AN: Welcome to my first fic for the Soul Eater fandom and the culmination of my July 2017 Camp Nanowrimo goals! This is an entirely self-indulgent fic, as I started running with C25K this summer, but I do hope you enjoy!
A thousand thanks to my beta and writing sister, julie/redphlox - she is the best and the most awesome and please go read her SoMa fics if you haven't already! And I couldn't have finished this without the help from my husband, who provided much of the crazy Black*Star punishments.
"my heart could take a chance, but my two feet can't find a way"
-I Don't Feel Like Dancing by Scissor Sisters
"my girl's a switchblade, bright lights on a cityscape,
wherever she goes, I'm gonna chase"
-Celeste by Ezra Vine
"so you say one day you'll be my life, my love, my guiding light,
my pillar of strength; I'll call you home, my rock, my stone"
- Testify by Hifi Sean and Crystal Waters
The windows of the café are smudged, and Soul resolves to make sure Hiro catches hell for screwing up the one thing that makes this job enjoyable. At least it's not too hard to see out into the park beyond - he can see yellow and orange tinges on the leaves on the trees, and the ducks by the pond waddling around pulling at the grass. It's beautiful by most people's accounts, but Soul is looking for something that he thinks is much prettier.
"Whatcha looking at?"
Soul jumps a half a foot in the air and whirls around to see his least favorite customer and best friend lounging at the counter, looking bored.
"Is Jogging Chick passing by or something?" Black*Star raises up on his tiptoes, trying to look over Soul's shoulder. Soul uses his height to his advantage for once, drawing himself up completely and blocking him from the view of the window.
"No," Soul says, scowling. "Go away Black*Star, I'm busy working."
Black*Star makes a show of looking around the almost completely abandoned café. "Obviously."
He sighs. "What do you want?"
Black*Star shakes a finger in Soul's face, prompting him to bare his teeth in response. "Now Soul, is that any way to talk to a customer?"
Soul rolls his eyes. "Customers pay. You're here because you want to bum an espresso off me."
Black*Star gasps dramatically. "How could you suggest that I'm here for any other reason than to see how my best bro was doing and coincidentally buy a coffee with my own legally tendered currency, though now that I think about it I may have left my wallet at home…"
Soul tunes him out, subtly trying to keep the park in sight as he nods along to Black*Star's increasing loud excuses. Soul is contemplating giving in and just making him the damn coffee when he sees her.
"Shut up, shut up," Soul says absently, cutting him off and pushing Black*Star's face away as he cranes his neck around.
And there she is - the one thing that makes his crappy barista job worthwhile. With her blonde hair in pigtails, long toned legs, bright pink tank top, black shorts, Soul couldn't imagine a cuter sight. Her hands gesture animatedly, never breaking stride as she relates some story to her friend. When she laughs, he imagines her voice to be bright and cheerful; when she chances a glance at the street, he imagines her eyes to be lively and kind. Watching her run is like watching seals swim, or hawks glide - it's watching something so graceful, so in its element, and so far off from what he's capable of.
She's absolutely beautiful, and completely unobtainable.
Black*Star squints at Soul's object of affection. "That's her?" he asks, incredulous. "The skinny flat-chested one?" He side-eyes Soul. "That's the one?"
"Mmhm," Soul almost sighs.
Black*Star makes an indecipherable noise. The girl's pigtails bounce in time with the cadence of her gait.
"One time, some creep tried to grope her as she was drinking from the water fountain," Soul says dreamily, watching her. "She turned around and karate-kicked him in the head."
Black*Star raises an eyebrow. "And…you thought that was hot?"
Soul buries his face in his hands. "Yes," he mumbles from between his fingers. What he doesn't say is that he's pretty sure she could kick his ass three ways to Friday and he would enjoy every minute of it.
Black*Star shakes his head. "I mean, whatever floats your boat dude, but if I were you I'd be after that one." He points to the other girl, a taller, dark-haired woman. "Actually no," Black*Star revises, "you can keep your interest in the skinny one. The other one is more my style."
The two of them admire the girls as they run past. As they disappear from view, Soul resigns himself to another long, boring day with nothing else to look forward to. He tries not to dwell on the fact that the most exciting part of his day is over in about seven minutes.
"Tell you what, my best bro," Black*Star says, leaning on the counter. "I'm gonna do you a huge favor."
"Black*Star, the last time you told me that, I ended up crawling out of Mrs. Kearn's window after accidentally discovering her bondage porn collection."
He rolls his eyes. "You still got your cassette tape back before she chucked it."
"I couldn't look her in the eye for the rest of the semester," Soul hisses, fingers tightening on the edge of the counter.
Black*Star waves his protests away. "Listen. You have a morning shift again tomorrow right?"
"Yes," Soul says reluctantly.
"Good. Meet me in the park at four." Black*Star starts to move away, hollering, "And don't you dare try to skip, remember, I know where you live!"
"We're roommates you asshole!" Soul yells after him. He glances apologetically at the few customers in the shop, then blows out a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his hair.
Fuck. Maybe it wasn't too late to move back to Connecticut.
The next day, Soul kicks at the leaves littering the asphalt of the park trail. There's a chill in the air heralding the onset of fall, and the few passersby wear scarves and hats. He shrinks into himself as much as possible, feeling like a complete dolt in the thin gym clothes Black*Star insisted he wear.
"All right!" Black*Star's voice rings out, entirely too cheerful. "Glad you could make it!" He hands a coffee cup to Soul.
Soul glares at him over the rim. "You dragged me out of here after kicking down my door and waking me up from my nap with a water balloon to the face."
"You weren't getting up!"
"That doesn't mean - ugh, whatever." He takes a sip of his coffee and grimaces. "This is horrible, where did you get this from?"
"Your coffee shop."
Soul sighs. Looks like Kid was going to have to be trained again on how to make a proper cup of coffee. Hopefully he wouldn't insist on counting out how many coffee beans went into the grinder like he did last time. "Why are we out here again?"
"Listen broski." Black*Star cracks his neck and starts doing lunges. "You wanna get together with your Jogging Chick, I wanna meet her bodacious friend. Now, we both know that there's a snowball's chance in hell of you just going up and asking the girl out because you're a total pansy."
"Hey!"
Black*Star raises an eyebrow.
"Okay, fair," Soul mutters.
"Anyway, I figure the only way to get both of us what we want is to meet them on their own turf, doing their thing."
"Wait," Soul says, heart sinking, "wait, you don't mean-"
"And that means running!"
Soul groans. "Black*Star, you know how I feel about physical activity."
"Well that's why we're out here late, so we can get started without running into them. Heh. Oh, by the way, think fast!"
Soul barely catches the object thrown at him, fumbling with what he identifies as his own phone.
"Took the liberty of loading your new exercise program on it."
"It's password protected, how the fuck did you get in?"
Black*Star holds a finger to his lips. "Gods don't reveal their secrets."
Soul groans, resolving to change his passwordfor the third time this week. He scrolls through his apps, locates a new, obnoxiously bright orange one, taps it. "C25K?"
"I have all my clients use it if they want to try running, so I figured it'd work on you too. Load it up, we're gonna do the first week together. Week two, we'll run when the girls do and introduce ourselves that way."
Soul's tempted to turn on his heel and go spend the rest of his day off doing preferably anything else, but he recognizes the look in Black*Star's eyes - one that almost dares him to try wriggling his way out of this one. Last time he challenged that look, he ended up finding out exactly how many mousetraps could fit into his bedroom at once.
So he sighs instead and digs out his headphones. Black*Star bounces eagerly from foot to foot, leads him through some basic stretches, and falls in step with Soul when he starts his warm up walk.
Thirty minutes later, Soul is bracing himself against a tree, trying to catch his breath. Meanwhile, Black*Star has hardly broken a sweat and is currently doing one handed pushups. Soul kind of hates him.
Black*Star flips into a hand stand, then pushes off to stand normally as Soul slouches his way down the pathway towards their apartment. Black*Star shoves ahead of him and begins jogging backwards.
"Good job today buddy." He flashes Soul two thumbs up.
"Yeah yeah, whatever," Soul grumbles.
"First day is always the hardest! You'll get the hang of it soon." His index fingers stick out to join his thumbs as he gives Soul two finger guns. "Then we'll get you hooked up with your crush -" he turns his fingers onto himself, "- and me with her lady friend."
Yeah right, Soul thinks to himself. Black*Star's always been a little deluded about Soul's motivation and dedication, being the complete opposite of him in both areas. If Soul had a shred of the drive Black*Star possessed, he'd be…well, he probably wouldn't be working at a coffee shop full time, with no real prospects on the horizon, and staring longingly out the window at a girl he knows he'll never work up the courage to meet.
By the third day of running, Soul's body seems to be adjusting to the increased activity it's being subjected to. Black*Star declares that three days from now, on Soul's next day off, they'll be meeting at one, the same time the girls usually run.
Soul almost bails three times before Black*Star forcibly drags him to the park. When he realizes there's no getting out of it, Soul insists that they get there at least a half hour early, partly in hopes that they'll be done with their session before his crush shows up. He doesn't think he could handle the first time she looks at him be a look of disgust, or worse, pity.
He almost gets his wish - they're on their fourth walking interval when through the trees he spots the two girls on the opposite side of the park. Soul's heart stutters in his chest and he almost slows to a stop, staring at her like a fucking moron. He can't help it though; without the windowpane separating them, she seems so much more vivid and within reach.
Then Soul remembers that he's currently incredibly sweaty and red-faced from running and not at all attractive. He picks up the pace, jogs faster when the program tells him to run, keeping one ear free of earbuds to listen for them.
It's in vain though - he can hear their footsteps behind him and their rapid fire speech over the sound of his music and the trudging of his feet. He keeps his eyes trained ahead, and doesn't look at them as they pull up next to him. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he doesn't think he can blame it just on exertion.
They pass him without even a glance his way, and he's just about to breathe a sigh of relief and settle back into familiar longing when Black*Star starts to pull ahead. One glance into his eyes and Soul's hissing his name, trying desperately to get him to not embarrass them or get them arrested.
Predictably, Black*Star ignores him, and Soul is forced to watch as his running partner/coach begins to catch up with the two. Instead of overtaking them, though, he falls into pace on the other side of the taller girl. Soul's crush shoots Black*Star a glare, and he can hear the fierceness in her tone as she addresses Black*Star, even though he's too far away to hear the actual words. They disappear around the bend, and Soul gives up on catching up to them, focusing instead on finishing his session. Worse comes to worse he'll just pretend not to know Black*Star and take his punishment for that later.
About ten minutes later, Soul spies the three standing near the water fountain. The girl is leaning forward, arms crossed, arguing with Black*Star, who is mirroring her pose - her friend stands between them, looking amused. Soul slows his pace, debating on whether to approach them or turn around and leave, when Black*Star sees him and makes an over-exaggerated gesture of "get over here!". Soul finds himself on the receiving end of three gazes, one curious, one suspicious and one sly, and reluctantly makes his way over.
"Here he is!" Black*Star crows, and Soul suppresses the urge to punch him. He hovers next to his loud-mouth friend, giving only a grunt and a nod in acknowledgement. Up close the girl is cuter than ever, with freckles and bright green eyes that are currently narrowed at him and Black*Star.
"We were just saying to your friend that we haven't seen you guys around the park before." Even her voice is attractive, and he feels completely tongue tied as she continues to scrutinize him. "Do you run here often?" she asks.
"He's just starting," Black*Star says, and Soul feels his face heat up.
The girl gives him an appraising look, then breaks out into a smile. "Good for you!" she says, sincere, and he flushes further. "I'm Maka." She sticks out her hand to shake. Soul goes to shake it, hoping he doesn't get her hand too sweaty.
"Tsubaki," the other girl says, giving him a small wave and a gentle smile.
Black*Star winks at her. "Black*Star. This sad lump here is Soul."
"Hey," Soul mutters.
"Turns out we go to the same dojo! Who would have thought huh? Maka here takes the morning classes though, so that's why we've never met."
"A true shame," Maka deadpans. Soul falls further. "Anyway, Tsubaki and I have to get going, but it was nice meeting you Soul." She gives him another brilliant smile that makes him duck his head.
"You too," he manages, studying his shoes.
"I'll see you at yoga class tomorrow Tsubaki!" Black*Star hollers. "Eight am!" Tsubaki gives him a thumbs up before jogging after Maka.
"Eight am?" Soul asks him slyly as they walk towards their apartment. "You never get up before noon. You passed up on a promotion at the gym because it would mean you start your shift at ten!"
"Got the promotion anyway because I'm so awesome," Black*Star responds. "Also, shut your piehole. Shouldn't you be mooning over the fact that you now know Jogging Chick's name? Don't think for a second that I didn't see you making eyes at her."
"Wasn't making eyes," Soul grumbles - then, at Black*Star's incredulous stare, "What about you, huh, I think if you flexed for her friend any more, your biceps would fall off."
"A body this good needs proper appreciation," he replies airily. "Don't be jealous, I flex for you plenty."
Soul shudders. "Please stop. In fact, just save it all for Tsubaki, she'll appreciate it more."
"That's the plan!" Black*Star sings as they cross the street.
They fall into a companionable silence for the rest of the way back, and it gives him time to think about the new developments in his love life (if he could even call it that). If he had been secretly hoping, just a little, that actually meeting her would make any potential feelings he had for her wither, well, that had been thrown out the window completely.
Maka. Soul mulls over the name, turning it over in his mind. He thinks of her sharp green eyes - her sarcastic, take-no-shit tone - her open, friendly smile. Maka.
The weekend after, Soul is rudely awakened, once again, by his asshole of a roommate, who bursts into his room and loudly announces that they're going to the basketball courts in twenty minutes so "get up and get dressed before I start to see how well your records act as frisbees."
Truthfully, basketball is one of the few forms of physical activity Soul can get behind, so it's with a minimal amount of grumbling that he gets ready. In fact, Soul is feeling pretty good up until Black*Star casually mentions that Tsu and his potential snugglebunny would be there too.
His only consolation is that Maka, apparently, did not seem to know that this was happening either.
"Soul!" Maka greets him enthusiastically, and Soul does his best to give her a cool nod in response. "I'm glad you're here. Did you know that this was going on?"
He shakes his head. They watch as Black*Star zooms over to Tsubaki, saying something that makes her giggle.
"I think she's really taken with him," Maka confesses quietly. She huffs. "Honestly, I'm not sure why…"
"Black*Star is a good guy," Soul protests, feeling weirdly protective. "He's loud and obnoxious and brash, yeah, but he's really loyal, and he's uh, helped me out a lot."
Maka hums. "I guess I can see that," she concedes. "Still, if he hurts Tsubaki I'll kick his ass."
"I'm sure you will," he says, and if it comes out a lot more admiringly than he meant it to, Maka doesn't seem to notice.
"Yo scrubs, get over here!" Black*Star calls.
Soul and Maka exchange a wordless glance of resignation.
"There's four of us, so we're gonna be on two teams. Soul, my bro, you take Maka here, and I'm gonna take Tsubaki."
"What exactly are we doing?" Maka asks.
"Basketball, duh."
"What? I don't know how to play basketball."
"What, didn't your boyfriend or girlfriend ever teach you?" Wow, subtle, Soul thinks, glaring daggers at Black*Star and trying not to cringe. Black*Star gives him a wink in response
"Don't have one," Maka responds briskly. "Ugh, fine, I'll play, but I need to look up the rules."
Black*Star looks at Soul like "seriously? You have a crush on her?" and Soul scowls at him in response. "Whatever," Black*Star says. "We're gonna warm up then."
They run a lap or two around the court, then move to the other end for lay-ups. "Did you hear that?!" Black*Star whispers at a volume roughly equivalent to an airhorn as he passes the ball to Soul. "She's single!"
"Shut up!" Soul hisses, frantically checking to see if Maka heard. Luckily she seems too preoccupied with reading the rules of basketball on her phone (what a nerd, he thinks far too fondly) to have heard Black*Star. "That doesn't even mean anything," he says. "She could not be into guys for all we know."
Black*Star takes a deep breath and Soul just about falls over in stuffing his hands over Black*Star's mouth before he could do something stupid like ask her about her gender preferences. Black*Star grimaces and struggles, but Soul keeps an iron grip on him until he finally stops moving and rolls his eyes instead. Soul carefully removes his hands, and relaxes slightly when all Black*Star does is sigh. "She's into guys, trust me," he says. "She was totally checking you out when you were running."
Soul scowls. "No she wasn't," he says, but still turns his head to look at Maka, still staring intently at her phone, as if he could catch her in the act.
Black*Star shrugs. "If you say so dude. Hey dorkzilla!" he yells across the court. "We gonna play or what?"
Maka looks up and the fire in her eyes does weird things to Soul's stomach. "What did you just call me?" she growls as she stuffs her phone in her pocket.
"We can do a practice game first, since I'm a gracious god," Black*Star says magnanimously.
Maka favors Black*Star with a wicked smile. "Bring it on, Smurf."
Maka's really, really terrible at basketball.
"You really suck at this," Soul says when the ball bounces off the court for the fifth time after she fumbled with dribbling.
"Thanks, tell me something I didn't know," she grumbles. "Can't I just hold the ball and dribble occasionally?"
"No, that's called double dribbling and is against the rules," he says again patiently.
"Ugh!" She throws her hands up in the air. "This is so confusing and makes no sense!"
"It makes perfect sense," he insists. He casts around for something for her to do that doesn't involve touching the ball. "Look," he says, "how about you guard Black*Star while I try to get the ball."
She looks a little cheered at that, and eagerly jogs to get in front of Black*Star. Soul takes Tsubaki as she comes back from retrieving the ball. He keeps his eyes trained on hers, and when she moves to toss it, he easily reaches up and knocks it off course with the tips of his fingers. Quick as lightening, he regains control of the ball and dashes down the court, sinking the ball into the net.
"Yes!" he cheers, only to become aware of the squabbling happening off to the side.
"SOUL!" Black*Star bellows, sounding a little strangled. Soul turns to see him struggling in a chokehold, face a slight tinge of red. "GET YOUR GIRL-"
"MAKA!" Soul interrupts loudly. "You're not supposed to touch him! Just block him from getting the ball."
"Well how was I supposed to know that?" Maka drops her grip to cross her arms.
Black*Star takes a deep overdramatic gasp of air and glares at her. "Overpowered pipsqueak," he says with a begrudging tone of respect.
"Hyperactive buffoon," Maka replies easily.
Tsubaki claps her hands together. "Should we start playing for score now?"
Soul hesitates, glancing at Maka. She catches his eye. "I think I understand it now," she insists. "No double dribbling, can't touch the other person, put the ball into the net." She flashes him a smile and a thumbs up that does nothing to reassure him but has his face heating anyway.
They're losing terribly. Soul stopped keeping track of the score fifteen points ago.
It doesn't help that Black*Star seems to be hellbent on winning. Normally, Soul can hold his own against Black*Star. Actually, Soul would wager he's slightly better at basketball - he's got the reach and the precision that Black*Star, for all of his superior speed, strength and stamina, doesn't have. When they play one on one, they usually come out pretty evenly, maybe even slightly in Soul's favor.
But for whatever reason, Black*Star seems to be pulling out all the stops this game, including parkouring up the basketball pole for a dunk.
"I thought you were supposed to be helping me!" Soul growls as he attempts to slap the ball away from his so called friend.
"I am!" Black*Star retorts, easily dodging. "She's pathetic at this game, making you look bad will give you a chance to bond!"
"That is not helping," he grits out as Black*Star backs off, before running straight at him and literally sliding between Soul's legs. He then proceeds to take a shot, which bounces off the rim, then springs into the air with the help of Tsubaki's laced fingers to catch the ball and dunk it. "Yahoo!" he shouts, pumping his fist in the air.
An hour later, they declare the game over. Tsubaki and Black*Star win by 35 points.
"Well that was a disaster," Soul says, sitting next to Maka on the bench, watching Black*Star chat up Tsubaki across the court.
Maka flicks her hair out of her face. "Sorry," she huffs, crossing her arms.
"'S okay." He shrugs. "I still had fun. Playing with you I mean."
Out the corner of his eye he can see her scrutinizing him, probably judging whether he's sincere or not. He keeps his face carefully blank, looking away from her.
"I had fun too," she admits finally. "Thanks for helping me out."
He shrugs again, but can't help the smile that pulls at the corner of his mouth. "We'll beat them next time," he assures her.
Her eyes brighten. "Yeah!" she says, jumping up. "I'm sure the library has some books on basketball. Next time I'll definitely know the rules."
He chuckles, shaking his head. "What?" she asks, defensive.
"Nothing," Soul says, standing up. She narrows his eyes at him. "You know," he begins, trying to adopt a casual tone, "if you uh, wanted to practice, we could play. Together. Sometime. Whenever." He bites his tongue to stop more inane words from spilling out.
"Sure," she says. Soul does an internal fist pump as they exchange phone numbers.
The edges of the sky are just starting to turn dusky when Maka and Tsubaki decide to call it a day.
"See you around?" Soul says, hopeful, as they gather their jackets.
"See you around!" Maka confirms, waving goodbye.
Black*Star flashes Soul a thumbs up that is about as subtle as a brick to the face. He can only hope that she didn't see that, though a burst of quiet giggles from Tsubaki lets him know that at least one other person witnessed it.
"Well that went well," Black*Star says. "Want to have a rematch? Try to scrape together some of your pride after we kicked your ass so thoroughly?"
Soul shakes his head. "I'm good." He begins to walk away in the direction of their apartment, but pauses when he realizes Black*Star isn't following him. "You comin'?" he asks.
Black*Star stretches. "You go on ahead. And don't wait up, I have a date tonight."
Soul's mouth drops open. "What? Tonight?"
Black*Star rolls his shoulders. "Yu-p! Tsubaki and I are gonna go out to that pho shop on 6th Ave."
"Already? You already asked her out? What did you even say?"
He gives him a strange look. "I told her that I thought she was attractive and if she was interested, I'd give her the opportunity to go on best date she's ever been on."
"H - how," Soul manages, "how are you good at this."
"Well I can't blame her for wanting to get it on with a god," Black*Star says, preening, "but ladies love confidence, man."
Soul chews on his lip. "Really?"
"Yeah dude! You gotta show them that you're worth their time! Why would they want to date you if you don't think you're worthy of it?"
Soul mulls this over. Black*Star catches his expression, and quickly amends, "Obviously you don't want to be an asshole, she doesn't owe anything to you, but confidence is sexy!"
He has a point, Soul is forced to agree. He thinks about Maka's smirk, the challenge in her eyes when Black*Star goads her into racing him, the assuredness in her stance when she tells off some guy for catcalling her or Tsubaki.
"Maybe you're right," he concedes.
"Of course I'm right," Black*Star scoffs. "Now off with you peon, I've got to warm up for my date."
He settles into a routine. Three times a week, Soul pulls on his gym clothes and pulls up a playlist before trudging over to the park, where he spends a half hour cursing out the little voice telling him when to walk and run. Sometimes Black*Star joins him, sharing entirely too much detail about his relationship with Tsubaki. Sometimes Tsubaki joins the both of them, which is always worse because of the extra details she adds to Black*Star's lewd stories.
Maka isn't always there at first - he still stops to watch her run past the coffee shop whenever he's on a morning shift - but when he mentions the times he's been running at, she starts to show up more often. She'll lap him with a cheerful shout and a wave, and he can't find it in himself to berate his slow pace when it means he's watching her from behind. Sometimes she'll loop back around after she's finished running around the park, joining him for his intervals.
His five minute cooldown walk begins to turn into a half hour walk around the block with Maka, and soon enough he's meeting her for long wandering journeys on the days he's not running. They explore the city together, sometimes chatting or arguing as they thread through back alleys and narrow side streets, sometimes not saying anything at all, just admiring the trees and buildings in a comfortable quiet. He never realized before how little he's seen of the city he's called home for the past three years. And seeing it through Maka's eyes is refreshing - where he notices litter on the ground, she calls his attention to an intricate, gothic design on the side of a building. He wrinkles his nose at squashed restaurants that look like the last time they were mopped was when the place was built; she orders Mexican food at a suspicious looking food truck and it ends up being the best taco he'd ever had.
They're walking down one of the areas a little outside of the old district. Maka's balancing on a short wall, teasing him that she's taller than he is as he looks up at her. Every once and a while, she gets a little wobbly and reaches out for his shoulder to steady herself. He grumbles half-heartedly, pretending to be annoyed to hide his pleasure at her brushing against him.
"Hey uh, Maka," he starts.
"Hmm?"
"I uh…" Crap, this was so much easier when he was practicing in his mirror, Black*Star's obnoxious remarks notwithstanding. He squares his shoulders. "I made you a playlist."
"You did?" she exclaims, hopping down in front of him.
Soul nods, and pulls out his phone and a pair of earbuds. "Here," he says, unlocking the phone and handing it to her. "You can listen. If you want. Or later, if you didn't want to now…"
She's already popped the headphones in her ears and is bopping along to the music. "Hey this is pretty good!" she says too loudly.
"Thanks," he mutters, pleased.
"What?"
"Thanks," he says louder as she takes an earbud out to hear him better.
"You should listen to my stuff too!" Maka shoves her phone at him. His heart skips a beat when he realizes her background photo is the selfie they took in front of a random statue of some short beaked thing with a cane and top hat. The two of them are smiling widely as they mimic the statues ridiculous pose, and his stomach does flip-flops as he loads up her music program.
"Wow," he says about halfway through a song. "This is…this is what you listen to?"
"Yeah! I love Owl City!" She hums a few bars for him, off-key. "Are you a fan too?"
"No way in hell," he says, wincing at the synthesized warble in the singer's voice.
As she punches him in the shoulder, he realizes suddenly how easy this all is - how he doesn't feel like clamming up around her, how he doesn't worry about saying the wrong thing or upsetting her. How he's slowly stopped thinking that she'll eventually realize that he's not that interesting, or bold, or as quick as she is, and will drop out of his life.
He pauses in the middle of the sidewalk. Maka walks on, but stops and turns back when she sees he isn't following. She pulls the earbuds out of her ear. "Soul?"
"Maka," he says, swallowing hard.
She tilts her head.
Ladies love confidence, he reminds himself as he opens his mouth. "I…" He clears his throat. "I…uh…" His hands tremble, and he stuffs them in his pocket as he opens his mouth to try again. "You…I mean, I…like…"
"Soul?" She's looking at him in concern now, and he feels the last of his nerve die as she takes a tentative step closer. "Are you okay? What do you like?"
"I really like this song!" he blurts out, shying away from her.
Her face brightens. "You do?"
"Yeah, uh -" he checks the screen, "- Waving Out The Window? It's um, good."
"I have the whole album!" she exclaims. "I can lend it to you if you want!"
"That would be great," he lies, sending a mental apology to his eardrums.
The long, lonely walk home is spent in loud, berating contemplation. His internal dialogue, which sounds suspiciously like the voices of his parents and teachers, presents irrefutable evidence of his cowardice and utter incompetence. Soul has no choice but to agree that he is a disappointing waste of space, like he always does.
But something must be changing in Soul, because when he gets back to his apartment building and looks up to see the flashing light of the TV spilling outside of the living room window, he suddenly knows what he has to do.
Soul knows in about thirty seconds, he's going to regret what he's about to do. No - regret is too soft a word for what his future self is going to feel towards the present him. Loathe? Abhor? Detest? Maka would be proud of him with the number of synonyms he can conjure for his future emotional state.
Well, future him could suck it. Bastard is always taking advantage of the suffering present Soul is going through. Case in point - this whole ridiculous running plan.
"Black*Star, I need your help."
"Anything for you best bro," he replies, not even bothering to glance up from the video game he's playing.
"I like Maka."
Black*Star rolls his eyes. "Tell the world something it didn't know."
Soul ignores him. "But I don't want to say anything because…"
"You're chickenshit."
"Basically," Soul says, not even bothering to deny it this time. "I need you to keep me honest."
"Oh?" Black*Star pauses his game and turns around, finally invested in the conversation.
"When I can complete a full circuit around the park without stopping or dying, I'm going to ask her out." Soul had picked the goal very carefully - it was equally likely that he would give up completely, in which case he didn't have to suffer the embarrassment of her saying no to him, or that he would actually complete it, in which case he could play asking her if she'd go out with him as a celebration of his achievement.
Black*Star squints at him. "Still don't get why you can't do it now, but you do you bro. What do I get out of this?"
Here came the hard part. Soul takes a deep breath. "If I don't ask her out, you can pick my punishment."
"Really?" It's like Soul told Black*Star that Christmas was coming early this year, and the sudden gleam in his eyes has shivers running down his spine. "You're letting me decide."
"Yes."
"You remember what happened last time I passed judgement onto you."
"Yes," Soul grinds out, "how could I forget." He still wasn't welcome back at his favorite Italian restaurant.
Black*Star's ever widening grin is distinctly unreassuring. "Oh man. I can't decide now if I want you to succeed or not."
Soul scowls, and Black*Star cackles, throwing an arm around him. "I'm just joking, of course I'm pro-Soulie boy getting with his lady. Still though…"
"Well I'm going to do it, so don't think too hard," Soul snaps. Black*Star just raises an eyebrow at him, which makes Soul insist, "I am, I can already run for fifteen minutes without dying." Maybe just five minutes at a time, but whatever, technicalities.
"And I am proud of you for that, broseph. You and Maka are gonna be the sappiest, mushiest, cutest couple - after Tsubaki and me of course." He smacks Soul's back a couple of times, making him stumble and wince. "Don't worry bro. I got your back."
That's what Soul's afraid of, and exactly what he's banking on to get him to go through with something for once in his life.
"Yeah what can I get you?" Soul asks, squinting down at the filter he's cleaning.
"Hi Soul!"
His head whips up. Maka stands in front of him, dressed in a black trench coat that hides her workout clothes. Her elbows rest against the counter, gloved hands cradling her face as she gives him a smile that makes his face hot and his hands shaky.
"M-Maka!" He almost drops the filter, and tries to pass it off as him smoothly putting it down on the counter. "H-how did you know I worked here?"
Maka blinks. "Black*Star told me."
Like so many other moments over the past month, Soul wavers between wanting to strangle and wanting to high five his best friend.
"Oh!" Maka says, peering behind his shoulder. "You've got a great view of the park from here." She smiles at him, and he feels his heart thump painfully in his chest. "You must see Tsubaki and I run by pretty often huh?"
"No," he blurts out. "No, I uh, am usually too busy working to look outside." Fuck, why did he say that? It wouldn't have been that weird to just say he sees them, but would she have thought it was creepy? It was kind of creepy, honestly…
Maka hums noncommittally. "I see."
"Uh, did you want to order something?"
She orders a mocha. When Maka goes to pay, he shakes his head, pushing away her credit card. "On the house," he insists, ignoring her protests.
He takes his time to make the best damn mocha the shop's ever seen, and finishes it off by creating a little flower of steamed milk in the drink. He presents it to her with a flourish, and basks in her praise.
Unfortunately, she came at one of the busier times at the café and can't linger at the counter. She moves to one of the tables nearest to him and pulls out a book, and he sneaks glances at her while his hands are on autopilot making drinks for the customers.
That is, until -
"What's up Soul," Black*Star greets him. "The girls run by yet?" He fiddles with his phone, completely oblivious to the frantic aborting motions that Soul is making.
Maka looks up at the sound of Black*Star's voice, and Soul drops his arms, giving her a weak smile. "I wouldn't know Black*Star," he squeaks.
Black*Star snorts. "Yeah right, you stare out that window watching for Maka so much that someone could hold up the store and you wouldn't even notice."
"ANYWAY, what can I get you," Soul rushes to say, as Maka cocks her head curiously. "I'll pay," he says desperately, feeling a deep flush work its way down his neck.
Black*Star immediately brightens. "Awesome! Well in that case…"
After Black*Star leaves with his six dollar caffè macchiato, Maka sidles up to him. "You're awfully generous to your friends Soul," she says, corner of her mouth twitching.
"Not really," he mutters, busying himself with wiping down the counter. "Just…just special ones."
"And Black*Star is one of them?"
"No," he spits out, "he's just really good at being annoying."
A pause, and then, "And me?"
Soul's heart hammers in his chest so loudly that he doesn't even hear himself when he mumbles, very quietly, "Special case." It only beats harder at the slow smile that spreads across her face.
The next day, Maka waves at him through the window as she runs past the store. Soul's hands dance between his face and his pockets before they compromise, one of them giving her a shy wave, the other one coming up to rub away a goofy grin.
Fall is winding down, and Soul can feel himself getting stronger, gaining stamina with every workout. He can't believe it's already been a month and a half since Black*Star dragged him into this fiasco. A month and a half of way too much sweat and exercise.
A month and a half since he was properly introduced to Maka - Maka, who he now knows uses books as both entertainment and as weapons - Maka, who hates raw fish and loves white chocolate - Maka, who texts him every night with a different grumpy cat gif, claiming they look exactly like him, who somehow always has some place new for them to explore, something new for them to look at. She's so much more than the attractive jogger he would stare at through the window, dreaming up scenarios where she would suddenly notice him and ask him out. So different from what he imagined her to be like - quieter and nerdier and more uncertain, but just as bold and strong and kind. Whatever happens - if he finishes, if he confesses - it doesn't matter as much as the fact that she's part of his life in some way.
His phone vibrates and dings as the automated voice announces that his workout is complete. He stops, breathing hard, and sits down on a bench, throwing his arms around the back and looking up to the deepening sky.
A crush. A workout. And at the beginning of all of it, a friend.
"Hey Black*Star."
"Hmm?" Black*Star pauses his one handed pull ups to look at Soul.
"I uh." Soul clears his throat awkwardly. "Wanted to uh, say…thanks for helping me out with Maka. I wouldn't, you know, have met her or anything if you hadn't…"
Black*Star flicks away his words. "Say no more dude. You know I've always got your back."
"Yeah," Soul confirms, "yeah I know. Still." He brings out an envelope from behind his back and offers it to Black*Star, who lets go of the bar to take it.
Black*Star pulls out two pieces of paper from the envelope. "What's this?"
"Uh, tickets. To the symphony. The one that you had wanted to take Tsubaki to for your one month anniversary and waited in line for tickets for five hours before being told they had just sold out?"
"No shit!" Black*Star's mouth drops open as he stares at the tickets. His eyes dart up to Soul and he squints, suspicious. "Wait, how did you get them?"
"Well I…kinda pulled a couple of strings…?"
"You…" Realization dawns in his eyes, and Soul shuffles his feet uncomfortably.
"Yeah," Soul confirms. "Yeah I uh, talked to Wes -"
"Wes, like, your brother Wes?"
"What other Wes would there be Black*Star."
"Wes, like, your perfect brother that you haven't talked to in a decade?"
"It's only been three years," Soul mutters. His ears still hurt from Wes' squealing when he answered the phone.
"What did he say when you called?"
Soul shrugs. "Not much," he lies, choosing not to tell him about how Wes alternated between crying and yelling and lecturing all while prying out every detail of his little brother's mundane life for two hours.
Black*Star hesitates. "And…your parents? Now that Wes knows where you are, are they gonna…?"
Soul blows out a sigh. "…They were gonna find out eventually." He stares at his hands - his precise, long fingers. Perfect for playing piano, his parents told him, over and over until he felt like that's all like they were good for, all he was good for. "…They can't really do much to me now anyway. And…it's like you said. I can't keep hiding forever."
Black*Star stares at the tickets in his hand before putting them back into the envelope as carefully as Soul's ever seen him handle something.
The scent of Axe body spray washes over Soul as Black*Star engulfs him in a hug, one that's made all the more awkward by the height difference between them. "You're the best bro a bro could have Soul," Black*Star sniffs.
"Yeah," Soul says, smiling as he pats his best friend's back. "You too Black*Star. You too."
"One minute left," the tinny voice encourages him. He clings to that as he rounds the bend. Just one minute. Before the end of this song is done it'll be over. Just keep going. Don't stop. Don't stop -
Ding! "Your workout is complete."
Soul slows to a stop, mind replaying the words.
"I did it," he says, disbelieving.
"I did it," he says again, and feels like shouting it, maybe even channeling Black*Star and adding a "yahoo!" at the end.
Black*Star and Tsubaki wave wildly from a bench halfway across the park as he looks over to them. Black*Star stands up on the bench, cups his hands around his mouth and bellows, "I TOLD YOU!"
Soul grins, shaking his head. Black*Star stabs a finger in the direction that Soul just came from. Soul turns around and -
There she is. She hasn't noticed him yet, looking at her phone, and Soul had specifically gotten here before her workout time so that he could bail out if he needed to but -
Maybe this is what they call runner's high, or maybe it's just Soul actually achieving something he never thought he'd even try doing for once, but he doesn't even need Black*Star's nod or shooing motion to send him off - he's already running towards Maka, calling her name.
She stops and waits for him, smiling. He pushes his muscles to run faster, and a tiny part of him marvels when his body obeys without complaint as he flies towards her.
He skids to a stop in front of her, only panting a little bit. The sun is filtering through the leaves and casting dappled shadows on her face, glinting gold off of her hair, and her eyes are bright and fond as she looks at him expectantly, and in that moment he wants to tell her - wants to tell her that he started this for her but finished it for him, wants to thank her for encouraging and supporting him and never making fun. He wants to tell her that he loves their early morning walks and late night texts, that he thinks she's amazing and smart and strong, that he probably never would have finished if she didn't make it more fun than torture, that he wants - that he loves -
"I like you please go out with me." Soul says in a rush.
Maka's face changes from fondness to confusion. "Sorry?"
"You heard me," he mumbles, resisting the urge to use his new stamina to run the fuck away.
"I…no? Sorry, you said it so fast, could you say it again?"
"Uh." Where was Black*Star and his menacing "you won't believe the things I have in store for you" grin when he needed it? Maka's looking at him curiously and god dammit past Soul was the absolute worst -
But he wasn't about to give up now. Soul takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, tries to look Maka in the eye but ends up sticking his gaze somewhere in the vicinity of her shoulder instead. "I like you," he says again. "And I've really enjoyed getting to know you. And I would like to take you out to dinner." Did he just say that? He just said that. "As a date," he clarifies. He's on a roll. "Though uh, you don't have to if you don't want to." Wait, wasn't he on a roll? "We could uh, just celebrate me actually being able to keep up with you." Apparently it was more of a slow tumble. "Or uh, not." Off of a cliff. "You know what, just ignore me -"
"I would love to go out on a date with you."
Soul looks up from his shoes. "R-really?" he stammers.
She nods, smiling. He takes a hesitant step forward, and she meets him halfway, drawing closer until their running shoes are almost touching. "I was actually thinking of asking you out tomorrow," she says, peering up at him shyly through her bangs. "But you beat me to it."
"I…I did?"
She's close enough now to bump him gently with her shoulder, sending a tingling buzz through his body. "I like you, dummy," she says, and that combined with the way she's grinning at him, looking a little shy and embarrassed herself, makes him feel like he's as light as air.
"So where do you want to go for dinner?" she asks, entwining her fingers in his.
"Well uh, I was thinking maybe that Lebanese place we found last week, you know, by the shoemaker?"
Her eyes light up, and then take on a mischievous look. "Race you there."
He smirks back, heart racing forward for once instead of shrinking back. "You're on."
She takes off, and he follows, knowing she'll outstrip him in a heartbeat, but that she'll be waiting patiently for him to catch up at the end. He lets her peel ahead and focuses instead on making the world turn beneath his feet, setting his own pace.
He'll get there eventually.
AN: Thank you for reading! Comments and criticism are much appreciated!