She's not sure how she ended up at the one bus stop without a shelter. What had started as a few harmless droplets quickly escalated into a steady drizzle, the kind that made her yearn to absorb herself in a book and drape socked feet over her partner's lap. Maka instead found herself on a bench, waiting for said partner to return home. Everything was going smoothly too, until the rain came down and ruined the slice of cake.
"Fabulous," she muttered through wet bangs. It was a stupid idea to begin with. Soul was on a mission, called on unexpectedly by the head honcho himself. It was agitating to be whisked away on such short notice, but work was work, and it was not in anyone's best interest to keep Lord Death waiting. So they later mumbled goodbyes as he shrugged his duffel bag and left.
The day he was due home was his birthday. Maka, with her weapon's gluttonous intentions in mind, decided to surprise him with a cake. She chose only to bring a single slice with her to the bus stop, however, because cakes were heavier than they looked and they were not going to eat the entire thing on an old bench. Plus, the promise of more awaiting him may brighten his mood a bit.
It was definitely not because she held any romantic feelings for her partner, Maka noted belatedly. Of course, she currently found herself in a purgatorious relationship with Soul. Hand holding and movie nights said maybe, but neither commented on the acts. The two were treading water, moving but not really getting anywhere. School was a web of "I hear they're more than partners"s and "Are they, you know...?"s. Their own friends weren't much better. Yesterday she found herself storming away from a conversation with Liz, red faced and floundering for excuses.
So Maka sits and waits, because she was never one to quit in the face of a struggle, and the rain isn't that intimidating anyway. Denial, however, is a whole other story.
Soon the bus rumbles up to the stop, and out shuffles the very boy caught in her thoughts. She must be some sight to see, hair plastered her forehead, lips pursed in a bitter scowl. Maka doesn't even notice that Soul's arrived until he begins to laugh. Out of relief or exhaustion he isn't sure, but it's the first one he's had since leaving and damn it feels good. Her eyes shoot up to stare at him, easily cracking a grin and giggling herself. Neither of them moves for minutes, enjoying the sheer comfort they find in the other's presence.
By the time Maka stands to carry his bag, both are glad it's raining because their eyes are pricked with tears. She turns to walk, to head home and change into dry clothes, when Soul suddenly crashes his mouth to hers. Her mind is reduced to rubble, and that includes her timid worries of mutual feelings and rejection. They tangle together, hands around necks and on hips. It's abrupt and raw and difficult with teeth and tongues and chapped lips, but she was never one to quit in the face of a struggle. Soul isn't opposed to learning with her.
Their lips eventually part, but neither makes a move to leave. The scythe smiles against his technician's mouth (another first since he left) before kissing her again, chaste and hesitant because it does seem simpler in movies. The rain doesn't let up, just continues to flutter about them.
The cliché is much more enjoyable when you're living it, Maka decides.
"There's cake back at the apartment for you." Soul begins to chuckle, but when Maka simply stares at him, he realizes she wasn't joking. The weapon swiftly grabs her hand and begins to run home. His legs will be aching tomorrow, but what can't a little cake and a maybe-probably girlfriend fix?
Author's Notes
This was written for a short prompt I found, "The rain came down and ruined what was left of the cake" (from writeworld on tumblr). I altered it a bit, but I hope you still enjoy this!