"Can't you help me as I'm starting to burn?
Too many doses and I'm starting to get an attraction…"
"I lie here paralytic inside this soul
Screaming for you 'till my throat is numb."
There are some things Stein remembers in vivid detail. There are some memories that seem to fly over his head, as if they had never happened.
This is a combination of the two.
It's always a combination of the two, especially when it concerns his favorite activity.
Like always, Maka is at his beck and call. Such a good girl. Such a sweet girl.
Such a perfect girl.
Stein always wonders why Maka plays along with all of his antics. Why she even bothers to come over when she knows just what will happen. When she knows just how wrong the very idea of it is.
She's a perfect student. She should know when to listen to her professor, and when he's just being insane.
But she's always there, that damned pleasant smile on her face that makes Stein want to cut open her mouth and make it even bigger so he can see it all the time. She's always ready; always willing to do whatever she can for him.
And it's not even for extra credit.
The merit of a true perfect student—the student who does whatever she can to help others.
Ah, that's just what makes her soul so damned perfect.
Stein can't help but read it, all the time. He's sure she does the same to his, sees all its flaws and mistakes.
Oh, how similar and different she is to him. He sees that possible insanity behind her eyes as well, like at any moment she can cross the threshold into total freedom from set rules. He can read into just how determined she is to make Soul a Death Scythe, and how conflicted she feels about him.
He feels exactly the same about her. Conflicted.
He loves her lithe, tiny body and skin as soft as the inside of a seashell. He loves her fragility, her false innocence, her slender muscles. He loves her willingness to let him in and let him taint her in the only way she'll ever let him.
He doesn't love her.
She knows this, because she doesn't love him either.
He thinks about this as she shows up to his doorstep. That's why this memory is nothing but a blur of time.
A blur of everything that is Maka, save what he loves about her. He focuses on what he loves, focuses on how he wants to do things to it that will cause her to never want to see him again.
He wants a scalpel in his hands.
And suddenly, it's there. Suddenly, he's in his lab, not in the main room or his bedroom. There's a scalpel in his hands, and Maka is heavily sedated, unconscious, bound by leather restraints.
Right on the examination table. Right where he always wants her. Her smooth skin is his to command, to turn into sandpaper just by using a few tools.
He's never seen anything more perfect or beautiful in his life.
Usually Stein remembers the sex. That's usually the most vivid thing for him, because he's ripping Maka apart from the inside, and she welcomes it. She lets him touch her and kiss where he wants, because she knows he's actually visualizing something different when he moves inside her perfectly.
Today, he has a slight recalling of it, of her small hands curled around his lapel at the peak of ecstasy and her legs tightly wrapped around his waist.
That's all. And now she is here. Stein does not remember how. He's sure it has to do with his mind slipping into insanity. Yes. That has to be it.
And now he's here, gaze shifting from her perfect body to his perfect scalpel.
He's finally going to do it.
He's finally going to dissect her.
Oh, how long he's wanted this…
Without thinking, Stein gets to work. There is no time to waste, because he also wants to see her reaction to when she wakes. He wants her to know just how beautiful she is, and how much more perfect she will become with the perfect scars blemishing her smooth skin.
His lines are precise and calculated, taking his time to make sure she's cut into properly. He draws a straight line down her middle, wanting to see every organ within her body. He wants to kiss her heart; wants to drench his hands in her blood and taste that metallic perfection.
Stein wants it all.
He doesn't like to wear gloves while doing dissections. He doesn't want a layer of latex between his hands and her crimson blood. He wants to feel it between his fingers, wants it to stain his lab coat and wants it to be everywhere.
The sight of Maka's blood is everything he's ever wanted to see and more. He can't describe how beautiful and perfect it is. He can't describe how he's longed to touch and taste it. Just a taste. Nothing more.
He's going to stitch her back together, of course. He wants to play some more afterward.
As he continues to cut into her body, past layers of skin and tissue and muscle, Stein begins to give himself into the insanity, letting it consume him more and more. It starts in his core, then travels outward, making him realize that he no longer has control.
Without Maka conscious, Stein realizes that she can't keep him in the right mind. Without Spirit, the same happens. He sees just how much he is affected, sees that it's starting to become harder and harder for him to just rip into her and tear her heart out just to feel it beat for a moment in his hands.
"Oh, you're so perfect…" Stein murmurs to her, though he knows she can't hear him. Still, he imagines she does.
After this, he's going to make her smile permanent. Give her perfect stitches in perfect crescents across her cheeks.
At this point, Maka is perfectly exposed to Stein, her blood and muscle and organs for him to see. He gives a crazed smile, chuckling softly to himself as he places the scalpel aside, not wanting to clean it.
Now it's time to drench them both in that perfectly red blood.
Stein sanitizes his hands before touching her. He takes her into consideration, of course. Why wouldn't he? He wants her to be as perfect as possible.
He leans down and kisses her limp lips briefly, finding them as soft as ever. They have not changed. The edge of his white coat brushes against her opened body, staining it in the blood he craves.
Stein looks down into Maka, seeing her perfect organs and fantasizing about ripping them out. He knows he can't, but at least he's gotten this far. He runs the tips of his fingers against the perimeter of what he's opened, feeling its smoothness.
His fingers dip down, brushing lightly against her intestines, her stomach, her ribs, her lungs. He licks his fingers and hums in delight, loving the metallic taste. He wants more, more of that perfect essence, but at the same time he doesn't want her to lose too much blood at the same time.
She looks so peaceful, so perfect and content with everything that Stein is doing to her.
In reality, she's not, and he knows this.
In mere seconds the wonderful dream turns into a horrid nightmare.
Stein shoots up quickly in a cold sweat and tries to forget just how vivid his dream was. They're becoming more and more intense, to the point where he almost can't distinguish fantasy from reality.
He wants to dissect her.
He can't dissect her.
Stein runs a hand through his hair, then quickly lights a cigarette to calm himself down. It helps keep his insanity down, as he finds himself entranced by the patterns he can make with the smoke that curls from his lips. It calms his nerves, his mind. His heart rate slows, and he can think more clearly.
He has to see Maka again.
He shouldn't see her here.
As soon as he finishes this cigarette, he realizes something.
A familiar hardness between his legs.