Title: Picture Day

Fandom: Soul Eater

Rating: PG

Pairing/Characters: Kid/Maka

Theme #: 11 ("every move you make")

Disclaimer: Soul Eater © Ohkubo Atsushi

Summary: Was this what they called a crush?

Author's Notes: Aaaaand next segment. Thanks for all the comments, guys. I'm glad you like it so far.

Death the Kid has never been one for "crushes." He always pictured them as silly, whimsical things that passed as quickly as the black dye in his hair: far too quickly, in his opinion. He'd watch Liz powder her face on Saturday nights, all the while going on about how handsome and amazing Tommy, James, and Leon were (or whoever it was she liked at the time). He didn't particularly care who his weapon dated, but he had no compulsion to share in her joy. It all just seemed like such a waste of time.

"You just don't get it," she would say. "You just need to grow up a little first. You're a shinigami, I'm sure you'll have plenty of girls hanging off of you in the future."

Kid frowned. What did being a shinigami have to do with anything? "No one does that to my father. You're exaggerating."

Liz's hand accidentally slipped at that, leaving a haphazard trail of lipstick on her face. "T-that's different," she said. She looked at herself in the mirror and gasped, clutching a wet towel to her face before she decided she didn't want to talk to him anymore about the subject. "Get out already! He'll be here soon!"

No, Kid definitely didn't see the appeal of dates or crushes. There were far too many other taxing matters to deal with, like finding Asura, or turning the twin pistols into his Death Scythes, or... or—

Symmetry. That was something that made sense to him. It made him feel like everything was right with the world, like everything was in perfect balance. Crushes didn't matter. He'd watch Liz stomp into the mansion sometimes after one of her dates, cursing under her breath as she explained what went wrong. Nothing could go wrong with symmetry. It just wasn't possible.

He was proven right—and, well, wrong—on Picture Day at Shibusen. He was studying the newly taken photo – the ID badge was perfect. Not only did it have all his student information, the corners of the lamination were also shaped just right. His shoulders were relaxed, but his posture was straight as he looked into the camera. If only those damned stripes weren't there—

"So, Maka, how bad did it turn out?"

The sound of Black*Star's voice drew his attention away from his thoughts. He saw Black*Star looming over Maka's shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of her picture.

"None of your business!" she said. "What does it matter?"

"Did you get red-eye, or make a face, or—ah, you didn't even blink."

"Carrying a picture ID with my tongue hanging out of my mouth for a whole year would be stupid." She glared at Black*Star for a moment before her gaze landed on Soul, who'd just let out an amused snort. "Don't tell me you did that..."

Soul shrugged, looking away from her put-off expression to watch Black*Star, who made—in Kid's opinion—a very ugly face. "Nah," he said. "That's not"—he winced as he made another one—"very cool."

"It came out well?" Kid asked Maka.

"Better than well," Black*Star said. "Little Ms. Perfect even tries to be the best on Picture Day—"

"Maka Chop!"

He rubbed his head, scowling at her. "Oi, you..."

"May I see it?" Kid asked, ignoring Black*Star for the moment. He'd always respected Maka's attitude when it came to schoolwork—he knew how well her hard work paid off—and wondered how that bled over to school pictures. He found it a bit heartbreaking that so many of the students didn't particularly care about how sloppy their pictures came out.

Maka raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sure..." she said. "How did yours turn out, Kid-kun?" She held out her badge.

"Mmm," he said. He held out his own to make the exchange. "Pretty well, besides the stripes. They're hideous!" he said. Feeling a wave of distaste wash over him, he pulled Maka's picture up in front of him to try and get rid of the depressing thoughts.

Staring back at him was Maka, who wore neither messy clothes nor a funny face, but a tiny smile with her head held high. Her clothes weren't wrinkled or ruffled at all, and he noticed how straight her pigtails and tie were. She looked professional. She looked, she looked...

Perfect.

He stared at it, before looking up at her, before looking back down at the picture again. Yes, she was definitely the same as in the photo. He was so used to seeing her hunched over her books or a couple of seats away that he hadn't even noticed how incredibly—dare he say it?—symmetrical she looked when positioned just right.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with it," Maka said. He looked back up at her, fully intending to agree, before he noticed she was still looking at his picture. Oh, right. Of course she hadn't meant her own. He wouldn't blame her if she had, though. "It looks fine to me—eh? What's the matter?"

He'd been staring. He blinked before holding the picture out to her. "Ah, it's nothing," he said as he took his own back. "It came out well, Maka."

"Thanks, Kid-kun," she said. Then she smiled, the same one as in the photo, and turned around to go back into the classroom. He swallowed hard as he watched the back of her head disappear.

How could he have not noticed just how flawless Maka Albarn was? The shape of her face reminded him of art, of perfection, of everything he stood for.

And he'd missed it.

Black*Star blinked. "Oi, Kid? Quit spacing out!"

Kid coughed and turned away from him.

He was not spacing out.

_________________________________________

He found himself watching her sometimes after that. It wasn't even a conscious thing, most of the time. His eyes would just wander away from the lesson and focus on her, taking her in and noticing all the small things she did. She didn't move too often during Stein's lesson, but every now and then she would shift in her chair before tilting her head up to look at the blackboard. She'd scribble something down in her notebook, and then the process would continue all over again.

Shift, tilt, write. Shift, tilt, write. Oh, she was leaning down to pick up a book—

Kid twitched. When it was a conscious thing, it tended to further confuse and irritate him beyond anything else. Symmetry was art, after all, and was meant to me admired. But Maka was a person. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stared at someone so intently, and he doubted he ever had. The perfection caught his attention, left him in a cloud of thought, made him wonder what this meant. He didn't want her to realize how much this affected him; it wouldn't be appropriate. After all, it was rude to stare.

But stare he did. One time, it even got him noticed.

Everyone decided one day that they'd all go to one of the little cafes during the weekend. This was because, according to Liz, "We always go to Maka and Soul's apartment. Time for a change." She was right, he supposed. Then again, neither of said apartment owners ever seemed to mind, but a different meeting place could be a breath of fresh air.

So they all met in the small café, each of them packed together on the small touch in the middle of the room. Tsubaki and Liz conversed while Chrona quietly followed after them as they sipped their drinks. Soul and Patti were looking at some kind of plaque.

"Oi, get off," Soul said. He pulled the plaque further over his head, but Patti just reached for it again, giggling as she did so. Black*Star was fumbling with the juke box in front of him, yelling excitedly as he went to choose a song.

Maka elbowed him in the back and told him to calm down. He noticed she wore more casual wear that day; her hair was down, and the regular sweater vest was replaced by a spaghetti-strapped shirt. She looked comfortable sitting there with Blair in her lap, and the look of annoyance didn't diminish his desire to just look at her. His hands gripped the top of his drink tightly. He felt himself smile a little when she turned back to her own drink, a content look on her own face once she was done talking over Black*Star.

Why were his hands so sweaty?

Maybe he was sick. That must be it. He must be coming down with something, because he felt a little thrill of something when she looked over at him and blinked with those pretty eyes of hers and—this couldn't be happening.

No.

"What's the matter, Kid-kun?" Maka asked. "You look a little strange."

He didn't doubt her. He certainly felt a little strange.

When he opened his mouth to speak, he found he wasn't sure what to say. Tell her it was nothing? That was favorable. That was what he would've said—what he wouldn't have had to say a few days ago—had she not been waiting with that patient little smile.

"Ah," he said. "It's just… you look very nice today, Maka."

Maka ran a hand through her hair quickly, looking away for a moment before turning back to meet his gaze. "Thanks, I guess," she said. She didn't ask anymore questions, and he was grateful to her for that.

Kid wondered if this was what all the commotion was about.

As they all said their goodbyes, and as she walked away, he could still picture her face in his mind.

Did he, Death the Kid, have a crush on Maka Albarn?

It was always a possibility.