Band AU; Lead Singer!Maka and Pianist!Soul- For hugtheboyinthebluehoodie
Maka dragged her feet through the hallway towards the break room. She had promised Soul a full twenty minute break but she still felt as if it wasted time, taking away from a priceless brainstorming session. They could've been using that lost time to come up with a new billboard breaking single, pushing Death's Children up the charts and into stardom.
Maka shook her head, feeling a pang of guilt. She had dragged Soul out to the studio on a Friday night where they stayed until now, Saturday evening, on a lyrical hype. No one else had been available to respond to her sudden wave of inspiration. Black*Star had a date with a Japanese fan and Kid was taking his two cousins from Brooklyn out on family bonding time, meaning that Soul was bombarded by texts by three members, asking him to use his free weekend to help write a new song.
He hadn't taken it civilly, in fact, he had complained heavily, going on about valuable alone time and how Maka was too much of a workaholic. Nonetheless, he showed up in front of the studio with a duffle bag filled with clothes and toiletries at dusk, knowing well of Maka's habit to stay the entire week, or in this case, the weekend. His moodiness had only subsided when night fell and they finished wrapping up the first verse and half the tune, only to awaken once more when he remembered that they were planning to share the break room couch as a bed.
Maka blushed at the memory of the morning that came as she entered that very room. She was the one who woke up first, feeling warmth all around her body. When she reached to rub sleep from her eyes, both hands were stuck. One was woven in strands of silk somewhere above her head and the other had been around the area of her heart, separated from her skin by a something lean and soft to the touch. When she was able to focus her eyes, she found herself pressed against a Guerrillas band shirt, similar to the one Soul had changed into before falling asleep.
Maka followed the image to the bottom of the shirt, finding her arm snaked through the back and her skin in stark contrast to the tan flesh it had been curled up against. Her heart skipped when she recognized a familiar scent surrounding her. She traced the shirt to the neckline, pushing further to witness Soul's sleeping—and drooling—face. The only thing that stopped her from yanking backwards was the familiar feel of their limbs, comfortably tangled in a fierce embrace—much too similar to their many brainstorming nights' mornings.
Maka shook the image from her head and slapped her flustered cheeks, grabbing two cans of Arizona from the refrigerator. She turned on her heel and shuffled back to the practice room.
"What took you so long?" Soul raised his eyebrows. The break room wasn't far from where they were and Maka had been completely willing to retrieve drinks for their break- meaning it shouldn't have taken the entire 20 minute break.
"I got the thing, I did the thing, the thing is what matters," she threw a can in his direction and he caught it with one hand, popping it open in the same sweep with his index finger.
"Chill out," he drawled, just before he chugged half of the cold green tea, "It's cool. Let's work on the chorus again, it sounds choppy."
"It's the sixth time, I thought we fixed it the fifth but apparently not since you're still nitpicking it," Maka moved to the right of the piano, shuffling through sheet music that laid on the surface.
Soul repositioned himself and played the A minor scale with his left hand and G major on his right, down 4 octaves to the sixteenth, something he always did to get in the mood- even if it did send chills down any sane listener's spine when they heard the two scales together. However, it never fazed the musically inept singer, "If it's not the best we can do then it's not a bill board breaker."
She laid the sheets labeled 'Chorus' in a messy scrawl on the piano's built in sheet stand, "I know, but I thought 'And she counted her blessings/ Knowing too well/ That he wasn't one of them/ And will never be one of them' was pretty good."
Soul squinted at her, "No it's depressing as fuck, same with when you sing when you don't have any music in the back, depressing as fuck."
He should have remembered that his blunt honesty always earned a hard Maka chop to the skull.
"Shut up and play."
" Yah can't sing without music and can't sight sing with sheet music, what would you do without me," he commented dryly, twisting his hands around the ivory and ebony. He started the tune they had constructed together, slow and suave. She waited for her cue, always beginning on time when it came around, starting the 'Thousand Angels' Choir' as dubbed by her fans.
It was supposed to be a love song. 'To capture the hearts of girls swooning over the three musicians,' said Maka. 'It will help raise our ratings,' said Maka. 'We'll be recognized as teen icons,' said Maka. 'If it worked for One Direction then it'll work for us,' said Maka.
Soul scowled, he wanted to tell her that he's already written countless love songs, dozens—hundreds—that would never be heard by the one he wanted to listen the most, the one and only, Maka Fucking Albarn.
He would have shown them all to her but they were all on scrap pieces of paper or loose cloth- that and she wouldn't be able to 'hear' the melody from simply reading what he had. He would've had to play each piece for her and if that wasn't mortifying enough, he had pieces that dated back to when they first met.
He had lyrics without a tune dedicated to ten year old Maka, the girl who opened his heart to the beautiful possibilities of the future and unlocked the chains from his heavy ankles with her bright smile. He had musical poetry about twelve year old Maka, the girl who stubbornly refused to back out from a playful dare and stole his first and only kiss. He had orchestrated drabbles about fourteen year old Maka, the girl who cried her own heart out to him when she found out her mother had been cheating just like her strenuous father ever since she was eight. He had love songs written for sixteen year old Maka, the girl who he escorted to Shibusen High School's prom in ebony clad and the sardonyx earrings he had bought for her on her fifteen birthday. He had albums recorded for eighteen year old Maka, the woman who decided to seize her tomorrow with her new band, Death's Children.
There was only a singular event when Maka had ever heard a piece of Soul. She had been twenty and he had been twenty one. One of Soul's eccentric fangirls had stalked the group during their casual outings to a local burger restaurant, waiting for the chance to strike. When he went to get napkins for BlackStar, she catapulted herself at Soul's body, stealing a kiss near his lower cheek. Before the girl could correct her aim, Maka had materialized in front of him and punched the girl in the diaphragm.
He had no warning when Maka turned her second punch at him, straight for his kidneys. That day, he watched her blurry figure run from the scene of the crime. That night, he stood outside her window, serenading her with his guitar until dawn broke through the horizon.
'You're the sole inspiration to this song, my love who's been with me all of my life. You're the only precious girl I want, the only one who stole a piece of my soul.'
Soul shivered at the memory but played on in the studio, all too aware that the girl residing in his pinning heart was only two feet away. He was lovesick and his music conveyed it too well, earning secret glances from both BlackStar and Kid. No matter how poignant his music was, it never had a chance with his target audience, Maka Fucking Musically Inept Albarn.
He felt a warm hand touch his forehead, "Was that a chill? Got a cold? Oi, your face is turning a little warm." Maka Fucking Musically Inept and Romantically Oblivious Albarn removed her hand only to press her own forehead against his. "You're breathing is getting all wacked now too."
Soul reached out to grab her shoulders and guided them down next to him and away from his tomato face without much resistance, making her sit on the piano stool next to him. He coughed, "You're overworking me, 's all. Got an idea for the song though, this one is a keeper."
Maka adjusted herself until she was comfortable on the seat, "Let's see it."
Soul scribbled the lyrics under the staffs between the tremble clef and the bass lines, careful not to smudge the notes in pencil. "Same tune, just add in the shit and begin—"
'And he counted all his blessings
Knowing fully well
That she would always be in each
And will always be his only one'
Her voice hesitated at the last word.
It was flustered like when she first introduced herself to a quiet, reserved boy who she would spend the rest of her future with. It was harsh like when she whispered good bye and ran alongside the wind after she captured her first and only kiss. It broke like when she cried her heart out for the first time to her best friend after her sorrows ate at the hallucinations of her family. It squeaked like when she replied 'yes' to her crush when he asked her out to the Shibusen High School Prom, just like when she thanked him for her birthday present from the previous year. It shook like when she asked her friends to help her rise from the ashes and become a star, bigger than her mama.
Her voice croaked like when she apologized for her violent snap when she was twenty, tattered and ruined from tears. It was just like when she thanked the heavens when she received a call from BlackStar, frantically explaining that only Soul's cheek was tainted. His lips were still solely marked by her touch, the only touch that lingered faithfully for ten years.
In the middle of that night, she wept harder when she realized the romantic words held more meaning for her than the man singing outside her window. She tortured herself with illusions about her only love while she listened to the serenade's every word for hours until dawn broke through the horizon.
"Soul…" Maka's voice broke through her thoughts.
"Hmm?" she could feel that Soul tensed at his name, even if his voice masked his true thoughts well.
She held her breath in for as long as she could before releasing it, "We have to change the entire song now."
"…No."
"Now it's fucking 'he'," she jabbed the paper with her index finger and glared at it as if it had fallen and sinned down to hell, "We've been writing in a 'she' perspective this entire fucking time!"
Soul's hands flew from the piano keys to slap his face. He moaned, "Then just change the thing to 'she'."
Maka smacked his bicep, not willing to take her eyes off the music sheets, "NO! It sounds better like that."
"THEN JUST CHANGE THE SHIT TO 'HE'! DONE AND EASY."
"WE'VE BEEN FUCKING WRITING IT LIKE IT'S A GODDAMN GIRL SINGING IT, SOUL. WE CAN'T JUST SWITCH SHIT UP JUST LIKE THAT. A 'HE' HAS DIFFERENT THOUGHTS AND WOR- FUCKITY FUCKING SHIT, SOUL, QUIT TRYING TO COVER MY MOUTH!"
"SHUT UP MAKA!"
"EXCUSE YOU?"
"SHUT UP AND KISS M-"
And she did.
When Kid called in at eight pm to check in on the song, he was immediately forwarded to voicemail. He hung up feeling a thousand bucks heavier and knowing that a certain ninja assassin was going to run nude downtown later that night.