“P-please, Maka, l-l-let me do this myself. I’m sorry,really s-s-sorry – “

“Crona, shh, shh. It’s okay. Really. I get it.”

Through the crackle of a thousand miles, Crona takes a deepbreath. “I’ll be gone by the time you fly home,” they say. “I’ll leave you mynew address. We can mail letters, if you like.”

“Y-yeah. That’d be nice.”

Silence falls again. Maka desperately tries to control herbreathing, to stop it hitching, stop it betraying her, but she never was allthat good at that sort of thing.

“I’m sorry, Maka,” Crona says, very softly. “You’ll alwaysbe special to me. I’m really glad we met, and that I got to be with you. I didlove you, and I think a part of me always will.”

“I love you too,” she chokes out. “I’m. Really happy foryou, Crona.”

“T-thank you. Well. Good night, I guess. Goodbye, Maka.”

“Bye,” she says, and then the line goes dead.

She’s far away in a strange city, in a cold and unfamiliarhotel room in a building full of rooms just like it. She buries her face in theimpersonal white linen pillow and weeps.

//

 Soul’s dreaming that he’s in the band again, sweat runningdown his forehead while lights flash frenetically over a writhing crowd, butthen on the street below a motor tears the quiet of the night to ugly tattersand he finds himself staring wide-eyed up at his ceiling fan, revolving in thedark. He rolls over. His bedside alarm clock reads 2:43 in chunky red numbers. He has work tomorrow. He has to be upearly.

He takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment beforeletting it out, the exhalation deafening in the settling stillness.

In another life, things were well underway at this time ofnight. In another life, he went onstage and played his heart out, fingersscraping over the strings of his bass, wailing in harmony to Liz’s raw vocalswhile Patty’s drums sent him soaring, soul straining against his ribs, shiveringwith the sheer delight of it, ofbeing there, of being truly, completely alive.

The fan turns, turns, turns, there on the ceiling, hummingsoftly. Endless. Quiet. One pull of a cord would make it stop. Every evening hecomes back to his tiny apartment and falls asleep on the couch. Sometimes hecooks, when he’s feeling particularly festive. Sometimes he listens to music,or watches a movie, or smokes a cigar. What friends he has are all the wayacross the country, people he realizes he hasn’t seen in years now, people whohe may not have anything at all in common with anymore besides a smattering ofshared experiences in a past no longer relevant to much of anything. His coworkersare simply and thoroughly uninteresting. The city is neither big nor small andequally nondescript in its forms of entertainment; he got tired of bars and livemusic and meaningless conversation years ago, and there really isn’t much elseto do.

(he wonders when exactly his life got so small and stagnant.he wonders if there was a point to any of it, really. all that anger and joyand despair, all the fear and exhilaration, all the giddy fuck-yous shouted from the tops of buildings. if there was somekind of meaning lurking in all those nights spent sleeping on strangers’ floorsand writing songs, smoking cigarettes and getting drunk and laughing like agoddamned crazy fool. he wonders what would have happened if he had stayed putand played the part of the dutiful younger son like his parents wanted. hemight be just as dead, deader even, asphyxiated by what-ifs and self-loathingand impossible expectations. he lies on his back with his fingers lacedtogether atop his chest. the fan turns in circles and circles and doesn’t movea damn inch; it’s the same everywhere. his heart beats; his lungs fill andempty and fill again; he lies in sodium-tinted darkness and cannot understand whyhis body would keep doing such silly meaningless things.)

On the kitchen counter is a creamy white envelope cordiallyinviting him to the wedding of one Tsubaki Nakatsukasa and Elizabeth Thompson.On the back of the invitation is a handwritten note – Hope you’re doing okay, Soul Eater. It’s been a long time and I hellamiss my favorite bassist – my wedding (don’t laugh!!!) wouldn’t be the samewithout you. Much love xoxo, Lizard Breath.

Once upon a time he thought he was in love with her, but hewas a damn fool kid who wouldn’t have known what love was if it had walked up andgiven his ass a nice firm squeeze. She was beautiful, and when they fucked itwas hells of nice, but there were no fireworks or whatever the fuck wassupposed to happen, and one night sprawled naked together in some hotel roomshe’d told him I don’t think this isworking, and he’d laughed and agreed, and then they smoked half a pack ofcigarettes and watched shitty Lifetime movies until they fell asleep.

Things were always easy with Liz.

He gets out of bed and pads to the bathroom. In the dimlight, he looks at his face. Shadows pool beneath his cheekbones, in his eyesockets, in the hollow of his throat. There are lines forming around his mouthand bags beneath his eyes. Pale stubble coats his cheeks. He frowns and rubs atit and wonders when he got so damn old. He’sthirty-three years old. Maybe it’s his hair, old-man colored, white as snow butthick as ever. It needs a trim. He wonders if Liz will recognize him. If anyonewill recognize him. If he recognizes himself, hands clenched on the cool porcelainof the sink, so very tired and gaunt. He swallows. He looks into his hollow,sleepy eyes, reflected back at him through the glass.

Two days later, he buys a plane ticket to New York.

//

In her wedding dress, Tsubaki is radiant. It’schampagne-colored lace, and it clings to her curves with the precision of aglove before puddling demurely around her feet. Her hair is dark and shiny andpiled in a soft updo, a flower crown woven through its curls.

“Knock knock,” she says.

Tsubaki turns around and smiles. “Maka!”

Pearls glitter in her ears. Her makeup is fine-tuned toperfection. “You look absolutely beautiful,” Maka says, and hugs her bestfriend tight.

“Thank you,” Tsubaki replies. She takes a deep breath, herhands knotted in her lap. “I’m. Terribly nervous. Is that a bad thing? Mystomach’s just all full of butterflies. I can’t believe I’m here.” She laughsshakily.

“Oh, Tsu, it’s okay to be nervous. Getting married is apretty big deal, after all. And Liz loves you no matter what.”

“Yes.” Tsubaki takes a deep breath. Some of the tensionleaves her shoulders. “She does, she truly does. I’m sorry, everything’s just beensuch a blur today. I’m exhausted and I haven’t even actually gotten marriedyet.”

Maka grimaces sympathetically. “You’ll get through it. Justthink, these are going to be some of the happiest memories of your life.”

“So no pressure or anything.” Tsu laughs. “I hope I don’tfall over in these heels.”

“You’ll be fine, Tsu. Pretend it’s another dance.”

“I will. How was California, anyway? You’re looking nice and tan.”

“Kim twisted her ankle in San Francisco, so her understudyhad to step up. Otherwise the performances went really well. Nygus wants toknow when you’ll be coming back.”

“After the honeymoon, probably. Liz is excited about goingon tour with us.”

Maka laughs. “She would be. Wasn’t she in a band once upon atime?”

“Mhm. She misses it. She plans on being our number onegroupie and buying all themerchandise.” Tsubaki smiles fondly. “I don’t think we have any, though. Do we?”

Maka shrugs. “We’re a ballet troupe, not a rock band.Although now that you mention it, merch isn’t actually a bad idea…”

“Hush, Maka, no business.” Tsubaki smiles. “I’ll bet Crona’sglad you’re home. Where are they?”

Maka keeps her face carefully neutral as she desperatelytries to think of a way to respond. In the end she presses her lips togetherand goes for it. “Crona’s…we’re not together anymore, actually.”

Tsubaki blinks, the smile slipping off her face. Maka’s gutstwist. “N…not together? What – “

Just then there’s a knock at the door. A veryharried-looking Kid pokes his head in, a clipboard clutched in his left hand. “Ihate to interrupt, but are you almost ready, Tsubaki? It’s nearly time. I wouldsuggest you hurry; I cannot keep Blake out of the hors d'oeuvres forever. Hello,Maka,” he says, nodding at her politely before withdrawing as quickly as hecame.

“I’m sorry,” Maka mumbles, looking at her friend’s concernedface. “Today’s supposed to be a happy day for you. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Tsubaki shakes her head. “No, no. Stop that. It’s okay. We’lldefinitely talk about this later. Do you know if Crona’s still coming?”

Maka shrugs. “I don’t know. They said maybe. They weren’t sure if they could deal with a wedding, whatwith all the changes in their life. They gave me a card, though, just in case.”

“Well, it’s good that you two are still friends, at least.”Tsubaki stands and pulls her into a tight hug. “I’m really glad you’re here,Maka,” she mumbles. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Maka says, and squeezes her back beforehurrying off to find her seat.

//

The reception takes place in a small dance hall festoonedwith flowers. There’s a DJ, and people crowd the floor, dancing and laughing.Liz’s black dress glitters in the party lights as her new wife twirls herenthusiastically. They both look radiantly happy. When Soul had come up tocongratulate them, Liz’s eyes had nearly popped out of her skull. “Soul?!” she’d blurted, and then she’dgrinned and slapped him hard on the back. “Hey! I wasn’t sure if you were gonnamake it!”

“Figured I might as well,” he said, trying for a smile.“Congrats, Lizard. I didn’t think you had it in you to settle down.”

“Fuck you. People are full of surprises. Tsu, this is SoulEvans. We used to be in a band together once upon a time.”

Tsubaki Nakatsukasa smiled. “So you’re the famous SoulEater. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Have you?”

Before Tsubaki could reply, something slammed into Soul andwhipped him off his feet. It was all he could do to cling on for dear life ashe was whirled around and around. When his assailant finally set him down, hebarely had a chance to say “hello” before he got kissed exuberantly on themouth.

“Soul!” Patty cried happily while he tried to catch hisbreath. “How’ve you been, buddy?! Whydidn’t you ever call us?? Sissy and I missed you so much, we’d thought you’d diedor been abducted by aliens or thegovernment or something!”

“Jesus, Patty, hello to you too. I tried calling, but you gaveme a bad number.”

“Mm, yeah, sorry about that,” said Liz. “We should have toldyou before we changed it.”

Soul shrugged. “S’cool.” Itdoesn’t matter anyway.

“How long are you gonna be in town?” Patty asked

“Mm. Just for a few days.”

“Boo. I was hoping we could all get lunch, but guess it’s justgonna be you and me. No buts about it!”

He sighs. In the present, the party has gotten well underway.Soul can’t remember the last time he was at something like this. He sits at anempty table and sips at his third gin and tonic, wondering if it would be rude toleave right now. Liz and Tsubaki and Patty look like they’re having plenty offun on the dance floor.

“Hey,” says a voice. “You okay?”

He turns. The speaker is a small woman with a cup of wine inone hand, looking down at him in concern. “Yeah, I’m good,” he replies, alittle puzzled.

“Oh, okay,” she tells him. “You just looked so sad for a whilethere. I couldn’t not say something. Sorry. I’m a little drunk.” With that, sheplops into the seat beside him.

“Mm. S’okay, it happens.”

Quiet falls between them, and they watch the dancers for atime.

She takes a gulp of wine. “I always thought that I’d bemarried by the time I was thirty,” she says thoughtfully. “But I’m thirty-oneand my partner just left me and…and I don’t know if it’s ever gonna happen. And.That makes me really kinda sad. Not that I’m jealous of Tsu or anything. Just.”She swallows and dabs at her eyes with a napkin. A few tears escape anyway. “God.Okay, I’m drunk. Sorry.”

“Nah, you’re okay. I’m thirty-three and I haven’t been on adate in years.”

“Really?”

“Mm. Don’t see much point it in, y’know?”

“Why not?”

He shrugs. “People are the same everywhere.”

“What makes you say that?” She’s watching him now. Absently,he notes that her eyes are bright green, the same as her dress. A tendril ofashy blonde hair has broken free of her updo and rests against her cheek. Hishand twitches, as if to brush it away, but instead he shakes his head.

“When I was younger, I thought things would be better if Ileft the house to make my own way, y’know? My parents were dictators. But themore I think about it the more I’m thinking, damn, what was the point? Everybody tells you to followyour dreams or whatever the fuck like that’ll make you happy, but…but I didthat. And nothing’s really changed. I’m still stuck, still the same. No matterwhat I do. People out west can be just as boring and uptight as people back east.We all do the same things.”

“I disagree,” says the woman. “That’s a really silly way of lookingat things, I think. Things can always change. Things always do change. That’s life! My partner had hada pretty bad life before we met and they were hurting but last week they toldme they wanted to break up and move out! That they wanted something forthemselves and that they were acting on that desire and finally being selfishand growing and healing and – and – “

Shit, she’s starting to cry. Awkwardly, he reaches over andpats her shoulder. She coughs and takes a deep breath and noisily blows hernose.

“You can change,”she croaks when she’s done, poking him in the chest. “And grow. People aresimilar, but not the same.”

He shakes his head, smiling a little despite himself. “Shutup, you sound like a motivational poster.”

“Oh my God, fuck you, I’m drunk. Don’t make fun of me.”

“Somebody’s gotta say it.”

She swats at him, and the laugh bursts out of him unexpectedly.She smiles, and party lights dance in her green, green eyes. “Well, you soundlike…like a wet dishtowel. A soggy dirty dishtowel that needs to be thrown inthe washer and then dried in the sun.”

“Damn, nailed it. That’s so me. You’ve got a real way withwords.”

She finishes off her cup of wine in two large gulps. “You’redriving me to drink, you douchewhistle. I hope you know this, and feel suitablyguilty, mister…mister…”

“Soul,” he says. “Soul Evans.”

They shake hands. “That’s a funny name,” says the woman. “I’mMaka Albarn.”

“Ah, so the pot calls the kettle black…”

“This is so unfair, I can never think of any good comebackswhen I’m drunk.”

He laughs again, and he’s laughing an awful lot tonight, isn’the? It’s gotta be the alcohol. He leans his head on the back of his chair andlooks at her. The words are out of his mouth before he knows what he’s saying. “MayI have this dance, Miss Albarn?”

She blinks at him, and then grins. “Of course.”

//

One dance turns into two, then four, then ten. She finds outthat Soul Evans lives in New Mexico and he works as an accountant and that heused to be in a band with Liz and Patty in his twenties. He likes cooking andmusic and movies. He dances really well, for a drunk guy. But then, she’s drunktoo. Still, his form is impeccable; they glide across the dance floor like they’rewalking on air.

“Did you use to be a dancer, or something?” she asks ontheir seventh or eighth turn. Against her, he stiffens ever so slightly. “Nah. Whydo you ask?”

“You just move really well. I’m a ballerina. I know thesethings.”

He shrugs. “I’m just talented, I guess.”

“Or you’ve had lessons.”

“Mmh.”

“No shame in taking lessons! It’s not unmanly or whatever if you want to learn how to dance. Women lovegood dancers.”

“S’not that,” hesays with a roll of his eyes.

“Fine, if you don’t want to tell me, then don’t. Buuut,” she says, a wicked idea comingto her as the song changes, “why don’t we show these chumps what we’re made of?”

“What?” He looks down at her, dark eyes confused.

“I mean,” shesays, grinning excitedly, “that we both know how to dance, so why not bust somemoves? You know how to swing dance?”

“A little…”

“Perfect!” Maka chirps, and then they’re off.

Soul was severely underestimating his own abilities. Makafinds herself unable to stop grinning because she’s finally found a partneroutside her company who can keep up with her, and it’s wonderful. Soul is hesitant at first, but soon he takes the lead,and Maka finds herself being dipped and lifted and twirled with astonishing precision.By the end of it he’s smiling as widely as she is, and when he looks at herthere’s a spark of something wondering and exhilarated in his tired dark eyes.

There’s claps and cheers from the crowd. Someone evenwolf-whistles. Soul only grins lazily, but Maka doesn’t miss the color thatappears in his cheeks.

They spend the rest of the night on the dance floor, separatingonly when Liz or Tsubaki or another friend swoops in for a dance. The last songof the night is a waltz, slow and sweet. They’re both sweaty and hot, but Soulholds her close anyway.

She finds she doesn’t mind.