Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater
A/N: All mistakes are mine and hopefully this doesn't seem to OOC, but then again this is an AU. Still ain't satisfied with how things worked out, I may rewrite this in the future.
This little shit had the audacity to question her integrity as a photographer. She was so fucking angry right now. More angry than the time Black Star stuck gum to one of her pigtails in second grade. She was seeing red.
Maka, you're a professional.
She takes a deep breath, because her carefully worded response will determine how their conversation will progress.
"Fuck you."
Downhill it is then.
He tries to reach for camera and warns him that she could punch him in the face and get away with it.
"What?! You got to be kidding me, give me the damned camera."
Maka braces herself, her small frame was no match for Mr. Tall and Lean. "Or I could just demand you for messing with my property." She keeps the camera far away from him as possible, his previous actions against her precious camera brought to abrupt halt.
"You're a fucking bitch."
They discuss the general details and exchange phone numbers.
"Please be patient with my brother, most of the time his bark is worse than his bite. Once you get to know him a bit more, he's not that bad."
"Why would I need to know him better? I just need a couple shots, right?"
Wes smiles at her. "It's just a hunch."
She grabs her bag and bids him farewell. It was nearly evening now and the little town square was beginning to change itself. The signs on the shops light up one by one, people started to flock around the small shops to buy presents for their families and friends, and little by little she starts to feel the warmth of the Christmas season.
Until a fight started outside Joe's bar.
"When your brother told me that you were hard to handle, I'm starting to think that's a big understatement." She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at him. He still tries to grab her camera at every opportunity she inadvertently gives him.
He takes a sharp breath and stops his assault, annoyed eyes still eying her camera.
"It was Wes who sent you?" His voice raises a timbre, ire now fully visible. He quickly drops the formal façade all together and matches her glare with one of his own.
After a few beats, he looks away and he whips out his phone.
Maka can't hear the conversation per se, but when she hears the crackle of laughter, she knows enough to know that it was Wes.
"Yes, I met her. Fuck you Wes, I think I've got bruises because of that chick."
She looked around while he was on the phone and observed the rest of the backstage. The dusty sheets, the overhead lights and the different props that were up against the wall. It was then, she realized that they were both alone. She looks at her reflection: tousled hair, skewed glasses and the strap of her messenger bag was fraying.
She hears his voice, a deep, rich laugh echoing through the halls.
If he wasn't such a bastard, she would find him handsome.
The big guy from outside peeks in. "Everyone's left already, you okay there Soul?"
"Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks Sid."
He shouts out for her, tells her to hurry her skinny ass. She just hits him on the head with a planner. While she walks to the exit, she misses the smile that he directs at her. Their banter filled the silence around them and Maka felt that she wasn't alone.
When they reach the front of the parking lot and start to part ways, he calls out her name.
"Do you have a ride?"
"No, I usually take the bus at this hour."
"The bus? You'll more likely die waiting for it with those clothes on. C'mon let me take you home."
She looks down at her shoes and feels the cold snow even with her thick socks on.
He holds out a spare helmet but he doesn't look at her, he looks at the falling snow and anywhere else that isn't her face.
"Yeah, I'd like that."
Maka remembers her first Christmas alone, her Papa drunk in some seedy bar while her Mama constantly travels around the world.
She wonders if they even remember that they have a daughter.
So she celebrates her Christmas alone, a small cup of chocolate for her, a whole fish for Blair and a new book to pass the time.
The crackling of firewood and the content purring of Blair fills up her small cold world.
They've managed to reach the front of her apartment complex, the orange monstrosity managing to cut holiday traffic. She hands him his helmet and she manages to squeak out a 'thanks'. She walks quickly through the ankle-deep snow blanket to get to the front doors.
Sneaking a glance back to the near empty road before she enters, she sees him looking back at her.
The snow may have left her body cold, but she's sure that her face feels warm.
She reaches her apartment door with little difficulty, the rest of the complex in a merry mood.
The silence of the room never felt louder in her entire life.
She unpacks her equipment from their casings and plops down the bed while she makes hot chocolate. Reviewing the photos that she took for the day, her eyes scan the last picture. Soul was facing the camera, unaware of its' presence while he was just starting his performance. She sees how his eyes reflected the light overhead. The spark of madness bringing the piece to life. The way he played with wild abandon.
It was awe-inspiring.
Her phone rings and she notices two unread messages.
One from Wes and another one from an unknown number.
can't meet up tomorrow, board meeting
soul would be there instead.
he won't try to get your camera again, promise.
t.y.
p.s i gave your # to him.
-W.
Maka feels her heartbeat speed up, her body a jumble of tangled nerves. She's pretty much sure that this feels like preparing for a fall.
She opens the second message.
Hey.
-S.
She looks outside her window from her lonely little flat and sees the red Christmas lights hanging from the shop across the street. It reminds her of his eyes, seemingly luminescent while he plays. It reminds her of happier times, of her passions in life and the wonders you can find in other people.
She hopes that look would be directed at her one day.