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(c) Compromise belongs to me
(c) Soul Eater belongs to Atsushi Ōkubo

Summary:

No… you wouldn't understand what it's like to grow up cynical towards every male human being on this planet. To have them make you feel as if you're loved and feel special to them when you know that they're only manipulating you with half-hearted sweet nothings. Some people call this view ignorant, perhaps I daresay sexist, but people like me who has experienced it first hand, it's called pain and the loss of trust.


Papa loves you and Mama the most…

Papa loves you and Mama the most…

Papa loves you and Mama—

Lies… If Papa truly loved Mama and I, then he wouldn't have chased other women. He knew it was wrong, every adult should be able to distinguish the right choices from the bad, and yet he still did it. He still hurt Mama and destroyed our happy family. Mama didn't need to see it for herself, she knew. It was the sweet, intoxicating scent that lingered on his black suits. It was the dark, bruised marks that he covered with bandages around his neck and face, and the long, flustered reaction when he explained its formation. It was the way he looked at other women when she wanted his attention during family bonding.

Papa never saw Mama's hurt expression. She always hid it from him when he was around, but when he left, she knew that he would be with someone else that day. I've seen Mama cry countless times and explain to me that she watched a sad movie. I've heard her frustrated debates to leave Papa, but always neglected the thought because of me.

Then one night, Mama snapped. She screamed at him vehemently expressing her aching heart and his shallow personality. Mama declared a divorce before trudging out with what's left of her dignity. She met me at the door, a luggage at hand and a soft, loving goodbye before she departed. Papa went after her, but he returned to me empty handed.

"Don't worry, Maka. Papa's here with you. Papa loves you and Mama the most."

I didn't cry until the next morning I woke up, the event that night finally sunk in. The image of a perfect family, sabotaged.

I can't trust men... No, I vowed to myself that very day that I would never trust men ever again. They harbored painful motives, promising us sweet nothings and love, when they were merely illusions of a happiness we sought for. I've been criticized for my opinions, harassed for being a complete sexist, but they wouldn't understand the pain. They were just ignorant people who never considered the bad side of life, always looking at the positive outlook, blindly walking into a flawed illusion that would lead to their own demise, a life of ignorance.

Their opinions often carried ad hominem conversations, forcing me into their rubbish belief, but I knew better. Men were born with a sadistic master mind.

Papa loves you and Mama the most…

Papa, least of all, would never understand.


He led me into a dark, spacious room, with nothing but a jet black, mahogany piano sat in the middle of the bare room.

"Listen… this is who I am." Then his fingers played a piece, starting with the bass keys in a slow, soft pace, pouring his emotions into them as if they were the only things keeping him grounded. The slender fingers flitted across the keys in a staccato manner, pressing down what seemed to be the correct notes of the song. As the piece continued, its pace quickened, the piano shrilling with commanding authority to pay strict attention. And I did. I tried, but I can only notice the transition between a soft whisper to a deafening buzz and back, like a game of ping pong. Throughout the entire piece, the musician swayed like it was a dance with graceful fluidity. It was beautiful and mesmerizing to see someone so implicated to his burning passion. Then the music softened, slowing with graceful ease as he keyed into the last three notes.

He turned to me with a feral, charming grin with this unusual shark teeth winking at me from the one fluorescent light beaming just above us. I knew it was then he wanted me to utter something, anything about his small performance. Despite my disability to comprehend, I did learn something from this, and that was trust. I was baffled at the thought that he could easily give his trust to me, a stranger who was just settling to be his life-long committed partner. It was then I decided that it was okay to give my trust to him in exchange for his.

"It was interesting," I answered honestly. He chuckled lightly before introducing himself. Soul Eater. He extended a hand towards me. Here, I told myself, with no one but God as our witness, I vow to only trust Soul. I was scared, to be completely honest, I was scared to give Soul Eater my trust, but I still continued with it anyway. To complete my vow, I slipped off my glove and shook his hand with a good grip.

"It's nice to meet you Soul, I'm Maka Albarn."


"Blair! You used your magic to make Soul wanna be with you! That's a dirty trick!" I pointed at the witch with accusation. Soul would never do this to me.

"You really are stupid." The familiar deep voice caused me to retract. "Any men would choose a girl with a body like Blair's over you and your flat chest. She didn't have to trick me to make me pick her instead of you."

When those words left his lips, my heart tightened inside my chest. For a moment, I saw Papa in Soul's place as he turned his back from me and stood beside the attractive witch. I heard my cries, calling him back and going back to Mama, but he continued walking away with someone else.

"You men…" my voice shook, "All of you, you're horrible… Cheating on every woman…"

I clenched my eyes shut the moment I felt the tears prickle my eyes. Even though I had countless imaginations of Soul's abandonment, I always pictured myself to keep a strong expression on my face as I waived him away. But that brave face wasn't here… my imaginations, no matter how realistic I had envisioned the negative event, was nothing compared to the harsh slap of reality.

"But you…" the last word cracked as I envisioned our mutual agreement to be partners, "you I actually decided to trust. I can't believe this." My fingers curled into balled fists at my sides as tears began to overflow profusely at their own command. My voice hitched several octaves as I exclaimed, "I wish that all of you would just die!"

With what's left of my composure, I inquired, "Hey Soul, you said that all women make wild assumptions without reasoning first, right? That's what you said? TO WHAT REASON DO MEN HAVE FOR CHEATING? IT'S NOT FAIR!" I didn't realize my body bowed forward. Perhaps my body unintentionally did it to keep my vow from ever shed for a single man, or perhaps it was to save myself from further embarrassment for my stupidity. But this pride… it's all I have left.

Even after the plan worked, we failed the mission. Ever since that day, I still wondered if Soul would ever come around and leave me. It did happen before. It was only a matter of time when Soul would wake up and see how pathetic of a lowly meister I truly am. He'll choose anyone over me…


"—ka. Maka. Tiny tits."

That earned him a slap with my book.

"Dammit! Where the hell do all these books come from?!" He paused a moment, quickly brushing off the action. "Hey, you okay? Why are you crying?"

Reflexively, my hand touched my drenched cheeks, hurriedly wiping them away. "It's nothing. I just got some sleep dust in my eye. Don't worry about it."

"Maka."

"I told you it's just some sleep dust," I snapped, "You don't need to-"

"It was a nightmare, wasn't it?"

My eyes widened at the statement before turning away, fixated on the yellow rug, a frown set on my lips.

"You know you can always tell me, Maka. Partners are supposed to trust each other after all."

I met his eyes, probing it for any signs of malice or insincerity like the ones he revealed to me during the battle with Blair. There was no presence of that, let alone the usual banter that gleamed in his mischievous ruby orbs. He was serious.

"Say, Soul…" his face perked at the sound of his name, "what is trust to you?"

"Trust?" Soul wondered, cupping his chin inquisitively, "Isn't it like a bond between two people. The longer you stay together through obstacles, the stronger it gets? I mean look at us right now, we're the coolest partners in DWMA. Nothing can stop us."

"But if you were to meet someone cooler…?" I trailed, turning my attention back to the fuzzy yellow rug.

From the corner of my eye, Soul sat closer to me. A second later, a painful flick impacted my forehead, tingling in its aftermath.

"What the heck was that for!"

"Damn, those mushrooms forming on your head must have had you brain washed," Soul muttered, "as if there's anyone cooler at DWMA." The albino rose up from the couch, stretched his arms before tucking them behind his head. As he walked away, I had to strain my ears to hear his soft message, "I already have the coolest one there is." Then in an audible volume, "It's your turn to wash dishes. I'm crashing for the night. Good night, Maka."

At the sound of his door click shut, a small smile formed on my lips. I never regretted my compromised agreement since then.


Totally sexist, I know. But, like Maka, I know how it feels on a first hand account.

Ya'll should be proud of me! It's like almost 1 in flipping morning and I was so totally gonna rage quit on this story, but I didn't. I went with the flow.

I typed this up too, so no rough draft just like "Not Just Sweets". I'm kinda scared to hear the reaction from you guys, but I'm gonna go sleep now...

By the way, if you're gonna flat out call me sexist, then don't bother commenting. I'm not. I'm just slipping into character.