"You ready?"
Maka looks up at the sound of Liz's voice, blinking in confusion at the red lacy dress she wears. "Why are you wearing that?"
She moves a stray lock of hair in place, snaps her compact mirror shut and purses her perfectly glossed lips in a delicate pout. "Please tell me you got my text."
"I forgot my phone at home."
"Well, you had to have seen the email."
"Email?" she repeats, pointedly looking at her broken computer, the cracked screen (courtesy of Soul) grinning at her in a jagged smile.
"On your laptop, obviously."
"I didn't bring it in today," she says, piling more files on an already teetering mountain of paperwork perched on her desk. "I wanted to have this script edited and sent off to Kid before the end of the year." She glances up at Liz and notices the change in her expression. "What is it?"
"The Christmas party's date got changed to today," she says, putting a hand on her hip. "Last-minute but hey, I'm not in charge of organizing that fiasco."
"What?" Maka splutters, pen slipping from her fingers. This changed everything. "But it's always on Christmas Eve."
Liz shrugs. "Lord Death wanted to see his son for the holidays."
"Naturally." She picks up her pen again, mind already working furiously to adjust to this new development. Her fingers itch for her coffee mug and she regrets letting Soul talk her into swearing off caffeine. "Am I the only one who finds it strange he insists on being called Lord Death?"
"No, but as long as he's signing my paychecks, I'd call him Mickey Mouse if he asked." Liz pushes herself off from where she leans on the door frame. "Anyways, it's a good thing I came because you can't go to the party if you're wearing that."
"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Maka asks. She scratches a final note on the script and puts it to the side. "It's always been casual attire for the party."
"If the party was in the studio's lounge like it usually is, it would be," Liz says, producing a bag from nowhere. "But Patti convinced Kid to hold it at Gallows Manor since all the decorations are there anyways and Kid has to leave first thing tomorrow. So it's formal wear now."
Maka pictures the manor in her head: macabre even in a place like Death City and imposing from the hill where it overlooked everything. She couldn't come up with a place that has less Christmas spirit if she tried. "And when does it start?"
"Little over an hour," Liz says, taking a seat in the chair in front of Maka's desk. "Patti's already gone ahead to help Kid with decorating, although hers and Kid's vision are somewhat...different." She plops the bag on the desk, ruining the pile of papers Maka just finished arranging. "Merry Christmas."
"This is-" Maka takes out a short and strapless emerald-colored dress. "Different."
"It's gorgeous," Liz corrects her. "And I'm sure Soul will agree when he sees you."
"Soul, wh-oh right," she says, catching herself. Even though they've kept up this ruse for two months now, she still isn't used to the idea of her fake boyfriend.
Not that it will matter for much longer.
She picks up the bag and goes into the bathroom connected to her office. As she begins to undress, it occurs to her that Soul may have missed the memo like she did and she hopes she'll be able to find him before he leaves the studio.
"How have things been going with him anyways?" Liz's voice is nonchalant but Maka can hear the curiosity hidden in it. "I haven't caught him around here since the computer incident and that was two weeks ago."
She fights a grin as she takes off her shirt. "It's going."
While the unfortunate accident with Soul's elbow and the computer hadn't been part of the staged rendezvous they'd planned ever since they put her idea in motion, it had been the final piece of evidence to their friends that they were indeed head over heels for each other. Although in reality, she had tripped over one of the mountains of papers in her office and straight into Soul; they had both landed on her desk just as Liz had entered the room.
A bite of impatience creeps into Liz's words. "And that means?"
"Meaning it's only been two months, Liz, I'm just getting to know him," she answers as she shimmies into the dress and zips it up. It's not exactly a lie: Soul generally spent their "dates" over at her apartment; they sit hunkered down on her couch and exchange tidbits about their day and rants about the respective bullshit in their lives while Soul mixes audio and she makes drafts bleed green with her pen.
"From what I've seen, that appears to involve finding out how sharp those teeth are."
Maka ignores the blush rising in her cheeks as she checks her reflection in the mirror, letting her hair fall loose from the ponytail she normally keeps them in. Thankfully, the dress is the same length as the skirts she wore in high school and the matching heels are not nearly as high as the ones Liz wears on a daily basis. "That's my business, thank you very much."
"I'm gonna take that as a yes." The gloating smile radiates from Liz like a beacon of smugness and self-satisfaction. "I bet he bites. Is that why you wore that scarf for a week?"
"Of course not!" She yanks open the door, leveling her with a glare. "We hav-"
She smirks. "Don't try to deny it."
"Deny what?"
They both jump at the voice behind them. Soul stands in the doorway and looks bemusedly at Liz, hands in his pockets and shoulders rounded.
The sight of Soul in formal attire sidelines Maka's train of thought and she swallows, mouth strangely dry.
When they had discussed the Christmas party two weeks ago, they'd both agree the party would be the perfect note to end their charade with-they would make a scene rivaling the hysteria of Kid's breakdowns and perhaps that would finally finally convince Blake and Liz to give up on their determination to find a partner for their friends. But Soul had still balked about the ridiculousness of having to stuff himself in a suit, grumbling until Maka's reassurances that he would look fine convinced him otherwise.
She had to admit now that he looked more than fine. The black suit with red pinstripes was striking against his skin and hair and the combination of Soul standing at his actual height along with the cut of the suit outlines his lean musculature in a way that makes her heart pick up speed.
When he moves his gaze from Liz to Maka, something like regret turns the taste in her mouth sour and she fights the jitters sprouting in her stomach at the way his questioning expression turns blank, telling herself it's just from Liz being in the same room as Soul since the computer incident. She finds her voice. "I was just about to go look for you."
"I'll take that as my cue to leave," Liz says serenely, knowing smirk back in place. She rises from the chair and winks at Soul as she passes him. "Don't be too late to the party, okay?"
If Maka hadn't been blushing before, she is now.
"What were you talking about?" he asks as Liz's footsteps fade away.
"Just relationship stuff," she answers tersely, equally confused and irritated by her annoyance at him not commenting on her appearance. "I take it you knew about the change in plans."
He nods. "I got the email before I left for work."
"Thanks for telling me." She grabs her purse and heads out of the office to the elevator, Soul falling in step with her.
"Filming ran way late." He presses the button for the elevator. "If it wasn't one machine breaking, it was a problem with how the sound was recording. I did try calling you though."
"Which I had to forget of all days," she sighs as the elevator doors open. She looks at Soul-he wears exhaustion like a worn blanket-and she softens. "We don't have to go, if you're too tired."
He shakes his head. "I'll manage."
Soul stares as the brightly lit mansion comes into view. "I'm not sure why I expected something normal."
Maka raises an eyebrow, capping her lip gloss. "You've lived here how long again?"
"Six months."
"Then, you have no excuse," she says teasingly as the gates to Gallows Manor creak open. "Anyways, this is a bit reminiscent of the Gothic style, didn't you say you liked that?"
He inches his car forward, following where a servant gestures for him to park. "Yeah, but you have to admit the guillotines are a bit much."
"I'll give you that," she says, unsnapping her seatbelt and stepping out of the car. She shivers, the chill of the night nipping at her hands and feet, and rubs her shoulders. "Come on, I'm dying out here."
"Hang on."
"What?"
Soul rounds the car and holds out his hand. "We're a couple, remember?"
"Oh." Maka closes the distance between them and takes his hand. His palm is rough from his work on the sets of the studio but that isn't what she focuses on. "You're warm," she breathes blissfully, magnetizing to his side.
"Something has to make up for my cold heart," he says as they walk up the manor's driveway. "Your hand feels like ice."
"The perils of poor blood circulation."
His laugh is a low rumble as they walk up the steps to the mansion. However, the look on his face is completely serious when he stops before the doors. "So," he starts, "This is it, then?"
The feeling of his thumb rolling over her knuckles keeps Maka from thinking for a moment. Then she processes his words and looks up. "The plan hasn't changed, right?" she says, ignoring her plummeting heart. "Do you want to do it now or later?"
"Later, I think," he says. "Might as well enjoy the party together peacefully, right?"
Her reply is interrupted by Blake.
"There's the two lovebirds," he says with a grin that is even more self-congratulatory than the one Liz gave Maka earlier.
"If you ever refer to me by that again, I will kill you," she informs him.
"Welcome, you two." Tsubaki, one of the studio's casting directors, walks up to them, her ivory dress making her radiant in the light of the hall. She turns to Blake, holding out a tie. "You forgot this."
He turns his nose up at the tie, lips pursed in a childish pout. "I will not be constrained by that monstrosity."
Her smile grows saccharine and threatening. "You forgot this."
"But-"
Maka pulls on Soul's hand and starts to move away. "I think we're going to go inside."
Tsubaki waves at the two without breaking eye contact with Blake. "Ballroom's straight ahead."
"If I don't get some food soon, I'm going to die," Soul moans as they walk out of the hall. "I haven't eaten anything all day."
"Don't be so drama-" Maka stops mid-sentence as they walk into the ballroom. "Wow."
Half of the ballroom is decorated with elegant garlands and wreaths spaced evenly on the pillars. A pine tree standing in the corner, golden baubles dotted among the lights. The other half looks like the inside of a Christmas store exploded. Glitter rains down like colorful and sparkly snow from the ceiling and covers absolutely everything in its realm of reach, including the seven-foot giraffe wearing a Santa hat.
Soul apparently is not surprised enough to comment on it, tugging on her arm impatiently. "Come on, I smell sushi."
"You like seafood?" she asks, wrinkling her nose.
"It's my favorite," he answers as they get in the growing line for the buffet lined against the wall. "You don't?"
"Not even a little bit, the smell does me in every time." The line moves at a steady pace and she lets go of Soul to grab plates. "Just look out for mistletoe. I don't want to be forced to kiss someone with fishy breath."
"And I don't want to be forced to kiss someone with bad taste."
"Funny," she snorts as she piles her plate with food.
He grins. "I try."
"I hope you're enjoying the party," someone says from behind them as they finish going through the buffet table. "Because I've just entered the eighth circle of hell."
If it wasn't for the white stripes peeking out from the veil of glitter cloaking him, Maka wouldn't recognize Kid. He's the messiest she's ever seen him, the rainbow-colored glitter sticking to every part of him catching the light in a way that makes him painful to look at directly.
Soul voices her thoughts aloud. "Who turned you into a walking disco ball?"
"Liz got Patti a glitter gun for Christmas," Kid answers glumly. "And when I tried to stop her, she said she'd let me live to regret it." He sighs and his breath comes out in a sparkly puff. "I didn't know it'd be this much though."
"I'm sure it'll come out," Maka says reassuringly.
"In a month," Soul adds, which earns him a sharp prod from her.
"I'm more impressed than I am mad at this point," Kid says, flicking some of the glitter off his suit in vain. "It is this kind of creativity that makes her the best set designer we have. Though meeting with Father and our clients tomorrow might not go over as well," he tacks on with a grimace.
He begins to drift away mournfully. "Anyways, enjoy the party."
Soul fishes his phone out of his pocket and waggles his eyebrows at Maka. "Dare me to take a picture and send it to everyone?"
She rolls her eyes, biting back her smile. "Not with your work phone."
"Good point."
They find seats at one of the many tables positioned around the dance floor and eat in a comfortable silence. The band playing is not the same one that Kid usually hires for the party, their music much more upbeat and generating more of a crowd on the dance floor than Maka had ever seen, couples sweeping across in time with the tempo.
Soul leans back in his chair when he finishes and closes his eyes. "I wasn't really looking forward to coming but the food makes it worth it."
"You're not a fan of dancing?" she asks, placing her napkin on her plate.
"No way."
"Then I guess this is going to be unpleasant." She stands and holds out her hand. "Come on."
He opens an eye lazily. "Nope."
She lowers her voice to a loud whisper. "Weren't you the one to say we have to do couple-like things?"
"Aren't we breaking up soon?"
The daggers of his words are hard to bear with a straight face but she keeps her voice steady. "Fine." She sits back down. "I was just trying to make the party fun for both of us."
He opens both eyes. "Maka-"
"There you are!" Liz walks up to their table. "I've been looking for you two."
"Patti really livened the place up," Maka says, digging up a cheerful smile. She twists away from Soul to look at Liz and gestures around the room. "I've never seen so much glitter in one place before."
"I may have suggested the idea to her. And I may have also hired the new band." Liz flips her hair to one side. "I could not stand being the one of the only people dancing again." She nodded to the people on the dance floor. "Speaking of which, shouldn't you be out there?"
Maka opens her mouth, ready to set off the beginning of their "break up" scene, but Soul answers. "You're right."
Words caught in her throat, she turns in disbelief to see him holding out a hand. "Ready?"
The weight of Liz's gaze pushes her into taking his hand wordlessly.
"Have fun," she calls from the table as they head to the dance floor.
Maka tries to crush the small wave of irritation in her chest as she and Soul begin to dance a waltz.
"Close one, huh?" Soul says.
She presses her mouth into a line. "Right."
Her frustration only grows the more he tries to talk with her, giving curt replies to his small talk. She snaps out of it when she steps on his foot. "Sorry."
"It's okay," he says, not looking okay at all. They dance in silence for a bit until he speaks again. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she answers. And it really is nothing, she tells herself sternly. There's no reason for her to be so vexed.
"That's not what your face says."
She says the first thing that springs to mind. "I just thought you would have wanted to tell Liz then." She stares at a point just above his shoulder. "And you didn't want to dance anyways."
"Well, Blake's disappeared with Tsubaki to who knows where," Soul says. He raises an eyebrow at her. "I don't know about you but I don't want to interrupt whatever they're doing."
Inwardly, Maka rails at herself for being so happy at getting to continue their (fake) relationship.
Outwardly, she smiles and says, "Another time then?"
Soul nods once. "Soon."
Even though it's the right answer, she's still disappointed.
"And Maka?"
Her eyes move back to his and for an instant, she thinks she can see her feelings reflected in his face. "Yes?"
"I want to dance with you."
"You're sure you don't want me to walk you in?" Soul asks as Maka gathers her things, his car parked outside her apartment.
She shook her head. "No need for you to get cold too."
He looks unconvinced but he shrugs. "If you insist."
She's about to say good night when she pauses, hand on the car handle. "Sorry for being weird earlier."
"You were right about dancing," he says, shaking his head. "It was fun." He grins at her. "Despite all the times you stepped on my feet."
She smiles. "I never claimed to be a good dancer." She forces the words out before she can stop herself. "So when do you want to tell Liz and Blake?"
"I was thinking a month of being 'serious' would make telling them more satisfying," he answers after a pause. "Plus, I'm kinda liking having the excuse of being on a date with you to avoid social responsibilities."
Maka can only hope the relief in her voice is not apparent. "We still spend it together though."
"Yeah, but hanging out with you is easy," he says. "Even with your questionable taste in music." He looks at her. "You alright with it?"
The hope bubbling in Maka's chest dies. Easy. The budding feelings she had for him were anything but easy. Meaning there was no way he could feel the same way about her.
"Yes," she says quietly. "I'm good with it."
