Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater, I just write about it. And cry. I cry about it too.

A/N: This inspiration came to me from a friend. This story starts in the middle so don't be alarmed if you have no idea what is going on right now. This will be multi-chapter but I'm not sure how many just yet. Also there will be spoilers for chapter 110 of the manga later on in the story so if you haven't read it I'm warning you now. Enjoy.

UPDATE: This chapter has been re-written and is longer and more detailed. I think it reads a lot better now, let me know what you think. Thanks!

I Don't Know Me, But I Remember You

In the darkness the man laughed, though he couldn't remember why. He didn't remember how long he'd been wandering these shadowy, desolate streets and alleyways, though it felt like an eternity. He ran a hand along the crumbling red bricks of a rundown building as he staggered down the sidewalk, the dim glow of the moonlight elongating his features. Occasionally he moved his head from side to side, catching blurred glimpses of people bustling around him and he laughed again. He vaguely witnessed an older man from the thin group of onlookers walk toward him and stopped to focus on the face in front of him, cocking his head of dirty long white hair weightily to the side to listen. He could see the man's mouth moving but the sounds were broken and hazy. This was unusual for him; he hadn't heard anyone's voice but hers in a long time. Usually they stayed away from him but every so often a kind hearted stranger would stop and ask his name to see if he needed help.

He answered the man's apparent question with a sharp, crazed grin; his shark-like teeth glinting in the light of the moon. What was his name again? Soul, that's right. His feet wavered slightly as if drunk and he broke into a fit of hysterical giggles. What a stupid name he had. Did he even have one of those? A soul? If he did, he sure as hell couldn't feel it. His laughter ceased abruptly and his face fell into a deep scowl as he heard someone call that name. He looked around, snarling at the man and the other people collected on the street; trying to determine whose voice it was. For some reason it made him angry, it made him furious.

"Sooooouuuul…" There it was again, and he turned around violently. The world seemed to spin around him, the colors of the street and people staring blurred as he whirled around in circles, looking for where the voice was coming from. A low, frustrated growl rumbled in his throat and he clawed at his hair. He felt disoriented and dizzy; the sound of her calling his name came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The man and other pedestrians backed away as he panicked, leaving him with nervous and concerned glances and he watched them with confused and abandoned eyes. Had he done something to make them leave? Guilt from somewhere tore at his chest and he ran away from the more populated area, not stopping until he stood in the middle of a dark abandoned warehouse where the sound of his shoes drying scuffling against the concrete floor and the heaving of his chest were the only things he heard.

The memory of the voice that seemed to chase him wherever he went bothered him. Why did it sound so familiar? It was light, melodic, happy, and… Maka's? The shock of realization weakened his knees and he fell to them on the dusty floor of the deserted structure, his eyes wide and unfocused, staring into nothingness. Her voice hit his senses again and he closed his eyes, smiling weakly with a trembling jaw and slack shaking hands at his sides as the memories of her washed over him. There she was, smiling at him as they sat together on a couch. She had a book in her hand. And he was there too, teasing her. She pouted playfully and he laughed. She was pretending to be mad, but he knew her. He saw the slight upturn in the corners of her mouth as she scowled and the barely noticeable softness in her furrowed eyebrows. He took her book and she glared at him. He poked her and she broke into a grin. He tackled her and she gasped. He ticked her and she laughed. His meister, with her glossy ash blonde hair, and her bright green sparkling eyes; God he loved her.

These were the moments he felt alive again; the moments he heard her, the moments he saw her, the moments he felt her. He dropped from his knees, sitting and sliding as he lied down on the dirty floor and let the images of her envelop him. He stared up at the ceiling with round misty eyes as he watched her cook. The way the apron fit around her tiny waist, the sound of her humming to herself as she stirred, the aroma of spices and herbs in the air. He reached out and she smacked his hand lightly with the wooden spoon and scolded him for not being patient. He grumbled something and she turned and winked at him, assuring him it would be done soon. He didn't feel the tears leaking out of his eyes as he lied there, but they streamed down the sides of his face and dropped into the dust on the floor, creating small dark circles in the grime. It was dank and drafty; the concrete hard and cold against his arms and back. His thin t-shirt did nothing to shield him from the elements, and he shivered as he stared into the ceiling with memory clouded eyes. Nothing else mattered in the world to him but the movie of her playing in his head.

These moments were the only solace he had left, like small sips of cool water after walking so long through the desert of his mind. The memory of who she was. He couldn't remember who he was without it. When he saw her he felt like himself again; happier, cleaner, and cool. He blinked, another tear sliding down the side of his temple and into the dirt, the scene changing with it. It was dark outside and they had watched something scary. He grinned as she nervously bit her bottom lip, she didn't want to tell him she was scared. She had nothing to be scared of, he would protect her. Silly little meister, so stubborn, he would always protect her. He crept up behind her and jumped. She screamed. He laughed. She grabbed a book and swung it down on him. On the outside he laughed at himself, his low tremulous voice echoing off the cavernous space, he should have known she would chop him for that. She whined about him scaring her and he stood. He felt himself ruffle the top of her head. He remembered the words he said. Don't be scared stupid. Nothing's going to get you with me here. That wouldn't be cool at all.

The memory faded, dematerializing into the thin wisps of darkness. With it being over he closed his eyes again, swallowing the lump in his throat. Exhaustion grasped at his body and mind, dragging him down and wrapped up in these fragments of sanity he let himself sleep.