Black Bubble Tea 【SoulEater】

.4.

Sona Bordot

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Jingle.

"Good morning! Welcome to Pinky's Bubble Tea Cafe!", I smile sweetly.

"Good morning."

Kid walks over to the counter, his eyes trailing from my eyes, to my neck. I lift the collar of my sweatshirt a bit, just to make sure the hand print is completely covered. Then, I start to type in his order, printing out the receipt and turning to make it. My legs tremble and fold at the knees as I walk, but I power through until all eight drinks are made to order. 

When I place the filled trays on the counter, his fingertips brush against mine, and a surge of fear and anger forces me to flinch away. He cocks his head to the side, holding the trays close to his chest. I laugh quietly, and hold up my hand. 

"Electricity shock", I shrug, handing him his receipt. 

"Oh", He mumbles, sliding cash across the counter. "Thanks"

I nod, and watch him slowly retreat to the automatic glass doors. I stare down at the tile floors, blinking slowly to prevent myself from crying. I have to at least wait until he's gone. The bell chimes, and I relax my shoulders, letting out a shaky whimper. 

"What's wrong?"

I whip my head up, gasping quietly. Halfway out the door, he looks back at me, concern glossed over his amber eyes. The trembling in my legs increases, almost violently enough to make me collapse, but I steady myself against the counter. I haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon. I haven't slept either- or even thought about it. What's wrong... such a simple question with such a horrid answer. What's wrong is that Clyde... he... I gave him myself. There's nothing wrong, if I think of it like that. I could have struggled- but I didn't. I owe him, that's the thing. I have to pay him. It was only a matter of time before... before we.. 

"Nothing, sorry, sorry", I laugh a bit, sniffling. "My dog he... he passed away recently."

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, doubt crackling through the air. He doesn't believe me- it's evident in the way he raises his eyebrow, but he doesn't push it. Instead, he walks over, and tosses a $50 into the tip jar. 

"Hope you feel better soon", He smiles softly, before finally exiting.

I watch him walk along the pavement, and slump my shoulders when he turns the corner, disappearing from sight. He was what kept me distracted from my thoughts- I looked forward to seeing him this morning, and now that he's gone, all is silent, and the chime of the bell is ringing in the back of my head again.

I picture Clyde, staring down at me, disappointed. I know he loves me. He cares for me more than he lets on. I know this. It's a fact. Reality. Yet, the more I think about how much he hurts me, the more I think about yesterday afternoon- the fear, the pain, the touching- the more I start to wonder why he treats me the way he does if he loves me so much. I shouldn't question it- After five years with him, I know better than to question him, his actions, his words- yet, with nothing better to do, I start to wonder what it'd be like if I left him. 

I don't want to leave him. I love him too. He's my savior, my hero. He gave me this job, with no regards to his own safety. I could have run to the DWMA and had him hunted- but he trusted me enough not to. In a way, it made me feel safe, secure, that he trusted me. It took a while before he finally opened up to me, treated me like a lover. 

The tea shop is named after his ex-wife. They got married at eighteen, as she was in the final stages of lung cancer. Her nickname was 'Pinky'. He doesn't talk about her anymore, just that one time. I don't know her name, but I know he does keep a photo of her in his pocket at all times. When she died, he finally opened up the shop, and that's when the killings began. He asked me, very solemnly, if I thought insanity took him over. I don't think so. I think the passion of a man in love has been directed somewhere else- he feeds on souls to ease the heartache. I understand him, more than anyone ever will, and he understands me, too. We depend on each other. It's simple. 

I shouldn't be questioning what we have. 

The bell chimes again, and I expect to see Clyde there, blood dripping down his chin, a helpless expression on his face. Instead, Kid meets my gaze, trays in hand, eyebrows furrowed. I smile crookedly, and greet him, but he doesn't respond. 

Instead, he sets the trays down on the nearest table, and storms up to the counter. I stumble back, even though he can't reach me, and fall on my behind, my legs finally giving in. I hiss in pain, and rub my tailbone.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you", He says quickly, his eyebrows still knitted tight together. 

"I'm fine, really", I respond, wobbling to my feet and leaning against the counter, our faces inches away. "Did I forget something?"

He pauses for a second, as if unprepared to answer the question. "A straw"

I chuckle to myself, and pluck a straw from one of the holders, shoving it into his hands quickly. I want him gone. If Clyde decides his hunger is too strong, and goes out in broad daylight again, he'll be killed on the spot. Well- what can Kid to without his weapons? Nothing. The infamous Death The Kid- Lord Death's son- will die. I feel the rising of my chest quicken, my pulse choking me softly. 

"Thank you", He spins on his heel, but stops, and whips his head back around. 

I glance at the doors, then back at him. No sign of Clyde. That's a good thing. 

"Do you cater?"

I blink a few times, completely thrown off guard- Then, I give him a big grin, and whip out a notepad from my apron. "We do. What's the date?"

"Why don't you give me your number and I can text you the full details?"

I pause, and my smile goes crooked. "A-Are you hitting on me, sir?"

He pauses as well, then a blush spreads across his face as he whips his hands around defensively. "No, no! Not at all- I just thought it'd be easier that way! In case I need you to cater again!"

I laugh a bit, and take out my phone. My only contact is Clyde. Would he mind if I gave him my number? I could change the name- say it's just for some customer who wants a catering job done. Or.. maybe I could just not tell him. No- I tell him everything, I have to tell him everything. I'd break his trust if I didn't tell him. 

"Here", I hand him my phone, and he types his number in quickly, then types mine into his. I watch carefully- each letter is written with accuracy and precision- no typos. It's a bit intimidating. 

"Thank you again", He bows his head a bit, then backs up a little. "We'll be in contact shortly"

"I look forward to it", I respond, shoving my phone back in my pocket. "See you tomorrow?"

"Indeed. Goodbye, Miss Bubble Tea", He smiles, before exiting gracefully and swiftly. 

I feel the tips of my ears grow hot. Miss Bubble Tea? I've never been given a nickname before.. 'Sona' can't really be merged in with something. I smile to myself, and fiddle with my fingers sloppily. Death the Kid has a nickname for me. 

Hold on- if he's having an event.. and I'm catering for it.. that means his friends will be there. That means.. 

...That means I get to meet Maka Albarn!