Black Bubble Tea 【SoulEater】

.1.

As I lug the box outside, shivering while re-locking the door, I look over at him. He's sat under the counter, his blood-soaked shirt clutched close to his chest, red stains on the corners of his mouth. I try not to stare as he changes clothes, but can't help but grimace when the blood from his pants stains the tile. 

"I don't get a thank you?", I ask, trying to lighten the mood. 

"I own you", He hisses, suddenly jerking his hand towards my throat. 

His hand covers over my neck, and I whimper ever so sightly. Eyebrows furrowed, lips in a fine line, he brushes his fingers against my neck gently, leaning in close.

"This beautiful throat is all mine", He purrs, kissing my jawline.

I grimace, my bottom lip quivering in fear and disgust. When he pulls away, I let out an inaudible breath of relief; yet, the trembling in my legs refuses to cease. His eyes trail down my waist, to my legs, and shoot back up to meet my gaze. 

"Quit shaking. You look pathetic", He kneels down, gripping my legs tight, his nails sinking deep in my skin. "If it weren't for me, you'd still be on the streets. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, sir", I whisper, tightening my muscles as response from the pain. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize", His nails sink even deeper, and I feel him pierce my skin. "It's not your fault you're a dimwitted little girl."

I roll my eyes back, drying my eyes. He doesn't like it when I cry. When he finally lets me go, I rub the raw marks on my legs, biting my lip to prevent from whimpering again. The tapping of his footsteps fades as he makes his way towards the exit, prompting me to look over the counter. His expression is cold and stern- the same expression I see in my nightmares.

"Clyde!", I call, quickly jumping over the counter, a wet rag in hand. 

He tilts his head, and I cautiously approach him, setting one hand on jawline and using the other to wipe his cheek. The blood smears before subsiding, leaving only the scent of iron and fear. He stares at me endearingly, and smiles gently. 

"Thank you", He whispers, taking his hand in mine. "You can leave early. Have that stupid manager Elise run the cafe today"

With that, his fingertips slide from my palm, and he retreats into the blinding sunlight. I stare out the glass doors for a moment longer, listening to the fading ring of the bell. I hear the jingle when I lay in bed at night, when all is silent and calm. It ruins me inside.

Quickly, I snag a few bucks from the register, and head out to my apartment. The heat is enough to get caught in my throat, to make the babyhairs stick to my forehead, but I don't dare take a moment to rest. People like Clyde are everywhere, stalking the street corners for a quick, traceless meal. 

His first attack was on my brother. We had been roaming the streets for fireflies, when we were called to the cafe, drawn in with free bubble tea and snacks. I was young, but he was old enough to know better. Being of weapon blood, he was the more important one- he was forced to mature quicker than me. 

We were the only ones there. The bell above the door chimed as we walked in, and that was the it. I was too frail, too scared to do anything. All I remember is dropping my cup, and watching blood mix with tea. After he was done with my brother, he made his way towards me. That's when he introduced himself to me- That's when the name Clyde burned into my brain. He didn't kill me, because he fell in love with me. Ten years my elder, he made sure I was his.

When my parents left Death City- abandoned me on the streets- He was the one who took me in. At first, I lived in the back room, and worked until I was too exhausted to stand. My parents always wanted a weapon or a meister in the family. Unfortunately, I wasn't born with weapon blood, and I wasn't bred to be a meister- they say it comes instinctively. It didn't for me. So, I was deemed worthless, and they retreated to some far away city. I never even get postcards.

I owe everything to Clyde. Even if I wanted to, I can't get out of it. If I try to run away, try to leave him- he'll kill me. It's not as bad as it may seem. He doesn't stalk me. He let's me live by myself. He's kind to me most of the time. I'd be delusional to think of him as a threat. Well- he kills. He kills humans for food. He has this insatiable hunger, and no matter what I cook or bake him, he's never satisfied; unless it has flesh and screams for mercy. 

As I approach my apartment building, I steal a glance of the DWMA, the sunlight glaring against one of it's multiple castle-like pillars. I wish I could enroll. I'm fifteen, old enough to get into high school- but I'm not a weapon or a meister. I've heard they get to go on jobs involving Kishin eggs, ancient monsters.. It sounds like so much fun. Even better, they have the one and only Maka Albarn! I've only read about her in books and newspapers, but she's the one who defeated the kishin Asura. I admire her. 

I hope one day I can have as much bravery as her.