A/N: Hello and welcome to my "i love this trope" speech. There is smut involved in another upcoming chapter, be warned. Otherwise, enjoy. This is unedited, I'll eventually edit it.
Maka goes running down the stairs like a mad man, hair frizzing in the process. She's going to be late to her literature class. People bustle behind her, taking leisurely steps. Hums of "he said" and "wanna go get coffee?" fill her ears before dissipating into thin air.
Rounding the corner, her foot slips on the last step and she smacks into another person. She'll never admit that's what happened, instead she'll blame it on the lazy guy in front of her. He was walking at a snail's pace. It couldn't be her fault.
A book drops to the ground and she lets out a frustrated groan. The perfectionist in her screams. Maka is now officially late to class, her book is on the floor and some guy with ridiculous hair and colored fucking contacts is staring down at her like she deserves to die.
Anger bubbles in her chest, her nostrils flare, and her pony tail is coming loose.
"Fuck it. I give up today, I'm going home." She spits, yanking her book off the dirty university floor. The crease in her brow becomes deeper. She can feel the heat on her skin. She wishes nothing more than to be away from the other students, who smell like iced coffee and weed.
The guy in front of her opens his mouth to say something but before he can, she stomps away and heads to her apartment. Today sucks and she is going to have absolutely none of it.
He watches her with wide, amused eyes as she storms through the university building. She yanks the door open and lets out a puff of air.
Maka spends the rest of the night studying her brains out, reading, and eating leftovers from the day before. She ends the horrible day with a bath to soothe her wounded pride.
She wakes the next day to an appalling realization. She's missing a notebook. A small notebook, but a notebook nonetheless. It holds everything from notes to personal writings. Her eyes widen and she shoots out of bed like a dart.
Where is it where is it where is it oh my god
She scours through her bags, her shelves, every drawer she has. Maka is on a mission and currently two seconds from hyperventilating. She checks under her bed, in the bathroom, in the kitchen and it's nowhere to be found.
Fuck. She must have left it in the library.
At least it's wednesday so she has classes today. It's a good excuse to go searching the library. She throws a tee and leggings on and quickly brushes through her thick blonde strands. Racing to the bathroom she stubs her toe on a corner and lets out a string of expletives.
The cool air of the bathroom wafts around her, she grabs moisturizer and spf and slaps it on her face. After a quick one-two look up and down to check herself, she notes that she looks fine. The t-shirt is black with a picture of a strawberry milk carton across the front. It's cute.
For the next hour or so, Maka runs through her morning to do list. The cool toned, brown towels have been folded and placed in a small closet in the corner of her apartment directly next to the bathroom. Her simple, pale yellow bed is made, with her plush bunny sitting atop the lush blankets. Shoes are organized, dishes washed, bathroom cleaned, floors vacuumed, breakfast made, and vocabulary has been reviewed.
She huffs a puff of air out, shoulders sinking. Trudging across the off-white, sort of tan carpet in her room, she sits at her desk. Maka pulls out a calendar from the second drawer of the four drawer, white study area. It lays flat in front of her, exam dates are circled in red marker, circled two or more times with an exclamation point.
Maka glances over today's date to be sure of any events. There's nothing more than a "grocery shop" written neatly in the corner. Okay, she can do that. That's doable.
Glancing at the clock, it reads 9:30 a.m. and she suddenly thanks her lucky stars that she wakes up early. She only has one class scheduled today at 2:00, so she has time. There's a hefty list of assignments, readings and reviews that need to be done.
Those can wait, though, she thinks. The ride to the grocery store is peaceful and short. When she arrives, she takes her time weaving through the isles to find the good deals. She's hauling in an unreal amount of food today but it's necessary.
Maka grabs bags and bags of frozen vegetables and fruit. Fresh is more expensive, she'll grab a bag of apples, mandarins, and a head of lettuce there. With her cart filled full of goods, she heads to checkout. A mental list runs through her head so as to not forget anything. Carrots, apples, mandarins, tampons, bread, fries, burgers- yeah. She has everything.
It's quiet and smells of fresh food here. Not many people come here, it's cheap and low waste. That doesn't appeal to many. The fluorescent lights drown out her tan skin, flushing it a pale color.
Her shopping cart is pushed into the checkout area and she begins placing it on the belt in an organized manner. Cans and frozen go first, then milk and dairy, followed by boxed items, produce, and bread. She doesn't think much of who's at the register, as she's very much focused on organizing.
Maka pushes the cart to the bagging area, grumbling when it takes a moment to get it out of the current position. She turns, hip smacking into the cart, to grab her wallet from her bag.
When she turns towards the cash register, her eyes widen. Fucking octopus head is here, with the same ridiculous haircut and red colored contacts. What the shit, is that like, his every day cosplay or something? He has his hair pulled back today, though.
She doesn't know, nor care, but she tries to pretend they don't know each other while someone places her bags in the cart. She grabs four dollars out, two to tip the bagger and two to tip this fucker. He finishes scanning and the total reads $150.78. Her debit card is placed in the little machine, she types in her pin and it accepts it. This is food for a month or two.
"I have something of yours, idiot." Octopus hea- Soul - says. Or at least that's what the name tag reads in poorly written black sharpie. He twists, obnoxious red shirt rubbing uncomfortably against his tummy, and grabs her receipt.
Soul sticks it out expectantly, with a raised brow. She snatches it from his hands quickly and grumbles.
"And what is it that you have, octopus head?" Maka spits, folding the little piece of paper neatly and shoving it into her bag.
He cackles.
"Octopus head? And some sort of notebook, you dropped it the other day when you were acting a fool. You kind of remind me of my mom, that's not a good thing but- anyways I tried to tell you but you went running off before I could." He muses, a grin on his face.
Maka's mouth opens and shuts, quickly. Oh fuck.
"Well where the hell is it?" Her palms begin to sweat, getting clammy in all the wrong places. She can feel her heart begin to beat in her chest faster. A glare rests on her eyes as she stares at him and his stupid red eyes.
"My place. I get off in an hour, if you can meet me here at that time we can go pick it up."
The next customer is getting impatient behind her, already placing items on the belt.
"Fine. See you in an hour."
When Maka gets home she places all of her groceries away and preps fruit and vegetables in clear glass containers. Otherwise she forgets they exist and doesn't eat any of them. She grabs a string cheese, crackers, and a few slices of salami to snack on while she waits.
She can't believe she forgot her notebook with the asshole! And who is he to call her an idiot? She's got a 4.0 GPA, a full time job, and handles herself very very well. Just because she made one little mis-
The alarm blares from her phone across the room, alerting her that it's time to go meet Soul. She huffs and grabs her keys, pushing fuzzy slippers onto her feet and heading out of the door.
The ride to the grocery store is not peaceful this time.
When she arrives, he's standing at the front of the store with a phone in his hand. His name tag has been taken off, his hair is no longer held down in a pony tail. It's back to the usual white mess, sticking up in every direction and defying gravity.
She pulls the car next to him.
"How are we doing this?" She grumbles, and he looks up from his phone.
"You can follow me to my place, I guess." He explains, before he pads across the parking lot to a small motorcycle. Soul hops on and grins, excited to be home.
Maka gapes at the dumbass on the motorcycle. Of course he rides a motorcycle. He's absolutely everything her mama warned her about. The dyed hair, colored contacts, weird fashion sense, and a motorcycle. She can only imagine what his house is like, jesus fuck.
The scent of the air conditioner filled her nostrils and she soaks it in, sweet sweet cool air. She sits against the faux leather seats and lets out a breath of relief.
Soul relishes in the heat of Nevada, turning the bike and starting on the road. The wind hits his skin harder the faster he goes and fills his shirt sleeves. His mind feels free with every turn he takes on the winding roads.
Then, he turns into the driveway.
Maka's gaping again. He lives in expensive apartments, so expensive they weren't even near her radar when looking for her place. There's a fucking fountain and she's flabbergasted in every sense of the word. She slowly pulls in, feeling much too poor in her 2009 silver honda civic. Everyone else in this complex own expensive cars. What the fuck.
Despite the shock, she finds herself getting into an elevator with the boy.
"You look like you're going to piss yourself." He suddenly snorts.
Soul is standing leisurely against the elevator, posture lackluster. His hands press into the back of his head as he gives her an amused look. Brow raised and grin on his stupid face.
"Shut up." She growls out, fists balled next to her sides. Her palms are sweaty again.
The inside of his apartment is spacious and clean, with a few dishes and signs of life. There's a fluffy pink throw blanket sitting on the couch. Maka glances around in awe. They have all black appliances, beautiful space, and every inch of the place is pristine.
"You can stop staring now." Soul murmurs and she grunts.
"I'm not staring. Now where's my notebook?" Maka glares in his direction, still taking looks at the beautiful black and white space in front of them.
He nods for them to continue walking and the further she ventures in, the more decoration she notices. There's a few posters, knick knacks and things of that nature tossed in through the bland apartment.
Soul continues padding through his apartment and reaches a hall with four doors. He opens the second to the right and it reveals his room. It is drastically different from the rest of the apartment. Every inch of the walls is adorned with a poster, a sticky note- something.
He has a shelf of manga sitting next to his bed, on top of it sit trophies. They stick out from the rest of the room, with such mundane things. His bed is half-ass made and the cool air of the apartment wraps around her, as does the scent of lavender.
Maka notices a small desk, with papers covering it and a textbook opened.
Her thoughts are cut short when he sighs, tossing down his keys and pulling out the thin brown notebook from his desk. He holds it out and she quickly grabs it.
"Thanks!" A smile reaches her lips and she looks at him with bright green eyes. Her face lights up when she realizes it hasn't been opened.
Then her stomach growls and embarrassment creeps over her. Her cheeks burn red and her arm crosses over her stomach. Her eyes dart to the side, avoiding the deep red eyes boreing into her.
He gives her a look, twice.
"I'm ordering food, want some?"