tw: unwanted physical advances

It was his fourth bourbon, and Soul was drinking it as if the first three weren't sitting like stones in his stomach. I wanna talk to her. He groaned out a sigh as he leaned over the stony veranda post. Why didn't I just say it? Why couldn't I just look her in the face and say 'fuck no, I ain' getting married' because that's the truth; I don't wanna, but… He slugged back another sip, wincing as it smacked him in the jaw. Does it matter to her? Or am I just… there's no reason for her to be upset about that so sayin' somethin'... whatever I say won't matter.

"Penny for your thoughts," a saccharine-sweet voice chimed next to him but brought no joy with it as Soul caught the sight of auburn hair out of the corner of his eye.

"Thought you were supposed to be at some grand fundraiser tonight," Soul grumbled as he glared at his drink.

"Couldn't miss a chance to see you," Clara cooed back as her fingers delicately danced along the forearm of his suit jacket. "And your mother was saying-"

"Save your breath," Soul spat.

"Listen," Clara huffed as she slid closer. Her hand clamped around his wrist with the drink, using it to her advantage as he couldn't jut his arms without dousing them both. She pulled it to her other side, bringing him close. "I know you're interested in that Rossignol girl."

"Shut up," he hissed.

"I'm not blaming you," Clara soothed as her other hand reached for his cheek. She barely got her fingers there before he flinched. "She's pretty in her own way I guess, and I know she's been trying to get her claws into you."

The rage started to bubble in his gut just as much as the liquor. "It's you who's got fuckin' claws and-"

Her finger pressed to his lips, forcing him to bare teeth as he tried to reel back, but her grip kept him stationary. "And if you really want, you can have whatever fun you need, Solomon. All I'm asking is that we move forward with the engagement. Send official notice to the papers, start on the prenup, and let your mother dig into her preparations since we know it'll be more her wedding than it'll ever be ours."

"It ain't gonna be either," Soul seethed. "And what kind of wife is alright with sharing her husband? Doesn't give a shit about him sleepin' around?"

Clara simply giggled as she let her fingers grasp his chin. "I just assume it passes down with each Evans man. Your grandfather, your father, and you. Maybe the rumors are true that Solomon Evans isn't taking care of his nephew but his son."

Every last inch of his skin trembled with rage. "I was fifteen."

"Early bloomer?" Clara's sing-song voice didn't diminish. "Wouldn't that just perfectly explain why Wes had to kill her? Finding out your brother slept with your whore of a wife-"

"I don't care what you say about me, but don't say a word about either of them." Soul abandoned the glass, letting it crash to the floor so he could withdraw from her, taking shaking steps backward.

"Oh, you made a mess," Clara sighed out as she let her eyes linger on the spill. "And none of that matters to me anyway. You can keep up your little charade with Reginald, even bring him to live with us if you want to since I'd like to hold off having kids for at least five more years. I need to finish medical school, after all."

With his back to the party, Soul let his voice peak at a yell, "You're not listenin', Clara!"

"Solomon, I have given you every chance." The song was finally gone from her voice while a cold sharpness took hold as she changed forward. Her hands clutched to his lapels, bringing him close. "You can fuck her- I don't care as long as you don't get the little bitch pregnant, but you need to get over all this other hesitation. Delacroix, Evans, we work. We'll have your money and my esteem. There is no reason to keep dancing around the truth that you need to marry and it won't be to that disgusting-"

"Shut up!" He bellowed as his hands came to her wrists to rip them off his jacket. "I have never once- once tried to hit someone, Clara, but I swear if you say one more damn word about her, I will knock it out of your mouth." None of the defiance left her face so Soul tossed her hands back before he hissed, "It ain't hesitation, it's refusal. Get it out of your head once and for all-"

The almost four bourbons weren't doing Soul any favors, especially as Clara grabbed him again. One hand gripped his tie while the other had his collar, using the fabric against his hopeful trajectory. Clara had seized him, using the force to get close enough to firmly press her lips to his. It was only a momentary touch before he bared his teeth again, urging both hands forward without a dulling of force. She stumbled back to hit the ground, taking a hard seat that made her teeth chatter.

"For fuck's sake, Clara," Soul bellowed as he tried to wipe away the saliva and rage that lined his lips.

"You're mine, Solomon!" she shrieked as her fingernails dug into the stone, chipping at delicate pink paint on her nails. "You're mine and that stupid bitch can't have you!"

Air struggled in and out of his throat as logic fought with unencumbered fury. It pulled him only half a step forward, sure for a moment that he would make good on his promise. Instead, he backpedaled, forcing away from Clara's continued cries as he broke out onto the lawn. He had hopes of running but his legs wouldn't listen, only a wobbling gate bringing him out into the sweet darkness of a night that started to cool while his temper flared out of control. It was all bubbling to the surface, all the wants and pleas of his being trying to overthrow the cold, masked sensibility he always wore.

By the time he was coming up on the back of her dim house, tears stained his cheek and his throat burned as if he'd screamed the whole way.

Spirit stood in the shadowy kitchen, watching the shambling form move towards the house. At first, he was sure a drunken fool had wandered from the party, and his recognition of that white hair and those preternatural eyes did nothing to actually change that opinion. His grip tightened on the sink, ready to bark orders through the window when something closer to a feral bellow beat him to it:

"Ms. Albarn!"

The footsteps above him were almost instantaneous and the light flicking on in Maka's room illuminated the ground below, showing the bright shining lines of Soul's face. Spirit recognized a man standing in reckless heartache, and the question instantly hit his mind: Does Maka know that look?

"Ms. Albarn!" Soul tried again as one hand sunk into his hair to pull the strands away from his face, some tangled in the wet streaks of his cheeks.

The clattering of the window was next and Maka's voice, clear and usually the tone reserved for Spirit, broke into the night: "What the hell are you doing?"

"I-" Soul started and stopped, clearly perplexed by the question.

"I thought I told you-"

"You wanna be alone," he called back mournfully. "I know, and I- I'm a selfish asshole." No better than Reggie, Soul rubbed at his face with his sleeve, mostly only succeeding at worsening the mess on his face. "I just- I-" he sputtered off into another sob.

That's a pretty good act, kid, Spirit wanted to yell through the window in order to cut the scene, but no matter how hard he tried it was impossible to convince himself that the boy wasn't breaking.

Such a sigh burst from her that it clattered down to Spirit's ears. "Fine. Stay right there."

Spirit shook his head slowly as he moved to disappear from the scene. Maka, after what I told you- after all his pomp- all it takes is a little sobbing? He scoffed at the idea but still slipped away, trying to tell himself it wasn't for the sake of their privacy.

As Maka stepped out into the night, Soul was still standing under her window, the soft gleam from her desk lamp trailing out into the night to make the tears on his cheeks twinkle. "What happened?" It sounded like an accusation and with her arms tightly winding over her chest there was no other way to take it.

Soul tottered slightly on his feet before the next yell barrelled from his chest. "I don't want to do this anymore!"

Maka jumped but her shock didn't slow his momentum.

"The parties, the debutant bullshit!" His voice cracked but he was unaware of it just as much as the next wash of saline down his cheeks. "I wish people didn't know my name, didn't think they knew me just because of my father or my mother, or even my brother!" All of it was tearing from the lining of his heart as each word was finally engraved with years worth of choked silence. "I'm not anything like them! I couldn't even be if I tried- like I'm some cuckoo dropped off in the wrong nest."

Even for all his pain, Maka couldn't stifle her small giggle. "A cuckoo, Soul?"

"Brood parasites…" It sounded nonsensical in his drunkenness. "Reggie likes watchin' those nature shows and-"

"Alright," Maka chuckled softly as she finally bridged the distance between them. "How much did you have to drink tonight?"

"Dunno," he whispered slyly.

"You do," Maka pressed back.

"Three, half of four if you count the one I dropped," he murmured.

"And how much did you eat today?"

Soul was starting to shrink like a child under the scrutiny especially as she grabbed onto his suit sleeve, pulling him close to her so she could catch his guilty downcast eyes. "I had dinner."

"How much?" Maka quickly snipped.

"Enough," he complained but it was no use as she tugged him again. Not entirely against his will, Soul was starting plodding steps behind her as she led him towards the house. He faltered a little at the stairs but she righted him enough to get him in the door. She settled him into what was becoming his spot at the table, listening to the thunk of his entire top-half resting on its surface as she moved towards the cabinets. She took out the glass, listening to him mutter and groan as she filled it from the tap.

Maka put the cup down next to him as she sat with a fluttering breath, watching him lay slack-faced with his eyes closed against the table. "Soul?" She expected nothing more from him except maybe a string of drool but ruby eyes popped open, lazily crawling up to her face. "Hey, you need to drink some water."

In all his stupor his hand still raised up perfectly, fingers tentatively touching her cheek. "Maka…"

She balked, eyes wide as the skin heated beneath his fingertips.

"Maka, I'm… I'm never gonna kiss you." While that should have been followed with a sly smirk, that sweet lilt of teasing, she watched it crumble away the mask on his face instead. Each blink seemed to be pulled down by the pain of resisting tears. I want to cover up what Clara did but… it's not fair. It's not fair to you, is it?

"Who said-" she croaked as she put a hand over his, forcing it from just a feathery caress to a palm against her cheek. "Who said I wanted you to?"

The force of his laugh only came as he willed it not to be a sob. "Maka…" he murmured again before turning his face into the table, attempting to allow his hair to obscure the rest of his face.

"Wouldn't say my name before and now that's all you're saying." The sigh shook up from her throat like a desperate bird. "Come on, Soul, head up. Drink some water." She moved his hand from her face to wrap it around the glass. "Don't make me tug you by the hair."

He grunted.

"One…" she started.

Another grunt.

"Two…"

"Damnit," he groaned before lifting his head slowly. "Let me lie."

Her heart rattled in her chest. "About what?"

"Nah, just let me lie on the table," he complained.

"You idiot," she murmured as she reached out her hand, threatening to grab him by those delicate hairs at the nape of his neck but instead cradling them. "Drink the water."

"Yes'um," he twittered off with a little laugh before sliding the glass towards his lips. It took effort, but he brought slow sips in, all the while Maka playing with the silky hairs, excusing it with guiding the movement of his head. She got him through two painstaking glasses, Soul ticking away each swallow in silence.

"You should stay here tonight."

Soul eyed her over another draft of glass number three.

"Give yourself one night off, Soul," there was just enough chiding there, but suddenly a complete and utter gush of pleading hit her, "Please."

What about you? Fluttered lifelessly on his lips. Wasn't tonight supposed to be your night off and here I am, barging in, wantin'... wantin' to stay. He nodded helplessly.

"Alright, up!" Maka moved quickly, hooking under his arm to get him to his feet and starting the pair for the stairs. "None of the guest rooms are actually furnished but… at this point, I guess you know where my bedroom is…" she smiled to herself as he snickered lightly. "Just go on in and I'll get you something of Papa's to change into." Soul continued slow steps into her bedroom as Maka took the fork forward to her father's room. It wasn't surprising to find it empty. A hint of worry still gnawed at her, threatening for him to come home and explode at the scene she was creating.

That was exactly it; a scene playing out just as that still dream-driven heart was aching for. She'd pushed him away this afternoon but since then it had lingered on her like perfume, a melancholy hope that somehow, at the end of it all, he would come to settle with her. Ridiculous, Maka chided as she hunted through her father's drawers for something that might even fit Soul. A man who doesn't touch. A man who spends every ounce of his breath on either teasing, sarcasm, or… comfort. Safety. Her fingers clenched into the fabric, straining to white knuckles with the force. A man who's lost so much, who's hurt so badly that I want to give the same to him.

Weak muscles pulled the clothes back with her as her feet hesitated, drifting slowly to the hallway but stopped to wait, listen. The house was steeped in silence. Maka made the last push towards her bedroom, pausing in the doorway to stop something halfway between a sigh and a laugh from disturbing the picture in front of her. Soul had strewn his clothes about the room, jacket abandoned by the door, shirt at the next step, and pants by the foot of the bed. He'd probably collapsed there afterward, sprawled on his stomach like one of those ridiculous crime scene outlines. All that was left was his bright red boxers blaring against the white sheets and the tan of his skin.

"Soul?" she tried but there was no answer, not even a muffled grunt of anything otherwise. She tossed the extra clothing on the desk as she went about picking up the rest to throw it over the chair. When everything had settled back to some semblance of order, Maka turned back to the bed to look at him. An easy rise and fall played along the muscles of his back as air pulled in with soft huffs from his slightly ajar mouth. One arm had sunk under the pillow but the other reached across the mattress as if looking for her.

"Are you really asleep?" She tested the air just as much as the mattress as she sat next to him, holding her breath and waiting for any stutter or stop.

Only more easy breaths passed from him.

Maka eased onto her back, feeling his fingers brushing at her shoulder. She sighed at the ceiling, legs antsy against the sheets as she glanced at his sleeping face. "Why did you come here?" she murmured. "And why…" The ache in her chest could only be Seren's fault, but Maka let its talons grab hold of her nonetheless. "Why did you say that to me?" Her voice barely broke the distance between them.

His face, his voice offered no answers.

In her stubborn pain, Maka reached for his hand, just lifting it off the mattress to let the edge of his palm rest on her arm. She was no Kim, no master at lines or depths, but as she settled her palm above his, her eyes easily caught on the likeness.

Allowing the sunlight to hit his eyes produced a needling in Soul's brain that brought a groan rumbling from his chest.

"If you're going to throw up, I put the trashcan next to your side," Maka's mutter erupted next to him, making Soul clutch into the sheets.

Suddenly, there was too much reality around him. The ceiling was entirely wrong- a dingy gray that housed a water spot in the lower left-hand side of his vision. The smell was different- a mix of lilacs and maybe a hint of something a little earthy like sandalwood. Finally, as he slowly let his head turn against a pillow that was far too lumpy to be his own, he saw green orbs shining to attention. One of her hands was gently rubbing sleep from the rim of her right eye. "Ms. Albarn?"

She rolled her eyes before half-hiding her face in the pillow, "And here I thought you'd call me Maka this morning."

His fingers continued to worry into the sheets. "What- how did I-?"

"You were too drunk to walk back on your own," Maka sighed. "And don't worry, your virtue is entirely intact. I wasn't even in the room when you stripped down to your boxers."

Soul jaw clenched on another trembling mess of sounds that wanted to escape. He didn't need to glance down to know that's all he was in, but her pointing it out made checking necessary; the blaring truth that he was barely dressed in his boxers in her bed brought more than just the morning heat to his cheeks.

To make matters worse, she barely hid the giggles that erupted. "It's not like this is the first time you've been in a girl's bed, come on-" But Maka watched him try to force the dullness in his eyes, the embarrassment eking through his mask as an even more crimson hue to his face. "It's fine, Soul," she hesitated but allowed a finger just to tap his shoulder. "You were just upset last night, needed to vent. It's fine."

He brought his arm up, shielding his eyes from the sun, the moment, and her. Fuck, fuck, fuck, why? She told me to leave her alone and I-

The bed creaked, the mattress shifting as her weight disappeared from it. "I'll just go downstairs and make some coffee. You can come down when you're ready. I left your clothes over the back of the chair." Her bare feet padded against the floor, each thump making his heart ache until he heard the door squeal on its hinges.

"Ms. Albarn," he croaked. All other sounds ceased to be as the air closed in on him, trying to force the next set of words back. "About what Spirit said-"

"You don't owe me an explanation," she snapped quickly but a quiver of air still followed it.

"Whether I do or I don't," he hissed painfully between his teeth as he gripped his hand tightly into a fist. "You heard Mama- it's what she wants. It's what certain other people want, but it's not what I want. I-" What do I want? He refused to open his eyes, just crushing his arm against his brow.

"Just another rumor," she murmured.

He laughed ruefully, resisting the urge to kick his legs in utter futility. "I'm just one fuckin' rumor after another."

Bitter hopelessness hit him as he heard her feet move, but instead of receding, they crashed towards him, her weight hitting the bed with a flop as she sat down hard next to him. Maka's hand grabbed at his wrist, tugging it away from his face to expose wide, red eyes. "Then stop it, Soul."

"Stop what?" he barely whispered through the shock.

"Being just a rumor," Maka forced barely under a yell. "It's like every time you try to open up you just force yourself shut again. Don't do that with me. It's fine to tell me what you really want, what you really think. I'm not your mother, I'm not Wes, and I'm not Reggie. You can say whatever you need to say because I don't-" She bit her lip before shaking her head. "I don't expect anything, Soul. If you need to vent, you shouldn't feel bad about doing it with me."

Soul half expected a bray of rage to rattle from his chest as he sunk his nails into the sheets again. Want was ripping him apart while his mind struggled to hold together the seams. In his anguished silence, her grip loosened and let his wrist start to slip. I don't- I don't want to let her go. I have to, but I don't want to- goddamnit, I- His fingers intertwined with hers, bringing her hand down to his chest. There wasn't an ounce of hesitation in her, allowing him to have her hand and tap its back against the bare skin of his sternum.

"Is that a yes?" she murmured as her eyes dared to look at their joined hand.

His sight drifted away, trying to survive the light from the windows and the hazy mix of agony and ecstasy fighting for a place in him. "Why?" he croaked.

She squeezed his hand before laughing lightly. "Why not?"

Soul closed his eyes with a sigh before accepting what he barely could with a nod.