Splatter Paint

She was dizzy as fuck and she can't seem to remember the 23rd digit of pi.

Maka Albarn was a lot of things, a good daughter, a kick-ass black belter and a top- notch student, but if there's one thing she isn't, it's being reckless.

Being reckless was Liz and Patty's thing, the whole standing on table tops and belting out Dancing Queen while wearing not-so-decent outfits. Maka was all sensible sweaters, jeans and oxfords, she isn't the type who wears the daring low v-neck or short shorts.

She was also attracted to the paperback hero: good reputation, dazzling looks and the manners of a gentleman. This kind of standard she set made her sure that she'll never meet a guy like her father, rugged-looks, the bad boy persona and the silver tongue that made women flock around him in an instant.

She's all for the typical text-book romance, roses, dates in movies and dinner, until Hiro breaks up with her for 'not being attentive to his goddamn needs' ,well let's just say she left romance between the pages of the last Nicholas Sparks book she read. And a prompt 'girl session' with the sisters and Tsubaki seemed like a good idea at that time.

She's built her walls and she doesn't want anyone tearing them down anytime soon.

Maka was a calm, rational and functional member of society.

She was so over the break-up. She was so above the petty revenge phase.

Yet as she was faced with her ex's car, which he forgot to park somewhere else, right in front of the apartment they once shared (he was going to pick up his things tomorrow), it was just too good to pass up the opportunity.

The brand new paint job was just begging to be wrecked.

Quickly taking out her apartment keys, she scratched the surface of Hiro's brand new car, and fuck, it felt so damn good. She shouldn't be doing this, she was much better than this. (And the alcohol just kept whispering sweet, sweet words in her head)

And that was why this felt so much better. Spotting a rock near the sidewalk, she smiled.

After a series of car alarms, barking dogs and running away from whatever (why did she not run to her apartment? stupid. stupid. stupid.), the high she felt from the cheap beer promptly vanished.

Fainting in some drive way was not a stellar end to the evening or morning. (she'll never let Patty choose what she drinks, like, ever.)

She only remembers the smell of expensive perfume and soft silk.

She never knew the word shit-faced would accurately describe how she felt right now. She languidly stretched on her bed and tried to grab the blanket.

Only to grab a pair of boxers.

Disgruntled and confused, she immediately opened her eyes to the unfamiliar room.

Black walls, vinyl records and Star Wars merch?

Fuck.

Getting out of the bed would be her first priority, if she could still stand straight or even sit up. After several failed attempts at getting up, she resigned herself and hid under the warm blankets. At the very least she was still fully clothed, which she couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

Where was the owner of the wonderfully warm bed so she can thank him/her for keeping her away from the agonizingly humiliating drunken stupor she got herself into last night? Groaning did not help abate the pain of her head ache.

Before she could continue berating herself for the utter stupidity of last night, a deep, masculine voice interrupted her.

"You know, you could try getting up and quietly disappear from my apartment."

It was official, life is a total and utter bitch.

She muffled her voice on one of the pillows.

"I can't hear you lady."

"I can't get up."

She hears the man's steps come closer and feels the bed dip from his weight.

She really wishes that the big comfy bed would just swallow her up. Right now would probably be good.

She didn't feel so good.

But since life was on her period today, it decided to be bitchier. Feeling her head implode and the sudden urgency to empty her insides on a stranger's bed seemed to be a great idea at that time. Unfortunately, the said stranger didn't think so.

"Seriously?! What happened to good karma and shit? Damn it all." So he did what he could, he held back her hair while she was chucking out the remains of last night's foray.

And that's how she spent the entire afternoon in a stranger's bed with a small bucket near her feet, with him making soup somewhere in his kitchen.

She learns that his name was Soul and no, he wasn't a creepy molester.

He found her in his driveway when he was going home from work, fearing she might be dead, he decided to take her inside and he doubted that she was up for a late night drive in a stranger's car.

When he asked her how the hell did she end up lying on his driveway, she told him about her ex and the drinking and the car.

"C'mon, drinking for an ex? Yeah, he was a douche, but why give yourself grief over him?"

He made it sound so simple.

When she was going to answer, his phone rang.

"Hello, Kid? Yeah, sorry about that. I'm not going today, I got...company." She snorts and he glares at her from the kitchen.

She takes the time to look around, a disaster of a room, music sheets and clothes littered everywhere. A typical single man.

He goes into the room and picks up his jacket from the floor and throws it at her.

"Let's go."

"Where are we going?"

"I'm gonna take you home, what else?"

She remembers that Hiro would be there and she did not want to face him with her ruined make-up. (Soul seeing her like that was enough. Even if he's a sort-of stranger.)

"No." Her upper lip quivers, she hugs the jacket closer to her small frame.

He looked at her, eyes soft."Then where do you want to go? I'm already free for the rest of the day."

"An ice cream shop?" She meets his eyes, a small beginning of a smile.

It was not a bit weird that a girl who was wearing a clubbing outfit and a guy who seemed like the undertaker, walk into an up town ice cream parlor. Or maybe that was just them.