Okay, second story down! I got this new Writer's Toolbox and I've been experimenting with it lately. This is a product of the experimentation. RxR please! I'm still a newbie, I adore your feedback, it spurs me on!
Also, when things are in italics, those are supposed to be Soul's thoughts. Unless it's just a few words in a sentence, then the italics are for added emphasis. Capiche?
Don't own Soul Eater.
Maka eats green peppers all day long on Wednesday. She mixes them in her eggs that morning for breakfast, brings a bag of them to class as a snack, and loads them onto her measly school sandwich at lunch. Yet Soul only notices the odd pattern when she dices an entire green pepper and slides the crunchy tidbits into her instant ramen that night (it's Soul's night to make dinner). Soul watches as she tucks into her ordinary meal - plus random addition - with one raised brow.
What is she doing this time? He thinks dully. Something else she read? Does it improve brain power? Speed? Soul snorts to himself and Maka glances at him, a questioning glint in her eye. Soul remembers a week when all she ate was kiwis, because the skins supposedly make you run faster. He shakes his head at Maka's confusion displaying a knowing grin on his cool face. Maka huffs, her hair, still wet from the shower, spraying droplets onto the tabletop. Soul wonders if the ash blonde strands are cold on her bare shoulders.
"What?" Maka demands, tilting her head to catch Soul's eye. "You've been looking at me funny ever since I sat down." She squints a little at the smirk dancing across Soul's lips with a shielded, deep expression. With a sharp inhale, she barks: "do I have soap in my ear?!" She fumbles with her ears, scalp, and face for places she may have missed when rinsing. It's happened countless times before.
"What do green peppers do? Heighten your senses?" Soul asks, interrupting Maka's quest for soap. She crosses her arms, suddenly defensive.
"I like them," she counters stiffly. Soul grins again, noticing the sharp contours of his Meister's face as she mimics a marble statue.
"So much that you've been eating them every chance you get?" Soul drawls. "Sure. Whatever." He notes Maka's flashing eyes and twitching fingers with quick glances. If he continues to tease her, he'll be Maka Chopped in no time. Best to let it go. It isn't a big deal, anyways.
Soul begins to notice more patterns pop up as time goes on. A certain drink one week, a particular lotion the next. As the days continue, Maka becomes more and more defensive, as well as more and more reclusive. Soul senses through the fluctuations in her soul wavelength that she's unhappy.
A peaceful year has passed since the defeat of Asura and their bond has only grown stronger. Yet with their tight connection, their behavior hasn't changed. That's what Soul likes about it. They don't have intense conversations about the importance of one to another, but rather, they just know. And now Soul knows: something is seriously bothering Maka. Which, in turn bothers Soul. He's tried getting her to open up to him by making her dinner more often, actually waking up when his alarm rings (so she isn't forced to repeatedly coax him from the deliciously warm covers), and let her pick what to watch on TV more often. Soul allowed his cool to be at risk by heckling her over her odd behavior, but to avail. She wouldn't budge.
With every passing day, Soul's worry increases along with his impatience.
Then, she starts taking up a lot of bad habits.
Soul tries to pinpoint when the bad one's started to take place. They're are at their 39th soul, more than anyone else in the academy has collected this year, even Kid. With their continuous success, Soul has become rather popular with the ladies. Girls begin to flock him between classes and around the DWMA. Sometimes, Soul will talk to the adoring girls, but most of the time, he just wants to get away from them and hang out with Maka or Black*Star. But with every additional soul and dead Kishin, Maka becomes more and more... odd. And now there are these bad habits.
The first Soul notices is the make-up. Maka begins wearing thick mascara on her previously non-existent eyelashes, making her already breathtaking emerald eyes capture his full attention before class one day. Soul gapes at the new look, his sharp teeth snapping together a moment later. Without breaking his gaze, he reaches to the nearby armchair for his headband, patting the top awkwardly before finding the damned piece of clothing. Maka's eyes follow his every move with unnerving severity. With a faint dusting of pink on her porcelain cheeks, she spins around and marches out the door, tossing a rushed, "hurry Soul, we're going to be late!" as she goes. Soul shrugs, pulling his headband over his snowy hair before following.
A couple weeks later, the pigtails are gone. It takes two whole days for Soul to notice this one (he has a lot to do, being so cool). He keeps telling himself that she'll put them up later because she never goes out with her hair down unless it's a 'nice occasion'. "It gets in the way," she argues to anyone who asks. But then, on their first mission with the 'weird hair', as Soul dubbs it, Maka wraps it in a tight bun. The make-up is upgraded to eyeliner and eyeshadow. Her dark lidded eyes are haunting as she wields him expertly against the blood-sucking, soul-eating Kishin. Soul finds himself distracted by the unnerving beauty of his partner, watching her determination ripple across her face like dark honey. Now, when she's fighting, the unhappiness is less.
But still... Maka isn't Maka, Soul sighs.
The textbooks go along with the pigtails. That's a relief; no more migraines. But Maka isn't MAKA without her literature. Soul growls under his breath as he once again does a double take at the book-less counter. I'm going to sprain my freaking neck at this rate, Soul grumbles.
Not only are the habits... unnatural for his partner, but they also create an invisible barrier between the two friends. Soul, gazing at Maka as she curls her ash locks and applies mascara to her lashes, frowns and sulks on the couch. I can't TALK to her anymore. She's not my Maka right now. What the hell is going on inside that huge head of hers?!
The one habit that tears through Soul's heart, though, is the clubbing. After a month of oddities, Soul noticed that tired-Maka is present most often, along with reclusive, anxious-Maka. It's beginning to seriously worry him. What's eating her? Why is she THIS tired in the morning? What is she doing all night? The possibilities devour his mind and curdle him blood until he can't take it anymore.
After a three days, Soul decides to take action. Friday night, Soul stays up reading The Return of the King (although he will never tell Maka he reads; she will shove a mountain of literature at him immediately). Around two A.M., as his eyelids droop, Maka's door opens and shuts with a soft click. It's so quiet, Soul nearly misses it. In a flash he's on his feet, pulling on his blue zip-up and peering through the crack in his door. His eyes catch the tail ends of Maka's trench coat before the front door snaps shut. Where the hell would she go this late? Soul growls, a spark of worry gnawing at his belly. With how late it is, I had hoped her odd behavior was just that time of the month or something. Soul wrenches the door open to follow his troubled partner. But apparently not.
Soul sneaks like a shadow after his Meister, noticing her high up, loose bun; black high heels (what?!); and dangling earrings. When they reach their destination, Soul gapes as if his jaw has dislocated at the sight before sliding in after Maka... through a hidden entrance into a loud, happening club.
Is this for a case? Soul wonders. No... she would have told me. Then why... ? Soul fidgets, uncomfortable in the close environment. Maka bobs to the music on the other side of the dance floor, her back to him. Soul watches her closely from a corner, the flashing lights, pounding music, and scantily clad women flooding around him in thick rivulets. For a moment, an older woman begins softly grinding on his hip and asks him if he'd like a drink. Soul removes himself and finds a new corner ASAP, shuddering at the unwanted contact. Ugh, why are you here, Maka? Once Soul is safely tucked behind a potted plant, he scans the club for his partner again. But she's gone. No ash blonde bun to be seen. Soul panics. What the hell? She was standing right there, by the wooden pillar...
And then a group of teens, no older than himself, shift, and Soul freezes. They reveal Maka at the bar. With a man. And a drink in her hand. And holy fuck, she's taking a drag from the unfamiliar, rival-as-of-now man. Didn't I literally just lose sight of her? Soul's legs work of their own accord as the man rests his fingertips on Maka's arm and slides a leg between hers on the barstool. She smiles, smiles, letting her trenchcoat slip off her bare shoulders to reveal a skimpy, silver dress, that must be shorter than her plaid skirt. And her plaid skirt is short. Soul's body is on fire, No one touches his Maka that way. Why is he still on the other side of the club? These people need to move. That man is near his precious person. That man has no idea who he's flirting with. Soul gives up and begins shoving clubbers aside, making a commotion as he snarls his way to an oblivious Maka and Bastard. Maka is the bravest and most important individual he knows. How could that bastard even look at her?
As Maka closes her eyes to take another drag from the smoke that disgusting man holds in his slack fingers, Soul is flinging said smoke to the ground, fisting up a handful of Bastard's shirt, and slamming him on the floor with it.
"Don't touch her again," Soul snarls, his shiny teeth glinting with the swirling lights. His blood-red eyes flash as he snatches Maka's frozen arm and pulls her out, out of the bar, out of the smelly, too loud, too hot, too NOT MAKA club. A bewildered, "Soul," reaches his ears, but he doesn't listen. He needs to get her home now. His mind is steadfast on one thought: to bring her home. To their home, not somewhere else with that Bastard, but with him, Soul. His heart hammers in his chest. Am I not good enough for you anymore? If Soul were standing still, anyone within the block would see his violent shaking. But we work! We're right!
Soul stalks silently back to their apartment, Maka nearly running to keep up, but tripping continuously on her damned heels. "Soul!" She repeats, her voice higher and pleading. Silence. They reach home and Soul finally lets go of her as he locks the door behind them, but refuses to turn around. He can't look at her yet. I need to calm down... she'll have a logical explanation for all of this. Soul attempts to catch his wild breath. She won't leave me, we're partners... Soul grits his teeth, gnashing them together with unnecessary force. Damn insecurities!
"...Soul..." a cracked whisper breaks into the heavy silence. It slices at Soul's anger like a hot knife.
"Why Maka?" Soul asks emotionlessly. His head whirls, his stomach twists, and his hands shake. "What the hell has been up with you these past few weeks?" Hiccups stifled by a hand sound behind him.
"I.." Maka gasps. "I can't... tell you!" she wails.
"Tell me anyways!" Soul roars, whipping around. "I've been worried sick! You're my partner and I'm supposed to help you, but I can't when I don't even know what to help you with!" Soul drags a hand over his face in exasperation. "You're going to make me into a Death Scythe, remember? You can't do that while doing... that," Soul shoves his thumb behind him, disgusted. Maka's make-up streams down her face with her tears. Soul hates seeing her this way. She doesn't cry often, but this has to stop. He needs to know what is up with her. And if she's... breaking away from their partnership.
Her green eyes lower in defeat and she lets out a sob, her bun falling apart in wavelets around her face. She collects a broken breath before clenching her glistening eyes shut. She resembles someone who is preparing to give up everything. This must have been bothering her for a while... Soul realizes, unease rushing through his veins. She hardly ever gives up this easily.
"You're so popular now, you have new friends, and I'm always the weird bookworm in the library, and you never go into the library because it's not cool, so instead you spend time with other cool kids and hardly spend time with me, and that's because I'm not cool, but I WANT to be cool, and cool kids wear make-up, and don't have pigtails when they're seventeen, and I tried to have better skin... and.. I just wanted to be cool! Because that's what you like! And I wanted..." Maka begins to stutter. Soul is dumbstruck. "I want you to notice me!" she blurts before collapsing on the ground. "Clubbing is cool. Drinking is cool. Smoking is cool. Having guys actually notice you is cool, having guys like you is cool," she keeps rambling.
I should stop her... Soul thinks, but he can't move. Instead he asks, "green peppers?"
Maka blushes. "I read... that they could make your... breasts bigger." She mumbles. Then she holds her head in her hands. "And now I've ruined everything," comes a defeated moan. "You're going to leave me, and it will be all my fault." Soul blinks. Her own insecurities were the cause of this? Soul's lips tighten, forcing back a grin. He blinks again at her defeated form. Once. Twice. Then he bends his knees and holds out a hand under Maka's nose. She looks at it morosely before taking it in her own. Soul lifts her to her feet.
"Look at me," Soul says. Maka glances at him before staring at her shaking knees. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," he repeats, the severity grabbing Maka's attention. Her sparkling, green eyes meet his ruby ones: contrasting, but fitting together perfectly.
"Never try to be cool again," Soul states bluntly. If possible, Maka's face falls even more, but Soul squeezes their still-enfolded hands. "I don't want anything other than my Maka. You should know better than anyone else not to try and be someone you aren't." Soul sighs. How can she think I don't notice her? She's basically my everything. We're just right.
"I wouldn't want you any other way, tiny tits. We're partners. You're my partner. My only partner," he finishes gruffly.
Maka sniffs and avoids his eyes again, biting her lower lip in anguish. "But once I've made you into a Death Scythe, you'll leave and ... and become Lord Death's weapon, and... Ugh, I d-don't want to lose you, but I don't want to hold you b-back, and-" Soul growls and pulls her by their connected hands into a tight embrace.
"My partner. Not going to change. I'm going no where." Soul closes his eyes and tightens his arms around his precious person. "You hear me Maka?"
"Yes," comes the silent reply, but Soul hears the smile in it, and he finally relaxes. Maka rests her head on his shoulder and they stay like that until the sun begins to laugh.
Later that day, Maka reappears as real-Maka with her pigtails swinging, her eyelashes non-existent, and her enormous encyclopedia at the ready.
"Thank goodness," Soul mutters. "Though I never thought I would be glad to see the textbooks reappear..." he drifts off, looking at his partner. Maka glances up at him, her green eyes finally alive again after all those weeks. Soul furrows his eyes at her flatter-than-flat chest.
"Then again, if those green peppers had worked..." Soul muses, squinting his eyes, imagining the curves...
"Maka..."
"Dammit."
"CHOP!"
The relief is short lived.
What do you think? Maybe it's a little OOC for Maka, but I get the feeling that she has some non-platonic emotions for Soul and just doesn't recognize them/doesn't know what to do with them. But here, she simply wants to be noticed by him. In a way that isn't everyday and casual. I think a few girls can relate.
Anyways, these two together are just flipping fantastic. Can't even handle it. :3