He knocked on her door.
Normally, she would've answered. Her door was barely a chair-slide away, assisted by the wheels on the base at a generous push of her heels. Today was not a day for distractions, however, with her nose to the grind and her application papers strewn across her desk. If anything, Soul should've known better than to knock. Today, of all days, was when she leastexpected him to bother, especially after seeing her storm inside, shove her coat onto the couch(sign one), leave her shoes against the door (sign two), and proceed straight to her room without her token glass of water beforehand.
If anything, it was his fault, and if he dared open the door anyways, he'd find a new addition in his face.
(Incidentally, it wouldn't be water.)
And yet, the door knocked again. Maka growled in frustration and threw down her pen, a generous "What?"snarling from her lips.
His voice wafted from the door, the notes in his voice akin to concern, but it only frustrated her further. Yes, she was fine, she will continue to befine even if he weren't doting on her, what did he expect of her anyways, she'd handled much more, go away.
The thoughts swirled into her head, repeating and skipping like a broken record on a player, before she picked up her pen. "I'm fine, Soul, so just- give me at least half an hour."
The silence that followed was strange, weighty, and despite the turmoil in her head she did expect him to speak, say something, break the tension that suddenly stretched before them. But instead, her ears were treated with nothing.
A fact she wasn't sure if she were happy about or not. Not that it mattered, for silence waswhat she'd sought, and so she stewed in it for longer. With no distraction, she could finally focus, but her brain instead chose to focus on what had pissed her off – like Ox's shit eating grin, the lower-than-expected mark on her test, the fact that three applications were due in three days and she hadn't even begun them. A combination of anxiety, stress, and anger did not mix well within her system, and the three rolled like a vat churning cement in her stomach, each rotation bringing forth a new wave of emotion.
That is, until Soul opened her door, barely ten minutes later, so quickly that Maka's hand caught upwards. Reflexively, irritably,as she knocked the back of her palm toward him in both a gesture for him to leave and a gesture to simply smack him.
What she didn't expect, however, was a plate to be knocked straight out of Soul's outstretched hands. That, nor two pieces of defenseless bread – and the contents sandwiched between it – to come flying from the impact. Only to hit her wall. And then fall to the ground, with a pathetic little flop.
She stared.
He blinked.
"I think you pissed off my sandwich."
Another silence stretched between them.
And then, she couldn't help it; a chuckle burst from her lips. Before she knew it, she was in hysterics,and every time she glanced from him, to the plate (which luckily, hadn't shattered), to the sandwichon the floor, she only doubled over and laughed harder.
Maka clutched her stomach as tears formed in her eyes. Every time she tried to stifle her snorts, a hiccup bubbled at her lips, and she lost it all over again.
And from the corner of her eye, she could see Soul, leaning against her doorframe, with a bit of a smile on his face. Like it was the first time he'd seen her smile.
Today, maybe it wasthe first time she'd smiled.
He waited patiently for her giggles to die out, which it did with another small hiccup, coupled with a sigh of relief. "Feeling better?" He asked as he stepped over the threshold.
Maka shrugged. "Sorry about your sandwich."
The corner of his lip twisted upward, just exposing a hint of sharpened teeth. "Naw, it was a crap sandwich anyways."
Maka stared. "Wait, you made me a crapsandwich?"
"Well, not on purpose but-"
He braced, visibly, perhaps ready for the incoming Maka-chop that was inevitable in his fate. Faithful to that notion, her hand already reached for the hardcover book, but instead, she retracted her hand.
She certainly did feel a lot lighter now.
Maka grinned once more, and to her relief, it was natural – not forced nor fake. She knew, just by glancing she knew; his shoulders relaxed and a sudden tenseness she didn't care to recognize earlier within her lessened. Of course. Sometimes, even after all this time, it was still hard to fathom just how deeply their extreme emotions relayed between one another.
She sucked a breath in. "Thanks, Soul."
Something within her hummed, just quietly – so faintly that Maka didn't know if it belonged to her or him. Either way, his eyes softened and his mouth tugged ever-so-slightly upward.
It was all they needed, really, as Maka swirled on her heels and her chair went with her, turning her back to her desk. He took his cue, his footsteps loud in her ears despite her pounding heart, as he stepped outside her door.
"Soul?"
The footsteps stopped.
"You're cleaning that up."