Soul Theory
by. Poisoned Scarlett
.02
three, four, shut the door
Maka is unusually nervous the next time she walks into the cafe. She knows Soul will not be there until later that evening but the stifled excitement and dread refuse to settle as she takes her post behind the cash register. At least she knows that after today, she would have completed most of the homework and not face her teachers wryly amused face when she admits she didn't do it because she had trouble with it.
Kid is cleaning tables again and Black Star is jamming out to a rock song on his MP3, not at all embarrassed by his cheesy moves as a few girls sitting in the back watch with giggling smiles.
"Good evening, Maka." Kid absently greets, furrowing his brows when a stubborn stain won't submit to the perfectly squared rag in his hand.
"Hi, Kid." Maka smiles wearily, something which makes the boy pause for a second before continuing his precise scrubs. "Um... Kid?"
"Yes?"
"About..." Maka purses her lips. "Nevermind."
Kid frowns but nods, going back to his task silently.
Maka wants to ask him about Soul. He has not been off her mind since yesterday and it's annoying her. It's mostly his words, which bounce off the plains of her head like dice, but she can't hide the fact that it's him in general. His ruby eyes, sharp canines, and cool disposition. It's all so different to her; like a new puzzle. The draw she has to him has always been a mystery she'd rather just let unfold by itself so she resigns herself to taking orders and pouring coffee until he comes and whisks her away into a state of unease.
She tells herself it's because of the music worksheets.
She only partially believes that.
"YO! MAKA!" Black Star slides to a stop in front of her, grinning out something that makes her brows raise: "Can you take my shift today again?"
"Why can't you be here this time? You know that if the manager catches you you'll get fired..." She doesn't mind – not at all, it actually makes staying behind a whole lot more easier – but she's still curious. Tsubaki didn't seem like the clingy type but who knew?
"I know, I know!" He bats away her concerns. "But I really wanna' hang out with Tsubaki tonight!"
Correction: Black Star's the clingy one. Maka dryly thinks to herself. "Whatever, just try not to make this a habit, okay?"
"Yeah!" He shoots her a wide grin. "Thanks, Maka, I owe you one!"
"You owe me years worth of stuff, Black Star! Oh, and tell her I said hi for me!" Maka shouts after him, watching him mock-salute before going back to taking orders with a new bounce in his step. She always wondered to herself who would be the unlucky girl to date the hyperactive guy and she's sheepish to say she always knew Tsubaki would be the one.
That girl had the patience of a saint and that was saying something. Maka was a little impatient herself, especially when it came to doing things that normally took a few minutes. Dawdling and wasting time were things Maka hated; slacking off was unacceptable and being a disappointment in general was frowned upon in her book. It was likely why she was adamant on asking Soul for help today. She would be damned if she failed the class when she had a perfectly good teacher just a few steps away!
"Are you sure that's wise, Maka?"
Maka looks at Kid, who hasn't looked up from the table. He's kneeling, eyes level with the table top but not concentrating on the shine at all.
"What do you mean, Kid? This is the most excited I've seen Black Star about someone since himself!" Maka jokes.
"The cafe closes quite late." Kid continues, finally tilting his head to look at her from the corner of his eye. "As I recall, your neighborhood is not the safest at night, or any time, actually."
"It's fine, Kid, I can take care of myself."
"You might be strong but a grown man can still outmatch you." Kid states logically, not a hint of disdain in his tone. "It's dangerous to be out after six and you know it. There's a lot of gang activity around your home..."
"Yes, I know, but I can take care of myself!" Maka smiles in what she hopes is assurance. "I've lived there for nearly two years now, remember? Nothing's happened to me so far! And I went home yesterday without any incident!"
"Yes, but that was only one night out of many." He says, wisely.
Maka sighs. "I'll be fine, Kid."
He looks dubious. "Maka, whether you like it or not, your safety pertains to me especially. Might I recall your father telling me to watch over you before you moved out...?"
Maka cringes. "Don't remind me..."
Kid had, sadly, been there when she returned to her father's home to pick up a few things after her move. He had been her first friend, followed by Liz and Patty, and she had pleaded he accompany her since she didn't think she'd be able to contain her homicidal urges if she went alone.
"You better watch over my precious Maka!" Her father had snarled, after threatening to butcher him with a machete if he tried anything on her.
Needless to say, despite the threats and sneers and glowers from her dad, Kid was perfectly composed and merely nodded in agreement, offering the few words "I shall" before Maka dragged Kid away, ignoring his suddenly girly wails of: "NOO! DRAG ME WITH MY OTHER HAND AS WELL! IT'S NOT SYMMETRICAL OTHERWISE!"
Honestly, she still didn't understand how she met such weird people.
The rest of her shift goes on without fault, the normal influx of people keeping her distracted enough from the music homework she's yet to finish. She's glad her teacher had given her at least two weeks to complete the package. He must really think she needed guidance if he gave her that long of an extension after she admitted she had trouble with it, and it only encourages her to ask for his help!
When Soul finally walks through the door, the same old folder under his arm, he doesn't move even when she looks up and greets him with one of her smiles.
He just stares at her expectantly.
The smile slips into a purse and she sighs sharply, nodding her head begrudgingly.
When she looks back, he's already walking to a table to start on his own work.
"What was that about?"
Maka starts, jerking to Kid, who straightens the black overcoat he had slipped on silently. She hadn't even noticed him standing there, observing the interaction with scrutiny. His strangely colored amber eyes pierce through her, protectiveness glowing within them as they shift toward the table Soul is located at suspiciously.
"What do you mean?"
"That. What happened just now."
"Oh, it's, uh, nothing!" She winces. That was a terrible lie...
"It looked like something from my point of view."
"Aren't you supposed to be going somewhere right now?" Maka grumbles, not wanting to tell him that she was more-or-less on a friend-basis with Soul. For some reason, she wants to keep these secret smiles and glances to herself and no one else. She hopes its the same for him but she may just be letting her imagination get the best of her. "I thought you were supposed to take Liz and Patty out. It's the eighth, you know..."
Kid, as of a few weeks ago, had begun dating both Liz and Patty. Now, if it were any other person, Maka would be disgusted and furious. But Kid was a special case: his severe OCD inhibited the most normal of relationships and Liz and Patty really didn't mind sharing the guy – in fact, those twins shared mostly everything. To her surprise and his glee, they had been thrilled when Kid asked both of them out at the same time.
Weird, but heartwarming all the same.
Maka guessed exceptions could be made although it still bothered her that he was able go out with two girls at the same time. Didn't couples usually... Maka stopped that train of thought dead – this was so not the time to be thinking about those things! Especially since she was going to be sitting herself down for a few hours before Soul!
Kid smiles faintly. "Want to get rid of me quickly, do you?" He leans against the counter, dropping his voice. "Be especially careful on your way home today. There have been news alerts all day that a murderer is on the loose around your neighborhood."
Maka nods. "I heard about that, too. I'll take the long way today!" The long way was quite long but it was well-lit and always had a few people walking through it at all hours of the night. The short way was dark and lonely but short – as in, instead of half an hour, it took less than ten minutes to arrive at her apartment. However, taking shortcuts had always been a dangerous gamble in her neighborhood. Sometimes it was better to take the long walk than shorten it and have the tip of a knife pressed against your throat in the next second.
"Good." Kid glances at Soul and, after a seconds deliberation, walks over to him. Maka watches him apprehensively, sighing in relief when he only high-fives the guy with both hands, much to Soul's disgruntlement, and they begin to talk normally. Kid probably suspected something but Maka knows he wouldn't do something so forward unless he was positive she had some sort of friendship with the snowy-haired pianist...
"Maka!" Liz's voice cuts through her thoughts cheerfully. "Long time no see! How've you been holding out, kid?"
"Maka! Maka!" Patty comes rushing after her sister, that same happy-go-lucky smile on her face as always. "Sissy tells me you've been sad, is that true?"
Maka laughs lightly at the younger sisters pouty lips. "Nope! I've been better than better! I've been great!" She lies.
Liz eyes her but, after a second, deems it the truth and grins out: "Oh, guess what? Kid's taking us out to one of those expensive restaurants today! I get to wear that cocktail dress I bought a few days ago! You'd love it if you saw it!" She excitedly tells her, gushing the details with flourish.
Patty hums to herself, shifting from foot to foot until Kid comes back from his talk with Soul, voice holding that tone of authority. And with good reason, too, since Kid happened to be son of the mayor of Death City: Lord Death himself. "Liz, Patty, we're leaving!"
"See ya' later, Maka!" Liz grins.
"Bye bye! Be happy, okay?" Patty beams.
"Maka, I'll see you tomorrow." Kid nods, his eyes conveying a warning that only makes her smile a bit. He looks a little more relaxed, too, and Maka assumes it's because Soul has that effect on people; even if he riled her up last night, she did feel rather calm and cool around him...
"BYE MAKA GOTTA' GO!" Black Star streaks past her in a blur of blue, running out the door and out of sight in less time that it took to breathe.
Maka merely blinks. "Bye...?"
And then she's alone again.
The girl who always works the late shifts comes through the glass doors, giving her a pointed look of annoyance before she goes into the back to clock in for work and begin her usual late-evening routine.
A whistle distracts her and Maka turns her head to Soul, whose lazily waving her over. She hesitates only for a second before gathering up her things and ducking over to the table, the girl frowning at her but taking her spot behind the cash register silently. She drops her homework and books on the table, taking out the sheet from yesterday and sitting down across from him.
"I take it you're one-step closer to understanding music now?" Soul lazily asks, with a mocking glint in his eye.
Maka scowls. "Just explain this to me." At his arched brow, she mumbles: "Please..."
"Whatever, give it here." Soul takes the sheet from her and skims it quickly, knowing what to do almost instantly. "Alright. It's just separating the voice from the stem."
"What the heck does that mean?"
"Nothin' that'll help you in life, that's for sure. Here, just follow my lead..." And he delves into the strangely easy topics of music. Each instruction, each word, is strung together perfectly and she understands the homework quickly enough after a few minutes of hearing him lecture.
But she still struggles when he leaves her alone.
"Jeez, you're doing it all wrong. Here..." He stands and walks over to her side with a sigh, sitting beside her.
Maka stiffens.
He's too close.
"See this?" Soul points to one of the figures with the pencil, tapping it a few times. "All you have to remember..." and she's entranced by the way his fingers, long and pale, move across the page as he reexplains the mechanics of tenors and altos.
He has pianist fingers, she decides.
She doesn't know if finger lengths have anything to do with playing a piano but she still thinks he's perfectly suited for it. He really is a musician, when it comes down to it. The way he speaks, how he knows all of this like he was born with the knowledge, and how little trickles of enthusiasm leaked into his words whenever he spoke about music, just show her that he's passionate about slapping together a bunch of sounds and creating a masterpiece.
She wonders if she could ever really let herself understand the abstract topic...
"Get it now?"
"What?"
Soul hangs his head. "Why did I know you were gonna' say that?"
Maka laughs sheepishly. She turns to him, setting her face in determination. "I'm sorry! I got distracted. I promise it won't happen again!"
"...Do I have to repeat everything I just said?"
"Unless you want me to fail, yes."
"Can't you just take the fai—!"
"NO!"
"Fine, sheesh. You better pay attention this time – I'm not repeating it a fourth time!" Soul grumbles but explains the homework to her for the fourth time. She doesn't like how she likes the way he's sitting so close to her with his pencil out like a conductors stick and so much knowledge flowing out of his lips, but she has to bare it for now. She pays rapt attention but once more finds herself disliking how she's so eager to listen to him; the sound of his drawling voice that makes him sound like he's sleepy sometimes.
Maka doesn't have many friends.
She speaks to Liz, Patty, Tsubaki and Kim but she wouldn't feel comfortable with either if left alone with them at, say, the mall. She's hardly tried bonding with them, for her own reasons, but Tsubaki has been able to break down a few walls and grow closer to her because of her kind nature. Even still, Maka can't seem to let herself go to her. The last she needs is to involve more people in her issues - one person was enough - as it's miserably clear her mama won't be coming back for a long, long time and her papa is just too much of a womanizing pervert to find time in his hectic work schedule to seek her out. Maybe to give her the paternal love she deserves but hasn't got? There's only one person whose actually managed to crack her shell; one single person who has earned her unfailing trust... and she's the probably the worst person to trust given the things that girl did on a daily basis. But she was her only true friend and Maka accepted her for all her faults and imperfections.
She goes by Blair, and she worked at the several cabaret's her father frequented.
The irony isn't lost to her.
"...do problems five through seven and then I'll look over them to see if they're right." Soul ends his lecture, raising his eyes to her.
"Okay." Maka mumbles, taking the sheet from him. She scoots over, putting a good foot of space between them, and Soul notices how calculated each movement is; how uptight she is. He knows it's not because she's nervous, either.
"Maka."
Maka starts. He's never spoken her name before; it makes something strange twist in her gut.
"Y-yeah?"
He allows a small smile, something that improves his otherwise daunting appearance significantly. Her face feels hot. She mildly hates it. "Chill out. Everyone has something they aren't good at. No ones perfect."
"I know that!" Maka huffs defensively, going back to her work and pointedly ignoring him.
Secretly, Maka is grateful he told her that. Sometimes, she just wants to hear what she already knows, and it's comforting when it's actually said because it makes her believe her thoughts a little more. It's reassuring. She isn't the strongest person even though many would argue otherwise. She's probably more fragile than most, and she knows this with clarity. She's too loyal sometimes; too much of a good friend.
People tend to abuse good friends.
"You got number six wrong." Soul says after she finishes a few minutes later. "You mixed up the bass with the alto again."
"Stupid bass..." Maka mumbles.
Soul cracks a grin. "Here, I'll show you a neat trick you can use to remember them." He's in her personal space again, shoulders touching briefly as he begins to divulge his secret to her. She can see his lashes, pale white like his hair, as those gem eyes flicker from her to the paper frequently as he explains. She looks down at the paper, but his words run through her as she thinks. She always wondered if his hair was dyed but now she knows it isn't. She can see no black roots or anything. He's definitely not albino, too, since his skin is a nice tan. It's weird and once again she finds herself wondering why she meets such weird people...
"Hey!" An annoyed voice cuts off whatever Maka was going to say. "We're closing in an hour!"
Maka gasps and looks at the clock, seeing that, yes, it was nearing nine o'clock. "It's already time to go?" She sounds disappointed and she pretends that it's because she still hasn't finished her homework packet.
"Miss me already?" Soul teases with a smug grin, obviously catching the disappointment in her tone. He's awfully perceptive and Maka makes a quick mental note to be wary around him from now on. "Never took you as the clingy—OUCH!"
"I call that my Maka-Chop." Maka huffs, holding a textbook in her palm coolly.
"The hell—you want to give me a concussion or something?" Soul winces as he touches the tender spot on his skull. Here he thought he knew all about pain from Black Star's punches. "That hurt, dammit!"
"That was the whole point!"
"This is so not cool..." He groans.
She throws a quick glance to the cash register, which has long since been abandoned for her own devices. The girl who has the night shift sits on the other side of the room, texting on her phone with a heavy frown on her face. She looks up once, glares, before looking back down and texting furiously. Maka has a feeling she's being talked down and has half a mind to glare right back when the girl looks up again.
"Oi!" Soul's snap brings her back to the task at hand. "You gonna' finish your homework or not? I have things I have to do, too, y'know!"
Maka suddenly feels guilty. "Oh! Right!" She flickers her eyes to the other side of the table, the seat which holds the folder full of music sheets. "I'm sorry! I must be disturbing you from your work!" Maka starts to stand, intent on finishing her work at the comfort of the cash register, when his lazy voice stops her yet again.
"You're not bothering me, your lack of attention is." He drawls. "How many times do I have to repeat what I say before you get it? I thought you were smart or something. Didn't you rank number one in Shibusen last year?"
Maka starts, unsettled that he knew what school she attended. "How do you know that?" She narrows her eyes, and he smirks like he's read her thoughts.
"I go to Shibusen, too." He replies, watching her shoulders relax but her emerald eyes light up with curiosity. "Your name is practically plastered all over the goddamn bulletin board when the final exam results go up."
Her face warms a pale pink, knowing it's true although she gets nothing but rolls of eyes and raised brows whenever they happen to match her face with her name. "How come I've never seen you before?"
Soul shrugs. "We don't have any classes together, maybe?"
She frowns. That's strange, usually people of the same age got grouped into the same classes although she's the exception since she takes senior classes due to her skipping a grade. She has to have him for at least one class — "Are you younger than me?" That's the only explanation, right? She's taking Senior classes...
"Maybe. How old are you?"
"Sixteen..."
His smirk grows larger at her wide, curious, eyes. She is a curious creature, he decides, someone who cannot take ignorance. It's only a treat that she happens to have a short fuse as well; a crackle in her eyes that makes them burn like the tip of the cigarettes his disdainful older brother always shoves in his face, matched with that mocking grin of his that is so alike to his own it pisses him off. "Nope. I'm seventeen."
"Huh? Then how come I haven't seen you around! I'm taking Senior classes!" Maka complains.
"Maybe we don't have the same classes, genius?" Soul remarks.
Maka scowls but relents.
The rest of the few minutes together is spent silent, Maka debating why she feels so conflicted that he was older than her while Soul tries to write the bloody music sheet whose deadline is nearing too close for comfort. The strained silence becomes comfortable when she brightly says that she finished the first worksheet and he deadpans that she still has six more to go.
"Shut up, Soul!"
"Heh, whatever."
She completes one more worksheet in the elapsed time and he only manages to write one more note before shutting the folder and calling it a night.
"We're closing in ten!" The annoyed girl shouts at them just as they begin to gather their things.
Maka thinks she heard the girl mutter something else, something obviously directed at her, but she doesn't catch it so she decides it's not worth getting angry at. There is no reason to be angry at her, unless she felt surly that she wasn't at her post. But hardly anyone comes into the cafe during the late evening. She packs her bags, securing her backpack on her shoulders just as Soul slides out of the booth, standing as if to wait for her.
"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow!" Maka smiles, previous awkwardness gone. She likes how she feels comfortable around him but at the same time it makes her uneasy. Being comfortable is only the first step to becoming his friend and, thus, an even closer friend. She knows being so close to a person isn't wise, not for someone with luck like hers.
"How far do you live from here?" Soul asks out of the blue.
"I don't live very far – just a couple of blocks, down by Needle Avenue..."
"He wasn't kidding..." Soul mutters to himself and Maka raises a brow.
"What are you mumbling about this time?" Maka asks impatiently, knowing the longer she took hearing him babble, the later it would get and the more dangerous the streets would become. She doesn't feel very concerned about encountering loose criminals but that doesn't mean she's foolish enough not to fear the darkness of the streets or the things that lurk in them.
"How about I give you a ride?" He asks casually but she notices he doesn't look at her when he does: he looks a little awkward, even though his voice is the epitome of cool and collected. "It's late and it's too dangerous for a girl to be walking home all by herself. It'd be uncool to let you go like that."
"I can take care of myself. I've walked home late at night before." Maka frowns. "Besides, it's only a few blocks away—!"
"It only takes a few seconds to incapacitate a girl." He tells her, half-grinning at her glower. "Of course, you're right, who the hell would want to attack some flat-chested, short, girl—!
"MAKA CHOP!"
"DAMN IT!" Soul swears, holding his busted skull with both hands. It takes all that's in him not to jump from foot to foot like a little girl. "Would you quit doing that? Shit!"
"Stop calling me flat-chested!"
"No promises—fine! Fine!" Soul holds a hand up in peace, eying the book in her hand warily. Inwardly, he finishes his sentence with a smart no promises, flatty, but outwardly he complies with her demands – if only for the sake of his precious brain, which he needs if he wishes to finish his composition by December. "C'mon, let's go already."
Maka doesn't like the fact that he'll know where she lives but, judging by his reaction when she told him the street, she thinks that he probably already knows all the nasty rumors that go along with 198 Needle Avenue – the single place in Death City that you can get all your narcotics, all your weaponry, all your whores, hire your hit men, find a gang willing to take in a few strays, and more. It's a bad neighborhood but the rent is cheap, very cheap, and Maka finds she doesn't mind the dangerous atmosphere so long as she lays low and doesn't call much attention to herself. Which is easy for her, because, honestly, aside from school and work, all she does is sit around at home reading or watching TV.
"Maka?"
She looks at him and says, "Coming!", and jogs after him after she hangs her apron behind the counter and makes sure all the money is accounted for, the girl who works the late shift glaring holes at her back as she closes up.
"So, where's your car?" Maka asks, the cold night air blowing against her exposed arms. She rubs them in an attempt to warm herself.
"Car?" Soul looks over her shoulder, his grin dark and his eyes darker. She can't help but to feel mesmerized by how the moonlight hits him at a slant, shadowing parts of his face and lightening others. He looks older, with a smoldering quality that heightens with every shifting shadow, and it takes everything in her not to pause and stare like some dumb, love-struck, girl. "Whoever said anything about a car?"
Maka's eyes land on a motorcycle, parked in a single space and gleaming under the moons volatile light. Her stomach drops to her ankles at the sight of the death machine. "Oh, no." She shakes her head. "No way are you getting me on that thing! No, thanks!"
Soul rolls his eyes. "Chill out, it's not that dangerous if you know how to drive it."
"Nope!" Maka crosses her arms over her chest resolutely. "You're going to have to drag me on it! I refuse to ride—HEY—!" Maka almost whimpers when Soul shoves her to the bike, muttering something about scardy cats and sleep, but she refuses to get on.
"You know, I've got absolutely no problem lifting your leg up for you." Soul threatens, emptily. He knows he wouldn't be able to touch her so brashly, given the manners that had been shoved into his brain when he was younger, but he still hopes she'd believe him.
"Just try." She menacingly replies.
Soul holds her glare for a second before sighing. "Look, can you just get on so we can leave already? It's late, I'm tired, and the darker it gets, the more likely I am to get shot after I drop you off." He means it as a joke but Maka takes it seriously. It slightly unnerves him, how much she believes that, and he makes a mental note to watch out for suspicious activity after he drops her off.
She reluctantly looks at the motorcycle and swings a leg over to settle herself in the back. Soul is quick to take his seat in-front of her before she chickens out.
"Um, do you have a helmet?"
"Cool guys like me don't need helmets." He cockily says, igniting the engine.
The roar of the bike makes her uneasy. Maybe she should just walk? It isn't worth wrecking just because it was late—wait, no helmet? "How can you not have a helmet! You dumbass, that's the one thing that can save your life if you wreck!" She smacks him on the head, ignoring his grunt. "The next time you come you better have a helmet on you or so help me—!"
"You ready?"
"E-eh?" Maka stutters, losing her fire. "Wait, where do I hold on?"
"There's some grips on the side." Soul motions with his head, revving the bike. His next words are teasing: "Or you can always hold onto me."
"But—!"
She squeaks when the bike lunges forward and clutches him for dear life, groaning in embarrassment when she hears his deep laughter. But soon they're leaving the small, comfy, cafe and heading to her house after a few directions from her; the moonlight offering just enough light to maneuver down the snaking roads of Death City.
Despite the fact that she's clinging onto him as they near her apartment, she's firm on keeping the door to her soul shut from him no matter what.
A/N: I noticed this story gets really dramatic in the next few chapters. Surprisingly, it's not between Soul and Maka. That's just not my style lol
Maka's issues are overrated, I know.
But that won't stop me from writing them! Teehee! 8D Just wait until we reach Soul's issues, you'll be smacking your head on your keyboard in no time XD
Scarlett.