The sun fingerpaints the room as it slowly makes its way into the sky. Tired eyes try to make out shapes in the textured ceiling to distract him from his thoughts. He hasn't slept in days, not well if at all. His phone beeps angrily at him, telling him to get up and get ready for class, but wallowing in bed feels so right. Besides, Soul doesn't want to have another chance encounter with Maka result in her running away from him. Campus may be big, but they always had a knack for finding each other. Definitely a disadvantage now.
The beeping eventually dies away, and fingerpainting turns to flood lights in his room. Accepting defeat from the morning, he slips out of bed and fumbles through a stack of dirty laundry for his binder before heading to the sink. His reflection is worse today than usual. Most days, he's fine, but it's been harder since his last chat with Maka. Everything would be different if he didn't have damn fat bags on his chest or angry lower lady bits. They'd be a normal boy and girl, living normal lives, and falling in love like normal people do.
He pinches the underside of a breast, scowling at his reflection, before switching out his night shirt for the binder. They've got to go. It's been a long time coming. It may mean making an appointment by himself and not having Maka by his side, but it's something he just has to do. He changes the remainder of his ensemble and thinks briefly to Marie. She'd know what the next step is. He'll have to call an make an appointment with her sometime today.
Soul checks his stash of food under his bed to discover it mostly depleted. Just the butt ends of a loaf of bread and the remains of a box of crackers really. He can just go back to bed, right? Pretend that he never got up? Leaving his room is the last thing he wants to do, but his stomach loudly opposes his idea to stay in bed all day. Reluctantly, he grabs his keys and wallet from his nightstand and heads for the door.
Just as he opens it, there's a hushed conversation coming from down the hall, and Soul, insanely curious, keeps his door propped open just enough to eavesdrop. He thinks he heard Tsubaki's voice.
"You need to go now," she insists. "I don't want my girls to see you here!"
"What, are you embarrassed? Tsu likes to get down and dirty every so often, so what?" It's Blake.
She shushes him. "I really don't need anyone making outrageous assumptions about us, okay? Please, just… don't you have work today?"
"C'mon, just one goodbye kiss won't hurt anyone!" Blake pleads. There's a long pause before he continues, "See, was that so hard? You really shouldn't care what other people think, cuz you're in love, right? Fuck what anyone else says."
Tsubaki gives him a quick goodbye, and her door closes. Soul hears Blake's grumbling coming towards him, and he swiftly shuts and locks his own door. When he hears him stop in front of the door, he realizes that Soul is not a common name, but it is one that currently hangs on the other side of the wood. Damn Tsubaki and her adorable Harry Potter themed door decors she'd made everyone.
"Bro, that you?" Blake's voice calls out as he knocks.
He can't just lie, clearly he's there, hiding out. One more rap at the door finally convinces him to unlock and open it. Blake's hand is still poised to knock again, but he adjusts to set both hands on his hips.
"Thought it had to be you. Still forget you live here." He isn't sure if Blake means the building, the floor, or the side of the floor. "You know, I was gonna call you today, but this works out better. Cool if I come in?" He doesn't wait for the invitation before entering, and Soul closes the door behind him. Blake wanders around the room for a bit, checking out almost every corner before announcing, "Yeah, just like Tsu's room. I mean, no posters like yours, but decently decorated. Anyway, not here to inspect your decorating, we're here for business. So, if you'd step into my office, I have some great news for you." He sits backwards in the desk chair and folds his arms over the back.
"Business?" Soul asks, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"Yeah? Maka texted me you needed a job a while back, and I'm here to deliver!" Soul flinches at her name, but Blake doesn't seem to notice. He itches the inside of his ear as he continues, "Took a while to get this asshole to finally quit, but the boss-man is looking for a new waiter if you want in. I mean, it's food service, which always sucks, but tips are pretty great 'cause we tend to get the ritzier folks in. And it's a job, so can't argue with that."
Soul gnaws at the inside of his mouth. "What if I don't interview well?"
Blake shrugs. "Boss is looking for anyone trustworthy. As long as you ain't stealing tips from the other servers, I think you're fine. Plus, you've got the best reference ever right here!" he jabs a thumb into his own chest. "Trust me, you've got this job in the bag. Just swing by later and grab a form, I can only do and say so much without you filing paperwork. It's policy."
"Thanks," Soul says quietly. It's the first good thing to really happen since Maka ran out on him. Blake brings a fist up for him to bump, and Soul does so with enough enthusiasm to crack his knuckle. He shakes out the pain, and Blake bursts out laughing.
A smile tugs at Soul's lips. Maybe not everything is ruined after all.
…
Marie closes her eye, pen tapping gently along the arm of her chair. They've been sitting in silence for what feels like eternity. Spilling out his conversation with Maka and his decision to get started on T doesn't feel so good followed by such an uncomfortable silence. But Soul sits back in his seat, trying to appear confident in his decision. Marie's there to help him, but she won't talk him down.
She takes a deep breath and looks at him again, ernest. "Is this what you really want?" The question hangs in the air a moment before she continues. "This isn't me trying to deter you in any way. I just need you to understand that this process is not easy. It isn't something that you can easily change should you not feel this strongly a few years down the road. And it isn't something that you just take a couple steps and suddenly you're all finished. Transitioning is a commitment, for life, and I need to know that you are ready to make that commitment. That you are making it for you and you alone."
Soul opens his mouth to reply, but his words fall short. Closed. Open again. Closed to gnaw at his lip. His hands move to grip the arms of his chair. So much for his air of confidence.
She shifts in her chair to lean closer to him, the sound pulling his gaze up to her. "You came here, told me about what happened with Maka, and told me you are suddenly ready to begin transitioning. I want you to do this for you, not for her. Not to make her reciprocate your feelings."
"Things would be way different if I'd looked into this sooner!" His knuckles turn white with how hard he's gripping the arms of the chair now. "There'd be none of this stupid awkwardness, we'd just be regular people falling in love!"
"Do you know that she loves you?"
His mouth hangs open as he loosens his grip just a little. A lump forms in the back of his throat. She has to, right? After everything?
"Sorry…" Marie offers, shifting once again. "I just… want you to think rationally about this. Of course you're close, but Maka isn't required to have the same feelings towards you as you do to her. Even if you got started on hormone treatment today, maybe it wouldn't change anything as far as your relationship is concerned. That's just… a lot of change for the sake of one girl."
Soul brings a hand up to his neck, rubbing the back of it as he mulls over his next sentence. "I just… really have to do this. And I need your help to do it."
Marie sighs, but nods. "Just give it one week, okay? We'll meet next week and I'll give you any information you need. When bad things happen to us, we like to jump to conclusions, try to make really important decisions, especially ones we aren't really ready for. So take a week to really think it over. If you are still determined by then, we can seriously talk about this."
He doesn't want to wait, his mind is made up. But so is Marie's, and as kind as she is, she's also as stubborn. Dropping his hand back down to his lap, he nods. It's going to be a long week, but he can wait. He has to.
…
Soul flings his backpack to the side, kicks off his shoes, and lands face-first into his bed to groan. His first night as a waiter gives him a new appreciation for food service. As a newbie, his only job was to tail one of the waitresses, help collect drink orders, and bus tables. Keeping tabs on the drinks at every table in their section had seemed like an easy task, but even with his handy-dandy notebook, it isn't that simple. And Blake insisting that he can take more than 2 glasses of wine over to a table at one time… He can't get over how kind and understanding the woman was, hair dripping with Merlot. Lord knows his parents wouldn't have been if their waiter had accidently tipped the tray too far.
All he wants is to take a scalding shower, bury himself in blankets, and never emerge from his cocoon. But it means getting out of bed first. A recurring difficulty. Soul rolls and slides off the bed until he can gain his footing. He grabs a towel from a basket of clean clothes near the bathroom door and steps in.
As he hangs his towel on the rack near the shower, he notices that Kim's door is slightly ajar. As per their rules, he goes to close and lock it, but pauses out of curiosity to see what lay beyond the door. It's dark, the only light in the room glowing from Kim's TV. Some romantic comedy he'd seen trailers for plays on the screen. On the bed, Kim and Jackie cuddle, the latter tracing little circles on the former's thigh.
His initial reaction is to be happy for them. It must be nice to be able to honestly talk about your feelings and communicate and just be together. But a part of him feels bitter at the scene. Why couldn't it be him snuggled up on his bed with his girlfriend? Why couldn't Maka just come back and want to be with him?
Closing the door as quietly as possible and locking it, Soul can't help the voice in his head that says he should have minded his own business. Serves him right for being a creep. He starts up the shower, letting it run a bit until it heats up so he can turn it as hot as he can stand.
Why hadn't she called yet? No texts, no apologies, no "I need some time to think". Just radio silence. Is she hurting like he is? Maybe it's like the movies where the boy confesses and the girl is dying. He can't bear the thought. Not even bothering to take off his work clothes, he climbs into the shower and sits on the tile, arms folded over his kneecaps.
It's not like he's attempted to make contact with her anyway. He's been too afraid of what she just might respond with if he ever did shoot her a text. The hot water makes his clothes stick uncomfortably to his skin, but Soul doesn't care. He just wants to hear her voice again, laughing like she used to. It takes everything in his power to keep from crying, but his body shakes anyway.
Kim may have been onto something when she said she hated feeling like a slave to the way she feels.
…
The second time he enters the music building is far different from the first. Hands shoved in pockets and breath caught in his throat, Soul meanders down busy hallways and waits for someone to ask why he's there. It's a stupid thing to think anyone would ask, he'd obviously reply "for music", but maybe that's a stupid response, too. The recital room he had claimed once upon a time now hosts a female quartet practicing. He watches them a moment through the little window in the door then proceeds to continue his search.
His search is over when he comes across a tiny practice room with an upright piano in the corner. Glancing around first to make sure no one else has plans to take it, Soul enters and closes the door behind him. He sets his bag on the floor next to the bench and gently lifts the fallboard. Marie had encouraged him to try playing again, especially after he had played for Maka. Something about trying to reclaim music as something that is his. Music always used to be something that he enjoyed, but with the years of jealousy towards his brother and bitterness towards his mother, it just isn't the case anymore. Not until Maka anyway.
Soul takes a seat and scoots the bench closer to the piano. Gently, he plinks out the notes to the song he'd written for Maka. It seems like so long ago now, just a far off memory. Everything was so much simpler then, when it didn't feel like the world was crashing down around him. Individual notes turn into simple chord progressions as he remembers how lucky she used to think he was, living in the lap of luxury in a beautiful city where it can actually snow. Lucky, maybe, but not his idea of paradise.
"Never paradise, not in my eyes," he muses as he pinks out the melody in the higher register. "Not Eden? Hmm…"
Inspiration strikes, and he digs his notebook and pencil out of his bag. At first, it feels wrong writing lyrics about him over "Maka's song". But he'll be damned if he's come this far and still lets anyone tell him how to play his music, especially himself. Or her.
Once he's content with his work, he gives the lyrics a once-over. It's still a little rough, but it feels good to get his thoughts down on paper. It doesn't hurt that it feels like the best "fuck you" to his mom.
