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Gymnopedie No.1

Seattle was definitely different from Death City.

For one thing, there were buildings everywhere. Sure, it probably was no New York, Tokyo or Paris or anything, but in comparison to the enclosed town of Death City, it was huge. Maka's hometown was about a quarter of the size of it and was in a circular formation, desert land, empty, stretching out far beyond the horizon for the rest of the distance. In Seattle, she could walk through the streets for hours upon hours and not reach a city limit. It also even had little suburbs scattered around it, unlike the practically unknown Nevada town.

Second, it rained. A lot. The average monthly rainfall in Death City was probably half an inch at most, if you were lucky. Although, this hardly seemed to be a bother to any of its inhabitants, as they always took advantage of the exhausted sun and basked in its rays. Here, the lack of sunlight turned the people quite pale, also altering their emotions, as it seemed.

That was another thing- nobody ever seemed happy. Everyone seemed to trudge along the streets, content, but not nearly as optimistic and outgoing as those in Maka's hometown. That wasn't to say that everyone was miserable, per say- no, there were some happy people. Just very few.

So why had Maka moved here, settled in a small apartment, and shifted into the routine of city folk?

She didn't even know anymore.

"I'm leaving," she rushed out, forcing herself to say the words that were chocking her.

Soul looked up from the t.v., blood-red eyes in shock. "Wh-What?"

She just couldn't meet those eyes. So instead, her's drifted downwards and focused on her feet as she fidgeted with her wrist. "I have to go..."

He muted the t.v without ever keeping his eyes off of her. "What are you talking about?" he asked cautiously.

Maybe she should have just left when she had the chance. She could've just left a note behind and he would have known...No. He deserved better than that. "They're offering me a position at the Professional Meister Association. It's the same thing my mom was in, and I'd be the youngest person ever to be on the board, at only 17. And...it's stationed in Seattle." She smiley meekly, avoiding his disbelieving gaze. "Well...I'm finally an elite meister. And you're a deathscythe, so, I guess...things worked out, right? You can stay by Shinigami's side and assist him, like every weapon wants, and I get to travel the world and be like mama.

"It's what we both wanted, right?"

She already knew the answer to this question. Sure. It was what they had always wanted.

But it wasn't what they wanted now.

What she also didn't know it how Soul's heart had, literally, stopped for about three seconds. For three seconds, Soul's heart did not pump blood and oxygen through his veins, and did not, thereby, pump life into him.

For three seconds, Soul was dead.

And once his heart decided to recover from the shock, his mind took over, questions spilling in, uncontrollably. Why is she going? She doesn't really want to go, right? She can't do this...

"Soul." His head immediately snapped up at her voice. His subconscious mind had decided to savor every moment of it that was left. She still did not meet his confused gaze. "The only reason Shinigami said that you and I could still be partners was because I was still here, and he didn't need a deathscythe right away. He said it would be okay, since there would be one professional team in Death City. But now...I mean, I don't have to hold you back. We both know that the kishin in here should be reserved for the younger students at Shibusen, and we could've separated before anyways. So now, I can actually help out instead of taking candy from little kids," she voice laughed a soft, yet saddening laugh that tinkered through the otherwise silent building. Soul would remember that laugh forever, though he didn't know it yet.

She opened her mouth to continue, but it just remained like that. There was nothing left to say.

Soul was taking all of this in, trying to decide how he felt. Happy for her? He should be...but...why wasn't he, then? Wasn't this what they had both wanted for years? What had changed.

She sighed through closed lips, "We both knew this day would come..." she mumbled quietly, the words suffocating her. And it was true. They just both assumed that it wouldn't feel like this. That it wouldn't feel so...depressing.

She had to say the very last part now. Before she even gave her mind a chance to go back, she said, "I'm leaving tomorrow."

If Soul thought that there was no way things could have gotten worse for him, he was sorely mistaken.

"But," she followed up, giving Soul no time to react. "Can I just ask you for two things?"

Her eyes finally met his, and they showed that she, too, was not anticipating the next 24 hours. Yet, nearer to the center, Soul saw how badly she must have wanted these two things.

"Anything."

Lame and "uncool" as it might have been, he said it anyways, screwing his values for once.

She swallowed through the burning in her throat. "Can you play me a song?"

He blinked. Then, his head automatically navigated to the grand piano Maka had bought him a couple years ago in hopes that he would play it for her more often. Which he did, just never in front of her. Sometimes, when she was at the library or staying after school to tutor the meisters in beginning classes, his fingers drifted over the white and black landscape.

So now, his body, heavy under the news, rose and made its way over to the piano. His back was slouched and his fingers were curved as they stationed themselves on some keys. He realized he had no idea what he was going to play.

That was, until his hands subconsciously slugged over the keys.

This was not Soul's usual playing, Maka noticed. His usual playing was darker, and the tempo was faster, as well as many different nots were played at once. Now, he played in what Maka could automatically tell was a slow three-four time from the little studying she had done (timing was usually the easiest thing for her to pick up first). The first note played was also the only one Maka could differentiate amongst all of the different sounds.

G

After holding down that note, he played a simple, yet completely melancholy, chord. It continued in this slow rhythm until some higher notes made their way into the piece, completing the whole sound. Everything throughout the whole song was slow, and made Maka's eyes sting with tears.

Soul had always told her that what he played when he was playing the piano reflected who he was.

Well, Soul was very sad.

After a few minutes, the song ended. The notes rung out, the only noise; a noise that seemed to engulf the whole room.

Finally, after what must have been a full two minutes, Soul stood up, rising from the piano bench. Maka mirrored him, lifting herself up to face him.

And she hugged him.

She had slipped her arms through his and leaned her head against his chest, squinting back tears. The burning in her throat was replaced by a lump that barely let any air through.

Soul wanted to tell her not to go. He wanted to say that he would miss her a lot. He wanted to tell her that, deep down inside of him, he loved her. He had fallen in love with this weird, nerdy, stubborn girl. But he didn't. The silence was too feared that it would just swallow up any words he said.

She wanted to tell him that she really did not want to go. She wanted to tell him just how much she would miss him. She wanted to let him know that, deep down inside, she loved him. She had fallen in love with the smirking, idiotic, cool guy. But she didn't. The atmosphere was too thick with silence, and she feared that anything that escaped past her lips would shatter under its weight.

He wanted to confess that one of the reasons he chose her to be his partner was because she was exactly the type of person Soul Eater Evans did not fall in love with. He didn't fall in love with book-loving, violent, pigtailed girls. But that he did anyways.

She wanted to confess that one of the reasons she asked to be her partner was because he was safe. He was the exact type of person that Maka Albarn would not fall for. She wouldn't fall for perverted, arrogant, lazy guys. But she did anyways.

Nope, they both just stood there, drowning in the silence and the things the couldn't say.

Instead of telling him everything, Maka whispered, as not to crumple under the silence, "There's one more thing."

He remained silent, afraid, and listening.

She took in a deep breath and, with all of her might, she let her arms drop to her sides. "Just..." She didn't even know how to word this. "Don't think of me a lot...oh-okay?"

Their eyes were like magnets to each other now, locking with the other as they craved for the gap between them to close.

But it didn't.

Maka laughed without joy. He never did respond to that, as she remembered.

She would never forget that day. That moment, more precisely. It would replay itself over in her head every day, for months now.

And although she remembered it clearly, she could not for the life of here, remember why she agreed to this.

To prove herself to her mom? Please, her mom could care less, as long as Maka was happy and healthy. Which she wasn't. To earn recognition? Who cared? Recognition from who? It didn't even matter anymore. All of her life had been a battle to reach the top, and now that she was there, she would give anything to go back. She had graduated a year early from her class, but what she wouldn't give to be back with her friends at Shibusen.

So then why? Why did she do this? Why did she put herself in this position? She had already known before she left that, in her heart, she didn't want to leave. So why did she insist on pushing herself into this city?

…...to prove that I don't need him?

…...

…...Hmph, maybe. How stupid, though.

She was always stubborn about men, predisposed to hating them after her parent's feuding. That's why she would never have admitted to herself- not in a million years- that she was happier with a guy. She never would have let herself live it down if she discovered that she had actually fallen in love.

Because Maka Albarn didn't fall in love.

Especially not with cool, cocky, smirky, annoying, infuriating, lazy, incompetent, rude, idiotic guys with white hair, leather jackets and a motorcycle.

Maka tried to breathe out this horrible feeling in her chest slowly, but it latched itself inside of her, refusing. She lifted up the coffee cup to her lips, gently tilting it so the warm, bitter taste flooded into her mouth. This coffeehouse had become one that she visited quite frequently, and it had musician who played live music and really great expressos.

Maka had already payed the bill for her one cup, and began collecting her things, gathering up all of her personal belongings.

When she heard just that one note.

G

Followed by a melancholic chord.

And then the same rhythm repeated.

The coffee cup was almost knocked to the floor when Maka shot up, eyes searching for the piano on the stage.

Indeed, the piano was playing the exact same song that was played for her the day before she left.

Her eyes travelled from the piano, to the curved hands that gracefully waltzed across the keys.

To the slim body, hunched over the piano, concentrated on it and nothing else.

To the unkept mass of...brown hair.

Maka stood in astonishment.

It's not Soul...

The eyes that were trained on the curved fingers were a light blue, hidden behind thick lenses. They weren't a deep, ruby red that were unconcealed and left in the open for all to marvel at.

They were just blue.

As if to satisfy her, Maka's eyes shut involuntarily. In her mind, she envisioned that the pianist within a few yards of her was none other than her ex partner. His blood red eyes were focused, dismissing the white strands of spiky hair that tried to block his vision. His whole figure was crooked above the grand, black piano. He was playing Maka's song...

And then it stopped.

Supportive applause was given to the performer as he thanked the crowd, stepping down as a guitarist on a stool took the mic.

Before he could leave, Maka had found her way to him, poorly excusing herself when she knocked into a few people sitting around tables in chairs. "E-Excuse me!" she frantically called.

Thankfully, he heard her, and turned. "Yes? May I help you?"

"D-Do you know the name of that song?" she blurted out.

He looked taken aback. "Oh! Well, uhm, yes. It's called Gymnopedie No.1."

She nodded. "Gymnopedie No.1. Okay, thank you." She waved a goodbye as she exited the building.

She ran that name through her head every second until she reached her apartment. Later that night, it was saved on her computer and iPod, and she listened to it for the entire rest of the day.

As she was drifting off into sleep, she thought to herself, Hm. I wonder if Soul is still thinking of me. She hoped not, though. It would only end up making things worse.

Later that night, Soul got home from a pointless day spent in the Death Room. Spirit was off to God knows where, and Shinigami figured that he should start his new position today, deciding that he had to start sooner or later, and he had already been lenient with time, as it had been months since Soul was supposed to take this position. He had sat, silent, the entire time, and Shinigami decided it was probably best not to disturb him now.

Like any other day, Soul had hung out with all of his old friends, even though everyone knew he wasn't quote the same. He hardly ever opened his mouth to speak and rarely said more than a sentence if so.

Now, he was laying in bed. At 8. Listening to Gymnopedie on his iPod as he was slowly rocked to sleep.

As he closed his eyes, he thought, Sorry Maka. Can't keep my promise.

But Maka didn't sleep that night. She looked out at the window, where it was, yet again, raining. She stared at it and stared at it, waiting for nothing to happen.

She vaguely remembered his response now, after momentarily forgetting what he had said. But now, the memory was tugging at her.

He held her a little tighter as he said, "Only if you don't think of me."

What a horrible deal they had. Basically, they were supposed to go on as if they never existed to each other. Soul had only said it to make her back down, but she took the challenge, not wanting him to have to remember things that would only make him sad.

Now, though, she prayed that every time he listened to that song, he would remember her. Just then- only then, for the few short minutes- would she actually want Soul Eater Evans to remember the only girl he would ever really love.

And somehow, Soul knew that. Maybe it was because their soul link hadn't broken off completely het. But he clearly understood this.

That's why he made sure to listen to it as often as possible.

And he even fell asleep with it on repeat, hoping to maybe even dream of her by doing so.

HOLY JESUS FINALLY! :OOOO it almost 1 now. I was supposed to get off 3 hours ago...ah, screw it. Its done now

ohkay, this totally just came to me when I heard the song. By the way, you should look it up. If you've seen the disappearance of haruhi suzumiya, its the piano song for the trailer. LOOK THIS UP!

oh my, I just noticed how extemely fluffy this is...eh, whatevs :3