Him 2:
Soul hold in the sigh until he out in the Nevada heat. He takes another glance at the crumpled instruction pasted to the white bag in his hands before stuffing it and its contents into his open jacket. The bag is puffed out thanks to the pill bottle inside, so one side of his jacket extends out just a little too far. It makes a crackling, crumbling noise as he walks away from Medusa's building.
It's too hot for a jacket, really, but it's this or a harsh and damning sunburn. In the end, Soul would rather sweat like a pig than be as red as a lobster. Not cool. At least the sweat can be washed off at the end the day. No amount of sunscreen he applied over and over again, only to ultimately forget about, would make up for a full body roast.
As Soul reaches his motorcycle, his back left pants pocket vibrates. Soup pulls out his cell to see that it is a text from Maka: BlackStar is coming over for movie night.
Why? Soul can't help but wonder.
K, he types instead. Maka will probably tell him why later when she shows up at his apartment. No point in making her type it all out like the scholar she is. From what he can tell, no matter how long the message, Maka will insist on proper grammar. On time, she sent him tree paragraphs of information, perfectly typed, on why she needed Styrofoam, green paint, and crafting sticks.
It was for a project; Soul had managed to summarize. He also picked up on her extreme dislike for group projects. At this point in his life, he has learned that the question "why?" just opens jars of worms. That one-word question can waste his time and Maka's fingers.
His phone vibrates again: I'll get pizza for us.
Meat lvrs :) he replies.
I know.
Soul grins. Meat!1!
I know, Soul
MEAT Pause. LOVERS He adds in a second message box.
I'm going to get you a Veggie Lovers, extra-large.
:(
Soul waits a few extra seconds. Maka doesn't reply. Soul is still grinning though as he shoves his phone into the one empty pocket of his jacket. He jumps onto his motorcycle and rides home helmetless. He never wears it. When Maka spots that and ultimately brings it up, he just lies and tells her he forgot it at home. She never likes the answer, but it's better than telling her that it's her helmet he bought just for her to use. Soul worries that piece of information will come off as too desperate and obvious.
The ride back is uneventful. Soul spends it trying to think about nothing instead of hard things, like: Medusa, the Little Ogre, and how Maka knows about neither. All three of those subjects are so hard to breech, all for different reasons. Yet, all three bring a sense of dread and nausea that he would prefer not to feel while riding a vibrating machine across Death City.
Needless to say, he has a hard time not thinking about anything.
He unlocks the door to his apartment and wanders in, leaving the lock undone. The first thing Soul does is go to his room and stash away his latest medicine. He keeps it in the back of the drawer in his nightstand, paranoid someone will see it. Not that the chances are high; Maka is the one who comes over the most and she hasn't been in his room since that first impromptu sleep over. The second most common visitor is Black*Star, and he tends to stay in the living room with the game station. But still, Soul thinks, better safe than have to explain himself.
After that paranoid fantasy is laid to rest, Soul removes his jacket and throws it over the back of his desk chair. He then does a quick stink check. He's not too bad in that department, Soul decides after a few sniffs. The motorcycle ride was very breezy and cooling today.
He wanders back to the kitchen to grab a soda from the fridge. Leaning against the counter, he pops the tab and takes a long drink: two gulps worth. It kind of stings the back of his throat, and his eyes squint as he fights back tears from the carbonation, but Soul likes the sensation. It's a very intense burn that never quite fades from his throat or nose. He sips small drops of the drink after the initial sting.
A few minutes later, the door to his apartment opens and Black*Star comes through. Soul can see him from his spot against the counter, and Black*Star gives a little half wave when they make eye contact. His hand lingers in the air for a moment afterwards, then drops like it's dead to Black*Stars stiff side.
Soul raises a brow at the awkward gesture. "Hey man."
"Yo Soul," Black*Star replies, but there is no usual force behind his voice. The grin on his face seems to tremble just a bit at the corners. "I came to crash you and Maka's Date Night."
Soul snorts and rolls his eyes. "Not a Date Night," he drones. He gestures towards the living room with his soda can and both of them are soon collapsing on his worn couch.
"You wish it was," Black*Star counters. Soul chooses to take a sip from his soda. Black*Star grins maniacally beside him. "You poor man," his friend continues with a cackle, and there is a renewed spark in his eyes. "She's a violent little nerd, and she's going to break you like chalk on the sidewalk."
Soul huffs. "Weird metaphor."
"Masochist."
Soul shrugs. "She only hits hard sometimes."
By now, Black*Star is full of cackling beside Soul. The other watches as his laughing friend clutches at his stomach with one hand while the other clings to the back of the couch. Soul leans a bit away as Black*Star's weight becomes too off-center, and the bluenette careens to the opposing side of the couch. He ends up half collapsed on the couch; his is face half buried in the arm rest.
Soul waits until his friend's breathing levels out. He then nudges the other with his knee. "Not that I don't enjoy being your punching bag, but what's going on?"
Black*Star's body stiffens for just a moment, then he seems to melt further into the cushions. He also buries his face right into the firm armrest. "Wha'dya mean?" He mumbles into the fabric.
Soul raises a brow, despite the fact it is unseen by the other. "You're the one crashing tonight. I mean, Maka told me you were coming, but she didn't say why."
"That's cause she doesn't know."
"Oh," Soul says because he doesn't know what else to say.
There is a long moment of silence between them. Black*Star takes his time to sit back upright on the couch. Soul takes a few small sips from the half-empty can in his hand. The two face forward in their shared seat, eyes trained on the wall and dark television. They lounge back, forms both sinking into the old worn couch.
"You wanna tell me what's up?" Soul tries again. Both of his hands are now between his knees as the can dangles from his fingertips.
"Where's Maka at?" Black*Star asks.
"Getting pizza," Soul replies. He turns his head to the right. His tired eyes trail around Black*Star's face. "You know, she's going to wear the information outa you, right?"
Black*Star sighs as his head falls back. "I know."
Soul nods, his head falling back too to stare are the ceiling. "But that's why you involved her," Soul continues. His eyes fall to slits, just barely resisting closing all the way. "She's the stubborn type, and you need her to break through your own wall of stubbornness and help you." He pauses for a moment, listening to the other breath next to him. "She's a good friend like that."
Black*Star takes his time to reply. "She's a good friend," he agrees. Another long pause fills the air, as Black*Star sucks in a deep breath and lets it back out. "My best friend," he admits.
"Besides me, you mean."
The other snorts. "Now, now, there's more than enough of the mighty Black*Star to go around." His voice doesn't match the usual gusto of that statement though. Instead of ending with an expected, hearty, obnoxious laugh, the blue-haired male just sighs. "It's Tsubaki."
Soul's eyes open wider and he turns his head just enough to look at his friend. "What's up with Tsubaki? I thought things were going great between you two."
"It is," Black*Star insists, and for a moment there is a spark of energy back in him. But then, the other seems to cave back into a mellower emotion. "Or it was? I don't know. We were doing great, but then her brother showed up outa nowhere and things have gotten…" Soul can see Black*Star clench his teeth. "Tense."
"Brother," Soul echoes back. Images of his own older brother filter through his mind. Soul closes his eyes and resists the desire to squirm up into a ball next to his friend. "He's older, I'm guessing?"
"Yeah," Black*Star confirms. "By a lot, I think. I'm not sure. But, he's a real jerk to Tsubaki. Like, he complains about everything to her like she's supposed to fix it. He makes these little side comments about what she says or does, and I just-" Soul watches as Black*Star breaks off to reach up his hands and grip at the air between him and the ceiling. "I can see each statement, and it's like a physical hit to Tsubaki. He's hurting her and she won't say anything back."
Soul pulls himself back up and moves to get a better look at his frustrated friend. "Let me guess: she asked you not to do anything?"
A growl and some kicking is Black*Star's response.
"Maybe you should," Soul suggests with a shrug. "I mean, you could just say something to him, right? Be casual." Although, Soul thinks, casual isn't really Black*Star's forte.
"I have," Black*Star insists. "I've tried cutting him off mid-insult when we're hanging out, but he just turns anything I say and do around and shoves it back in Tsubaki's face. He's more than hinted at how bad our relationship is to her. And that's when I'm in the same room. I hate to think of the shit he says to her when no one else is around."
"And Tsubaki?"
"She just seems to get more and more tired every time I see her. It's like he's draining her down or something. I mean—" Black*Star suddenly sits up straight. His left leg curls up under him on the couch and he twist his whole body around to stare at Soul. "I don't know what to do. She doesn't want me to interfere, but I can't just do nothing. She doesn't deserve any of that shit he's throwing at her. I just…" He sighs, head and hands dropping. "I just want her to stop feeling like anything that ass says is true."
"Of course it's not true," a new voice answers. Both Soul and Black*Star jump, and the latter actually falls of the couch. Soul turns his head around to see Maka standing just at the entry from the door to the living room. Her hands are on her hips and a scowl is on her face.
"Maka," Soul says in ways of greeting, but she ignores him to instead stomp her way over to Soul's couch and glare at Black*Star's prone form on the floor.
"It's not true," Maka repeats with that famous stubbornness. "You may be an idiot and an obnoxious friend, but you are a good boyfriend Black*Star." She leans over the back of the couch, as if proximity will help emphasize her words. "And Tsubaki knows that. Nothing anyone says is going to change her mind. She already decided to date you all on her own."
"How long have you been here?" Soul asks, but again Maka ignores him as she leans back to full standing and stomps her way to the other side of the couch.
Black*Star scrambles to his knees, choosing to stay on the floor as Maka stops with less than a foot between them. The two seem to be having a glaring match. "You don't have to tell me all that. I know how awesome I am. But I'm tired of listening to that asshole talk shit to Tsubaki."
"But that's Tsubaki's problem to deal with, not yours," Maka replies. "What Tsubaki needs is for you to just stay by her side. This is her brother, and she's going to have to deal with him her own way. What she needs from you is a strong moral support."
"So I just sit there and do nothing?" Black*Star's whole face is squished into a scowl.
Maka just sighs and shakes her head. "You being there is not nothing."
Black*Star falls silent. Maka takes the chance to flop down on the couch, the motion lurching her to the left and she ends up leaning into Soul's side. She pushes him and the couch until she's more settled and less collapsed. Soul can't help but notice how she's still close enough to bump elbows. So he does.
"We're you spying on us?" Soul asks. He can't even find the nerve to act insulted or betrayed.
Maka elbows him back a little harder. "It's not my fault you two weren't paying attention. I was hardly sneaking when I brought in that giant pizza box."
Soul perks up at the mention of food. "Oh yeah." He grins at her. "Meat Lovers?"
Maka rolls her eyes and this time her entire forearm rubs against him. "Would you believe me if I said they were out of Veggie Lovers?"
Soul enjoys the short tingle of warmth that runs up his arm. He presses back into her side, this time leaning his weight into her. The warmth spreads from his arm into his right side and skitters up to his pounding heart. He snickers as Maka sputters and starts to shove him off weakly. He resists her attempts for a moment, grinning like the idiot he is and absorbing as much of Maka as he can, then retreats from her side to stand up from the couch.
"That's a real shame," Soul drawls, but the grin is stuck on his face. "I guess we'll just have to live with no veggies on our pizza."
"Yes, such a shame," Maka replies. He doesn't have to look at her to know there is a grin on her face too.
As he heads to the kitchen, Soul stops to glance down at his still quiet friend. He contemplates Black*Star's tense expression and unfocused eyes. Then, Soul gives a light kick to the bluenette's side. "You staying on floor all night or what?"
Black*Star jolts as if Soul's foot was electric. He blinks wildly, head moving around as if he forgot he was sitting on the floor of Soul's apartment. Then, the male stands with a hearty laugh. "I know you two would enjoy my company for the evening—really who wouldn't? But," he continues while moving to the hall, "I forgot that Tsubaki was making dinner tonight, and it would be a crime not to enjoy my girlfriend's cooking. You two will just have to survive without me."
"The tragedy," Maka replies, her voice flat from how heavy her sarcasm.
Black*Star winks. "I know. But don't worry, I'll always be here in spirit. Your god is never too far away." With a final cackle, Black*Star ducks out of sight. Seconds later, there is the sound of a door opening and closing.
Soul shares a look with Maka, and the both shrug in unison. There is a small smile on Maka's lips though, and Soul thinks she's looking rather smug, all things considered. He turns to finish his quest for pizza, a huff leaving his mouth. "Don't be so proud. We both know how easy it is to trick Black*Star," he states as he enters the kitchen.
"There was no trickery," Maka calls back. "Just mastered manipulation. Oh, and grab me a slice too, please."
Soul rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah." He reaches for the pizza box sitting on the counter and flips the lid open. In seconds, the wry smile on his face falls. His eyes widen and his nose scrunches up on his face as the sweet smell of the pizza hits him in full force. Soul's body shakes as he turns his head to the kitchen entrance where he can just see the side of the couch. "Hawaiian," Soul half spits half yells.
"I said no veggies," Maka's voices seems to sing. He can feel her smugness in each syllable. "Not no pineapple."