Her head throbbed.

Maka stared into dark mahogany, her eyes barely managing to follow the curve of the wood. She only vaguely remembered how she'd gotten there. All that she could discern through the dizziness of her hangover and her muddled senses were the foggy memories of dragging herself out of bed and out the door. She'd even forgone her much needed shower, only stopping to pick up a set of keys, lanyard first, and barely managing to swipe her door handle open.

How had she even managed to make it to the library? Although, in hindsight, it wasn't surprising to her that she'd somehow ended up at her not so secret haven- though the very memory of collapsing into the chair was lost to her. She didn't even have a book or any classroom materials. Just the dumb headache and the remnants of a hangover.

Her phone was an arm's reach away from her, the lightly pulsing LED only making her head hurt worse. She groaned and flipped the device down, instead choosing to bury her face into her arms.

She just had to drag herself away from home, away from the comforts of her own bed (and her own bathroom) into a library. She wasn't even in any state to read!

Sometimes, her own subconscious shocked even her.

Maka closed her eyes, trying to ignore the dull throbbing behind her temples. She didn't think she'd had that much to drink the night before, but it didn't matter. All she could focus on, the only thing that really mattered to her, was the pain in her head.

Even in her state, she heard the sound of the chair in front of her scrape back as someone sat down, could even feel the slight warmth that radiated from their arms as they settled. Maka could barely muster the will to lift her head, only managing to open up one eye from beneath her forearms.

The whiteness of his hair was really unwelcome against the warm browns of the DCU library. Her eyes widened before she threw her face back into her arms, a sudden spike of heat warming her cheeks. "Go away," she moaned, though Soul gave no sign of movement as he merely chuckled lightly, a muted shuffling of clothing telling her that he had settled in his seat.

"Are you okay?"

"No," Maka said into her arms, though the sound of his voice was warm in her ears, like a hot water bottle against her aching brain. Great, now not only did her head throb, but so did her heart. Why, oh why did she have to realize she was still attracted to him? And why, of all things, was that memory painfully clear in her head, amongst the other, somewhat blurry haze from the rest of the previous night?

After a few minutes of prolonged silence, his voice cut into her cherished quietness, dragging her back into a forced awareness. "Maka?"

"Why are you here?" she asked quickly, and if she were in the right state of mind, she may have caught the hints of sourness in her tone. As it was, she didn't notice, although she did note how his reply seemed more guarded than usual.

"You… don't remember?"

She could only really register how his voice was somehow velvety and smooth, as if it were personally soothing her headache and dulling the pain in the back of her eyes. "Wh-what?"

Soul didn't laugh this time, but he pressed something that was cold, yet faintly warm against her skin. She grasped it, then frowned as she discovered her own phone in her clutches. Maka resisted the urge to take it and throw it out of the safety of her arms.

"You texted me," Soul supplied after more than a few beats of irritable silence.

Maka blanched. She honestly had no recollection of ever doing so. She didn't want to turn on the screen and face the harsh glare that would prove to her that, when hungover, she had no way of stopping her subconscious.

So she merely took his word for it, letting a noncommittal grunt out of her lips. She heard the squeak of his chair as he shifted, letting out a small chuckle. Feeling groggy, she let her arms slide out from underneath her cheek until her face was against the cool wood. It felt good against her warmed skin. She took a small but sharp inhale. "Sorry."

"'S no problem," Soul responded, and though his voice was bracing, she could discern a slight bit of embarrassment. In her catatonic state, she briefly wondered what was going through his mind - did he get up especially for her? Was he hungover too?

She allowed a bemused laugh through her lips. Of course not.

"What's so funny?"

She opened her eyes and meticulously observed the library wall. "The fact that I have a freakin' hangover, and I barely had four drinks," she felt herself respond almost mechanically. She heard shuffling and the brief sound of wood scooting against wood. His laugh was somehow closer to her ear. She could feel soft tufts of hair against her neck, tickling the sensitive skin, drawing minute electric sparks to spread at the contact. She felt heat flood to her cheeks, thankfully negated by the cool wood of the desk.

"I'm really glad you came yesterday." His voice was definitely close to her ear. She only hummed her acknowledgment.

A small silence stretched between them, comfortable and still despite how jumpy shefelt - heat and hangover included.

Yet despite it all, Maka still felt the slightest hint of anxiety. Like she needed to talk, and if she didn't, he'd somehow slip away. He wouldn't be anchored to her, he wouldn't have to stay. And she wanted him to. She wanted him to stay with her forever, in this library, with their heads on the table.

Like when they were children.

"Liz was really nice to me," Maka chose to say instead. The table vibrated as he hummed; a deep sound that caused small tremors against her cheek.

"She might deny it, but she was pretty shaken up when you left."

"I would've told everyone if I could. Really!" she insisted at his laugh - but something about it wasn't exactly amused. It was a quiet sound, somewhat ironic, and suddenly she felt nervous. She really did leave with no reason. No warning. And though she had dwelled on it before, it had never hit her as hard as it did this time.

"You know, you and Tsubaki would've gotten along - she transferred into our class the next year."

Maka blinked. She didn't talk much with Tsubaki that night, though the few moments they did interact, the taller woman was really … nice. Mellow. Unlike Blackstar. "And just how are those two together?" she found herself muttering.

His chuckle was close - too close, she realized with a shudder, as his breath tickled along her neck. It caused ripples up and down her skin, making her ultra-aware of the tingling in her fingers and forcing her to swallow thickly. "Beats me. Beats everyone. But they suit each other, I mean I don't believe in soulmates or anything but… if it existed, they'd be made for each other."

Soulmates. There was something about the way his voice caressed the word, despite what he said about it, that stirred her heart. Maka hated herself - she hated that she felt that stupid bit of excitement at the very thought. She hated that she couldn't shake the sneaking suspicion that she had already found her soulmate. She hated that she fell for Soul Evans once before, but now all over again.

In those tender moments, his breathing played with the hairs on her neck. Each of her inhalations were shaky, hesitant. If she closed her eyes, the world would spin - but whether from her lingering nervousness or subsiding headache, she didn't know. "Soulmates," she whispered, testing the word on her tongue. It sounded foreign, strange, but somehow comforting. As if there was something within the very concept that made her feel safe: the only anchor that kept her from slipping.

His voice was right on her neck, in her ears, so close she could practically taste each of his words. "I don't think it holds much water, though."

She tried not to shudder. "That's kind of sad."

"Sometimes sadness is good. It means it's real."

His words, quiet and almost introspective, made her feel as if she were intruding on his own private thoughts; as if it was something she shouldn't be listening to. She swallowed back the beats of her heart, tried to quench the flames that ignited along her skin, tried to will back the sweat on her palms. Somehow, she knew. She knew those words weren't as light as he tried to pass them off as; that there was a lingering sorrow that motivated him to speak.

Maybe she wasn't the only one stuck in the past.

"Soul-" she said, turning around.

And he was there, inches from her, his lips so close to hers Maka swore if she even inclined her head forward, they would meet.

His red eyes were wide with surprise, yet still, warm and vivid. His mouth, just slightly parted, closed as he swallowed. She could see his Adam's apple bobbing, but that didn't stop her from being locked into his gaze.

She couldn't tear her eyes away.

She could see it then, the hesitant reach of his fingers extending towards her. Part of her wanted to flinch away, but she soon felt slim digits touching the top of her head, brushing through the strands of blonde. Each sensation sent shivers down her spine, making her lips quiver against her will, leaving her breathless as his hand languidly made his way towards her cheeks, her face.

He didn't say a single word.

But she understood.

She wanted to move, to blink, to close the distance between their mouths. She wanted to mirror his movements, trace his jaw, his lips, his chin, trace him. She wanted to press her cheek against his palm, to let him know that she really was here. He wasn't dreaming. He didn't have to think about the past anymore.

She was finally here.

He could finally touch her.

And all the while, they never broke eye contact.

She felt her mouth part, parched with all the words she couldn't say. But then, all too soon, his fingers slowly but surely left her hair, before they could get close to any actual skin. He blinked and then swallowed once more.

She willed herself to speak, to whisper his name, to stop him before he looked away. And though he hesitated, as if he wanted to say something, he slowly lifted his cheek, his temples, his face, from the mahogany surface and away from her.

"I-"

"I know."

Her voice was quiet, fragile, the last thing she wanted. She wanted to appear strong, like he had, as if the past hadn't affected her. She somehow wanted the same nonchalance that he had when he told her that night that he'd liked her.

But it was different. It was so different. This wasn't some stupid childhood crush that she had harboured before she even knew what was happening.

He covered his mouth with his hand, blinking and turning away. Maka dropped her gaze, and with it, her heart. It was like a pressure pushing down her chest, a feeling she couldn't so easily swallow away. And yet, she didn't know why. She didn't know why.

Every time she saw him, every time he looked at her, even before she knew she loved him, she felt her breath leave her body. And she hated the feeling, she hated feeling so helpless and at his mercy, even though it wasn't his fault. It was hers - her stupid fault that she got choked up at every fleeting glance, every small touch, every lopsided smile.

It was like fire - consuming her thoughts, her feelings, her air. What they had in the past - it was just a spark compared to what she felt now. And as he sat across from her, eyes unfocused and tanned cheeks dusted red, she couldn't help but to think that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same flames.

Mondays, he had class in the building across from hers. Basic music theory, as she'd find out later, and at precisely three pm he'd be outside the building as she left hers. Maka didn't know she was searching for him but once she was locked into his ruby red gaze, she'd feel awkward. Shy, even. Then he would cough and look away. And she would carry on.

Wednesdays, he would be entering the building just as she left. Global literature, which was somehow amusing to her because she never guessed he'd be one to read. When their eyes had first caught, he had looked away quickly while blushing, as if embarrassed to have been caught doing something as uncool as reading. As much as she had a sneaking, comforting suspicion as to the source of the red that dusted his cheeks, she couldn't help but to swallow back her own embarrassment, especially as she teased him about helping her.

Fridays. The mornings where she clutched a coffee in one hand and balanced a stack of books under the other. She'd already be at campus at some ungodly hour in the morning and he'd show up beside her. At first, he'd just walk half the way, their conversation easy if not a little self-conscious. At first, their fingers would brush. He'd pull his hand away and she'd blink, trying to control the urge to do something more drastic. But soon, they stopped acting as if the spark they felt was there. It was, and overtime it became more and more poignant that she swore it left her fingers numb. But then she'd take the coffee he handed to her, as that, too, grew into their Friday routines. One cream, one sugar. Black for him.

Maka didn't know when those even tiny, insignificant details had ingrained themselves into her memory. But it was so natural, like breathing, to the point that when they'd walk up the stupid hill towards their classes, she could swear a finger would linger, half curled around hers, before it'd swing away with the rest of his hand.

She pretended not to feel it.

And most recently, every other Friday, they'd meet up. As the lingering warmth of October melted into the crispness of November, she could feel herself drawing closer and closer to him, as if trying to edge her way closer and closer to the comforting warmth that was him. Sometimes, she'd catch herself, sometimes not, and by the time she was all but leaning on his shoulder she'd nudge him once playfully.

When it wasn't a tinge awkward, Maka had to admit, it was quite comfortable. When he had offered to study with her, she was expecting to meet him at a library. And as Soul lead the way, barely a half step ahead of her, she followed, their conversation light and relaxed. As they rounded the corner, she already knew where they were headed before they arrived. "Here again?" she couldn't help but to ask as she faced the red-bricked, tiny cafe where they had spent their first few hours truly alone.

Soul turned and gave her a smirk. "It's different when it's not catering to two drunk adults at one AM."

"Haha," Maka said humourlessly as he pushed open the door and gestured her in first. Stupid Soul, trying to be poetic.

As the waitress whisked away with their orders, Maka leaned on the table, her chin in her hand, propped up by her elbow. Her other hand lazily traced the diamonds of the leathery tablecloth. She tried to ignore the heat that came from the feeling of his eyes on her. It wasn't until the waitress set down their coffees that he cleared his throat and leaned over. Maka only watched, mug raised to her lips, as he pulled out a textbook and laid it on the space in front of him.

"Soul Evans, studying at will," Maka teased. He threw her a look that clearly said very funny as he flipped through the book to a carefully tabbed page. The foreign sound of jazz music coming from the speakers above them was intrusive to her thoughts. For some reason, when he wasn't paying attention to her the strange absence of conversation made her uncomfortable, as if she were craving more of his attention. As if she wanted him to look at her, only her, and not a dumb textbook.

It was messing with her head.

He only gave her a half smile before he disappeared into his textbook, pouring over the pages. Maka could only sigh as she pulled out her new book, opening to her meticulously bookmarked page and began to read.

She didn't know what else she expected. Why did she expect anything more? They were just two friends who were going out to study. Perhaps in a bit of a nostalgic place, but instead of anything she would've expected, here they were, textbooks out. All conversation faded into a painfully platonic silence.

If she wasn't so deep into the narrative of her novel, she may have noticed the more-than-occasional half glances he'd shoot at her every other page. Everytime she peered over the edge of her book, she only saw his downcast eyes, an unnaturally serious concentration screwing up his face as he traced a finger along the page.

Maybe it wasn't so out of his character after all, she thought. A few minutes passed and he let out a sudden groan, his forehead against his hand before his entire head slid down onto the textbook. She tried not to laugh at the fluff of white hair that had enveloped the book, resisted also the temptation to run her fingers through the locks out of interest. Instead, she stared as he began to lightly bang his head against the cover.

"Textbook abuse," Maka called, a hint of a smile on her face as he groaned again.

"How about student abuse?" he mumbled into the pages. Soul slowly lifted his head, taking a swig of coffee, before scooping up his textbook and stowing it back in his backpack. "It's no use."

"It's been only half an hour."

"It's no use," he repeated pointedly as he waved the waitress over. She seemed to be somewhat familiar with him, as she gave a fleeting smile.

"Staying for dinner?"

Soul shot Maka a pointed look. Were they? Sure, they had gone out for coffees and small snacks, but never a full meal. Maybe she was overthinking things. With only a hint of hesitancy, Maka nodded a slow confirmation. The waitress flashed them a smile and pulled two menus out of her pocket.

After they had ordered, Soul let out a sigh and reclined back in his seat. Maka briefly entertained the idea of chiding him about his posture, but the words died on her lips as he glanced up at her. Another ten minutes of strangely tense silence stretched before the server came out with two burgers. The silence only lasted longer as they ate, words lost to them.

It was only after they'd finished their meals in relative silence that Maka finally stirred out of her thoughts. The bill was set on the table and Maka reached for it, only to have her fingers collide with Soul's. She withdrew quickly, bill crumpled in her fist. He held out his hand, palm up.

"I got it," she protested, but he only waited patiently. She ignored the gesture, digging into her bag for her wallet, until his voice cut into her thoughts.

"You know… you don't have to spend every moment we're together making it up to me."

Maka froze, her fingers already grasping the edges her wallet, before she withdrew her hand quickly. Heat spiked her cheeks and she felt herself nearly vibrating with a combination of horror, embarrassment, and even a slight bit of indignation. It was one of those things she didn't realize she was trying to do until he said it: and suddenly it all fell into place. Damn it. Damn it. She thought she was over it - over this thing that happened eight years ago.

Apparently, he was too.

So she covered her mistake by rolling her eyes as she fished out the appropriate cash from the sleeve. "Don't be ridiculous, this is for the coffees you get me every morning."

But her quiet, meek tone wouldn't fool anyone, let alone him, as he stared at the money she put down with a strange, unreadable expression on his face.

"You know, if you still have to get some studying done… you're welcome to come over for a bit," her voice grew quieter as she spoke. She could tell that Soul gave her a short glance, but she tried to ignore the electric pull of his vision and instead kept her gaze steadily fixed ahead.

They were back on the road, and he'd already promised to walk her back to her apartment. She insisted it wasn't necessary, but he had given her a long stare. It was then he all but thrust his jacket into her chest, insisting it was cold outside (he wasn't wrong) and that she'd have to return it to him anyway.

She had no choice but to put it on.

So there they were, her in the too-large leather jacket, walking wordlessly down the sidewalk until they arrived at her house.

It was like deja vu; Maka reached with her key and unlocked it swiftly. This time she kept the door open, turning around and giving the white-haired male a pointed look as he lingered at her doorstep.

"If that's okay with you."

"It's not a problem," she said quietly, taking a half step back as he walked in.

That was how they also added a new thing to their schedules - Friday night study sessions - and neither complained as they slowly added more of each other into their daily lives.

"Why do you do that?"

Maka paused, her pen resting against the curve of her chin. Her laptop emitted a rather bright glow against the rather dimly lit room, her typed notes open as she meticulously wrote them down on paper. He watched her with a slightly bemused expression, having abandoned his textbook to stare at her instead.

She sighed. "I told you before, I can type faster than I write but I can't study off a computer."

Soul snorted as he dropped his gaze. "Something must've happened in California if you stopped handwriting your notes to begin with."

She rolled her eyes and chucked her pencil case at him. It hit him in the head and fell limply to the table as he growled in protest.

Served him right.

Maka leaned over her papers once more, finishing the last few words of the weekly lecture notes before she set down her pen with a sigh. She could tell by Soul's sniffs of disdain that he wasn't close to being done with his lecture, so she pushed her chair back and made her way to the fridge.

It wasn't that he had been over often, but Maka couldn't deny how right it felt for him to be in her apartment. In fact, it never felt strange. It just felt like a part of her that was missing was there, a little late and different from what she had expected, but there. Though her heart was buzzing with a nervousness, and even a slight hesitation - it was a warmth she wasn't afraid of, a feeling she didn't want to fight.

"Want anything?" she called back to the white-haired man. Maka had gotten good at hiding the nervousness in her voice. Granted, it was easier whenever he initiated the conversation but, for her, starting it was much, much worse.

"What are you getting?"

"A Somersby," she responded, anticipating a rather sarcastic chiding that mostly had to do with her drink of choice.

"Then I'll have one too."

Maka snorted as she kicked open her fridge, the cans along the side rattling as she pulled one of the tallboys from the side. "Since when do you drink ciders?" she teased as she pulled out an extra one.

"Since I found out they're fucking delicious," Soul said with a smirk as he looked up briefly to catch the can she tossed him. Without hesitation, he cracked his open and took a long sip. Maka narrowed her eyes as she popped open her own.

"At least finish studying before you start to drink," she chided. Soul raised his eyes challengingly, and though her stomach fluttered, she felt playful irritation prickling her spine as he very deliberately took another swig of his cider without breaking eye contact.

She couldn't help the stifled giggle from escaping her lips as he set down the can and returned to the pages. Stubborn dick, she thought as she strode past the dining table and towards the two couches that awaited her. Then his sniffing continued, she noted as she took another swig, the smile on the corner of her lip finally able to override her carefully constructed poker face.

It wasn't for another ten minutes, when she had gotten up to grab a second, did Soul join her, abandoning his textbook behind. She could hear his footsteps as he joined her by the fridge; feel his presence near the back of her neck as he leaned over to see what she was doing. "You're done?" she said into her fridge, highly suspicious and pretty sure he was nowhere close to finished.

"Yes."

She pulled her head out of the fridge, only to throw him an icy look.

He sighed. "Just give me the cider."

Maka snorted and handed him the can, to which he cracked open almost immediately. After finishing the first one, she had to admit that she already felt the slight fuzz of alcohol in her brain. But her brain was fine, if her mouth a little looser, as she walked to the couches and collapsed into one of them, him sitting beside her.

Their conversation started once more, and it wasn't long until her coffee table began to accumulate cans over the course of the night. And somehow, they ended up on the topic of how their school lives were when they were apart - a can of worms they hadn't managed to open. Even three months after their reunion, she hadn't realized how much they'd truly skirted around the issue.

She didn't realize how little she knew about him.

"- and I think that's when Liz calmed down, or rather, decided she didn't want to become that kind of alpha bitch," Soul drawled, having finished his fourth can he had opted for water as an alternative.

It could've been the alcohol, but somehow the stories about the circle of friends she was slowly assimilating back into were very interesting. She wanted to know more; she wanted to know more than the story of how Blackstar nearly got into a fight with the more popular crowd before Liz had to step in. She wanted to know about the white-haired man before her, how he had mellowed from the slightly awkward, somewhat obnoxious prankster, to this, the sly, even cool, yet caring and genuine human he'd grown into. "What about you?" Maka asked quietly into the lip of her can.

She didn't miss it when Soul's smile faltered.

"Well, there was a girl named Britney…"

Maka snorted as his smile slid smoothly into a smirk. "She already sounds like a bitch."

Soul grimaced dramatically. "Yeah. Man. Sophomore year was a year full of mistakes."

"That's not very nice," she couldn't help but to say, though she couldn't keep the corners of her mouth from curving upwards as he scoffed before taking another swig of water.

"Yeah, but it's the truth. Holy crap did I regret those two months. Parents always houndin' me for not putting in enough practice, said I'd go nowhere." He set down his glass and threw his arm around the back of the couch. For some reason, the overly-familiar gesture didn't turn her off like she expected it would; it just seemed right. Inviting, even.

She leaned back and let her head rest against his forearm, his fingers begin to trace lazy circles into her tricep, and she missed the contented smile that spread across his lips. "So what did the bookworm get to experience in California?"

Maka sighed and balanced her can precariously on her sweatpants. She held out the palm of her left hand, striking a finger as she listed off, "Well, there was Derek, and Sam, and Carl-"

"Carl," he repeated incredulously.

She barked a laugh at his terse reaction. "I'm just kidding. Only one guy. Derek."

"At least that name isn't as offensive," Soul said half-jokingly, though his shoulders relaxed and the lazy grin returned to his face. "And?"

"And what?"

"How was he?" Maka smacked his arm as he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Shut up, it didn't go that far. It was like yours. Maybe two months?" She really didn't remember: after all it was such a fleeting moment, so insignificant now that she looked back on it. Derek - he was kind of a generic guy, she realized. He was nice, quiet, not too popular. Sure, he was handsome in his own right, but in a "only at a second glance" kind of way. He wasn't… eye catching. He wouldn't have made her head turn.

He didn't have white hair, red eyes, or a grin that could send shivers down her spine.

The only man who possessed those features chuckled, his fingers resuming their lazy caress against her arm. "Guess we don't have good luck in love."

Don't think about the past.

"Guess not," she echoed sadly.

And that was that.

It wasn't surprising that Soul had seen at least some other girls; after all, it wasn't as if she hadn't moved on.

But here, right beside him, where she was almost as close to him as the time in the library, it was almost ridiculous to think she could've ever liked anyone else. She leaned her head against his shoulder and his arm carefully shifted off the couch to wrap around her frame.

Their conversation was lazy once more, and Maka could feel herself slowly sobering up. The more awareness she regained, the more she was additionally aware of her fluttering heart that he could no doubt feel, if not hear. She didn't dare move, didn't dare betray her regaining sobriety if it meant a few more minutes, moments, even fleeting seconds where she could be this close to him without a good reason. The stiffness of his arm might have even fooled her into thinking that he felt the same way - that he didn't want to let her go, now that he finally got to hold her properly. It wasn't fleeting looks, meaningful smiles, or hesitant touches against her hair anymore. She was here, in his arms.

Soulmate. The word still echoed in her mind, even two months later.

Soul shifted slightly and Maka hadn't realized she had begun to doze off into his chest. She blinked languidly and tilted her head up, meeting his gentle gaze and his slight smile. "Hey," he whispered, the lilt of his voice husky yet soothing with his proximity.

"Hey," she responded groggily. Her head still throbbed as she lifted her gaze, her ear hollow from the absence of pressure. He lifted his arm as she pulled back, him rolling it once before he shook it off. "Sorry," Maka said, though she didn't feel sorry at all.

"Nah, don't worry about it," Soul dismissed as he stood up. "But I should go."

She didn't protest as he walked over to the table, his books and other supplies still strewn across it. He quietly swept the contents haphazardly back into his bag as Maka collected the cans, dropping them off into the recycling bin. "Thanks for having me over," Soul said rather mechanically as he slipped on his shoes.

"Anytime."

"Drink water."

"I will."

"No seriously. Don't get a hangover like last time, or you'll end up waking me up again and I'll show up at your door bright and early."

"Promise?" Maka murmured as she rubbed her eye. Soul let out a soft chuckle as he opened her door, stepping out into the cold December air.

"But I had a good time. We should do it again sometime."

Maka yawned, one hand lazing along the doorframe as she leaned against it, the chill, crisp temperatures causing her to shiver slightly. "Yeah," she responded groggily, her words tumbling out of her mouth before they even registered in her brain. "Like tomorrow or something."

She missed him brightening, another grin spreading across his lips. "I'll take you up on that."

"Ha ha ha," she said humourlessly until it dawned on her exactly what he said. "Wait, Soul, wha-"

"It's a date then," said Soul as he gave her an earnest grin before disappearing down the stairs, only leaving Maka - still somewhat dazed, if not a little drunk - gaping in his wake.