Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.
lost in the moment
by. Poisoned Scarlett
He was always so well-dressed, well-mannered, and courteous; a dream come true. Prince Charming, if he were real. The slate-gray suit was custom tailored, bringing attention to his strong frame, his long legs. She swore she could see him coming from the mere shine of his cufflinks, the black polish of his shoes. His silver hair was always combed back neatly, cropped short, and he always wore a friendly smile when he approached her—or anyone, really, he was absolutely charming to all he met.
"Good afternoon, Miss Albarn!" He would always greet her with a mega-watt smile that made a few of the other teachers swoon. "How was Gil today? He didn't give you too much trouble, did he?" He was always so formal, so polite, sometimes Maka had trouble speaking to him simply because joking around seemed inappropriate with someone who exuded such an air of aristocracy. Maka Albarn, second grade teacher at Death City Elementary, almost couldn't believe that Wes Evans married none other than Blair Lanterne, the easiest woman on the block a few years back.
Maka first met her during freshman year in high school. At the time, Blair was twenty one and living it up. The woman often dropped by to drape herself over whom Maka scathingly recalled as jerk-face Soul Eater, who'd always flush a terrible scarlet and bark the most obscene names at the woman for causing a scene again. Generally, Maka crept past them without being noticed, but sometimes she caught the older woman's eyes trailing after her as she continued on her way home.
She never knew why.
She kind of didn't want to, either. Blair was the type of woman Maka disdained, and still did.
"Miss Albarn! Miss Albarn!" Gilbert Evans cut through her reverie, jumping up from his seat. He rushed to her, shoving a worksheet in her face. His eyes were bright blue, his hair a dark gray compared to his father's silver. "I'm done! I'm first!"
"Very good, Gil!" Maka laughed warmly, taking the paper from his hand. "Did you finish your other worksheet, too?"
"Uh huh! Lemme' get it!" Gil enthusiastically replied, dashing over to his desk to retrieve it. Gilbert Evans was the most adorable little thing she'd ever come across and Maka had taught quite a lot of students in her four years as an elementary school teacher. However, Gil happened to be her favorite student of all: he was a very quick learner, lively if not easily-excited, and always gave it his all in his studies. Although he had a problem with being too social most times, she was sure that he would grow out of it as most kids did by the time they reached middle school.
"Here!" He handed her the paper, beaming up at her. Maka smiled back and took out her infamous red marker. She checked off a few problems and his smile faltered, but she was quick to ruffle his hair and tell him he should focus a little more on quality rather than trying to beat the clock.
"Why don't you finish this one at home?" Maka suggested, glancing at the time. "It's almost time to go! Alright, everyone!" Maka stood up, watching her students look at her with sudden glee. She wearily noticed not even half of them finished the second worksheet. At least Gil had tried. "If you didn't finish your worksheets, I want you to take them home as homework and return them to me by tomorrow, okay? I mean it, you have to finish them!" Maka sternly said, eying each and every one of her students sternly.
"Don't worry, Miss Albarn, I swear I'll do it! I'll get Uncle to help me on it! Just watch!" Gilbert promised her. Maka nodded patiently at him and watched him skip back to his friends, shoving his homework in his folder with the reckless abandon of a child.
"Alright, pack up and get in alphabetical order by the door!" Maka ordered as she walked to the door with Gil in tow. It took some time, organizing her students and waving at them to stand still for a few seconds, but once they were obediently in line, Maka ushered them down the hall to the front of the school where the parents were expecting their children.
It was the same routine every day: Maka would wave or hug the child goodbye when they pointed out their parents to her. But today was different because Gil exploded with an enthusiasm not usually reserved for his father.
"I just want you see him! He's so cool!"
"Your dad is pretty cool," Maka commented as she waved two students off.
"No, no, no! He's not cool, he's just…ok, my—LOOK! YES!" Gil laughed joyously, tugging on the hem of Maka's shirt. "There's my uncle! You see him? Look! He's the coolest uncle ever!" He pointed toward a lean man's approaching figure. The sight made her pause, look a little longer than necessary. He was a stark contrast to Wes' business-professional look. This mans bleached white hair was unruly, kept back by a black headband. His sturdy black leather jacket, paired with black jeans and sleek black sneakers, reflected a much different message than Wes' responsible and mature. Not to mention that wide, sharp-toothed, grin on his face, those glinting, garnet, eyes hidden under stray strands of white hair, that slouched posture, a vaguely familiar one. It was extremely appealing, she thought to herself, a lot of his traits appealed to her a little more than they should have.
They appealed to her in a very familiar fashion and Maka felt her stomach drop when she realized why.
"You're not Wes," Maka immediately said, cocking her head at him. She knew him from somewhere, but surely it couldn't be that Soul, Maka thought uneasily. This had to be a coincidence, she added desperately. But the more she stared at him, the more she recognized him. She could very easily see how this lean and strong man was once the lanky and too-cool kid from when she was a teen. "Are you related to him?" she asked in a last ditch effort.
"Name's Soul," he drawled, startling her with the deep pitch of his voice. It was smooth, even. It was pleasant on the ears and horrifyingly familiar. She had been right. She had been right and she had checked him out—Maka had never wanted to burn her treacherous eyes more than she did in that moment. "Ah. I see. You must be the teacher Gil has a crush on." He threw his head back in laughter when Gil pounded his fists into his stomach, whining for him to shut up before he told his dad. "I'm Wes' brother. I'm picking him up today."
"That explains the resemblance," Maka commented with a clear of her throat, smiling tightly at Gil when he looked up with a pout. She felt slightly sick to the stomach for blatantly checking out the guy she hated in high school. "Don't forget your homework tomorrow, Gil. I don't want to have to phone your dad again."
"I won't! Promise!" Gil insisted, standing beside Soul, seemingly over his embarrassment.
"If you don't forget it on the kitchen table again," Soul snorted when Gil whined he wouldn't; he was a man of his word, like his father.
"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Gil!" Maka beamed, kneeling down to give the boy a friendly hug of goodbye when he threw his arms wide open. The corner of her lip twitched when he didn't let go, forcing her to tug back to no avail. She caught his giggling and she sighed. "C'mon, Gil, let go! You're the last one! I have to go pack up my own things so I can go home!"
"Quit being a brat," Soul grabbed the back of the boy's shirt, ripping him off Maka in one pull like Velcro. "Go get in the car! I'll be with you in a bit!" Maka watched as Soul pushed Gil down to the car he had parked on the curb, the little boy waving back at her laughingly before running to the passenger seat to buckle himself in. "Jeez, no wonder he's all over you…."
"What?" Maka frowned at the implication. "I give all my kids hugs if they want. I'm not treating him any different than any of the others."
"Yeah, but he's seven. No need to break his heart so early."
"Oh, as if!" Maka snorted, crossing her arms. "He's seven – he has no idea what love is. Gil gets along with me better than any of his other teachers because my class is smaller. I can dedicate more attention to him – by the way, he's struggling with fractions."
"I'd be struggling, too. I hate that shit."
Maka cocked a brow. "Well, he needs to at least recognize that a half is like half of one hundred; fifty. He's always talking in class. I'd tell Wes to sit him down so he could stop talking so much with his friends."
"I'll be sure to relay the message." Soul drawled, and a little smirk crawled on his face. "Maka. Or is it Ms. Maka now? Or do you prefer Ms. Albarn?"
She stilled and turned to him, unnerved he remembered her. For a second there, she was relieved he hadn't recognized! Here she thought he had forgotten all about her – plain, prudish, bookworm, Maka Albarn! She seethed. "How do you know my name? I don't think we've met before." She ground out for formalities sake.
"That hurts, Maka," Soul mocked, turning on his heel as Gil began to shout at Soul to hurry up, scowling at how much time he was spending with his teacher. "Don't you remember? We used to go to high school together. You were always holed up in the library – I'm not surprised you ended up being a teacher."
It was silent for a moment before her eyes slit and her expression finally grew hostile. She reminded Soul of a bristling cat, ready to claw his face off. He wasn't all that off-target.
"Soul Eater!" Maka hissed, dropping the act.
Soul grinned. "In the flesh."
"Ugh! Here I thought you hadn't recognized me, you shithead. Get out of my face!"
"Still sore about that one time Black Star hid all your books in sophomore year?"
"You broke into my locker and he stole all of my textbooks! I needed those for class, you jerk!" Maka snapped, fists clenched by her side. "I had to retake that test because I didn't have my textbook! That was the lowest score I ever got on a test! Ugh, just leave! Gil is waiting for you, and you're not supposed to leave a child unattended in a vehicle!" Maka rudely brushed him off, pivoting on her black heels and storming back to her classroom. Soul Eater! Ha! Who knew that guy had enough brain cells to remember someone like her?
She should have seen it from miles ahead, Maka grimly thought, he wasn't that stupid even though she liked to think so. She noticed the resemblance between Wes and Soul now, however: their silver hair being the foremost similarity. From therein, where Wes had dark, almost black, eyes, Soul had a rose-red color that she'd always found pretty but wasted on someone so arrogant. Wes was also kind, friendly, and polite while Soul remained his opposite: loud, rude, lacked affect, obnoxious, haughty, mocking, sarcastic, morbid….!
"Would it make any difference if I said I'm sorry and I've learned from my mistakes?" He shouted with hands cupped around his mouth.
"NO!" She screeched, bristling when she caught his laughter. She slammed the door to her classroom opened and went to her desk, packing up her things while she muttered obscenities under her breath. Blair had always teased Soul lewdly at school when she dropped by…that was probably the only time he could look flustered and furious. Otherwise, he was either calm and collected or grinning and rambunctious.
Not to mention a jerk and a bully!
"Stupid Soul!"
She dearly hoped Gil would take after Wes and not Soul.
"Uncle Soul helped me with the fractions, Miss Albarn!" Gil beamed up at her the next day, his hair starting to resemble Soul's in its spikiness. She dearly hoped this was only a passing phase for the boy—he had so much potential to be a kind, well-meaning, adult. Not a trouble-making loser like his uncle.
Maka forced on a smile for his sake. "Oh, did he? That's great. Let me see what you know!" A small part of her hoped Soul had been completely wrong but when Gil explained a few problems to her, Maka begrudgingly admitted that at least Soul could teach a kid a few things that didn't involve picking locks or stealing books from lockers…
"Oh! Oh! I forgot to give you something!" Gil gasped, running over to his desk to take out a small envelop.
"What is it, Gil?"
"Uncle Soul asked me to give you this!" Gil happily said, holding it up to her with wide eyes. Maka took it from him hesitantly, her finger running under the flap. Other kids peered over, too, and Maka stepped away from their wandering eyes. "Open it! I wanna' see, too! I wanna' see!" Gil eagerly said, jumping up to get another look.
Maka held the letter away from him. "Ah, ah! Get back to work, Gil. You have twenty minutes before I collect it!"
"Aww!"
"Come on. Start working! I'll open this later." Maka giggled and walked back to her desk. She sat down and placed the letter on her desk. She had no idea what was inside but felt a swell of hope that it was an apology letter. Then she remembered this was Soul Eater, notorious for awful pranks and other idiocies, and Maka snarled low in her throat and tossed the letter into one of her drawers.
It was probably some stupid letter, another prank from the infamous prankster! There was no use getting her hopes up. She liked to believe people like him didn't change. Immature, stupid, and mean! Maka felt those old feelings of animosity and hurt rise up her throat.
She locked the drawer for extra measure.
She didn't need her curiosity to get the best of her during school hours. She also didn't need one stupid letter to ruin her entire day. Another student raised their hand and Maka went over to help them, successfully ignoring her curiosity for what Soul could have written in the letter.
Maka wondered when he would give it up and if she should just open a letter and see what all the fuss was about. She wasn't falling for his games, however, which was the single thought that kept her from opening the accursed envelops. She'd seen enough throughout high school. She often caught him dumping his locker of love letters, sometimes ripping them while his admirers watched. Sometimes he and Black Star would make fun of the contents as the girl watched from around the corner, the heartless bastards! There was no way Soul Eater could muster up a decent apology letter to her! He was as rotten as the rest, even more since he flaunted it without a care in the world! He didn't seem to have a single kind bone in his body—just like his imbecile of a best friend Black Star!
Or that's what she told herself, anyway. Maka had trouble keeping her hands away from the drawer during the day now. What if it really was an apology letter? What if he had…changed?
"No, no," Maka shook her head. "Start thinking like that and he'll step all over you," she mumbled to herself. But she was sure Gil had another letter for her today: she could see him squirming in his seat, raising his hand every time she shifted. After a few more seconds of watching Gil jump up and down in his seat and groan loudly, Maka sighed and looked up. "Is something the matter, Gil?"
"Yes! I have to talk to ya', it's important!" He immediately said. His friends gave each other looks and the other students peeked over to see what Gil was taking out of his backpack.
"Alright, bring it here. Quickly, we have other work to do," Maka said, resignedly.
"Here! He says it's really, really important you read it! Life or death important! You have'ta or else Uncle can die!" Gil told her this time, sternly.
"Life or death, hm? I sincerely hope it's the latter…" Maka muttered the last part to herself. She took this envelop from his hand and wondered if she'd toss it in with the last six or burn it when she got home. Maka wondered why he was going so far in the first place. Just what did he expect out of it? That she excuse him for the pranks he pulled on her during high school; for his attitude, everything? That she overlook what Black Star did to her and how he humiliated her while he watched and stifled laughter like some asshole?
The thought fanned her anger.
"Aren't you gonna' open it, Miss Albarn?" Gil asked.
Maka smiled gently and leaned forward. "There are just some things that your uncle can't atone for, Gil. You tell him to stop sending me these silly little letters, okay? I won't read them. Because I won't believe them. If he's ready to apologize, tell him he has to come say it to my face, not to hide behind paper. Apologies should always be said face-to-face," Maka sweetly said and tossed that letter in with the rest of them without another glance.
"Oh…okay! I'll tell him!" Gil nodded, firmly. Maka had a feeling he didn't understand but that was just fine: he didn't need to. This was a matter between adults.
"Alright, how about you go help some of your classmates, huh?" Maka perked up, clapping her hands and sending him a big smile. "They look like they could use your help! But really help them, Gil, don't just talk to them!" She shouted after him, sighing when he instantly started conversation with his friends instead.
Her eyes wondered back to the drawer.
To open or not to open?
Maybe she could laugh at it just like he laughed at those girls' letters.
Maka sighed instead.
She wouldn't be able to do that. She was different: she wouldn't stoop that low. She didn't even think she'd be able to. He'd probably be able to sway her, even if it was a half-hearted apology. She was just too softhearted to hold grudges for so long. It was better if she didn't read them at all—she was not quite ready to forgive Soul for what he had done to her during her high school years.
With her resolve cemented, Maka adamantly ignored the letters that sat innocently in her drawer. She told herself that walking around the classroom was because she felt tired of sitting, not because she couldn't help but wonder just what he'd written to her all of those times…
It turned out that Gil had delivered the message successfully: Soul had come to confront her after all and she admitted she could have handled that a little better.
It had gone something like this:
"Maka—!"
"I'm going to be late."
"Wait – dammit, Maka, listen to me! You said you wanted verbal apology and you're getting one so you better listen well because I won't repeat it – !"
"I'm late for my yoga class. Gil, make sure you do your homework. Okay?"
"Okay, Miss Albarn!"
"Maka, c'mon—! Hey, are you serious? You're just gonna' walk away?"
"Yep."
She guessed sauntering away, not at all acknowledging his presence, was a jerky move on her part. But she'd been meditating on her awful high school days, made worse with Black Star and Soul's joint bullying, and simply couldn't take an apology from him quite yet. Why was he trying so hard, anyway? Had he finally grown a conscious and realized just how much his idiocy had affected her during her adulthood? Sure, it had thickened her skin and made her a force to be reckoned with, but she could have really gone without the name-calling.
Pigtails had never made her more furious and depressed, especially since some people thought it was adorable and continued to call her that despite her forced attempts at diplomacy as she told them to stop calling her that wretched name before she roasted them in their sleep.
But you can't always have what you want, Maka sighed and leaned back on her chair that otherwise pleasant afternoon.
She could try, though.
She gave him props—Soul Eater was some punk-ass kid who was always getting into trouble, but Soul Evans was a persistent, patient, individual who still retained his punk-ass ways in his smirk and glinting eyes. It was a vast improvement, however, as she quietly seethed in her chair in her classroom
He stopped with the letters.
But now he was doing something worse, much worse.
He was absolutely distracting, just like in high school. Only now he wasn't loud, he was too quiet. His hair was too white. His eyes were too red. His entire self was completely emphasized, as if he had a gigantic red target painted on his chest, the longer he sat there in the classroom with her. It rankled her worse than anything else, mainly because her eyes kept darting to him and she couldn't control that.
It didn't help that when they did, they often met his.
Maka crossed a leg over the other while she stared at her computer screen, finishing a homework assignment for her college class while Gil and a few other children sat in their round tables with crayons, plastic coins, and colorful paper splayed across the wooden tops. Alongside some of them sat their mothers or fathers – and across from Gil sat Soul, hands jammed in his pockets as he leaned back in the chair and watched his nephew finish his homework. Or generally watch her, which she was sure was an attempt at making her blow her lid.
It was working.
He was good.
These after-school tutoring sessions served as a way for parents to accompany their children and help them learn the material while becoming familiar with it as well. Usually, it served as babysitting for her, as some parents couldn't pick up their children at dismissal so the children instead waited for their parents with her while working on their homework or some crafts.
Someone neared and Maka paused, looking up curiously. The instant her eyes caught leather, Maka darted her eyes back to her screen and typed nonsense on her keyboard, intent on ignoring Soul. She needed to finish this assignment anyway, Maka thought to herself when he stood before her, and if Gil needed anything then the boy would bounce up to her on his own! He was self-sufficient that way and, for once, Maka was glad for it.
His shoe tapped idly on the tiled floor.
It got on her nerves.
She could only stand his obvious tapping for so long before her fingers halted mid-type and she took in a controlled breath. "Yes?" Maka asked through her teeth, raising her dark eyes to his cool ones. "Is there something you need…Soul?"
"Are you seriously gonna' hold a grudge against me for something I did to you when I was fifteen?" He said instead and Maka scoffed, her forest eyes darkening a little more.
"That wasn't the only thing you two did to me – might I remind you that you two nearly made our AP exams invalid when you walked in during the middle of testing asking for pizza? And Black Star always picked on me! He gave me that ridiculous nickname that someone always has the balls to call me!" She exclaimed, hotly.
"Nickname?" Soul furrowed his brows. His eyes lit up. "Pigtails?"
Maka slit her eyes.
Soul immediately added, "Black Star started that, though, not me," and cringed when her emerald eyes narrowed with further dislike. This was not going as he planned it would. Then again, when it came to her, nothing ever went as planned. It was one of the reasons he never got the guts – more like chance, since all of his chances were always ruined one way or another – to ask her to the Spring Fling. Or the Valentine's Day Dance. Or Homecoming. Or Winter Formal. Or Prom. Or any of the other dances their school hosted since he was a sophomore. And somehow, he was unable to even apologize to her for being, he admitted, second-hand mean to her during high school…
"You were always with that idiot!" Maka whispered, conscious of the nosy parents eying them. "And you did nothing more than laugh and laugh some more when everyone else laughed at me!" She reminded bitingly. She remembered the humiliation very well, as well as the embarrassment when Black Star had the unsightly nickname 'pigtails' pinned on her. She had even weighed the pros and cons of adopting a new hairstyle before her pride kicked in and she braved through it until graduation.
"Look, I'm not making any excuses," Soul began after a few seconds of letting her cool off, scratching the back of his head anxiously. Maka looked up at the sudden tone change, from amused to awkward and remorseful. "It wasn't cool to pick on you so much. I did tell Black Star to lay off you at one point but he can be a real dick when he wants to be," Soul shifted his eyes to hers, adding apologetically: "So, I'm sorry for calling you pigtails so much and making fun of you. I didn't mean it meanly, I meant it more like a tease—yeah, I know, didn't translate that well. I get it now," he added when she arched a sharp brow. "But I didn't mean it that way. Black Star did, but I was a total moron in high school for following him around, alright, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay, I know better now and I know I fucked up. And I'm sorry for making you fail that test. And spilling coffee on your notebook," he added.
"Oh! I forgot about that one!"
Soul looked pained at the thought of making this harder on himself.
"But that was more of an accident…" She added as an afterthought, remembering he'd apologized and left to get her some napkins before following his friends out of the cafeteria.
"It was still uncool…I was uncool," he admitted. "And I hope you can forgive me for being so uncool to you when we were in high school."
Maka wanted to stay scorned. It was easier for her to handle someone like Soul when she felt resentment, but she had never been a creature to hold grudges after such a sincere apology. He looked truly remorseful, red eyes downcast and brows creased and all. This was as close to a formal apology she would get from Soul, too, which was what prompted her to grumble: "…Okay."
He perked up, hopeful.
"I forgive you—but only this once! If this is a prank or some sort of sick joke…"
"It's not, I promise!"
She studied his eyes for a second before nodding. "I believe you."
He let out a breath and she watched him for a second, how his shoulders lost their strain and a faint smile lifted his lips. She dropped her eyes at the sight, feeling her face warm a little with gladness. He tried so hard to earn her forgiveness—perhaps he was turning over a new leaf and wanted to apologize to all the people he had wronged one way or another? But one more look at him and his jacket and she figured it was probably because she happened to be Gil's second grade teacher. It would be awkward if Soul picked up Wes' son every so often and the teacher hated him….
"I didn't fail that test…"
"Huh?"
"I got an eighty," Maka sighed out. "My notes were in my textbook and since it was open-notes, I didn't study like I usually did."
"That's still pretty good," Soul offered.
"Ox rubbed it in my face for weeks," Maka grimaced. "It wasn't about passing the test; it was about being able to rub my better grade in his face."
"The nerd with the retarded hairstyle was your competition?" Soul leaned back against the desk, watching her lazily from over his shoulder. She laughed a little, that cold expression breaking into the kind face she always wore around Gil. He found his own shoulders relaxing at the expression: she appeared much more approachable than before. She looked like she did when she was with her friends: kind, friendly… pretty.
Really pretty.
She really did some growing up over the years, Soul warily thought.
"Yes, him. He and I were always competing for the highest GPA and at one point we were both tied for first," Maka reminisced. "I won, obviously."
"Someone's conceited."
"It's not being conceited if it's true!"
"Can it, Maka, you're conceited…about your smarts," Soul grinned, turning to rest his elbows on the table while she puffed her cheeks out. From afar, Gil watched them interact with a small frown. He didn't know what his uncle was up to this time, but as they both laughed at something, Gil didn't like it one bit.
Maka admitted it: she got along with Soul better than she thought she would. After his apology, conversation with him was easier. Although he was still testing her limits with his teases, she could safely say he kept everything light and mumbled out apologies when he crossed the line. Which was never, really, only times when she whacked him on the head for being a general idiot—he had never crossed those unspoken lines, had never tried to. Sometimes he thought he did and apologized, though, and it was those times that convinced Maka that he really wasn't a bad guy.
She couldn't see any malice in his actions, either. He was being genuine with her, something she hadn't noticed in their high school years. He spoke to her a few times during those years and she was reminded of it as she spoke to him now—only before, he'd always looked so strung up, always gave her the impression he did not want to be around her. He was a lot more relaxed now, though, and she was just happy to know that at least he wanted to spend time with her.
He had asked her for coffee a few days ago and she had agreed, needing some caffeine to get her through her night classes, and that was where most of their catching up had taken place at. It was also where most of their misunderstandings had been cleared up in.
Definitely, Maka thought with a soft smile, they had misread each other too many times to be fair.
"Is yoga part of your schedule?"
"This college had yoga as a class, and I need something to keep me happy for the kids," Maka shrugged, laughing sheepishly when he snorted. "So I take yoga and unwind myself from a long day at work. It's my final class for the day, before that I take a language class."
He perked up at this. "Oh, what language you trying to learn?"
"French."
He smirked. "French, huh? You like that part of Europe?"
"Mm, a lot, actually. I wanted to move over there—I'm still planning to, maybe after a few more years working here," Maka told him with bright eyes. "I've always been fascinated with the language and I've visited Paris before on vacation. I'd love to live there."
"Wanna' know a secret?" Soul prompted, leaning against her desk. For the past couple of weeks, he had taken to accompanying her near her desk whenever he brought Gil over to finish his homework. Which was a lot, mainly because Wes and now Blair worked and Blair didn't get home, he told her, until about two hours after school ended. So she often had him take him out to eat or babysit him at home until she came, something he figured he might as well do in company of Maka. It also helped that Gil finished his homework in school and could play all he wanted at home.
"What? Please don't tell me you're French, I know you're Welsh. You told me," Maka arched a brow at him.
"Got me," he snorted. "No. I can speak French."
She stared at him. Then her eyes widened like a cat's when he did nothing more than look back, that same amused smile playing on his lips.
"Really?" She gasped, eyes wide. He had to look away: he was hot and his hands were sweaty. How uncool, he groaned to himself.
"Y-yeah. I took French in high school, remember? I had the class with you. I retook it in college in order to learn it well. Then I went over to France for a bit, rented a room in Bordeaux and lived there for like half a year," he grinned when she leaned forward, absolutely starry-eyed at the thought. One reckless decision that had its benefits, Soul thought as he answered all of Maka's enthusiastic questions.
"Is the architecture really as—!"
"Miss Albarn, can you grade my paper?" Gil loudly said, stomping in-between them. Maka blinked but nodded, taking the worksheet from Gil and walking over to her desk for a felt marker while Soul set his sight on the smaller boy standing before him.
"Oi. That's rude, what'd Blair tell you about cutting into other people's conversations?"
Gil only shifted, not looking at him.
"Gil?"
He didn't look at him.
"What's with that face? You okay?" Soul frowned, watching his nephew sour and look away. "Hey, I asked you a question. Gil. Gilbert!"
"You said you'd only come one time with me!" Gil finally snapped, watching Maka mark a question as she skimmed the answers. "'Cuz…cuz dad couldn't come! But now you're always coming and – and talking…to her…"
"What's that supposed to mean? I thought you liked hanging out with me," Soul frowned, watching his nephew shift on his other foot. "What's the real problem, huh?" Soul leaned over a bit, scrutinizing his troubled face.
"…Umm…" And he snuck a look at his teacher.
Immediately, Soul understood and a grin cracked his face. "Listen here, Gil, I'll give you some advice," Soul drawled, leaning down a bit more when the boy looked up at him curiously. "Maka's way too old for you. You're seven. She's twenty five. You do the math, kid, it won't work out. But it can with me. So let me deal with this," he flatly told him, watching him deflate a little. He glanced at Maka and then back at Gilbert. "I got this."
He hoped he did because if he didn't then that was just sad.
And not to mention completely uncool because you'd think that after all these years, he'd muster up enough courage to ask his high school crush on a date. But he was working up to that! He needed to time it right. There was a time and place for everything and although this might be the place, it certainly wasn't the time.
"That's not true! I can so!" Gil whined. "She – she isn't that big! I'm gonna' be eight!"
"Gil, I thought you liked that other girl that sits next to you during class," Soul groaned, sighing again when he began to argue the clear differences between that girl and Miss Maka. This kid was unbelievable – he was jealous about the amount of time he spent with Maka! It was no wonder he'd been grouchier towards him!
"Gil, go back to correct the ones you got wrong. Did you rush through it or what? You got more wrong than usual," Maka told him as she returned, handing him his sheet back. "If you need any help, just call for me, okay?"
"I need help!" He immediately said.
Soul resisted slapping a hand over his face. He had no tact, either.
"Oh," Maka sent Soul a suspicious look. "Okay. Come on, then. Soul, can you shut my computer and put it in my bag for me, please?" Maka asked over her shoulder while Gil dragged her to his desk.
"Sure…" Soul did as he was told once Gil was seated, Maka hovering over him maternally.
Simply because his nephew happened to have a massive crush on his teacher didn't mean that would deter Soul from her. After all, Soul's feelings for the second grade teacher clearly out-weighed Gil's, if he had any say. It had been, what, nine years or so since he went to school with her and he was still crushing hard on her? He could even go as far to say he was in love with her since she was the only girl who had survived the task of time and remained close to his heart.
It got on his nerves. He thought he got over her after high school—he even dated a chick in France! Although, now that he thought about it, it hadn't lasted very long.
She might have had green eyes.
She might have had blonde hair, too.
Soul ran a hand down his face—she might have looked like Maka, now that he really thought about it. He hadn't realized it at the time, but now it was very obvious. Maka had filled out that schema for the woman he wanted to spend his life with, and replicas hadn't boded well.
Soul looked at her as she helped Gil, how her hair fell down her cheek and how her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. She was such an adorable girl in high school, but now she was just plain pretty—there was hints of her old childishness, in the way she laughed and how she smiled, but he could see how time had changed her.
Maka had clearly gone through some major changes since he last saw her all those years ago – for one, he'd have to bite his tongue on calling her tiny-tits. Two, she'd filled out quite nicely. Nice and svelte, just his type as it happened (although, to be fair, she had always been his type). But one thing that hadn't changed, he decided, were her childish features – those wide emerald eyes, chubby cheeks, that sweet smile that always seemed to linger on her lips. She was beautiful when she smiled and now that he was older he wondered what compelled Black Star to call her names behind her back. She was clearly a naturally pretty girl, if that idiot couldn't see it…
He meandered over to them, standing behind Maka for a moment before peeking over her shoulder to the question she was explaining. When he saw it, Soul was convinced that Gil was just trying to get her to spend more time with him. It bugged him. Was he seriously going to compete against a seven year old now?
He probably would.
That bugged him even more.
It bugged him just how easily, without even trying, Maka managed to make his cool melt away like ice on sun-beat concrete.
"It's nineteen, Gil, you know that," Soul rolled his eyes, stiffening when Maka suddenly straightened. Her back bumped against his chest, his hand reaching out for her elbow to steady her. They stilled for a split second, both very aware of how close they were, before Soul took a step back and Maka hastily made her way beside the desk, flattening her hands over her skirt as nervous habit forced her to, pink dusting her cheeks.
"Nu uh! She taught me how to do it!" Gil proudly said, glancing at Maka dreamily.
Maka scratched her cheek a bit. "Gil, will you be okay now? I can't give you the answer to each one, and you should know this already. If you don't, then we're going to have to talk to your da—!"
"No! I'll do it right!" Gil quickly said, fearing his father. That seemed to be the ticket for Gil focused on his work, both adults fading into the background. Soul came up beside Maka, glancing down at her as she glanced around the room to see if anyone else needed her aid.
"He's jealous," Soul flatly said, watching her snap her head to him in shock.
"Who? Gil? Of what?"
"Me," Soul smirked when she furrowed her brows, an odd look crossing her face. "You pay more attention to me, obviously."
Maka arched a brow, not exactly denying it. "Now who's being conceited?"
"It's not being conceited if it's true," Soul cheekily tossed back, adding: "Of course you'd pay more attention to a totally cool guy like me. I already told Gil to get over it – you're, what, twenty five?" He snorted.
"Twenty six," Maka corrected with a clear of her throat at his staring because she actually looked twenty three and he was teasing her about twenty five. He didn't take her to be the same age as him. "Gil will have a new teacher next year, I'm sure he'll get over it quickly. It's just a phase. "
"Twenty six, huh? I take it you're not married yet?" Soul asked, gazing at her ring-less finger.
"Oh, no! Not at all!" Maka laughed, sheepishly. "I don't have time for those things right now. I'm really busy between my day job and my night classes. It's weird, though, right…most of our friends in high school are married already."
"Yeah. I know three who are," he added absently. But he wasn't concerned about that, no. He was debating his next move because that was it – all he needed right there in that simple sentence. She didn't have time for 'those things', meaning she did not have time for dating, meaning she was about as single as she could get. It was simply a too-cool situation for Soul. Now he had the affirmative that he had a chance, even a small one. But it was still a chance.
Now all he needed was to convince her he was worth fitting into her hectic schedule, Soul groaned to himself. That would be difficult: Maka had always been a very strict and studious person, no-nonsense and not easy to crack under pressure.
But Soul had always been hardheaded.
Challenges were always welcomed.
And Maka was certainly a challenge he didn't mind taking in the least.
"It's terrible."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is," Maka slumped over in her seat, burying her face in her arms. Soul sat across from her, his ankles crossed under his chair as Maka had a mini-crisis over her awful French accent. She had heard him read a sentence of her French homework out loud and pouted, apparently envious of his seemingly flawless accent.
Cute, even if her envy was misplaced.
"I started off really rough, too. You can't be as bad as I was when I was learning," Soul assured. "Just read it to me so I can help you."
"You'll laugh," Maka accused, her cheeks hot.
"If you keep saying I'll laugh, I'll do it just to spite you."
"...Meanie," she pouted and squealed when he reached over to ruffle her loose hair. She wore it down today, something that shocked him when he met her up at the cafe. She usually wore it up and he had always liked it that way, but now he was more fond of her loose-hair look— the way it fell down her shoulders, her neck, made his heart pick up and his eyes wander. But he always made sure to focus when she talked; no need to make a bad impression, he was walking on thin ice as it was.
She had asked help with her French accent earlier, as she had an oral to present in a week's time, and she had trouble pronouncing various words due to her Japanese background. He wasn't so surprised that her native tongue was Japanese but, just from the little words he managed to squeeze out of her, he could definitely hear how it confused her tongue.
"C'mon, Maka," Soul coaxed. "You wanna' pass this class, right? Or do you wanna' have your rebellious phase now and fail it?"
Maka struggled but eventually she gave in, sitting up straight. She looked so absolutely helpless; it made him want to squeeze her to his chest in an embrace. He refrained, of course—that was all sorts of uncool. And it was uncool to hug an unsuspecting person, a girl, just Maka in general.
"J…J'ai l'après-midi..." and he quirked a smile at the roughness around her words, remembering how he would glare at his worksheets when he was younger. He remembered how, when he moved to Bordeaux and tried to get a job at the local fish market, the owner had a mighty laugh when he introduced himself. He had been who had truly taught Soul how to speak properly, that burly man who called himself Joe Buttaki.
"Wow."
Maka perked up, hopeful.
"You suck, holy—OUCH!"
"Don't you think I know that already?" She fumed.
"You didn't let me finish!" he barked. Maka huffed. "You suck, but you're not as bad as I was when I was learning. I learned how to speak right at my job. When I moved to Bordeaux, my parents restricted access to my bank account."
Maka blinked. "What, isn't that illegal?"
Soul sighed. "It was a shared account. I didn't bother to open up a separate one….so, basically, I was broke aside from what money I took out of the bank before I moved to France. So I needed to get a job."
"You worked over there that half year, right?"
"Yeah, at a fish market, y'know, selling fish, not using my college education at all," he rolled his eyes and Maka giggled. "I like fish, so I figured I could get a decent salary there to pay for my room and my things."
Maka wrinkled her nose. "Ew. I can't believe you did that for half a year."
"You don't like fish?"
Maka shook her head furiously. "It makes me nauseous."
"I don't think we'll be able to get along very well, Ms Albarn," he said, with all seriousness.
Maka grinned cheekily. "I don't think we will, Mr. Evans."
He rolled his eyes. "Anyway, the owner of the market was the one who taught me how to speak French right. I think the only reason he let me work for him was coz he said he liked my jacket and I said, 'Oui, Je t'aime', which basically means I told him I liked him," he pressed his lips together as Maka stifled giggles into her hand. "Which I hadn't meant. But it made 'em laugh and I got the job. I liked working there, it was fun and cool and I built up my vocabulary when I talked with the natives."
"Wow...it sounds like a really wonderful experience."
"Yeah, I lived by the port so I got to learn all the dirty sailor words in French," he grinned toothily.
Maka sighed. "You would be excited about that."
"It helped me out once or twice," he shrugged. He pointed at her paper, holding her gaze as he said, "Finissons, oui?"
"Oh...oui," she pinked, feeling her gut flutter at his stare. Recently, there had been more instances where he would hold her gaze and it would make her want to look away immediately. It didn't help that he was being so kind to her, unlike what she remembered high school Soul to be. He really had done some growing up, she found herself thinking some days. He was no longer that rowdy and rude boy he had been when she first met him.
She found that she rather liked Soul now, liked him a lot.
She hadn't dated since she was in university, giving up mostly because of all the troubles she had with her previous boyfriends, but she was sorely tempted to give dating one last shot. If only one more shot at love, she thought, because she was not getting any younger.
But now came the real difficult part: she had so many issues with her past boyfriends, with them being unable to provide her with the basic trust she needed in order to be true with them. She looked up from her worksheet as Soul explained how to pronounce certain inflections. Would Soul be able to show her he was really a man of his word? Or would he fail like the last three had because they grew tired of constant reassurance and patience and trying?
"You alright?" Soul asked, noticing her blank look.
"O-oh, yeah! I'm fine!"
"What were you staring at?" He asked, glancing behind him a bit.
Maka flushed; he had noticed that, had he? She was about to deny it, but her mouth had other plans: "I was just...that guy over there, looked like someone I knew."
"That guy?" He pointed at a brown-haired guy speaking in low tones with another person. She went along with it, nodding. "Friend?"
"No," she shook her head, looking back down at her worksheet. "It wasn't him, I was mistaken."
"...Boyfriend?" He prompted. Maka tensed. He narrowed his eyes. "Ex?"
She scowled. "Would you drop it?"
"Touchy subject?"
"Isn't it always with an ex?" She deflected.
"I don't know, mine isn't."
She looked back up, curious. "You dated?"
"For a bit, yeah," he shrugged. He leaned back in his chair. "I was only serious with one girl. I met her when I was in France."
"...Was she the reason you moved back here?" She dared ask.
Soul actually laughed at her suggestion. "No! By serious, I meant I lasted like three months with her and then we broke it off coz it wasn't working out. I didn't want," he hesitated here but her curious look egged him on, "I didn't want to just sleep with her, I wanted an actual relationship. Y'know, maybe a decent conversation some days?" He shrugged. "She didn't see it that way, said I was being too sentimental."
"I don't think that's being too sentimental at all. Everyone longs for someone who they can talk to, or relate to," Maka told him softly. She smiled reassuringly when he looked at her. "I think she was wrong in letting someone like you go."
"Someone like me?" he snorted. "You're cute. I'm a lost cause."
"No, you're not."
"You even said it yourself!"
"I was mad at you when I said that," she chuckled. She held his eyes before he could argue. "You're not a lost cause, you're more than that. You're very kind; you're just a little rough around the edges. I think you'd make a great boyfriend."
He stared. He stared and then abruptly sat straight, nearly spilling his coffee over in his haste. Before she could ask if he was fine, he brusquely asked, "What about you? You dated?"
Maka blinked and then nodded. "Y-yeah, during college. I had, um, three relationships but...my first boyfriend was a total jerk," she admitted with a sheepish laugh. "Let's just say he stood me up...a lot, because he was hung over from partying too hard," she winced at the memories. "Second one, he wasn't too bad. He just...never seemed like he was there when we were together, if that makes any sense? It felt like talking to a wall."
He looked like he understood a little too well. He waved her on to continue.
"I dated the third one for about a year," she admitted. His eyes widened: that was a lot longer than he expected and her downcast look made his stomach drop. "He was better. He wasn't a jerk to me, he was really nice, and he listened to me. Just..." She hesitated. She hadn't told anyone the real reason—had told her friends it was just because she hadn't been feeling it anymore. It was partial truth but the real reason had been graver. "I didn't feel like I could trust him. He gave me reasons, but they felt shallow and thin. Most times, he wouldn't tell me where he was. He didn't tell me about his day, he made me tell him about mine. At first, I didn't mind, he was always kind of quiet. But then, when I grew curious about his day...he just waved it off. He waved everything off, even when I asked what his favorite food was or his favorite movie or book," she picked at the hem of her shirt. "So one day, I told him it wasn't working out. I knew next to nothing about him and we'd been together for nearly a year," she laughed bitterly. "He was basically a stranger."
"Maybe he just had trust issues?" Soul offered, not liking the saddened look in her eye. He didn't like seeing her anything but happy. Maka and sad was simply inconceivable; they were to very different words that should never be used in the same sentence.
"No...I asked him if there was someone else. I told him I'd stay if there wasn't. If maybe it was just something he needed time with," Maka paused, feeling old feelings of resentment pool in her chest. Right, she hadn't told anyone because it had been embarrassing, to have been in the same situation as her mother after she told everyone she would never, never fall into that sort of relationship. She looked up at Soul, tired. "He said it was better if we parted ways, before I really hated him. So that kind of explains what happened the entire time."
Soul clenched his fist and held her gaze until she looked away, running her hands through her hair with a blow of air.
"He cheated on you."
"A lot, actually," the corner of her lip down-turned. Perhaps she would have noticed if she hadn't been so caught up in her schoolwork, but even then he had been very sly. Maka doubted she would have really caught him, which was what infuriated her the most. "It wasn't just one, it was various. I find out later, ironically, from my papa."
"Your dad knew the entire time?"
"Kind of. Papa... is a cheater, too," she admitted. "He likes women too much to be tied down, which is why mama divorced him when I was still in high school. So, naturally, he'd know a cheater when he saw one. Of course, he'd always yell at any guy who had my attention—I didn't think any more of it."
"But he found out on his own?" Soul paused. "Uh, hey, wasn't your dad that red-haired guy who picked you up from school? Didn't he work as dean at our school for a bit? Spirit…right?"
Maka looked pained. "Ugh. That year. Yeah, before he was fired for sleeping with the math and gym teacher. At the same time."
Soul stared. "What, that was him?"
Maka rubbed her temples. "It was. Unsurprisingly. After that, he got a job elsewhere, but my papa has always been very paranoid about the boys I date, so he…"
"…stalked the dude, right? What a creep," Soul deadpanned.
Maka smiled. "But it was for a good cause this time. Papa told me about a week after I broke up with him. He felt so accomplished, had video evidence and photographic proof of each girl he'd been seeing behind my back." She laughed as she remembered how proud her papa was at the thought of catching 'that greasy-haired bastard', as he called him, in the act. "So you can guess his glee when I told him I already knew."
"He sounds like a soap opera dad."
"He takes the title of dad too seriously for someone who sleeps with a different woman every week," she dryly told him. He arched a brow. Maka shrugged, holding her hands up. "Papa is a player. He doesn't even try to hide it anymore. He might be kinda' old now, but he's still out there."
"Jeez," Soul grimaced, unable to imagine how it'd feel to have so many women. Well, he could imagine, but the thought of just using them and being used in return gave Soul a stomach ache. He had trouble being too close to people, which was the main reason he was never as adventurous as Black Star when it came to dating. Even with his ex-girlfriend, there had been too many things he kept to himself. Their trust had been thin, he accepted eventually, too thin to ever last. "Talk about being a real womanizer. So uncool."
Maka rolled her eyes; no doubt. "But I'm happy he tried. He was only looking after me," she fiddled with her shirts hem. "He didn't want me to fall into the wrong hands."
"Did you love him?" Soul asked her, tentatively. He could say quite plainly that he had never truly loved someone in that way. He had cared for his girlfriend at the time, but it hadn't hurt him terribly to part ways with her. It had him broody for a week or so, but he had been able to put it behind him. But that world-shaking despair those in love suffered? He had never felt it.
"No," she shook her head. "I never felt like I could trust him, how could I ever love him?" She looked at him as she said this. "None of them. None of them bothered to show me that I could rely on them if I really needed to. I'm more hurt that I allowed that to go on for as long as it did. I'm actually happy that I'm not with him anymore."
"That makes two of us," Soul smirked at her. He leaned back in his chair coolly. "I hear real heartbreak is fucking terrible."
Maka's lips curved into a tiny smile. "Mm. So everyone says. Is it weird that we've been alive for so long and haven't felt it?"
"Nah," he cheeked. "I say we're lucky."
"Or not," she cautioned. "What if we really find someone we can love and they end up breaking our hearts? We'd be severely under-prepared for it, since we've never felt it before."
He smiled softly at her, something that made his eyes a pliable shade of maroon and made her heart yearn for something it shouldn't. Her throat closed up and pleasant shivers ran down her skin as they held each other's eyes, a smile lifting her lips unbidden.
"I don't think she will."
"What if she does?" she asked, daringly.
"She's not that type of person," he assured, leaning back in his seat coolly. "I think she wouldn't love if she didn't think she'd be loved back."
Maka flashed her eyes to her worksheet before she lost herself in his, changing the subject back to the topic at hand. But her night was dreamy, with her hands lingering on his arm as they left the cafe and his side-hug enveloping more of her than before, because she couldn't help but feel as if he was talking about her when he said those things.
And, unexpectedly, that made her very happy.