In the farthest, most secluded cranny of the Shibusen library sat straight-laced, straight A student Maka Albarn. Her flushed face, buried in a book as always, held unwavering and unconditional engrossment on the pages before her. Piles among piles of seldom used books cradled her in a safe haven meant only for the bookish soul.
In a jam-packed girl's restroom next to the equally swarming cafeteria loitered Elizabeth Thompson, the lively head cheerleader and all-American girl. A pack of girls swarmed around her, feeding off of her spirit as she unnecessarily primped up her already flawless makeup. With a flick of her hand, her golden hair swayed behind her perfectly tanned shoulder. If she were to listen closely, she'd notice the collective sigh that this produced.
In the bustling cafeteria dwelled the festive Black Star, standing on a table, one hand holding a turkey leg up to his mouth while he flexed the opposing arm. His loyal subjects sat around him, laughing at the joke he'd just cracked. With a satisfied grin, he flexed both bulging arms, causing the shirt on his back strain.
In a forgotten music classroom Soul Evans nodded to the soft music being played above him. He lay on the floor among a dozen others, relaxing amidst the warm bodies that enjoyed music as much as he did. With a deep sigh, he followed the dancing dust motes with his eyes and ran his hand through an unknown girl's hair. He smiled upon realizing that the motes swayed to the rhythm of the acoustic guitar.
In an empty hallway sat Patricia Thompson, a laptop balanced on her knees. Her eyes were glued to the glowing screen, watching a new episode of her favorite program with the intensity of a thousand suns. She giggled softly at the running gag being played before her, making sure not to disturb her other friend's shows. She almost wished the other girls sitting around her were watching it with her.
Outside, on a terrace, sat Tsubaki Nakatsukasa basking in the gentle sunlight. She could hear the shuffling of her fellow dancers around her, but remained with closed eyes, trying to memorize the steps to her solo. Swift twirls and graceful leaps played out in her head, showering her with the need to get up and move. Were it not because she'd forgotten her pointe shoes, she'd be swaying along with the others.
Down student-free streets ambled the infamous Death the Kid. He pulled a hoodie over his head, as he was weary of the sunlight. If anyone were to question why he was there and not at school, he'd be sure to give them a cold glare to keep them at bay. Not that anyone would dare look his way in the first place; the son of Death was used to being avoided.
"What the fuck do you even eat, Eater? Black Star's dick?"
"Hardly, Kiddo dear. I hear you're into that though."
"How about you two shut the fuck up and pass the pot, huh?"
"HA! ARE YOU TWO GONNA LET A LITTLE GIRL TELL YOU WHAT TO DO?! HAHAHAHA!"
"Jeeze, please be quiet. You're going to give us heart attacks."
"So many pretty colors…" a pause, a giddy giggle, then, "I'm already tripping balls. Goddamn, is that a giraffe?"
"How 'bout all of you shut your fuckin' traps and let me enjoy this hit?"
In a hazy room in the Death residence basement are seven teenagers, all sitting in a vague circle, all highly intoxicated by bittersweet fumes. Soul Evans lays on his back, engaged in a battle for a spot on Maka Albarn's lap. His opponent? Death the Kid's hand. He was losing by a long shot.
Maka sits on a couch cushion, staring at a poster of an incredibly intricate and highly amusing banana.
To her left sits Death the Kid. Despite the unbelievable high he is on, he refuses to let his guard down. One moment he could be seeing the music in the air and the next the asshole Soul could be on Maka's lap, trying to make his move.
On a beanbag sits Black Star, giggling at the talking dog on the television.
On the couch next to him sits Tsubaki, headphones in, thoughts on the music floating with and swaying her.
In the corner sits Patty, one arm protectively wrapped around a giraffe bong while the other is in a bag of chips.
In an empty bath tub sits Liz, joint in hand while her thoughts are far away, somewhere back in Brooklyn.
"Fuck off, Kid. Maka doesn't mind me being on her lap." Began Soul. Hard as he might, he was having a difficult time thinking of how to talk coherently.
"I'd rather not. Don't want your dirty STDs touching her."
"Hey, it's my body, Kid. Don't decide things for me." She stares at the banana a bit more, then adds, "But he's right Soul. I just wanna be on the safe side."
"Not like I haven't touched you before Maka. Might I remind you of New Years day?" Upon hearing this, Kid's heart gets pumping. He riles up and bunches his fist.
"The fuck you say, Eater?"
"Calm your balls Kid. He's talking about the time he tried to fuck me but ended up confusing me with the cat."
"I did not. Whatever. Not like I wanted to sit on you, tiny tits." With that, he stands and hunches off to the bath tub. Kid clenches his jaw and attempts to stand, to teach that piece of asymmetrical meat that no one bad mouths a lady like Maka, but is stopped by a firm hand—better yet fist—to his stomach.
"Calm down. You act as if you didn't know how he gets. Chill. Enjoy this. Look at the banana." There is a fury like no other coursing through him. Never has he ever wanted to beat the shit out of Eater more, but he reminds himself that Maka wouldn't be very pleased if he did. So, he does as she told him to and stares at the banana and follows along to the music playing on someone's speakers.
"It's not like we're even dating," Maka whispers almost inaudibly. Kid hears, but chooses to ignore it.
It would be better for them both if he did.
I honestly have no idea what I just wrote. I'm really tired I guess. Well, I didn't review this so there might be (a lot) of spelling and grammar errors. I'll come back later and fix them. Well, please review and stuff!
-Rina