Ha. 'nother Soul Eater fic. I'm on a roll with these. Not a big roll. Just a little roll. Those kind of 'half-turn' rolls. Like waking up in the morning. Or more to the point – when someone's trying to wake you up in the morning, and they kind of poke you. It's that obligatory roll you do (the half-roll) – that sign of life to let them know you hear 'em and you would like very much for them to fuck off. Ha.
Enjoy.
There was a lull in criminal activity. A very significant lull.
Was there a fresh new face in law enforcement, working hard to change the evil-doing ways of the population. A crazy good copper with a heart of gold out to make the streets safer for civilians?
Maybe it was some sort of superhero vigilante do-gooder. In fact, there was talk of a recent surge of masked heroes popping up a couple of towns over. But it wasn't anything significant. They'd flare up and then crawl back at the first bullet wound.
There was no way of knowing… Well, there was, honestly. But the knowing wasn't interesting to Maka. Nor was it very interesting to Soul. Both of whom were suffering for the lack of bad souls to collect.
And since they couldn't collect souls, they were getting frustrated… antsy.
"Where are you going?" Maka said one evening.
Soul was pulling on his shoes, his jacket and customary headband on. He straightened and tugged a jagged lock of hair out of his eyes, then after a moments' consideration, back where it had been.
"Out." He said simply, going for the door.
Maka jolted out of her seat. "What? Where?"
He sighed, and that irritated her, but she stood and waited for him to saunter back and give her that droll stare before saying, "With Black Star and Tsumaki to that bar off the corner of that street where the guy was passing out flyers for that new club. The guy that owns the place doesn't look too close at fake ID's. Patty and Liz were supposed to meet up with us later."
She raised her eyebrows. "What about Kid?" she felt it would come across as too desperate to add, and what about me?
Soul stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged, looking sideways as if the conversation were boring him. "Didn't want to come. I'd have asked you too, but I didn't think you'd want to either."
"I wouldn't."
He nodded. "Yeah."
Still could've asked though…
"Alright, see you later."
He gave her a two-fingered salute on his way out the door.
She didn't feel too bad about being left out. Bars weren't her scene. But that left her with nothing to do on a Friday night but kick up her feet and watch reruns on television until Soul stumbled in through the door. At which point she could do one of only a very few select things: one, run upstairs and pretend to be asleep; two, continue watching television with deep shame; or three, on the occasion that she couldn't stand doing either, hit Soul in the face with a shovel as he came into the door, drag his body into an alley, discard his shoes and jacket and wallet, go back home, eat a hot pocket and pretend to be anxious and worried when he came home the next morning. But that was a desperate move only for her truly pathetic moments. So far she hadn't seriously considered it.
Maka looked sideways at the clock on the wall. It was only 9 o'clock.
Before she had time to talk herself out of it, she was pulling on her trench coat on the way out the door.
There was a café not three blocks down that served coffee and pastries late into the night. The place was small but that's what was especially appealing about it. It was two storey's, with shelves and shelves of books crammed from wall to wall of the second floor.
Maka sat alone for a while on the first floor. She had a cookie and a hot chocolate with whipped cream on top, thinking it ironic that she was doing so while her friends were out drinking alcohol. Did this mean she hadn't grown up?
No, she thought as she crossed her legs and felt the immediate attention of two male eyes, I've grown up plenty.
It had been gradual, and subtle, and frankly a little disappointing. But she supposed that her thin (boyish, Soul called it) figure was best for fighting. Not that it seemed Tsumaki, Patty, or even Blair had trouble kicking some ass – but Maka figured it must be cumbersome at best to have to move fast with all that… extra…
Well, anyway, it just seemed like it would be annoying.
At least, Maka thought optimistically, I'll never have to deal with that.
Still though, she cast a quickly glance over to the two guys who'd been looking at her and sat back with a slight frown when she found that they'd already moved on, staring at another girl across the room who was showing a liberal amount of cleavage.
Maka finished off her cookie, cramming it down her gullet, and washed away the dryness with her hot chocolate. Walking past the same two boys, who continued to look past her to the other girl with the giant blimp-boobies, she ascended the stairs to the second floor. There, she lost herself in search of a good mystery.
Maneuvering through this chaos was a skill she was glad to possess. She loved this place for its floor to ceiling stacks of books, for its barely-able-to-squeeze-through aisles. It was a trial to find exactly what you wanted. It was the kind of place you had to search everywhere – look at books you'd never thought to look at if it were in a section you never went to. Science, religion, art, romance, science-fiction, mystery – it was all jumbled together.
But no matter how arduous it was to look, the looking became a sort of hunt, a quest. And when you finally found what you wanted, because you'd looked around enough to recognize what you wanted when you saw it, it was like discovering gold.
Maka's searched wound through the place until she ended up in the center of the miasma, a little place with only four couches, each faced inward toward a little round coffee table. There was never a time when a bare surface could be seen on the coffee table – but every day the books smothering it were different.
To her disappointment, there were already people there.
She never liked to admit she knew where the spot was – she liked to come across it as if by accident, as if she'd found a special place untouched by anyone or anything else.
Four girls looked up to stare at her, their eyes hopeful at first, but then disappointed. Each was reading a romance novel, she noticed. All the romances had that handled look to them – a distinct worn, used feel. She understood their reactions. Sometimes when she was reading a mystery or horror novel, she would look up at a noise, expecting to see the monster depicted in its' pages and her heart would speed up with the fantasy, her limbs energized for the fight. So she knew that deflated feeling – and turned her head respectfully and pretended to browse another aisle, waiting for them to leave.
But they didn't.
They started talking.
"Okay, I'm definitely going to take this book."
"Yeah, me too. I think it'll give me good dreams."
They giggled uproariously.
"Ah, who needs books? I want real life!"
"Yeah, we all know what you want."
One of the girls pulled out a notebook from her bag. It was worn and thick. Stickers and pictures adorned the front and back.
"I can't help it, he's hot."
"He's a teacher!"
"No, I agree. That man could grill a steak on his chest, he's so hot."
"Ew!"
"Yum!"
They laughed. Maka raised an eyebrow, and curled her lip in disgust. What was the matter with these people? Didn't they know this was a sacred place?
"But he's so weird."
"Oh, please, you're so weird. None of you bitches can tell me you haven't thought about him naked one time or another."
"Yeah, we have the evidence, right here."
Again, they raised the notebook like a holy tome.
"By the way, it's time to rotate the book."
"Yeah, it's your turn to have it."
One of the girls reached out and took it.
Maka was astonished. What was this, the sisterhood of the travelling notebook? When would these bitches leave?
Suddenly they went quiet. It wasn't a pleasant sort of quiet. It was a hushed, tense sort of quiet. Maka turned her head and was shocked to find all of their gazes fixed in her direction.
What had happened? Had they read her bloody, murderous thoughts? Was she that transparent?
Or maybe-
"Ladies…"
Maka jumped and jerked around.
Stein was standing there, not four feet from where she was, leaning against the shelf, looking somehow menacing in his casualness.
Maka glanced back at the girls who had shuffled and coughed, shooting each other urgent glances. Then she looked back at Stein, only to find him looking right back at her.
For some reason she was surprised and her heart hitched in her chest. Although she knew it was silly. She could hardly go unnoticed. She was right there!
He pushed off from the shelf with a languid fluidity and crossed to the other aisle, stopping to peruse a shelf so he was bordering the brightness of the place they were in and the darkness of the next aisle. He was there – very noticeably there. Half in shadow, seemingly indifferent to the five sets of eyes that followed his every move.
Maka picked up a book, and hid her nose in it.
Why hadn't she said Hi, or something? He was her teacher. They had spoken before. He'd always been intimidating – but why had she allowed his presence to get to her? Now it was too late to play it cool without looking like a scared little dork.
She looked up again and caught him looking, not at her, but at the four girls. His face was drawn up in shadows, and he seemed to be speculative. Then he turned his gaze on her and she froze up, caught.
He smiled a scary, toothy smile at her, as if to include her, like a co-conspirator. But what was probably meant to be friendly and mischievous only made her feel as if she were being sized up for the next meal. It was too wide. Shark-like. Predatory.
Bumps rose along her forearms and she bent her head low over her book, casting a glance at the other girls, and feeling at a very distinct disadvantage. While they huddled together, whispering, worried, she was all alone.
Suddenly, inexplicably, she had a vision of a grassy meadow.
Butterflies flittered from flower to flower. Birds chirped and chased each other - diving Kamikaze-style into the grass and popping up and out, riding the air currents. She and the other girls took the form of little bunnies in this hallucination. They rolled around, biting each others' ears, being cute and fluffy - like bunnies do.
Then there - lurking in the shadows of the surrounding trees - is a dark figure. It paces. It watches. Like a wraith. Sinister and dangerous. A tail bobs behind it. Claws extend from its gigantic paws.
It's hunting. And it's got its eyes on one of the bunnies. Just one in particular.
It's set apart from the others, not in the group. In the deceptive safety of this quiet place, the bunny has strayed from the safety of the huddle.
It hops out a little farther from the tumbling group and pokes its nose tentatively at a pretty flower.
The beast in the shadows crouches lower, its eyes lit up. It creeps closer, leaving the trees, hiding low in the grass. Light bounces off its fur briefly before it disappears through flutes of green.
The bunny regarded the grassy meadow, ears raised slightly - listening for a sound it wasn't quite sure was made... Finding nothing wrong with its surroundings, the bunny twitched it's little button nose and pawed at its fur, pushing it down, fluffing it's cute little tail - again, like bunnies do.
The beast's maw is stretched wide exposing sharp, lethal fangs. It's so close. For a second, it regards the bunny's tiny, fragile body. A glint appears in its eyes. Anticipation makes it shake. Excitement makes it breathe hard. Hunger makes a low rumble start up in its throat.
For one clear, crystalline moment, the bunny is aware of the danger. The meadow darkens and shrinks into a menacing little arena of death. That space not three feet away where the other bunnies tumble and play is in a different plane of being as far as the bunny is concerned. There is only her, and the large menacing mass breathing, moving behind her. A gust of hot breath moves the fur of her shoulders and her lovely satin ears sway with the in and out, the pull of this large creature. (Innuendos galore)
The bunny turns its head, the only movement it makes. Though there is still the slimmest chance of escape, the beast allows the bunny to regard it. And for a moment, the beast is still, as if enjoying the way the bunny's eyes widen as it takes in the length and breadth of him. Stark terror is there in the bunny's quivering body. A rolling, quaking rumble emits from the beasts' chest as if it were chuckling.
The bunny tenses, bunching up its little muscles and flattening out on the ground - a tight coil ready to spring.
But it's too late.
The beast pounces.
There's a commotion at the other table. Lots of screaming and a tangle of movement Maka can't follow. Girls flee from the table in a flurry of rustling paper. They disappear around bookshelves, book-bags trailing like flags behind them. In the midst of their cleared table is a large abused looking book sitting atop the others there – all looking jostled. And there was Stein, the party crasher.
Throwing her a one-sided smile that she couldn't help comparing to that of an attack dog – Stein leaned forward and reclaimed the book he'd slammed down on the table to scare the girls.
"My apologies." He dusted the book off on his pants, then swiped a hand down his thigh to brush off the linty stuff. "I was getting tired of waiting for them to leave."
He sat down in one of the chairs, looking far too comfortable for someone who exuded such a sinister aura.
Maka swallowed and wondered if she should have turned tail when the other girls left.
For a long moment she just stood there, contemplating her next move, aware that she was running out of time, adrenaline mixing with her blood. Any moment she was going to panic and run in terror – which seemed sensible given who she was with. But it was hardly polite.
"Why don't you sit down, Maka. I don't mind."
And that pretty much sealed her fate.
She sat, awkward, and lifted her book, watching him over the pages. But he paid her no attention. He seemed to be wholly absorbed in his reading.
What the hell am I doing here? She thought in a panic. I should have left. I really should have left. What am I going to do? Just sit here? Is he really going to just sit there? Damn, this is awkward…
Maka could still taste the cookie and chocolate milk at the back of her throat. She shifted her butt and froze as the seat creaked. She shot a glance his way to see if it'd bothered him.
It hadn't seemed to have…
She shifted again. Crossed her legs. Looked off to the right, the left. Wondered if anyone else would happen across them. Wondered if maybe she should make an effort to start off polite, useless conversation. Wondered if the place would close down soon. Wondered if someone would come to tell them to leave. Or would they just assume no one was there and shut off the lights, leaving her in the dark with this guy…
She shuddered.
"You seem preoccupied Maka," Stein intoned from his chair, still not looking at her. "I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable."
Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she heard a slight hint of amusement.
Is he making fun of me?
She looked at him carefully, almost daring him to show any hint of a smile.
"I'm fine," she said, her anger strengthening her, making her bold. "You just don't usually see teachers out of a formal environment."
One of his eyebrows jerked upward and his eyes slid slowly from the page to her face. His look was eerie, and she thought maybe she'd ought to have just left that little bit of defensive anger out of her tone. But she stuck her chin out anyway.
"You make it sound as if I have no other function save for the one that serves you. How very self-centered." He lowered his book, looking intently at her. "Besides, there should be nothing to get all fidgety about. It's not like I met you at a bar and started pouring drinks down your throat. You should calm down."
Maka's face burned. He'd spoken politely – maybe that's what made it more unbearable. He was chastising her like a child. He was treating her as if she were immature – thinking immature thoughts.
"Yes," Maka agreed through gritted teeth. "I suppose so."
"Then I suppose maybe we should sit like two agreeable human beings –"
Except you're not a human being…
" – without any sort of impropriety – "
Was that a goddamn smirk on his face?
" – and I can go back to reading my book, while you figure out if you want to draw a nude man upside down or right side up…"
For a moment she wondered about Stein's sanity – something she knew was on the fast track to hell as it was.
Then, for the first time, she actually looked at the book in her hands.
There was indeed a nude man – upside down – on the page she had open.
She set the book down dumbly on the coffee table. Sitting back, she placed her hands limply on her lap.
"And I was making you uncomfortable."
She could do nothing but stare for a moment, so deep was her embarrassment and shame.
I will end you, she vowed.
Not the end. Will add another chapter soon. Hope it wasn't too boring. Oh, yeah, and REVIEW OR DIE. 'kay, thanks.
