Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater and never will. This is a story I just wrote for fun because I'm a fan of Soul Eater.
Also, I don't own the song "Invisible" by Taylor Swift, which this story is based on.
A/N: I'm pretty proud of this story. :) Honestly, I think I like it better than Yours to Hold. I feel as if my efforts to write this well succeeded. The flow feels more natural to me, and I also think I got Soul and Maka's personalities spot-on. :D
Since that's all I really have to say for now, I hope you enjoy reading this story! :)
Note: I recommend listening to the song "Invisible" by Taylor Swift before (and maybe while) reading this story.
Invisible
"Hey, Soul," Maka said, entering the living room of their apartment, where Soul sat on the couch. "Dinner will be ready in about five minutes."
"Cool." He closed the magazine he had in his hands and dropped it on the coffee table. "What are we having?"
"It's your favorite: lasagna."
Soul's face instantly broke into a grin, revealing all of his shark-like teeth. "Whoa, that's awesome! You always make the best lasagna. I can't wait to try it!"
Maka giggled. Her green eyes met Soul's red ones, and she noticed that the red irises were lit up to match the joyous smile upon his face. A smile began to tug at the edges of her own lips. His eyes always light up like that when he smiles. It's so—
"Maka?" Soul asked, startling her. Now back in reality, she noticed that her Weapon partner was shooting her an odd look. "You were staring at me with a goofy smile. It's kinda freakin' me out."
"Goofy smile"? Really? Wow, that's embarrassing... She chuckled anxiously. "Oh, uh... I was just thinking about something, and I just happened to be looking at you when I zoned out. Sorry about that..."
Soul blinked. "Okay, then..."
The Meister took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Her heart hammered in her chest. For almost two years now, she and Soul were a team, and they were considered one of the strongest Weapon and Meister teams at the DWMA. After all they had been through together, they were close friends. However, after the first year, Maka's feelings about Soul grew to something beyond just friendship—she never felt comfortable referring to it as "love," but she couldn't deny that that was the word to perfectly describe her feelings. She loved Soul.
I could never tell him that, though, she would always remind herself. He probably doesn't see me as anything more than a partner and a friend...
"Hey, Maka, where did you put the bath salts?"
The Weapon and Meister pair looked up as Blair stepped into the room. At the sight of the magical cat, Maka grimaced, and Soul's red eyes bulged as a blush painted his cheeks.
Blair was completely naked, her curvy body covered only by a fluffy white towel that was wrapped tightly at the top of her torso. Still, the towel didn't conceal much, as her large, half-exposed breasts dared to burst out from behind the white fabric. Antics such as this from Blair were practically a routine thing, but the younger teens' reactions were the same every time: Maka would express her annoyance while Soul would blush madly and even get a nosebleed in the more extreme cases.
Maka seethed, her eyebrows twitching uncontrollably. "They're on the top shelf in the closet. And could you please put on some clothes every once in a while?"
Blair pouted, placing her hands on her hips. "Maka, I am going to take a bath, you know. What do you expect me to do? Get in the water with my clothes on?" She then turned to Soul, a seductive glint in her yellow eyes. "Hey, Soul," she purred, "how about you come join me for my bath? The water's nice and warm." As she stretched her arms over her head, the towel loosened from her body, and it fluttered down to the floor.
"Blair!" Maka's groan blended in with the sound of Soul's surprised shout. She glanced at her Weapon partner from the corner of her eye; as she expected, he was collapsed on the couch, blood flowing from his nostrils. Her face flushed as her blood began to boil.
"Soul..." she growled. "I'm going to kill you."
After finishing dinner, Maka stepped into her room. Closing the door behind her, she leaned her back against it, sliding down to the floor with a deep sigh. Her anger about the incident before dinner had simmered down quickly—as her temper almost always did—but what was left behind this time was an aching sensation in her heart.
The way Soul reacts when he sees Blair like that... she thought, fighting back the hot tears that began to swell in her eyes. Does he really like women like that? Women that look and act like Blair?
As much as she wanted to deny it, to believe that Soul only pretended to like women like that as part of his "cool guy" act, it was evident that her Weapon partner did prefer women that were like Blair: large breasts, full hips, and usually clad in revealing outfits that showed off those features. He even teased her often for her under-developed physique; she recalled that he even once said he "wouldn't settle for a flat-chested girl like her."
Because of that, she knew that Soul would never pay any attention to her.
Maka hugged her knees to her chest, burying her face into the soft fabric of her sweatpants. I might as well be invisible...
She couldn't stand the idea of that. Soul was her best friend. He was the best Weapon partner she could've asked for. She loved him. He was everything to her, and if she meant nothing to him, then she was exactly that: nothing.
Licking his lips with his long, saliva-covered tongue, the Kishin raised his knife-like claws over the young woman that laid beneath him. Whimpering, she gazed up at him, her brown eyes wide with terror.
A hiss sounded from behind him.
Startled, the Kishin froze; he slowly turned around, raising his claws to prepare to defend himself. Soul and Maka stood in the light of a street lamp. Now that the duo were the subject of her attacker's focus, the young woman jumped to her feet, darting away into the dark alley.
"Soul Eater," Maka muttered, "that man's soul..."
"Yeah, Maka," Soul replied, a grin breaking out upon his face, "there's no doubt about it. He's not human anymore. That dude has a Kishin soul, a soul of pure evil."
The Meister nodded. "Any soul that strays from the path of humanity and becomes evil has a high risk of becoming a Kishin. In the name of Lord Death, this evil must be purged. Let's collect the damaged soul and end this."
"Just so we're clear, Maka, this guy has turned himself into a Weapon. He's the same as me in that way." Removing one of his hands from the pocket of his jacket, Soul extended his arm out to the side; it began to glow a bright white. Once the light faded, his arm was replaced with a red and black scythe blade. "But unlike him, I actually look cool in my human form. And being a Weapon isn't the problem here. The problem with this guy is his soul." As he finished speaking, the rest of his body started to gleam, shifting into the shape of a scythe's handle. Maka caught the Weapon in her gloved hand, twirling it once in the air.
"You, serial killer Jack the Ripper," she announced, shooting him an intimidating glare. "Your soul is mine!"
Jack the Ripper let out a fierce roar before breaking into a sprint, racing toward her down the cobblestone street. He lunged, swinging at her with his large, sharp claws, which she countered with the scythe's blade. This routine of Maka blocking the Kishin's every attack with skilled precision continued throughout the battle. Once there was an opening, the Kishin swiped at her feet; she jumped, hopping from his head and throwing him off-balance. She landed on the cobblestone streets behind him, and before her enemy could regain his footing, she swung the Weapon at him, the blade piercing into his back and protruding from his front. With a surprised roar, Jack the Ripper disintegrated, leaving behind a glowing red orb.
Quickly transforming back into his human form, Soul took the orb in his hand. "It's ours now," he stated.
Maka smiled to herself at the memory as she ran a wet dishcloth over the kitchen table, cleansing its oak wood surface. That was the Weapon and Meister team's first attempt at turning Soul into a Death Scythe; even though they ended up failing miserably a few days later, that memory was still special to her.
They had worked so hard that night, and she loved recalling Soul's behavior. In most cases, her Weapon partner would seem indifferent about their duties as students at the DWMA. But that night, when they collected their ninety-ninth Kishin soul, he was confident, brave, and—well, cool.
That was the reason Maka loved him: because he had a determination that burned within him. One couldn't normally see it due to the "cool guy" demeanor that he always tried way too hard to keep up, but during the occasional times that he would show his true self, she could see that fire shining through.
Smiling at the thought of Soul, Maka tossed the damp rag back onto the counter, finished with her cleaning. She heaved a sigh, rubbing her sore shoulders as she headed into the living room.
She stopped when she caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the wall as she passed. Observing her appearance in her reflection, she ran her fingers over her light brown pigtails, flattening the frizzing strands that stuck out. There. Perfect. She smiled to herself, but when her eyes scanned down the rest of her appearance, it turned to a frown.
That day, she had donned a white dress shirt; a red plaid skirt that reached her mid-thigh; white, knee-high socks; and black boots. An outfit such as this was something she wore on a regular basis and liked wearing, but after her recent realization that Soul wouldn't bother to give her the time of day because of her looks, she hated it. This is why Soul would never feel the same way I feel about him, she thought bitterly, glaring at her reflection.
Maka continued observing her appearance, shooting daggers at the girl in the mirror as if she was someone she had despised for a long time. After about a minute, her face softened as an idea struck her. She fingered the top button of her dress shirt, hesitating as she considered her decision.
Appearance doesn't matter, the moralised side of her said. It's what is on the inside that counts.
Shut the hell up, another side snapped. Soul clearly cares only about a woman's appearance. If I want him to feel the same way about me, then I'll have to do whatever I can...
Siding with her second, more desperate side, Maka yanked the button from its hole. She did the same to another button, then another, and another, until she had unbuttoned her shirt down to beneath her bust, exposing her under-developed chest and part of her nude bra. That's a lot better, she thought, adjusting the garment's collar. But one more thing... Her green eyes then eyed her skirt. Rolling up the end of her shirt, she pulled the waistband of her skirt farther up her torso; it was over her bellybutton by the time the hem reached the length she desired: four inches higher than before, barely covering her rear. Now beaming in satisfaction, she pulled her shirt back over her skirt, concealing the pulled-up waistband of her skirt.
I don't have much of a figure to show off, but at least it looks better than my usual prude appearance.
"Yo, Maka."
Maka whirled around, noticing that Soul had entered the room. While her exterior was calm and composed, she was panicking on the inside. What do I do? Should I just let Soul notice how I look, or...? What should I say? How should I act?! Clearing her throat, she straightened her posture, sticking out her chest a bit. She flashed him a smile. "Hey, Soul," she greeted, making her tone sound casual with a bit of a seductive undertone. "So, what's up?"
The Weapon blinked, eyeing her. "Are you okay? You look like you're constipated or something."
Her face fell, and her shoulders slumped.
"And what did you do to your outfit?" He chuckled. "You know you don't have anything to show, right?"
She swallowed, hanging her head so he couldn't see her face. Tears welled in her green eyes. Even though I changed my look and attitude to what he seems to like, he still doesn't care. What do I have to do to get him to notice me...?
"Oh, by the way," Soul continued, "I wanted to tell you to not make any dinner for me. Blair invited me to go out to dinner with her at a fancy restaurant."
What? Maka's head shot up, shooting him a questioning look. "Huh? B-but... why?"
He shrugged, running his hand through his spiky white hair. "I guess she's happy that she's making so much money off of her job at Chupa Cabra's, and now she wants going on a spending spree." As he finished his sentence, he began walking toward the door. "Well, I'm gonna head out now. I'll see you—"
Soul twisted the knob, but once he opened it a crack, it was slammed shut by Maka's hand. He looked at her in shock; he could only see her mouth forming a tight line, the rest of her face shielded by her light brown bangs.
"Maka, what the hell...?"
"Soul," she said; her voice was hoarse yet firm, as if she was making a demand and was confident that she would get the answer she wanted. "Why do you care so much about Blair?"
"She's... kind of a friend of mine. Also"—he grinned—"she is pretty hot."
The Meister's open hand pounded on the door again, making him jump. "Why the hell does that matter?!" she snapped, and she lifted her head. Her green, tear-filled eyes met his wide red ones. "Why does that make Blair matter more than me?!"
"Maka—"
"Soul, I'm your best friend. I have been your Meister for almost two years. I know you a hell of a lot better than Blair does!" As she spoke, her voice raised to almost a shriek. The hot tears that had only clung to her lower lash line a minute before were now streaming down her face. "Does she know that you love to play piano? Does she know that your favorite food is lasagna? Does she—"
Soul took a step closer to her. "Maka, listen—"
In response to his advance, she turned away from him. "No, Soul. Blair doesn't know any of those things about you, but I do! Of course, that doesn't matter, does it?! It doesn't matter because I'm not 'hot' like Blair is! I'm just invisible, I'm nothing to you—"
"Shut your mouth, Maka!" Soul grabbed her shoulders, forcing Maka to look at him. His face was just inches from hers, his firm and sincere eyes gazing deeply into hers. All of her anger and pain quickly dissolved. Her heart hammered in her chest at their closeness. "Maka," he breathed, cooling himself down. "What the hell are you talking about? How can you even think that? Maka, you're my best friend; of course I care about you. I care about you more than anything. You're everything to me."
Hearing these words, warmth flooded Maka's heart. She felt like crying again—only this time, it would be from her joy that he actually felt the same way that she did about him. "Soul," she muttered, and when Soul's arms wrapped around her in an affectionate embrace, she hugged him back, burying her tear-stained face in the soft fabric of his red jacket. "Soul... I love you."
He let out a breath, and very slowly, he pulled away. She instantly wished that she could recollect those three words that just left her mouth. Shit. I just assumed that when Soul said I was everything to him, that he loved me. He probably didn't even mean it like that. Shit, I'm such a—
Her mind went blank when Soul's lips came into contact with hers. At first, her eyes bulged in surprise, but she quickly melted into the kiss, closing her eyes. Much to her dismay, the moment ended as quickly as it had started; he pulled away, keeping his face close to hers.
"I love you, too, Maka," he whispered, grinning. To perfectly match his smile, his red eyes brightened.
That was just one of the many things that she loved about Soul.
The End
A/N: I'm not a big fan of that ending line, to tell you the truth. :/
Other than that, I love how this story turned out. I think it's just so sweet!
Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a review to tell me what you think! :)
~Hayley
Note: Please refer to the notice on my profile before reviewing.