Disclaimer: I do NOT own Soul Eater

Please enjoy I'm having a lot of fun writing this. I hope that you all adore it, it's something new for me. Someone asked me to do a slightly serious fanfic well here you go. This is what my brain coughed up!

Picture 1: Something Exotic

"Maka…Maka it's time to wake up." Warm fingertips brush my bangs aside as soft lips plant a loving kiss on my forehead. It's quite possibly the best way to wake up in this world, if there's a better way then I don't want to know about it. "Come on I've got coffee made, you'll be late if you don't get up silly girl."

With another kiss I allow my emerald green eyes to open and there looking straight into them are gold. Like the sun only prettier, it's as if I'm the only thing in this odd little world. I blush, this is my morning, waking up to him and getting ready for school. I swear that my body sleeps in just for this experience.

"Kay…I'll get up," Sometimes being a lazy artist can be such a pain. "Mmmm…coffee. You spoil me."

"I also picked you up a doughnut."

My morning just got so much better. "Of course you did." He just thinks of everything doesn't he? No complaints here. "Stretching…it's a pain."

"That's because you don't sleep enough. If you went to bed earlier then you wouldn't have this problem," Kid chastises. "Your body wouldn't feel the need to have a mental shut down."

I'm already down the hall heading to the bathroom for a nice long shower. He can lecture me all he wants; I've heard it all before.

"You've got ten minutes!" Kid shouts.

That leaves six minutes for a shower, a minute to dress and pull my hair into pigtails, and three minutes to grab my coffee and doughnut and head out the door where Kid no doubt has the car running. He's always been one for having a schedule, it leaves me room to try and mess things up.

"Hold it!" Kid stops me as I pull on my favorite band t-shirt. With expert skill he lowers one of my pigtails, takes a step back and smirks at his work. "Perfect, just like you. Now come on, move your butt."

"Moving my butt." Mornings were always like this.

"That's my girl." He slings an arm around my waist to bump my hip with his before leading the way out to his sleek black car. The music blares and we're on our way to our art institute Witch's Hand. Fairly popular art academy for only the esteemed naturally. Not just anyone with a paintbrush can get in.

The students here are always competing. We all have our own craft and yet some of us are way better at it than the other. Our teachers come to school wearing ripped jeans and paper clip earrings. Everywhere you look you see girls with paintbrushes stuffed through their buns, jewelry that they themselves made, and supplies everywhere. No one bothers to clean up; the floor itself has become one big art project.

It's a child's with a box of markers dream.

People draw and paint all over the walls, cans of spray paint sit in corners as their taggers work. There are hardly any schedules; everything is random moving to each individual's own beat. It's a mess and yet it's in complete order.

Or something like that.

"I'll see you later."

"I'll bring more coffee." Kid leaves me with a kiss on my cheek to head off to his own preferred art. Kid isn't a tagger or a painter, his true love comes in the form of statues. Name it and he's made something out of it. I remember his display made completely out of picture frames. Perfect and symmetrical and yet alluding to the eye, no one really knows what he's up to.

"Nice of you to join us Maka," My teach, Mr. Frost greets me. He's already got his paintbrush out and is helping some nit wit mix the perfect pink. I like to call him Frosty Cup. "Your easel is already set up; you know right where you left it. What time did you leave?"

Being an insomniac has it's perks. Most people claim to be an insomniac but true insomniacs, those are the ones that you'd love to hang around. Being able to stop painting at five am and get up at eight to head back here and appear completely normal takes some serious skill. "Yeah, yeah."

"Kid get you up?"

Technically speaking I was up at least twenty minutes before Kid came to get me, but I don't say that. I just nod and head over to my easel where I pick up my paintbrush and give it a quick spin to get my creative juices going. It's nice being able to paint what I want, I mean yeah it's a grade but it's a grade that I earn in a way that I decide. "…"

Starring at the canvas now I have to think 'What the hell was I thinking last night?'. That's the thing I don't remember. I can't recall due to my thinking process so each and every day I start with a partially finished canvas and have to think about what I was wanting to do. "Mmm…coffee."

Helps to kick my brain in arse.

"Maybe some swirly action here…" Silas points out. Silas is a genius with the paintbrush and the funny thing is he doesn't even seem to know it, or he does and just doesn't care. His talent is like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, it's just that good. "What's up with the eyes? I don't quite get it…"

Green.

I have this canvas and on it is a pair of female eyes that stretch across the canvas with thick black brush stroke lines. She has eye shadow, light green and yet I hadn't decided what color eyes I was going for. The eye shadow is almost obnoxious the way I painted it, she has no mouth and yet it doesn't really call for one.

"How should I know what my brain likes to throw up on this?" I'm considering scrapping this for lack of something to do with it.

"I'm sure that it threw up for a reason Maka, have fun with it." He rubs my head before turning around to head back to his no doubt thousand dollar painting.

Have fun with it? That's what I used to do. Now I do it because…it's just what I do. It's my thing.

So I take my paintbrush and dip it in the silver.

Roses are red.

Violets are blue

Duct tape is silver.

She doesn't need a mouth, she needs duct tape.

"Heading home?" I yawn, Kid has stood up and it's about one am in the morning. I figured that he'd be leaving me soon, unlike me Kid is normal. Normal people enjoy sleeping; quite frankly I think sleeping is a waste of time.

"Sorry love," Kid wipes my cheek off which has somehow gotten splattered from my work. With the same hand he cups that cheek and raises my head ever so slightly so that he could kiss me in that odd messy upside down kissy way. "I'll see you in the morning, same time."

"Don't be late or I might not wake up." That's a joke, so we laugh. My body tends to wake up before nine no matter what I seem to do. Eyes linger as I watch him take his leave, he waves, from downstairs his car lights flicker twice and then he's just gone. It's just me, this easel, and the smell of paint. "Man…I really need some pudding or something."

Everyone else has been gone hours ago. It's just been me for the longest time; Kid sits in for a couple of hours before heading off to his own mansion. It's alright though; I'm used to being alone.

"This damn painting…" I glare at it, it's offending to me. The girl has duct tape over her nonexistent mouth, a blend of silver and black streaks. Her eye color still hasn't been decided but she's crying now, her tears turning a vibrant green from the eye shadow. It's almost eerie, something one might see on television where a girl's been kidnapped.

I sip at my coffee, Kid's last present. I have my own coffee maker; or rather Frosty Cup has it. He installed it a long time ago when he walked in on me here at around midnight. After the longest time he gave in and gave me my own key to this kingdom that is paints and oils.

There are some nights where I can just get lost in my art, others like tonight take the time that I never seem to have. Every moment that ticks by is a moment closer to sleep, that waste of time. If I had one wish I'd wish to never sleep, I'd be able to get so much more done this way. Sleep is-

"She's lonely, has a lot to say and yet can't find a way to say it-"

"SHIT!" My nice hot coffee drops to the tiled paint splattered floor. It spills, naturally, sending its coffee goodness streaking across my floor. "Fuck…who the hell is here at this hour?"

"You and me apparently."

Great and now he's a poet.

I'm seething mad, mad enough to get up off my stool and nearly snarl at the man who had spoken. I was supposed to be the only one here; it's why I like to stay here. No one to bug me. "Yeah screw you. Your hilarious…so tell me genius why are you here?"

"To help you clean up coffee?" He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms trying to be one of those cool kids that people make fun of.

Apparently this man has a shield for dagger eyes. "Yeah no thanks."

"Are you sure? You spilled quite a lot…" The man is smirking now; he's trying to be funny.

I consider flipping him off. "Nice observation. Can I help you?"

"You're the one who needs help-"

"That's it! I'm calling the police." Make a joke out of that jack ass!

"And tell them what? Some strange man walked into a room and you spilled your coffee? I'm sure that'll zip to the top of their list."

This man…he not only has straight A's in sarcasm he's also quite freaky looking. He looks exactly like someone who belongs here. Gravity defying snow white hair, jagged teeth, and the most disturbing red eyes I've ever laid eyes on. I want that color.

Instantly I think of how well that would contrast with her green eye shadow, almost like Christmas and yet something exotic all the same.

He's wearing a white t-shirt over paint splattered ripped jeans, all I can think is that he's an art student for sure. The problem is that I've never seen him; anyone would remember that slightly handsome face.

No.

It's those eyes that I would remember, the color of darkened rose petals. "Mr. Frost's class right?"

"Yeah," That confirms it. "What are you doing here so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Another smirk, I'm not amused.

"I like being alone, it helps me concentrate."

"And concentrate you do. I've been watching you for a while now…lost in thought were we?"

Great he's an ass and a creeper, excellent combination. "So what if I was? What's that got to do with you?"

"Nothing, nothing at all. I was just a bit curious," The man admits. He shrugs it off in a way that could just about irritate anyone. To me he seems more like a tagger then a painter. "I've seen what I came to see, I think I'll head home."

"That's it? You're just going to mess with me, make me spill my coffee, and disappear?"

"That's all I had planned. Why? We're the only two in this building, getting some ideas?"

That was it, I flip him off. His laughter echoes throughout the tagged hall, bouncing off and sending them back to me. It's obnoxious and a part of me wants to rip out of here and chase after him. To knock his lights out and demand to know why he wanted to mess with me.

I don't have time to do that, I can't afford to.

After all I have to get mixing; I have to find that color.

Read and review I hope that you love it! Please enjoy and note that the next chapter will be up next weekend! Chow!