AN: For Reverb 2015, I present to you SoMa Road Trip AU. Art by the wonderful Puff, who encouraged me and indulged me and is the most amazing person to work with, can be found on her tumblr. Special thanks to ilana and ProMa for betaing, and to Kat, Bendy, Amanda, and Jules for comments, holding my hand, and letting me read this monster out loud to gage how funny it is.
Summary: Maka Albarn just wants to turn the page on a new chapter in her life, but instead finds herself thrown back into the past in the form of ex-boyfriend Soul Evans who inexplicably insists on accompanying her on a week long road trip. Pray for her.
Backseat Serenade
"Turn left on Woodgrove Lane."
Maka Albarn ignored the very polite instructions from Lee, the Australian voice of her GPS, and instead made a sharp right onto Pinetree Road. Her old station wagon, heavy with twenty-one years of her personal belongings and then some, rolled over the pavement, just barely avoiding hitting an ostentatious cow themed mailbox.
She wasn't speeding, exactly, but her driving was definitely in flagrant disregard for at least sixteen different road rules. Maka was angry, downright furious, that her road trip from Nevada to New York City had been encroached upon by the person she hated most in this world. Okay, so maybe hate was a strong word, Maka mentally corrected herself, but she really wouldn't mind if Soul Evans "accidentally" got tossed out of the passenger seat by her steel toed boots and rolled into oncoming traffic.
This journey was supposed to be her own, the start of her new life with a new job in a new city, but her father had pulled the "But Makaaaaa, I'm just worried about you! It's dangerous to drive all that way by yourself! Papa loves yooooou! Why are you leaviiiiiiiing meee?" card and forced the son of his old friend on her as a driving companion. Spirit Albarn didn't know their history - didn't know how much Soul had hurt her back when they were teenagers - or else he would have throttled Soul, not forced them together into a tiny space for four days.
It had only been a few hours since this road trip started and Maka already wanted to kill him. She and Soul had barely seen each other over the past six years, both avoiding any events where they might have to meet. Assets, like mutual friends and favorite hangouts, were split equally in the wake of the their relationship ending. Out of sight, out of mind, Maka had thought, and never having to see Soul Evans again would make it easier to forget.
She was successful for most part, as long as no one counted those times when Maka would obsessively check his Facebook at three in the morning when she couldn't sleep to see if he was dating someone new and then pretend not to care when she saw a beautiful, busty Victoria's Secret model pop up on his feed. Sometimes Maka would be tempted to text him, just to see how he was doing, but stuffed it down in favor of eating an entire Entenmann's cake and pretending to be unaffected.
Like father like daughter, after all, although after her parents' divorce, Spirit's vice was whisky, not marshmallow iced devil's food cake.
Why Soul had even agreed to go on this trip with her in the first place was a mystery. He'd claimed that he wanted to save money on airfare, but the Evans' had made the Forbes Richest Americans list for ten years running, so the reasoning seemed thin. Soul's parents were musicians but they came from old money. His grandparents dealt in property and hotels, and Maka had always thought their lives were a bit like Monopoly. Soul probably could have afforded his own private jet to New York, and yet here he was, sweating in her stuffy car with failing air conditioning in the Nevada summer, without even the slim luxury of his iPod because her trusty old vehicle still played cassette tapes. He'd complained the whole time, of course, insulting her car and her taste in music and also making sure to throw in an intimate dig about how he was sure at least four of her five suitcases had only books in them. Soul had laugh-groaned when Maka half-heartedly slugged him in the shoulder, and for a moment, Maka was thrown back to six years ago, when she was young and so stupidly infatuated with him.
Feelings aside, it was distracting to have him as a passenger, Maka thought grumpily, sneaking a peek at him in her peripheral vision. He had been cute at sixteen with his messy hair, headbands, and crooked smile, but he was infuriatingly handsome at twenty-three, all long legs and scruffy face and Brooklyn hipster-esque in his skinny jeans and ironically unironic t-shirts. His white hair was artfully tousled in a devil-may-care kind of way that Maka knew had probably taken him an hour, and he smelled delicious, like some expensive cologne that he was currently sweating off in the sweltering car. Even though Maka was still annoyed that she had to breathe the same air as him, it was hard to ignore the intensity of her lingering attraction and how much it affected her when he looked at her in just the right way.
Jerk.
"What the hell?" her passenger screeched as Maka flew onto Pinetree. His fingers dug into his jean clad thighs, face pale at Maka's madcap maneuvers. Maka couldn't help her slightly satisfied smile at the little heaving noise that escaped him when the car bounced over a particularly nasty pothole. "It said to turn left! And slow down, you're going to get us killed!"
"Recalculating," Lee the GPS said calmly. "Recalculating."
Maka stopped short at the red light and the man sitting in her passenger seat, the boy she once loved, Soul Evans, nearly cracked his skull open on the headboard. He swore and Maka bit down a snicker. "I know better than the GPS, Soul!"
"You," he groaned, "are a menace to society."
"Recalculating. Drive two point three miles to the roundabout and then turn right onto Woodgrove Lane," Lee said.
Maka hummed thoughtfully. "No, I don't think I will."
"Oh fuck my life." Soul buried his face in his hands as Maka revved the engine.
Her smile widened. Unwanted passenger or not, there was no reason she couldn't have a little fun on this trip along the way, right?
The first pitstop was some hours later in a tiny town in Utah at a little gas station filled with very helpful and polite employees who pretended they couldn't hear Maka and Soul fighting over who was going to drive next.
Arguing was actually the most successful communication they'd had so far. Soul and Maka weren't very good at small talk -for most of the drive they had lapsed into uncomfortable silence, aside from the occasional, mostly innocuous, snarky comment - and Maka still couldn't quite figure out exactly what Soul was going to be doing in New York and why he needed this ride with her. He had been oddly vague on the details, only telling her that he was staying with a friend temporarily and working things out later. Maka promptly called him irresponsible, Soul shot back that she was anal retentive, and the conversation had been quickly dropped.
"I'm driving next," Soul announced, slipping into the driver's seat as soon as Maka stepped out to stretch her legs. "You get the snacks."
Maka scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. The man pumping her gas looked between them nervously. Now was not the time to make a scene, she decided; there was no need to pull innocents into their little Cold War. Besides, she was tired and wanted a break. But all Soul had done thus far was insult her beloved car and her driving, and she really didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being in control.
"Fine," Maka replied, unceremoniously shoving her hand into the pocket of his impossibly tight jeans. Soul yelped and tried to squirm away, pressing comically against the window. She came away with his wallet, smiling sweetly. "I'll get the snacks."
Maka muttered as she stomped around the gas station, throwing food and drinks into her broken red basket. Quietly cursing men who filled out skinny jeans well, Maka swore that as soon as her father sported a gray hair she was putting him into a nursing home to repay him for making her live through this torture. She stopped in front of the ice cream freezer, wincing when she saw her reflection.
Maka cursed herself for caring enough about Soul's opinion to wear her cutest pair of cut-off shorts and a tank top that showed a gratuitous amount of shoulder. Why did it matter so much what he thought of her?
"You're pathetic," she told the Maka staring back at her. "Pa. The. Tic."
After paying for the snacks with Soul's money - and putting a very generous tip into the tip jar - Maka dropped down into the passenger seat and strapped herself in. She shoved the wallet and bag of snacks at Soul. "Here. Don't choke on them."
He snorted and sifted through the brown paper bag. A weird look came over his face - somber, inquisitive, and thoroughly confused.
"What?" Maka asked. "What's wrong? If you're not happy, you could've gotten up and -"
"You got all my favorite things," Soul said. "You remembered my favorite kind of chips."
Maka sputtered, mentally willing away the flush that was threatening to spread over her entire body. Shit. Shit shit shit. From the chips to the chewy chocolate chip cookies down to the Dr. Pepper, every single item was one that Soul had enjoyed as a teen. "That's - that's just so like you, Soul. So self absorbed! You're not the only person in the world who likes salt and vinegar chips."
"Yeah, but you hate them," he pointed out, opening the bag. The corners of his mouth twitched up, almost but not quite smiling.
"That was back when I was a kid. Now I love them," Maka lied, trying to save face.
His eyes met hers and the flush crept to her ears. "Yeah? Go on. Have one."
He was calling her bluff, but Maka was never one to back down from a challenge, especially one issued by Soul Evans. Memories of jumping off swings and falling into pools at three in the morning bombarded her and she quickly pushed them away before nostalgia made her feel Things. Maka stuck her hand into the bag and quickly shoved the chips into her mouth, eyes watering at the salty-bitter combination that she loathed. "Delicious." Maka swallowed thickly, unable to hide the look of utter disgust on her face.
Soul laughed, really laughed - full body, open mouthed laughter- for the first time since he had thrown his luggage into her backseat and called her a nerdlord for labeling her little ziplock bags of sundries and hair ties. "You are, without a doubt, still the most stubborn person in the world. If I challenged you to eat concrete, would you?"
"Shut up, those are my absolute favorite chips in the entire universe!" Maka struggled to hold back her smile; she forgot how contagious his good moods could be. She couldn't resist the temptation of the water bottle at the bottom of the bag and stuffed three pieces of gum in her mouth. "I'm going to marry them."
"Brat." He shook his head and started the car. The tension was broken, at least for now, and the silence that fell between them was more natural than before. Maka wondered what Soul really thought about her snack selection. Was he flattered? Weirded out? Did he remember her favorite snacks? Maka then wondered why she even cared what he wondered. Round and round her thoughts went as she stared out the window, not brave enough to ask him.
After a while, Soul turned the radio up and cycled quickly through the frequencies. He groaned, delicate musical sensibilities no doubt offended by the music selection that offered primarily country, Christian rock and gospel. Familiar chords began to fill the air, however, and Maka had to put her hand over his to stop him from moving on. "Wait!" Maka cried. "You found the eighties rock station!"
"Maka, no," Soul said, scandalized. "I'm the driver -"
"It's either this or Nickelback, take your pick."
He slowly put his hand down, pained, as if having to listen to this was physically harming him. Journey's Don't Stop Believin' played and Maka softly hummed along, completely off key but enjoying herself nonetheless. Soul muttered something about a "kitschy, karaoke abomination," which immediately prompted Maka to sing in earnest.
"Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world!"
"Maka, no."
"She took the midnight train going anyyyyyyyywheeeere!"
"Maka, please."
"Just a city boy -"
"No, your voice is terrible, stop, stop, I swear to God, I'm going to crash this car-"
"- born and raised in South Detroit! He took the midnight train going anywhereeeee!"
"South Detroit doesn't even exist."
As much as Soul tried to hate on the song and her terrible singing, he grinned as she belted out the chorus, rocking out by banging on the dashboard and bopping her head along. By the time Maka got to her epic air guitar solo, he had to look away for fear of actually crashing the car from laughing too hard.
"You're crazy." Soul turned the music down just as Talk Dirty to Me began.
"You used to like that about me," Maka said, and immediately wished that she could take it back. That was so inappropriate and out of line, she couldn't believe the words had actually left her mouth. "No, I mean -"
"Yeah," Soul said, turning his attention completely on the road. His body language was stiff and guarded, hands clenched on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. "I did."
Awkward silence back at full force, Maka slumped into her seat and prayed for salvation to come in the form of getting hit by a truck and putting her out of her misery.
Maka pretended to be asleep and Soul mercifully pretended to believe her comedically fake snores until they arrived at their next destination. He stopped the car in front of a homey, modest motel in Colorado that had fit Maka's budget and had no mention of bed bugs in their Yelp reviews. Maka couldn't wait to get to her room so she could replay the embarrassing thing that she said to Soul over and over in her mind in private.
The motel was nothing special. It was no Ritz Carlton or Four Seasons or any hotel Soul was probably accustomed to. It looked like a glorified log cabin with lime green walls and tacky floral curtains that Soul, ever the elitist, couldn't stop staring at in mild horror. Maka thought it had character; Soul thought the decorator should have been taken out into the woods and shot.
"Ah, yes, your room will be ready in just a moment, Mrs. Albarn," Rosie, the friendly woman at the counter told them. She looked around forty, with lots of frizzy red hair and a very kind, motherly smile that Maka instantly trusted.
"You mean rooms, right?" Maka asked. Mrs. Albarn? "Our rooms will be ready. As in two. Plural. Two rooms."
The nice woman - Rosie, Maka reminded herself - blinked in surprise. She looked down at her notebook, as there was no computer system in sight. Upon further inspection, Maka realized that the front desk only had one corded phone and a hand radio that played, what else, the country station. "No, I'm afraid it says here that you have two guests in one room."
Soul snorted and Maka pressed her hands to the counter, summoning up the strength to deal with this like an adult. "I'm sure I made the reservation for two rooms. For two people. Two rooms."
"I don't think you mentioned the two rooms yet, Maka," Soul quipped. Maka answered him with an elbow to his ribs.
Rosie put her hand to her cheek. "I'm afraid we don't have any other rooms available. There's a convention in town. The one where those fellows dress up in the animal suits?" She looked troubled, but whether it was about the room mix-up or the furry convention, Maka wasn't sure.
Soul opened his mouth to inquire further about the convention but Maka put her hand up to block him. "Ma'am. Please. You have to find a second room. He'll sleep on the roof if he has to. He's - he snores. It's so bad. He probably has sleep apnea. We're going to get him tested."
"Hey!"
"Ah, you're such a young couple! I'm sure Mr. Albarn would rather stay with his lovely wife than sleep apart," Rosie said cheerfully. "But since this was our mistake, let's just cut the price of the room in half and get you a complimentary bottle of wine."
Mr. Albarn? "But-"
"Great." Soul put his arm around Maka, effectively stopping her from jumping over the counter. It was more loose choke hold than affectionate hug, but Rosie just looked between the two of them like one might look through kitten photos on the internet. "So it's settled. Baby, you'll just have to put up with my sleep apnea for one night, okay? Let's not trouble the nice lady."
Rosie clapped her hands together. "Wonderful! You can go right up to your room and we'll have your bags there in a jiffy." She handed Soul a rather ancient looking key with a piece of concrete attached to it, as if that would stop someone from stealing it. "You're very lucky, you know. This is our last room available! I'm sure a young couple like you won't mind getting cozy."
Maka's mind reeled at the implication of cozy. Just how cozy would they have to get?
Maka gritted her teeth, too nervous, angry, and embarrassed to form coherent words. Every step she took up the stairs to her- their- room was heavy, dragging her feet because she would rather be anywhere but here. Maka would be lying to herself if said the attraction hadn't been rekindled (or maybe it had never gone away) and now she was supposed to pretend that there had never been anything between them and sleep in the same tiny space as him?
She might have been a blackbelt in three different martial arts, but she was not strong enough for this.
Soul opened the door and sucked in a tiny breath. Maka peeked around him, eyes zeroing in on the twin bed and no couch in sight. "But darling," she said dryly, "are you sure it's really appropriate for us to share a room with only a tiny little bed?"
"It was either this or spend the night in your car. I'll sleep on the floor," he grunted, throwing his jacket down on the bed. "Do you want to shower first?"
God, not only was she going to have to be in the same room as him but now she was supposed to be naked near him, too? What had she ever done to deserve this? "Thanks ever so much... Mr. Albarn," Maka teased, pretending to be unaffected as she waltzed into the bathroom with her head held high. She would not bend. She would not break. She was going to be very cool, calm, and collected about the situation.
They were both adults, Maka thought as she stripped and pulled open the glass door to get into the shower. The hot water was heaven on her stiff muscles and she sighed contently as she lathered up with the small bar of hotel soap. They had just spent fifteen some odd hours in a car together, there was no reason why they couldn't exist peacefully in the same room.
"I have to take a piss, I'm coming in," Soul announced just as she started rinsing the shampoo from her hair.
Maka nearly lost her footing and cracked her head open on the porcelain soap holder. "What?" she squeaked. It wasn't very cool and collected, she thought grimly as she clung to the wall. Maybe they had been-semi comfortable with each other as teenagers but this was just ridiculous. "Can't it wait?!"
"Not really, that last Dr. Pepper was my undoing." Soul opened the door and immediately stopped in his tracks. They stared at each other in horror - Soul was wearing just his boxers (oh, Maka thought, for a lazy musician he had some decent muscle definition, and honestly, she could have gone her whole life not knowing about that little trail of white hair on his stomach that led to Places Maka Should Not Think About Anymore) and Maka was naked and wet, as one might expect from someone in the shower. "What the fuck- I thought the shower had a curtain! Jesus fucking Christ!"
"Well it doesn't, so GET OUT!" Maka cracked open the shower door to lob a bottle of conditioner at his head.
Soul slammed the bathroom door shut so fast that the tiny plastic bottle bounced off of the frame before it could reach its intended destination of his face. She could hear him muttering, Oh my God, oh fuck, through the thin walls. A part of her was very satisfied that her naked body had affected him so much; the much more logical part of her was sobbing in despair because the awkwardness level had just increased a millionfold.
Since she couldn't very well make the bathroom her new home, Maka finally stepped out in a t-shirt and shorts, towel slung around her neck. "You can pee now."
"Great." Soul couldn't quite meet her eyes and Maka was amused to find that the back of his neck was violently red. He shuffled past her to the bathroom, looking everywhere else except at her. "Sorry about… that."
"It's fine." Maka arched an eyebrow. "Your ears are bright red, by the way."
"Shut up."
Despite her exhaustion, Maka couldn't sleep.
Something suspiciously like guilt was gnawing at her.
Soul was sleeping on the cold, hard floor with one pillow and a sheet for a blanket while Maka had the entire bed to herself. He had done so much of the driving, it seemed unfair that he had to suffer while Maka slept through the night peacefully. She knew that he could sleep anywhere, but unless he had seriously committed himself to a chiropractor and took up yoga in the time they hadn't been speaking, he would wake up with his usual backaches and that tugged a bit at her moral compass.
"Soul," Maka said loudly. "Are you awake?"
"Nnggh. No."
"Soul," Maka said again. "Come sleep on the bed."
She watched him slowly rise, as if in a trance, summoned by her invitation. He stared at her blearily, perhaps trying to figure out if this was a dream or reality. "What?"
Maka sighed. It was so much easier to be brave when the lights were turned off and she could only guess his expressions. "I know the floor is uncomfortable. Don't make this into a thing. Just come up here."
If he refused, it would be entirely on him, Maka decided, as she rolled on her side to face the wall. She had done the right thing by offering, and now Maka could absolve herself of any culpability and sleep in peace. This was her ticket into heaven and invitation to sainthood. She was truly too good for this world.
Soul didn't move and Maka tried to ignore the tight feeling in her throat that felt suspiciously like the familiar, bitter taste of rejection. Of course he wouldn't want to sleep in such close proximity to her, she thought, burying her face into the too soft, feather pillow. He hadn't even wanted to seriously date her, why would he want to -
The bed suddenly dipped under the weight of Soul crawling next to her and Maka's internal angsty monologue screeched to a halt. Her heart dropped right into her stomach when she felt him wiggle under the blankets and try to make his ridiculously long legs fit on the twin bed. She rolled again to face his back in an attempt to situate herself in a way that would be comfortable for both of them. Maka's arms were squished up against him, but Soul, who usually jumped at the chance to complain about something, was surprisingly silent on the matter.
Maka immediately regretted her act of goodwill. He was warm underneath her fingertips and she could smell the cheap hotel soap wafting off of him, somehow inviting. His nape, all smooth skin and thin, soft hair, was only inches from her mouth. Kisses there had once made him fall apart; a dangerous memory piggybacked onto an even more dangerous impulse. She made a concerted effort to ignore everything about this situation, but it was becoming more and more impossible, especially when her arm, uncomfortably wedged between them, began to prickle with an ominous numbness. But there was no where else for it to go except for around Soul Evans, former boyfriend and friend, current bedmate. Maka, no, she told herself.
Maka tentatively lifted it.
"Um. Can I-?"
"S'fine," Soul said, voice rough and warm and laced with sleep. "Do what you want."
Slowly, gently, shakily, Maka slipped her arm around his waist and shuffled up closer. Her heart pounded so fiercely that she was sure he could feel the vibrations through his own body. "Hey… remember the time we had to share the air mattress in Liz's basement?" Maka whispered. "But then Black*Star jumped on it and put a hole in it?"
Soul made a sleepy little noise of amusement. "And then he accidentally kicked one of the pipes and the entire basement flooded when we were asleep."
"What an idiot."
"Mm."
Maka chanced leaning her cheek lightly against his shoulder and when Soul didn't flinch or shove her away, she pressed herself against him. An intense wave of déjà vu hit her and she was reminded of sleepovers, late night talks on the roof of her apartment building, and sneaking into the closed playground to play on the swings under the stars. They used to have such fun together, used to be such good friends. Even though they'd been apart for six years, it still felt like only yesterday that they had been eating pizza together and making fun of her father's newest trashy girlfriend.
"Maka," Soul's low voice startled her fully awake.
"Yeah?"
"... moist."
She squawked and pinched him in the rib. "Augh, gross! You're vile! I hate you!"
Soul laughed riotously, nearly falling off of the bed. Eventually his snickers died down and they fell back into comfortable silence, Soul snorting every so often and whispering moist panties or moist crevice, for which Maka would pinch him in the side, hard. She was very sorry that her trusting, naive, fifteen year old self had ever told him that the m-word made her die a little bit on the inside everytime she heard it.
Eventually, Maka had to give into temptation and let her heavy eyes close. The strain - both emotional and physical - was taking its toll on her body. Before she fell asleep, she felt Soul lay his arm over hers, thumb gently stroking her wrist.
Maka slept better than she had in years.
Somewhere in Missouri, Maka saw a gaudy, barn-themed, black and white road sign for COWFEST 2K15 and yanked Soul's arm so hard that he almost drove them off of a steep cliff.
"Cowfest," Soul scoffed some hours later as he shoved a hamburger in this mouth, "just sounds so -"
"Don't say uncool," Maka interjected, stealing a rib off of his plate. They were camped at an old, wooden picnic table between a tent with an old lesbian couple serving the best barbeque sauce Maka ever tasted and the ice cream station which boasted milk so fresh that it was still mooing. The weather was beautiful, the sun warmed her skin, and they had two big plates of meat between them. Even Soul's snark couldn't ruin her day.
Soul curled his tongue around a pickle that threatened to fall out of his burger. Gross, Maka thought, and definitely not attractive in the slightest. "Well, it is. Cow patterned everything. Pin the udders on the cow. Cow calling contest. Lame."
At least Cowfest with all of its glorious kitsch was a good distraction, Maka thought, and they would never have to talk about how they effectively spooned the night before. It was a thing that happened but, like everything else that went on between them, Maka hoped they could just ignore it and pretend there were no psychological repercussions. "The barbeque here is amazing and you love to eat."
Soul looked pensive- or tried to, considering how ridiculous he looked with the ketchup all over his mouth. "I do love to eat."
"You have a little…" Maka pointed to her own mouth with her rib. Soul wiped at his chin with the back of his hand, but only serving to smear the ketchup further. "You know what? That looks perfect."
Maka was half done with her third rib, enjoying the Bluegrass band playing in the background, when she looked up to find Soul taking a picture of her with his fancy cell phone. She heard the sound of the obnoxious little shutter before she could snatch it with her barbecue sauced hands. "Hey! Stop that! I'm eating and I've been in a car for twelve years. I look terrible." She had more baggage underneath her eyes than an airport carousel and her hair looked like it ate the last brush that attempted to tame it. Travel had not been kind to her.
"Too late, uploading it to Instagram. Hashtag Cowfest 2k15, hashtag bbqface," Soul cackled.
How many people could be following Soul's instagram? Probably not that many, Maka consoled herself. Soul and his snobby musician "aesthetic" probably wasn't very appealing to the masses. His instagram account was definitely chock full of black and white pianos and sepia jazz records. Why did he even want a picture of her, anyway? For blackmail purposes? Because he wanted to remember this trip fondly?
Maka watched Soul look down at his phone and laugh again, nearly choking on his burger.
Definitely for blackmail purposes and not anything close to sentimental, that ass.
"Wanna see?" Soul held the phone out to her.
The picture was actually not terrible. She looked cute, maybe, with her messy bun and even messier mouth. Maka's face was so content as she ate her ribs, hands sticky and holding the food away from her shirt. Whatever fancy, hipster filter Soul used probably helped, but all in all, it looked natural. Sweet, even, like she was the poster child in some barbecue sauce commercial.
"Soul," Maka looked down the screen at all of the "likes" and comments. Multiple people were jealous of the food, some asked Soul if he was enjoying himself, but most wanted to know who this mystery girl was. A couple of followers said she was cute. At least three of them commented, "Girlfriend?" PrettyWitchGirl69 even dubbed her #mysterybbqgirl. "How many followers do you have?"
Soul shrugged. "Dunno. Three thousand-ish?"
"WHAT?!" Maka screeched. "That many people saw my picture?! Soul!"
"It's a good picture. Look how internet popular you are," Soul teased. "I never post pictures of people so they all kind of jumped on it."
If he never posted pictures of people that probably meant there was no current girlfriend. Not that Maka cared, of course, but it wouldn't have been right for them to share a bed if there was some woman pining after and waiting for him. Luckily, that didn't seem to be the case. Again, for the record, not that she cared. At all. Not in the slightest. There wasn't even a snowball's chance in hell that Maka was even remotely interested in who Soul may or may not have been dating.
Maka crushed her paper cup and threw it at Soul as punishment for making her internet famous and for being obnoxiously attractive. Damn it, she cared and she did not sign up for this.
After lunch, Maka took great pleasure in kicking ass at the games tent and winning Soul an obnoxiously large cow plushie which he complained about but toted around the entire day. Touching him and being touched by him was starting to get comfortable again, like no time at all had passed since they were practically attached at the hip. Even the barest of shoulder brushes sent heat to her face and tingles down her spin.
Soul had opted out of getting an ice cream cone but Maka was not about to miss out on Cowfest's finest fresh desserts. Her vanilla ice cream was delicious and like the mature adult she was, Maka had to rub it in his face and moan in delight as she licked it. It was his own fault for being too lazy to get one and now he would just have to suffer.
"Gimme some of yours."
Maka held her ice cream protectively. "No way! Get your own!"
Soul whined. "Come ooon. Don't be stingy. One lick."
"Absolutely not! Gross! I don't want your nasty germs all over me!" Maka turned away from him, trying to lick her ice cream faster so there would be none left for him.
He reached over her shoulder, hedging closer to ice cream cone, even as Maka held it away from him. "It wouldn't be the first time you got my 'nasty germs' all over you, though. Two words: Hallway. Closet."
Maka screamed as though she had been shot and Soul took the opportunity to swoop in and lick the ice cream obscenely. That was low. Maka did not need to remember the Christmas they discovered that their feelings were mutual. The memories were so visceral - she was wearing a hideous reindeer sweater and he was still going through his headband phase - that Maka could almost smell the eggnog Black*Star spilled on Soul and feel how warm his hands had been on her chilly face. They had spent half of the night in Liz's closet, avoiding being social and awkwardly kissing, illuminated only by a dim bulb swinging over their heads. It physically hurt to remember things like that and he just said it so casually, like it had meant nothing to him.
Well. Maybe it hadn't.
One quick movement of her wrist and the ice cream had effectively gotten shoved into Soul's face. "Enjoy," she said sweetly. "And I wouldn't brag about the hallway closet, if I were you. You drooled all over me."
Maka stood up and stalked back to the car, ignoring Soul as he called out her her name. No matter how many times she told herself not to let him get to her, it was just impossible. This comfortable proximity, this time spent together after so many years apart, it was only pouring salt in the wound that just wouldn't heal. Maka had let her guard down. She had been weak. It couldn't happen, not again.
Maka still loved him and it hurt because Soul didn't love her.
And he never had.
Maka was prepared to spend the next twenty-six hours of their trip in silence but Soul was remorseful. At a rest stop in Indiana, he surprised her with a blue ice pop (her favorite flavor) as a sign of good will and she softened considerably. Maka thought that their argument was over and done with, but Soul had apparently not gotten the memo. As they drove through Pennsylvania many hours later, he cut off her small talk about her father's newest girlfriend (dental hygienist, only a couple of years older than them, dumber than a box of rocks) in the rudest possible way.
"You're still so hotheaded," Soul blurted out as they passed through miles and miles of farmland and windy back roads. Clouds poured in above them, darkening the sky against the horizon. The perfect place to hide a body, Maka thought darkly. "It was just ice cream."
He really thought this was about the ice cream. Unbelievable. It was much too early - or was it late? Maka had lost all track of time - to talk about this. "And you're still an idiot," Maka snapped.
Soul scowled. "Know-it-all."
"Lazy."
"Bossy."
"Which hipster in Williamsburg did you mug for those jeans?"
"The grandson of whoever loaned you that ugly ass old lady sweater."
"Your face is an ugly sweater!"
"That didn't even make sense!"
They looked at each other and simultaneously burst out laughing. "I swear, whenever I'm with you, I regress back into my teenager years," Maka sighed.
There was a long, drawn out pause. "... speaking of, I didn't drool all over you," Soul said sulkily.
"Huh?"
He kept his eyes on the road, very invested in the wheat fields they passed. Sharp teeth bit down on his lower lip nervously and Maka thought that he looked more vulnerable than he had in a long time. Soul never could keep up his "too cool" facade around her. "You said I drooled all over you. I definitely didn't."
Soul wasn't the sort of person who held grudges - apparently it was uncool to hold on to the past - so her comment must have really wounded him. Maka was perpetually angry with him but at the same time, she knew how he had struggled with his self-esteem. It felt wrong to make him feel bad about himself, even though the "him" in question was sixteen-year-old, past Soul.
Maka put her hand on his knee lightly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
Soul finally looked over at her when they stopped at a red light and Maka could feel that thing again between them. The warm, electric connection that just wouldn't go away no matter how much Maka tried to deny it. She knew it was grossly one sided, but she couldn't stop feeling it, couldn't stop being pulled in by him.
Her phone rang suddenly, breaking them out of their reverie.
"'Anaconda'?" Soul asked, amused.
"Black*Star's ringtone."
"Of course it is."
Maka picked up the phone and immediately held it away from her ear. "YO!"
"Inside voice, Black*Star," Maka groaned.
"So? Are you two sending out wedding invites yet or what?" Black*Star laughed deviously. "Picking out baby names? Tell me my bro at least got to second base."
"Take a long walk off of a short cliff, Black*Star."
Black*Star continued laughing, not at all embarrassed by his own boorishness. After their breakup, she and Soul had split most friends right down the middle, but they'd ended up sharing friendship custody of Blake "Black*Star" Barett because, quote, "There was more than enough Black*Star to go around." Not for the first time, however, Maka was tempted to rethink this arrangement. Still, he had been nice enough to find her an apartment in his building, so she would put off disowning him for a little while longer. "Come on, Maka. Throw the guy a bone. I bet he's still mooning over you."
"Black*Star!"
Soul tilted his head. "What did he say?"
"Nothing."
"Fine, fine. The denial is kind of cute, but we'll see how long it lasts considering that you guys are going to be seeing a lot more of each other. You might as well get used to Soul's pathetic ass staring at you longingly," Black*Star said. "Anyway, just wanted to remind you to call me when you're in the city, we're going out for celebratory drinks. Prepare to get fuuuucked up! We're not even going to be able to make memories anymore, man."
"Wha-"
"LATER, NERDS!"
Maka stared down at her phone. Hurricane Black*Star had blown through and caused more devastation in thirty seconds than a real natural disaster. "What do you think Black*Star meant when he said, 'You'll be seeing a lot more of each other'?"
Soul shrugged one shoulder casually, but it looked a bit too casual for Maka's liking. She was instantly suspicious. "What does Black*Star ever mean? Who knows."
"Hmmm." Soul never was a very good liar. "You never did tell me what you'll be doing in New York."
"Stuff." He cleared his throat. "Things."
Maka struggled to keep a straight face. This was far too amusing. It must have been the sadist in her but nothing could ever be funnier than teasing Soul. "Stuff… and things? You'll be doing stuff and things?"
To his credit, he managed not to sweat under her intense gaze. Soul only tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. "That's what I said, didn't I? Stuff and things. Don't worry. I'm just a 'trust fund baby,' right? I think that's what you called me. So I'll be fine, even with no skills of my own."
She thought there was an unspoken agreement to never, under any circumstances, refer to the last argument they ever had as teenagers - the one that led to their breakup. Maka had been courteous enough not to even hint at it, though she had been tempted several times, and now here he was, throwing her words from six years ago back at her.
Maka took a deep, shaky breath, willing herself to stay calm. "I never said you had no skills of your own. I would never say that." She had said plenty of other hurtful things, but not that.
"Whatever. But you did say-"
"I don't want to rehash this, okay? It's ancient history." Maka turned her head and forced herself to stare out the window, nails digging so hard into her palms that she might have drawn blood. Her voice sounded high and thin and not as strong as she would have liked. "Let's just get to New York in peace, pretend to be civil, and then go our separate ways."
Soul slammed his hand on the steering wheel. "This is your problem! You never want to talk about anything. I'm not a goddamn mind reader, Maka -"
Maka's trusty car chose that particular moment to come to an abrupt stall. She gasped as there was a series of terrifying thunks followed by a rattling sound. And then, to add insult to injury, just as Soul managed to maneuver over to the shoulder, the car finally rolled to a stop and steam began bellowing from under the hood. No, Maka thought. No no no. This car had been with her through everything - her mom leaving, the breakup with Soul, that time Black*Star accidentally spit gum in her hair and she had to wear it pageboy style for months - and the car was her baby, her pride and joy.
Sure, it was old. It was run down. It was more effort than it was worth, sometimes. But it had been a little like her - always on the cusp of exhaustion but still managing to work hard enough to get from point A to point B.
And now.
Now Maka could only stare in horror as Soul unsuccessfully attempted to rev the engine back up. "Looks like we're going to have to pretend to be civil a little longer," he said, dropping his head against the steering wheel with a groan.
She didn't even know how to reply to that. Where would she start? Thanks for breaking my heart and my car. That would have been unfair, though. The car was definitely not his fault. She opened her mouth and -
- and she was promptly cut off by a loud, crack of thunder, followed immediately by a downpour of rain that pounded the windows with such force that Maka was afraid the glass might shatter.
Soul's laugh was humorless.
Maka whimpered.
Hashtag fuck her life.
"Why didn't you show up that night?"
Maka looked up from her phone. She had only been checking it every thirty seconds or so since texting Black*Star's dad, Sid, to come from his summer house on the Jersey Shore to schlep them to New York. Before her epic journey, he told her that she could call him day or night if she needed anything. How was someone so responsible is friends with someone like her father, Maka wondered. She might never know. "What?"
"Why," Soul asked again, "didn't you show up that night?"
She wasn't ready for this. She would never be ready for this. Even if part of Maka wanted to know where they went wrong, she wasn't brave enough to have this conversation. "Do you really think now is the best time to talk about this?" Maka asked, almost pleadingly. "I really don't want to, Soul."
"When else am I going to get the chance to talk to you like this? You're just going to go back to ignoring me as soon as we're in New York," he said, voice calm.
Maka squirmed in her seat. She wanted to frame her reasoning in a way that didn't make her sound like a pathetic loser who was still hung up on him, even though she clearly was. There was really no denying it now, not even to herself. But he clearly didn't feel the same - why would he be asking? Was he still nursing the blow to his fragile ego six years later? Was he in need of some sort of validation that yes, it was all her fault? Is that why he came on this trip?!
She remembered it all so vividly: spending hours carefully picking out the right skirt for the date, begging her dad's then-girlfriend Blair to help her put mascara on, showing up to his all-boys private high school half an hour early because she had been so excited that Soul thought that she was someone special enough to be seen with outside of their circle of mutual friends.
Maka remembered being fifteen and self conscious, worried that her feelings were one-sided, and that someone like her could never be good enough for someone like him.
The whispers of his classmates had been her undoing. They echoed all of the things that Maka secretly thought but could never say out loud. Poor girl with a mother who couldn't stand her cheating father and ran away. Worked herself to the bone because her father couldn't hold down a stable job. Plain looking. Boring. Someone like Soul could never be serious about someone like her.
She picked at a frayed thread on the hem of her shorts. "Because you weren't serious about me. That's why I didn't show up."
It was a little white lie. Maka had shown up. She had just left, thankfully, before she completely embarrassed herself.
"Who decided I wasn't serious about you?" Soul's voice rose an octave - was he angry? Shocked? Disgusted? "That's bullshit. I waited for you for four hours like an idiot and you didn't show up because you didn't think I was serious about you? What did you want, an engagement ring?"
"Oh, come off of it, Soul." Maka clenched her jaw, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. "You were ashamed of me. You never let me meet your school friends."
"I was going to, but you stood me up! They weren't even my friends, anyway. Our group of friends were my friends," he argued. "How could you even think that I was ashamed of you?"
Something inside of Maka broke. It was like a dam bursting after years of her pathetically trying to patch up the tiny holes he had left in his wake. Maka wanted to be mature and calm and cool about this, but she was still so angry and so sad that she had to live her life without him, and now he was asking her to re-live her misery all over again. "You never invited me over to your house! Our dads were friends and you never once invited me over! I saw your mother one time from a distance and she had no idea who I was!"
"Maka -"
"NO!" she screamed, rising in her seat. Soul, rightfully, looked a little afraid. "You started this! So here it is. How about your brother? You barely even let me talk to him. What, were you scared he would find out you were dating someone working class?"
"Maka -" Soul tried again, but she wasn't having it.
"I was good enough to fool around with in Liz's basement, but not good enough to ever get invited to your parent's country club!" Maka's voice cracked but this felt good, it felt so freakin' good. It was so cathartic to be able to say the things that had been stewing inside of her for six years. She didn't care about looking cool, calm, and collected anymore.
Maka wanted blood.
"You were never serious about me and I did you a favor. You didn't look like you were suffering for long, anyway." She eyed him critically. "You moved on to that redhead pretty quickly."
Soul looked positively victimized, like she had punched him right in the groin and then ran over his beloved cat for sport. "She was a friend of a friend - my math tutor, actually," he said slowly, still processing everything that she had told him. "I can't believe that for six years you thought that I was ashamed of you."
Could she really have been wrong all this time? Maka didn't dare hope. But maybe...
"You are…"
Maka held her breath.
"... a complete and utter moron!"
Maka exhaled, annoyed that she let him jerk her around. Again.
"I don't have to take this from you!" Maka crawled between the front seats and made her way to the back of her station wagon where all of their luggage was. "And I don't want to talk about this anymore! I said my piece. Wake me when Sid gets here."
Watching Soul struggle to get his long legs over the seat was a delight but Maka didn't want to be amused by him, she wanted to stay angry. "Maka, I swear to - fuck this piece of shit car -!"
"Don't insult my car!"
"Listen for a change, will you? I was never ashamed of you! I was sixteen and stupid and had a shit ton of my own issues to work through, but none of them ever had to do with you." He swore again as he got stuck between the front and back seats. "I didn't want you to hang around my family because I thought that they thought I was a disappointment and… I didn't want you to start thinking that, too."
She made herself comfortable amongst the luggage, not lifting a finger to help him. "So you didn't trust that I could make my own judgments?"
"You couldn't trust me, either!" Soul finally unwedged himself from his seat prison and rolled next to her. He ran a hand through his messy hair, breathing heavily. "I waited for four hours holding flowers like a loser."
"... you brought flowers?"
His face pinked. "I brought flowers."
"Oh."
Soul rolled onto his knees, looking down at her. "I never should have let you go without talking this out. I wasted so much time wondering what the hell happened, and I was so pissed that you ditched me." He reached down, brushing a stray hair away from her cheek. "You were too good for me and I knew it was only a matter of time before you realized it."
"Soul…"
"If I don't say this now, I'm never going to get the nerve. So just listen. We don't have to date or anything if you don't want to. I just want you back in my life in whatever capacity," Soul said quickly, taking his hand away from her face. "I don't want to go another hundred years without talking to you. You can't just leave me alone with only Black*Star as my best friend, that's cruel and unusual punishment -"
"Soul."
"And I miss you -"
Maka fisted his shirt in her hands. "Soul, shut up."
Soul was balanced precariously on her backpack and some textbooks, so it was easy enough to tug him forward. He landed in her lap, arms bracing the seat behind her, expression confused and uncertain but maybe the tiniest bit hopeful. He was warm and solid against her, smelling like her dollar store soap because he took it out of her bag when he thought she wasn't looking so he could wash up at a rest station. There was more to Soul now than when they were teenagers - less awkward limbs and more muscle definition - but something about him was just so positively Soul and it still made her stomach flutter nervously.
Maka kissed him hard, really kissed him, in a way that she had never kissed anyone. This was not the gentle, uncertain smooches they shared in Liz's closet, on the swingset in the park, in the last row of the movie theater. These were not the clumsy, eager, wet kisses they shared as their explored each other's bodies for the very first time in her bedroom when her father wasn't home.
This was rough and sweet and so satisfying, so warm that she could barely feel the chill from the pouring rain outside. This was six years worth of kisses. It was wasted time and missed opportunities, heartache and desperation.
Maka dug her fingers into his shoulders, trying to bring him closer to her, if such a thing was possible. Soul's own perfect, long, pianist fingers carded through her tangled hair and she sighed against his lips when he stroked the back of her neck in a way that gave her chills. The corner of a book dug painfully into her spine and her leg was falling asleep but Maka didn't care.
"Mm - Maka," Soul broke away to catch his breath. "I -"
"Shhh, don't ruin this by talking." Maka put her hands on his face and pulled him back, biting down on his lower lip. Soul groaned and moved his hands to her hips, squeezing her gently. "You're so much cuter when you're not talking."
"But I really want to tell yOU- Maka!" Soul shuddered when her teeth found the sensitive juncture between shoulder and neck, nibbling enthusiastically. "Shit. You're making it very hard to concentrate."
Maka smiled against his skin. "That's sort of the point. Now shhh and let me keep doing the thing."
She was in the middle of rediscovering just how sensitive Soul's Adam's apple was (the answer turned out to be very, she was pleased to find) when they were interrupted by a sharp knock on the window. Soul jumped away from her and slammed his head against the top of the car, crumpling over in pain.
Maka opened the back door and found herself face to face with one Sid Barrett, who had finally come to rescue them at the most inopportune time. He looked torn between amusement and complete disgust. "Heard you needed a lift," Sid said. "But maybe I was better off leaving you here. Was I interrupting something?"
"No!" Maka squeaked, just as Soul ground out, "YES" through his pain.
"Get in the truck, hot pants," he shooed Maka and Soul out of the car, "and no body fluids on the upholstery."
Soul and Maka at least had the good grace to look embarrassed as they climbed into the back of Sid's truck. They had so much more to talk about, so many decisions to make. Were they really going to just pick up where they left off six years ago? Or would it be different this time, since they were both older and (arguably) wiser? And what was Soul doing in New York, anyway?
She would just have to trust him, Maka thought. She would have to trust him and not overthink this.
Maka silently held Soul's hand all the way back to New York and, more importantly, prayed deeply to any deity listening that Black*Star never, ever found out what happened in the back of her car.
"So, I heard you guys sucked face in the back of Maka's car!"
Maka put her head in her hands. Only ten minutes after Sid dropped Soul and Maka off at her new apartment building in the heart of Manhattan, Black*Star greeted them with a whoop, some high fives, and his usual stellar knack for saying inappropriate things.
Soul started unloading the car and rolled his eyes at his best friend. "Who told you that?"
"Sid, duh," Black*Star yanked Maka's heaviest luggage- full of books, of course - and carried it easily over one shoulder. At least he was good for something, Maka thought. "I told him to keep me posted if any nasty kissy-face happened. Recon, if you will. I wanted to be the first to congratulate AND make fun of you."
Maka was not going to let Black*Star ruin this moment for her. She had finally arrived in the big city where she would have her own apartment and her own life and would never have to meet another one of her father's new girlfriends ever again. The building was old but the apartments were homey and the perfect size for a single (or maybe not so single now - this was TBD, depending on what Soul had to say for himself) girl in her very first apartment.
Bonus: Black*Star would be down the hall in case she needed him for free labor and she could travel anywhere in the city via subway, so meeting up with Soul, wherever he was staying, would be a breeze.
Speaking of…
"Soul, you should have asked Sid to drop you off at your place," Maka said. "Now that my car's dead I can't take you. Are you going to be okay on the train with your stuff? I'll take half, if you want."
"Uh - about that -" Soul rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I'm sort of…"
Black*Star threw Maka's luggage into the hallway thoughtlessly. Maka screeched that if he broke it, he bought it. "Less talking, more moving, peons! We need to hurry if we're going to make it to the bar."
Who could even think about going out drinking now? Maka knew Soul was probably just as exhausted as she was, but there was no stopping Black*Star once he put his mind to something. At least it would keep Black*Star distracted enough that maybe he wouldn't announce to the whole world that Soul and Maka made out in the back of her car and got caught by Sid. No one would ever let them hear the end of it.
"Sorry, what were you saying?" Maka asked Soul. "Tell me later. You can leave your stuff at my place for now."
"But -"
"MAKA, SOMETHING'S LEAKING FROM YOUR BAAAAG!"
Maka leaned over and kissed Soul on the cheek. He smiled, placated by the tiny show of affection. "Later, I'll listen to everything you have to say, okay?" She sharply turned away away from him and screamed at Black*Star, "STOP MESSING AROUND, YOU IDIOT! IF YOU RUIN ONE THING, I SWEAR TO GOD-!"
It wasn't perfect by any means, Maka thought as she jumped on Black*Star's back to stop him from tossing more of her luggage down the hall, but it was home.
One glass of wine at the bar later and Soul had to half carry Maka back to her new apartment.
"Are you going to make it home okay?" she asked. Even in her inebriated state, Maka worried for him. He might have been tall and seemingly scary looking with his leather jacket and solemn expressions but he was still a smushy musician who had never lifted a weight in a his life. "You could crash with me tonight?"
Soul helped her unlock her door and shuffled her inside. "Thanks but… I probably shouldn't."
"Oh… okay." Maka tried not to sound disappointed but tipsy!Maka really wanted him to stay over.
He smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead gently. A girl could get used to this, she decided. "I want to, but you're three sheets to the wind and I doubt your twin air mattress will hold both of us. Besides… I don't have far to go."
Maka blinked. "You don't?"
"Just one door down."
She tilted her head in confusion. "But that's Black*Star's apartment… oh. You're -?"
Soul pressed his lips to her her forehead again and trailed small kisses down to the bridge of her nose. "Hi, neighbor."
Maka wasn't sure whether to be insulted or flattered that this entire road trip had been a surprisingly carefully concocted scheme between Soul and Black*Star to repair Soul and Maka's friendship. Spirit was a victim of circumstance, a pawn, easily lured into urging Maka to take Soul with her because Black*Star had planted the seed of doubt in his mind that the roads were dangerous for a woman, even a woman with three black belts like Spirit's baby girl.
Soul had been more weary and less confident than Black*Star that they would make it through the trip without killing each other, he told her the next morning as he served her breakfast in his apartment, but it was a gamble that he was willing to take to have her back in his life. Black*Star had been the one who came up with the idea, urging Soul to finally put on his big boy pants and give it one last try with Maka because he was obviously still disgustingly in love with her. The timing couldn't have been more perfect: Maka was ready to start somewhere new and Soul had the funds to do whatever the fuck he wanted.
Soul had initially resisted, he revealed somewhat sheepishly, because he didn't think he could handle being rejected by her a second time. Maka was happy to remind him that he didn't need to worry about that anymore, and they kissed by the stove when Black*Star had his back turned.
As they had their heart to heart over chocolate chip pancakes shaped like dinosaurs, Soul revealed that he would not be dealing drugs or doing webcam fetish modeling or selling his organs on the black market like Maka had feared but had actual, legitimate plans to play music with his older brother and in various jazz clubs around the city. He was ready to make a name for himself outside of his parents, Soul said as he poured her more orange juice, and having someone like her around to kick his ass into gear gave him the courage to try.
There was no going back and changing the past. They could never get back the six years they lost - though Maka learned more and more about The Lost Years the more time she spent with Soul and was secretly pleased to learn that all of his relationships had been short and unfulfilling, much like her own - but they decided to try dating again, to take it slow but not too slow, and to make plans to move far, far away from Black*Star in the near future because he liked to walk around the apartment naked and Maka truly never wanted to know how much ridiculous blue body hair her childhood friend had.
Maka heard a soft knock at the door and paused in assembling one of her many bookshelves. She opened the door to find Soul standing there with a giant bouquet of flowers, blushing all the way from the tips of his ears to his collarbones. "What's all this?"
"A redo of our failed date?" Soul asked weakly. "Please don't ditch me this time, I think I'll actually cry."
"If it makes you feel any better, I didn't actually ditch you. I left before you got there." Maka took the flowers and inhaled deeply. She would need a vase but for now, a mason jar would have to do. Soul would probably appreciate the aesthetic and take a million instagram pictures of it, hashtag mysteryflowergirl. "Your snobby, rich high school buddies got under my skin."
Soul stuck his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunching slightly. It wasn't exactly a happy subject, but Maka figured he deserved somewhat of an explanation six years later. "Why? That's stupid. You're so much smarter than all of them put together."
"Forget it," Maka waved her hand. "It's in the past. Like you said, I was going through stupid teenage stuff that had everything to do with me and nothing to do with you. I know better now. I'm 100% confident that not only am I good enough for you, but you should honestly be going to church every Sunday and thanking God for having me in your life."
He snorted. "Yeah, I'll definitely do that."
"No need for sarcasm, Soul Evans," Maka flicked his ear and he flinched away from her with a whine, batting at her hand. "By the way, you said we're redoing the date - you're not taking me to a high school dance, are you?"
Soul shook his head. "I didn't even like dances back then. Just dinner. Is that okay?"
"Yeah, good timing. I'm starving! Come in, l need a second to change."
Maka was pulling on a light cotton sundress when she heard music outside of her window. The opening bars of a very familiar song played, followed by a very familiar voice belting out the lyrics. The singer was flat and offkey and even someone like Maka, who knew little about music, knew that he was god awful.
"JUST A SMALL TOWN GIRL… LIVING IN A LONELY WORLD…"
Still struggling with tying the shoulders of the dress, Maka ran back into the living room. "Did you hear that, Soul? Where-?"
Soul pointed to her fire escape where Black*Star was perched with a microphone and a speaker. "I'm sorry, I tried to get him to stop."
"SHE TOOK THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN GOING… SOMEWHEREEEEEE!"
"This idiot doesn't even know the lyrics," Soul laughed.
"JUST A CITY BOY, BARNEY RAISED IN SOUTH DETROIT, SOMETHING, SOMETHING, THE SMELL OF WINE AND CHEESE PERFUME!"
"Oh my God, someone please stop this," Maka whispered in horror.
"SOME WILL WIN, SOME WILL LOSE, SOME WILL DRINK SOME BOOZE OOOOH ON THE BOAT THAT NEVER ENDS IT GOES ON AND ON AND ON AND ON -"
Maka stuck her head out the window. "Black*Star!" she hissed. "What are you doing? You're disturbing our neighbors!"
He put down the microphone and grinned widely. "Setting the mood for my bro! He said you're obsessed with this song. Good plan, right? Now go smooch so I can go home. I've got things to do, girls to text."
"You heard the man," Soul said, sliding his arms around her waist. He nodded towards the window where Black*Star was gearing up for verse two. "It's the only way he'll stop."
Maka arched an eyebrow but put her arms around his neck, hugging him closely. "Somehow, I feel like I'm getting suckered into another one of your 'brilliant' schemes."
"Do you really want to risk it?"
They kissed as the sun set over the beautiful Manhattan skyline, Black*Star's terrible singing morphing into offkey humming as they stood in an embrace in Maka's half finished apartment with no furniture and eight bookshelves.
The road to happiness had been bumpy and fraught with peril, but the destination felt just right.