Warning: YOU SHOULD NOT GET INTO A CAR WITH A RANDOM STRANGER IF YOU'RE A HITCHHIKER. GET INTO A CAR WITH A FAMILY OKAY? This is just for the story, and I just wanted to make sure everyone knew that.
a/n: First ever Soul Eater fic!
Hitchhiker
"Don't do this," Maka Albarn pleaded hopelessly with her car, as the engine sputtered pathetically, sounding more like a dying cow then a motor. She gunned the engine once again, refusing to give in to the pessimistic thoughts that nagged at her. Surely she wasn't going to be stranded like this. The engine whined for an even shorter period of time this try, and then made a horrible loud wail—before falling deathly silent. Maka was nothing but logical, and she knew her car was toast (not that it stopped her from trying to start her car several times after that). This was what she got for not taking it to the dealership when the problems started.
She let her head fall onto the steering wheel, a sigh of frustration escaping her lips. Her truck was ancient, some old can of rust she'd picked up (against her Father's wishes of course) from the local junkyard, and then continued to fix it up herself. She didn't quite know why she had wanted so badly to fix her own car, but maybe it was partly because her Father was always trying to get her some stupid fancy car she didn't want.
Still, the fact that this car, her baby, had broken down on her three hours from the nearest town, and five hours from her house, was some rather horrible way of seeking revenge for all the beating she'd done on it to get it working again.
Her Father would start to panic if she didn't get home soon, and her phone was dead. She had just been out camping with Black*Star and Tsubaki, and of course had to insist on driving herself home like a complete idiot.
She then decided there was only one thing to do. Kicking open the door (it stuck unless you applied force) she slipped out onto the road, throwing everything she wanted from her car into her duffel bag, before slamming the door shut and locking it for good measure. She would be back at some point—at least she'd pulled over into an abandoned field before it broke down.
Then, her dignity faltering, she marched to the side of the road, crinkling her nose and sticking out her thumb like her Mother had done the night she left Papa. With her duffel bag at her feet, her slightly sooty face and hair forced into pigtails, she was sure she looked like a homeless person. Hopefully the miserable wreck of her beloved rustic truck behind her would help her case.
A car whizzed by her, the occupant glancing towards her before staring more determinedly at the road ahead, as if not looking at Maka would make her disappear. So this was not going to be as easy as she had hoped. It was after several more cars raced past that she decided she needed to up her game.
She made her green eyes even bigger then before, staring at each car with a pouting expression, her whole body practically begging them to help her out. Needless to say, another two hours passed before someone stopped in front of her.
The car that finally stopped was a truck like hers, except it was considerably newer then hers had been, it looked like one of the latest models, all shiny paint and fancy windshield wipers. The truck pulled to a stop in front of her, and the passenger door flipped open, nearly whacking her in the face. Slightly nervous, Maka peered into the car.
The boy sitting inside was around her age she assumed, and was utterly odd looking. He had white spiky hair held back by a black headband thing, eyes that were almost red, and sharp teeth. When most people saw him, she assumed they went the opposite direction. Maka was not most people, and she most certainly didn't judge based on appearance. Take her Papa for example, as pretty as a butterfly and yet that didn't stop him from cheating on her Mama many times over, it just enhanced it.
Still, she was bit wary to get into the vehicle. Wasn't she supposed to go with a family? Parents were a safer bet then this…boy.
"Are you gonna get in?" he asked rather abruptly, and she surprised to find his voice was deep and oddly soothing.
"I've taken self-defense class," she warned, figuring that no families were going to pass by and take her in any time soon. The boy simply rolled his eyes.
"I'm not going to try anything," he promised her, and something made her believe him. She hoisted her bag into the truck first, wedging it in-between her feet. She had slipped her pepper spray into her pocket earlier, and reached down to press it lightly with her fingers before reaching up and clasping the seat belt around her.
"Soul Evans," the boy introduced, reaching out a hand for her to shake. She took it cautiously.
"Maka Albarn," she replied, "Thank you."
"No problem. I had a truck like that around a year ago—and it totally left me stranded. I had to walk five hours before I could get to a phone," he shook his head, as if still mourning those wasted hours of his life, "I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone." She let a laugh escape her lips as he revved the engine and pulled back onto the road.
"Where are you headed?" she thought to ask around ten minutes later, doubts filling her head once again. What the hell was she thinking, getting in the car with some odd boy? Liz would have her head for this, her friend was always talking about being careful around boys.
"Death City," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "just moving there now." She twisted in her seat so she could get a better view of his truck bed, which was indeed filled with boxes.
"You didn't hire movers?" she asked curiously.
"Didn't want to take that much stuff," he said, but didn't elaborate.
"Well I guess I got into the right car, because that's where I live," she said, fiddling with her skirt. He looked at her in surprise, and then grinned.
"So I met someone before I even moved in? Sweet."
"Yeah, I can teach you all you need to know about my city," she said proudly, propping her feet on the dashboard. It was that moment that she decided she like Soul. He didn't tell her to get her feet off the board, just rolled his eyes and kept his eyes on the road like she wasn't marring his car with her dirty boot prints.
"Like what?" he prompted her, actual curiosity in his voice.
"What food places you should not go into," she crinkled her nose, "trust me, I've had some bad sushi." He laughed, and she continued, "the hot spots, or the 'hot spots' according to my friend Black*Star, I've never actually been to them, where the libraries are—"
"Oh so you're a book reader," he said, laughing, "That explains so much."
"Like what?" she said defensively, bringing her feet back to her bag, where her collection of Harry Potter books was held. He better not be a book hater.
"You're obviously such a nerd," he said, smiling so she didn't feel like it was such a terrible insult.
"You're obviously a punk," she retorted, although the comment wasn't entirely true. He dressed like one certainly (at least to her definition of punk) with his band shirt and ripped jeans, but his car was clean and she couldn't smell any alcohol or cigarettes on him.
"Thank you," he scoffed, as if he could detect her lie. "Oh shit," he groaned, "traffic jam." Sure enough, the cars ahead of them were all slammed to a complete halt, sometimes inching forward only to stop again. It had come on so suddenly—or maybe she had been to busy talking to notice—but still this was not good. She groaned, thumping her head against the passenger window.
"Do you have a phone?" she asked him, and he shook his head.
"Not anymore. My parents took me off their bill, and I haven't gotten it set up yet," he said as he brought the truck to a smooth stop.
"Great," she grumbled, "so I get another lecture from him."
"Your boyfriend?" Soul deadpanned.
"My Father," she rolled her eyes, "I moved out years ago but for whatever reason he thinks he still needs to check up on me every couple hours." Soul whistled.
"What about your Mom?"
"She's traveling," Maka waved a hand, "they divorced when I was sixteen," at his sympathetic look she added, "It was for the better honestly." He nodded.
"Sometimes I wish my parents would divorce—but I doesn't matter anymore, because I'm finally getting out." She smiled as well.
"Getting out is good," she agreed, "That's what Mama did when she left Papa. Honestly, he's a good man but a terrible husband and Father."
"Drinks?"
"Sleeps with to many women," she laughed suddenly, "I never tell anyone this and yet I'm telling it to you, some random stranger that's giving me a ride home."
"Sometimes a stranger is all you need," is all he says in reply. She stared down at her clasped hands, how pale they are, the bitten nails that she never paints fancy colors. Strangers.
They don't say much the rest of the trip into the city.
Acquaintances
Several weeks and a new car later, she's nearly forgotten about the strange boy that gave her a ride home. Whenever he does rise to the forefront of her mind, she shoves him back into the part reserved for people who she's never going to meet again.
Of course that's a lie. She finds herself—and Death City is a very big city—looking for him everywhere, because he just moved here, and maybe he would like to be friends with her.
That notion is insane, even to her crazy imagination, just because you have a friendly conversation with someone doesn't mean they're obligated to be your friend—especially a flat chested, nerdy person like her. Still the fact that he knows where she lives haunts her, because obviously he doesn't want to talk to her again or he already would have.
So she's rather surprised when he knocks on her door. He's chosen an awful time to come knocking, she's decided to take a lazy day, her hair is tied in a loose bun at the back of her head, knotted strands hanging around her face—and she's wearing a baggy sweatshirt and sweats. She's expecting the pizza deliveryman, so she's surprised to see Soul instead, holding out her freshly baked pizza.
"Sorry, the man was coming up the stairs and I thought I would save him the trouble—" he stammered, and she took the pizza from his arms.
"Hey," she cuts off his excuse, leaning against the doorframe, trying not to look like she had been thinking about him at all.
"I was wondering—" he said, "if I could take you up on that offer of teaching me about where to go and where not to about the city. I swear I've gotten lost like thirty times."
"Sure," she said calmly, "but we'll start tomorrow. Want to come in for a slice?" she holds the pizza out temptingly, and he grins.
"I'd love to."
Friends
"How can you not like music?" he demanded of her the second time they got pizza together. She'd known him for about a month now, and they were now trying to learn things about each other they didn't know before, so they could become better friends. She shrugged under his intense gaze.
"I don't know, I just never got it," she said lightly, taking an extra cheesy piece of pizza to her lips. Soul continued to look at her with his mouth open. "Stop staring," she chided to him, once she'd swallowed the doughy mess down.
"I don't think we can be friends," he deadpanned, his expression serious. She laughed, gesturing towards him with her pizza.
"This is what everyone does when I tell them!" she laughed, "although you're the only one who's reacted quite so seriously."
"My parents raised me on music," he said around a mouthful, "not liking music for me is like not me not liking—" he searched for the right word, "books to you." She looked him straight in the eye, her expression deadly.
"You better be joking," she threatened.
"I just never got it," he mimicked her, "Stop staring," he covered his face with his hands, "Your eyes can stare into my soul woman."
"We can't be friends," she said shaking her head, "we're to different." Then they were both laughing, because even though they'd only known each other for a month, the notion was impossible. They may argue like cats and dogs sometimes, but she already couldn't imagine life without him.
Best Friends
She didn't know why she was introducing Soul to the rest of her friends. The group she chose to surround herself with on a daily basis wasn't exactly…normal.
Still, after much nagging from both parties, she finally invited both of them to dinner. She couldn't stop worrying about it either—mostly because Black*Star was a total jackass, and she could so totally see him screwing up this beautiful new friendship she had with Soul. That blue haired brat had a habit of doing that—even if it wasn't on purpose.
She was thanking the stars when her doorbell rang and it was Soul who answered, wonderfully early. She smiled at him in greeting, taking notice of the wine bottle he held. Great, if there was one thing that didn't mix with her friends, it was good alcohol. It wasn't that they didn't like it—it was that they liked it too much.
Still she took the bottle from his hands and set it on the table, before leaning over to give him a welcome hug. He held her tightly for a moment—long enough for her heart to speed up, before releasing her carefully.
"Thank you for coming early," she said, remembering now that she asked him to come earlier then usual.
"Sure, what did you want to talk to me about?"
"My friends," she explained, "Some of them are kind of… eccentric." She chose her words carefully, not wanting to scare him off before dinner even began.
"Eccentric how?" he questioned, his eyebrows knitting together.
"Liz likes to flirt, Patty likes to draw, Kid is obsessed with symmetry, Black*Star is full of himself, and you'll probably love Tsubaki."
True to her word, Soul not only got chastised for not being symmetrical enough, but Liz also attempted to flirt with him, at least until he politely rejected her. No, those parts of the night weren't surprising; it was more the face that he got along so well with Black Star. Seriously, who got along with that kid?
"I would keep a close eye on that boy," Liz whispered to her later that night, while Maka watched with amusement as Black Star and Soul made plans to play Xbox later that week, "he's definitely gonna get snatched up soon if you don't do something."
Which of course made her as red as a tomato.
Roommates
"What's wrong?" she asked him one afternoon—she was sitting in his apartment, her feet tucked under her and a book in her lap. She often spent afternoons like this, at least now—after knowing each other for around a year (boy does time fly) they could safely call each other 'best friends'.
Soul had been loudly playing his guitar to her protests, before he went to get the mail. Now he just stood like a statue, the red envelope held tightly in his grip like he wanted to burn it to ashes. His ruby eyes flicked up towards her, and he tossed the letter towards her. She caught it before it could whack her in the face, frowning down at it.
"Will you open and read it for me?" he asked in a shaky sort of voice. She nodded, taking care to peel open the envelope without tearing the paper. It was rather dorky that she could tell someone sent this with a lot of money just by the quality of the envelope, but well she could so here they were.
The letter was typed on creamy paper, and as she pulled it out—scanning over the words neatly printed on their, her eyes widened.
"This is from your parents?" she asked him, her eyes wide.
"What does it say?" he asked hoarsely, his eyes fluttering shut.
"Just that you aren't to use their name to buy anything anymore, as you've decided your place in their family," she said leaving out the coldness the letter had originally intended for him to read. Soul let out a deep breath.
"Figured it was something like that," he mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket.
"Are you in need of money?" she questioned him softly; her rent was paid by her Father, since she was still in college.
"Doesn't matter," he shot back, "drop it." She stood up.
"I will not," she said proudly, "Well, you helped me out with my car—"
"That was like a year ago—"
"So I'm going to help—"
"I'm not going to take any money from you Maka."
"I'm not suggesting that," she waggled her finger in front of his face so he'd be quiet. "You should just move in with me," He went white, and then red.
"Move in… With you?" he asked, and she nodded.
"You don't have to worry about rent," she said, "I mean if you don't want to, if you'd rather sleep on Black*Star's couch that's fine but I thought—" she was cut off as he caught her in a hug, spinning her around. She let out a happy laugh.
"I'm taking that as a yes?"
Falling in Love
Maka Albarn had very strict guidelines when it came to love. They were like the yellow painted lines on the road; you shouldn't cross them if you wanted to stay safe for sure. If you did cross them, another car coming the opposite way would slam into you and crush you to smithereens.
"Don't trust boys Maka," her Mother had whispered to her the night she left, "They'll always betray you." Maka was twenty-one now, and minus the odd letter she'd get from her, she never heard from her Mother. She basically lived on her own all throughout her high school years, while her Father went out to bars and brought home odd woman that hardly wore any clothes. That was why she refused to be in a room for him for long, and forced her way out at the young age of eighteen. She refused to be apart of his charade any longer.
Still she could no longer say her feelings for Soul were completely platonic. Now she wondered if they never had been. She had become aware of these…fluttering's in her stomach when he moved in with her around five months ago—just until he got back on his feet he swore to her.
Soul hardly ever slept with a shirt on, and the first couple nights it had shocked her, wandering into her kitchen in the middle of night to get a glass of water and finding him leaning against the counter, guzzling milk from the carton. Of course she had smacked him across the head for that disgusting behavior, but as she told him off her eyes had kept wandering downward towards the toned abs he certainly did possess.
It kept going, mostly because Soul was so fucking likable, with his red eyes and sharp teeth and odd little laugh—but she had surrounded herself with painted yellow lines, and she couldn't give that up so easily.
"Yo Maka," Soul barged into the living room, and she sat straight up, a look of panic coming across before she realized that there was no way Soul could read minds, and that her thoughts were safe.
"How was your day?" she asked curiously, he had started his new job (at a fancy recording studio nonetheless) and she honestly wanted to know how it went.
"Awesome!" he exclaimed, and proceeded to tell her every aspect, and then finished with, "I'll be out of your hair soon Maka."
She pretended that she was totally fine with that idea, but instead she was not okay at all.
...
Frantic Confessions
It took until he had earned enough money to actually move out that she snapped. She loved having Soul here, drinking milk from the carton, playing his guitar late into the night, deleting her recordings on the TV, messing up her hair, infuriating her to the point of insanity, and just being the Soul she knew and had come to love.
"Yeah, so I'm gonna look for a place tomorrow, so you'll have your apartment back to normal in no time—" Soul began, shoveling a piece of toast into his mouth.
"You can't leave," Maka suddenly spoke, her voice reaching an octave higher then she was used to. Soul looked at her in surprise.
"What do you mean I can't leave?" he asked her, "This was just so I could get back on my feet, I don't want to mooch off you anymore—"
"You're not mooching," she protested. He looked at incredulously
"What is this about?" he asked, "because you've always said that you wanted me out as soon as possible."
"I don't," she mumbled.
"What?"
"I said I don't want you gone," she said through gritted teeth, her voice louder then before. Soul looked stunned for a moment.
"Maka—"
"I hate you," she said suddenly, and a hurt expression came to life on his face, his stupid fucking face with that stupid fucking smile and those stupid fucking canines—
"If you hate me, why don't you want me to leave?" He sounded more confused then ever.
"Because I love you, you stupid idiot and I don't want to!" she suddenly shouted, tearing her eyes away from his. "I don't want to."
"This is about your parents isn't it?" he asked, his ruby eyes narrowing. Not trusting her voice, Maka nodded. Soul stood up from where he was sitting, eating breakfast, and crossed over to where she sat. He bent down before her, and took both of her hands in his.
"I'm always gonna have your back," he began in a soothing voice that was decidedly not Soul, and then he sighed. "Shit Maka, I'm not your asshole of a Father, and you're not your Mom. You know that."
"I know," she repeated.
"So what's holding you back?" he asked her, "because the only think holding me back at this point is you."
"What?" she asked quietly.
"I think you heard me Maka," he smiled. "I fucking love you."
She laughed. "I fucking love you too."
"So… are we dating now?" he questioned, his eyes wide and hopeful.
"I think you need to kiss me first," she whispered, and he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.
Sometimes yellow lines needed to be repainted.