The Things I Do
"It would be nice to be called an angel once in a while! With Ox-kun going around calling Kim an angel just like that and everything… And what was with those wings? All spiky like that! Can't I have some nice big, fluffy cute ones? I wish I'd partnered with Ox-kun instead of you!"
I trail behind Maka with my hands full of grocery bags as she shuffles into our apartment, blindly tossing her set of keys onto the table. "Ahh! I'm so tired!" she groans, throwing her arms up into the air. After a little stumble over the coffee table, she collapses onto the couch with an oof, not even bothering to take off her dirty shoes.
A sigh leaves my lips at the sight of the dirt she's tracked over the kitchen floor and the living room carpet. Judging from her behavior, the cooking and cleaning was apparently my job for tonight, even though it was technically Maka's turn to make dinner. "Do you want me to run a bath for you?" I ask, just out of courtesy. I'd like to laze around and do nothing in a tub of warm water just as much as she probably does. She's not the only one who's tired. She's just the only one making a show of it.
A mumbled yes comes from her direction, mumbled because she has her face burrowed into the couch cushion.
I sigh again, setting the bags down on the counter and draping my coat over one of the chairs in the dining room area. My meister, as cool as she acted on the battlefield, could be such a nuisance. Picking up her slippers from the foyer, I walk over to her and start to unbuckle one of her boots. At least one of us has to have the decency to keep the apartment in order. She'd yelled at me enough times for not taking off my shoes right at the door. She was lucky I wasn't doing the same to her.
"Could you start the bath first?" she asks, glancing back at me innocently with those big green eyes.
An irritated scowl immediately twists my mouth. Was this supposed to be payback or something for not giving her the proper angel wings she'd wanted during our flying lesson? What had she been expecting? Her, an angel? Like hell! There isn't anything angel-like about her. Honestly, what was with her sudden obsession with angels and cuteness and Ox-kun supposed to mean anyway? Wanting Ox for her partner? He was a meister! What was the deal with that? Just what kind of message was she trying to give me in all that convoluted mess?
I was tempted to ignore her demand for a bath since it was probably all just some ploy to get on my nerves. But then she got that stubborn look on her face, with her brows lowered and her lips puckered, and I knew I was done for. There was no way I was going to win against that. I was tired of arguing with her anyway. It just wasn't cool. And she would probably Maka Chop me into submission anyway.
"Tch. Fine. I'll do everything," I grumble, dropping her boot on the floor. Stupid idea, since the dirt just clouded up around it from the impact and spread. Now I'd have to clean underneath the couch too.
I growl, furiously scratching the back of my head, and head for the bathroom, stomping my feet along the way.
"That's annoying," she calls out from her position on the couch. "Be quiet, Soul."
"Shut up!"
Angel, huh? Angel, my ass!
I twist the faucet knob open with more force than necessary. Water bursts out of the spout, sending droplets through the air. Out of spite, I grab Maka's towel hanging on the rack beside me, intending to dry my face with it. But then, on second thought, it's probably not the best idea. Even if she had no clue what I'd done, I would know and that would be enough of a guilt trip for me.
That girl… She gives me migraines.
I wipe the sleeve of my uniform dress shirt across my face and loosen my tie as I wait for the tub to fill. After all that had happened to us recently—infiltrating Baba Yaga's castle, defeating the witch Arachne, making me into a Death Scythe—I would have thought she'd matured a little. But she was still the same.
Well, maybe that was a good thing.
I turn off the faucet and enter the living room area again. Maka looks absolutely ridiculous laying there with a pillow hugged tightly in her arms, her face crushed against the seat cushion, and her legs dangling over the edge of the couch with only one boot on her foot. She's like a pouting kid. And the worst part of it all is that her little method of manipulating me is working.
Why do I do these things for her exactly? I can't even pinpoint the reason myself.
More than just meister and weapon. More than comrades in battle. More than friend to friend. What are we really? I wonder.
But there's no point in worrying myself with things like that. There's enough worrying going on with everyone, not just us, and that's why I don't intend to make it worse.
I take off Maka's other boot and put her slippers on her feet. She wriggles around on to her side, staring pointedly at the book she'd left lying on the coffee table this morning. When I only watch her, waiting for her to say something instead of just try to wordlessly command me, she shifts her gaze to mine and narrows her eyes. "Should I say please?" she grounds out in a bitingly sarcastic tone with that infuriating mocking edge in her voice that appears whenever she knows she's done something stupid but is too proud to admit it.
I glare back at her. "You should say something so I know what the hell you want."
Her cheeks turn pink and she snatches the book in her hand and slams the binding down on my head.
"OW! Stop that! You know what I said was right!" I shout, holding my hands to the throbbing welt.
She slams the book down again and would've crushed my fingers in the blow if it hadn't been for the fact that I'd ducked after seeing the oncoming swing.
"FINE! Whatever!" I stand and head for the kitchen, rubbing the bump on my head. "Do what you want," I add softly, wearily, not bothering to look back at the conflicted expression that's most likely on her face. She's so predictable. It makes me wonder why I even let her get away with these kinds of things.
I grab the bags, dumping the contents onto the counter, and rifle through the items to decide which are needed and which need to be put away for later.
Maka interrupts me. "You're going to make curry rice, aren't you?" she drawls, making a point of sounding disappointed by it. She likes curry. Why would she be disappointed if I was making it?
I choose not to say anything, since she's right anyway.
For Maka, my silence is an invitation to continue. "Just don't burn the curry again, please."
My hands clench into fists.
"I don't want to have to go out for food. I'm exhausted," she groans.
I've never been one for patience. Though I've had to force myself to be patient with her more times than I care to remember. Unfortunately, this isn't one of those times.
"What do you want from me, Maka?" I ask, whirling around to face her. All I see are her eyes peering up at me from the pages of her book. "Just tell me straight out, what do you want?"
Baffled, she sets the book down so that I can see her entire face. "What are you talking about?"
Again with the innocent look. Granted, she really doesn't know what I'm referring to since she's that thick-headed. But it's still annoying to face those big green eyes all the time. So trusting and so naïve at the same time. Her courage and her trust are blind. It's as admirable as it is idiotic. But I suppose those were the characteristics that had immediately attracted her to a twisted cynic like me.
"Soul?" she says hesitantly, looking worried all of a sudden. Well, in her defense, I'd just been staring at her vacantly without saying a word.
I turn my head away from her, away from those eyes, and glower at the tiled kitchen floor. "All you talked about today was cute angle wings and Ox. How do you think that makes me feel?" I mumble, narrowing my eyes into thin slits. I grip the counter behind me, leaning my chin against my shoulder. "If you want to be with him so badly, why don't you just go? I'm sure he'd welcome you with open arms. And he probably even has dinner already prepared. So why don't you just go? Live with him and Harvar instead, for all I care."
But I would care. And she must know that, right?
I risk a peek at her and see those parted lips, those eyes flashing, those teeth gritting, that temper rising, and instantly know the answer to my own question.
This is Maka. She's going to take everything I say at face value and assume I'm being heartless and that I don't want her as my meister and that, now that I'm a Death Scythe, I have no reason to be with her anymore.
And that's exactly what she says to me.
"I get it. Now that you're a Death Scythe, you don't need me anymore, huh? You can just find another partner and train with them instead, right? You think almighty Death Scythes can just do whatever they please?"
She jumps up from the couch and stalks over to where I am, fists clenched at her sides. Balancing on the tips of her toes, she shoves her face right in front of mine. Foreheads touching, our breaths mingle as the two of us angrily stare each other down. "You're wrong, Soul," she insists, as if she'd been reading my mind. The heat radiating from her body is suffocating. It's hard to breathe properly. She doesn't seem to notice. "You're my partner. We're getting through this together. You can't leave me. I won't let you. Got it?" she says, taking a step back from me and smiling. She waits for my nod of approval before heading off toward the bathroom.
Silently, I watch her. Watch her as she enters her room for a change of clothes. Watch her as she walks into the bathroom. Blair isn't here today, traipsing around in her cat form and attempting to convince Maka to wear questionable lingerie. While I would typically appreciate the silence, now it's only making me anxious.
What had that been about? It almost felt like we'd been talking about two completely different things.
Tsubaki and Liz would probably say it was a girl thing. Patty wouldn't have a sensible opinion. Black Star would just say Maka was being an idiot, which I would have to agree with. Kid… Well, maybe it was Kid's capture that was causing Maka to act like this. We're on the same team, after all.
"Ahh!" I groan, scratching my head. "She's so confusing."
Turning back to the task at hand, I set aside all the ingredients I need for curry, start up the rice cooker, set a pot on the stove, and tie the cooking apron around my waist. Maka would probably stay in the bath for a while, so the only thing I can do to keep my mind occupied and not think of her is to play a record. But, of course, once I think of music, I think of the trance fusion stuff she likes to listen to and my focus on not focusing on her is shattered.
It's really hard not to think of someone when you've lived together for so long.
So I try to concentrate on the vegetables and meat I'm cutting up instead. I try to focus on the curry as it bubbles. I even try to play Kid for a day and measure out even portions of rice. It doesn't work, of course. I don't have Kid's penchant for things symmetrical, if he would even call servings of rice something to be made symmetrical.
I'm in the process of making the table setting Kid-proof when Maka steps out of the shower in a T-shirt and shorts, scrubbing her hair dry with a towel. She takes one look at the result of all my hard work and bursts into laughter. "It's not perfect, but Kid would be proud of you, Soul!"
I blink, confused for a second, and then chuckle along with her. "Yeah. He would, wouldn't he?" I say nonchalantly. My mind is running a mile a minute. The fact that she easily accepted my haphazard attempts at symmetry makes it safe to assume Kid's capture isn't what's bothering her. That's a relief. Everyone's confident we'll get him back anyway, since Shinigami-sama already has a plan in motion. So then, it's got to be the angel thing.
We sit across from each other at the table, neither of us offering up any conversation whatsoever. I don't because I'm trying to figure out the best way to broach the topic in mind. She doesn't because, well, probably because she's still upset. She does say that the food is delicious, but I only grunt in response and shovel another spoonful in my mouth.
It's the longest meal I've ever had to sit through, metaphorically speaking anyway. I'm actually relieved to have to wash the dishes. While I'm doing that, I hear Maka rummaging in the closet. From the corner of my eye, I see her pull out the vacuum. She starts cleaning up the debris she'd tracked in earlier.
I smile to myself as the vacuum whirs in the background. She's calmed down a little.
She finishes cleaning her mess, even underneath the couch surprisingly, since that was technically my fault. As soon as she shuts off the vacuum, she turns her head towards me. "Hey, Soul. Do you want me to help?"
Puzzled, I look over at her. "Huh?"
Her cheeks turn pink and she scratches the side of her face, glancing away. "Do you want me to help? You haven't taken a bath yet. You can do that now and I'll finish the dishes."
Her voice is peculiar. Like she's straining herself. She won't meet my gaze either. "I'm fine," I tell her, turning back to the sink. "You're tired, aren't you? Get some rest."
"W-well, aren't you tired too?" she blurts out. The pink tint on her cheeks deepens to red. She forces a smile on her face, though with her eye twitching like that, it's not fooling anyone. "I'm just…trying to be nice," she grinds out behind a clenched jaw.
I stare at her for a moment, until her fake smile starts to falter. "Why don't you just be yourself?" I ask.
She growls, clenching her hands into fists. "Soul, you idiot!" she shouts and then storms out of the kitchen.
Well, she's acting like herself.
…
"Maka?" I call out from the other side of the door to her room. There's no response. I knock again. "Hey, Maka—"
"I'm busy," she snaps. She's been holed up in her room for over two hours. I knew when I thought of actually seriously studying that my patience had reached its limit.
I throw open her door, eliciting a gasp from her, and walk into the room uninvited. "Hey, Maka. I'm trying to talk you here," I say in a strained voice, fighting back my immediate urge to yell at her.
"Humph. I don't want to talk," she says and whirls her head in the opposite direction.
I grab the back of the desk chair she's in and lean down, shoving my face in front of hers. "But I'm talking and you're going to listen. Got it?" I snarl. I've had enough of this.
She narrows her eyes. "What do you want?"
"I should be asking you that!"
"I don't want anything," she mutters.
"You want cute angel wings!"
She purses her lips and says nothing.
Realizing I'll get nowhere by shouting at her, I back away and sit down on the side of her bed. "I just don't understand what's wrong. You have to tell me. I can't just guess, Maka," I say in a soft voice.
She glances at me shyly then shifts her gaze back to the window. "I already told you," she murmurs.
"You told me you wanted Ox for your partner. Then you got mad at me thinking I wanted to switch partners. Weren't you the one who suggested it first?" I look down at the floor so I don't have to see her reaction when I ask, "Or do you just…like him or something?"
"No! That's not what I meant!" she exclaims, whirling her head around towards me.
I lift my gaze to hers and feel my face grow warm. I look back down at the floor but I can still feel her eyes on me, boring into the side of my face. "Then…what did you mean?" I grumble.
"I-I told you already!" She turns her back on me and doesn't say anything for a second. When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet and muffled. "I just…think it would be nice…to be called an angel. And…no one's ever really…called me cute before either."
"Your dad?"
"He doesn't count!"
I slip my hands into my pockets and stare at the floor. So that's it. She wants people to think she's cute? Doesn't she realize how dumb that is? She's violent and short-tempered and gloomy. She's not all of sudden going to change into someone like Kim. I wouldn't want that anyway. She's fine the way she is. Doesn't she know that? Someone like Kim wouldn't have liked my song. Someone like Kim would've found my twisted nature to be scary. Someone like Kim wouldn't have offered to be my partner. Someone like Kim wouldn't be fit to be my partner anyway—our soul wavelengths would never match. Didn't she know that? I'm twisted and cynical. The spiky wings she hated represented my soul.
I stand up and make my way to the door. It's stuffy in here. My chest feels tight. I want to go calm down and forget about this whole mess.
Maka's voice stops me before I go into the hallway. "Soul?"
She sounds worried, upset. I don't like it. I put my hand over the doorknob and turn my head slightly. I can see her just from the corner of my eye. "I get it," I say quietly.
"Soul…"
"You're my partner," I mutter. "We help each other, right? I get it." I keep my head angled away from her so she won't see the blush that's most likely on my face. I can't believe I'm giving in to her.
Her expression is one of baffled surprise as she stares at me, then she breaks out into a huge smile and her green eyes light up. She giggles and happily turns back to the books lying open on her desk. She pays no attention to me as I shuffle out into the hallway with my hand in my hair.
I can't believe myself. To have gone so far…
Whatever! She'll get her dumb angel wings. They'll be as stupid-looking as she wants them to be, maybe even more stupid. Fluffy and cute and completely inadequate for someone as strong and as cool as her. But once she realizes that angel and cute don't suit her, she'd better not start apologizing like the fool that she is because I won't hear it. I'll just tell her to keep training so that we can beat the crap out of Medusa and the people who stole Kid and the witches and the kishin and anyone else who stands in our way. We'll show them all up.
But for now, I'll indulge her. Because what else can I really do? I'll give her that moment, that feeling, she craves. She'll try to align herself with that picture in her head of what cute is. She'll be an angel for a while and feel like she's got it all, like she's on top of the world. And then she'll just come running back to me and my twisted ways without a second glance because that's who we are.
She's not cute. Not like that.
She's so much more.
She's an amazing fighter. A cool scythe technician with style.
She's my partner.
I groan and fall face-first onto my bed.
The things I do for my idiot meister.
