Hello, all! Here's chapter three for you! Sorry it took so long, but~ it IS 7,000 words so ... rejoice! and read it slowly because I haven't even started writing chapter four yet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Don't forget to review! The more reviews, the more likely I am to update sooner! I love to get feedback and am getting lazy beta reading my own work lol
Enjoy! Much Love!
Chapter Three: HeBrews
"'Soul. I hav a bf. Plz dont try to contact me. Sry.'" Blake reads aloud, holding back the urge to throw up at the ghastly spelling. "Are you sure that this is her handwriting? I mean, she didn't even sign it." He reads over the note again against his better judgement, swearing to himself that he's seen this chicken scratch somewhere before.
"No, but who else could it be from?" Soul asks disgruntledly as he runs his finger around his coffees to go lid. It's a nervous habit of his and Blake rolls his eyes at the annoying movement.
"Well, I don't think such a 'fucking insanely gorgeous and witty and snarky as all hell' kind of girl writes something so …" Blake reads over the note again, calling upon his inner dictionary to adequately define this train wreck. "incredibly unamusing and with a complete lack of intellectual substance. Does this sound like her?"
"I honestly wouldn't know, Starfield. I only conversed with her the one time." Great. He called him by his actual name, he's becoming melancholy. Blake glares slightly at the somber being in front of him, watching as he brings his coffee to his lips, and catches sight of a small note written on the side.
"Dude, what does your cup say?" He steps forward as Soul turns it in his hand questioningly. "'Call me, 0X8-XX7-2X7X Mizune.' Well, fuck. There's the author of your letter. This chicks a dullard." Blake laughs out at the girl's stupidity. Did she really think that he wouldn't notice that the handwriting is the same? Fucking simpleton.
Soul grabs the note and compares it to the writing on his cup, quickly assessing that, yes, it does indeed match.
"What the fuck, so that damn barista was just being a bitch?"
"A two faced, half-assed, unbelievably dumb bitch, yes." Blake nods as he continues to chuckle. "People these days. I swear."
"Goddamn, I'm so pissed but so fucking relieved right now." Soul sinks down into his chair as he lets out a long, strained sound from his throat, his hands rubbing up and down his face.
"Well, look on the bright side, this probably means that Miss Snarky Wit was attempting to contact you the old fashioned way, and even paid for your drink."
"And we know this because Miss Bitchy Barista obviously tried to deflect her note from getting to me and wouldn't have done so unless there was actually a note to begin with."
"Precisely. So, ignore her and have confidence, lad. Your dream girl is thinking about you, too." Blake wriggles his eyebrows at Soul as he takes a bite of his banana suggestively. His friend shoves him playfully, but firmly. Okay, maybe he deserves that. "Let's quit dawdling and comprise a master plan to win her favor completely."
"I'm all ears, Sherlock."
Maka goes back to the coffee shop on Saturday after having decided to introduce it to Tsubaki. She's been hoping to get a call from Soul, but nothing. It's a little sad, but maybe he just hasn't gotten the note yet.
They get confused glances from the few other customers as they enter because most - but really, all - of them come alone to get away from people and socializing. They keep the quiet, however, so the intimidating stares slowly relieve the two from their uncomfortable hold.
They order their drinks without asking about the note because the employee isn't the one from the other day, and go to sit in the far corner where Maka prefers.
"This place is so amazing. Why aren't there more people here?" Tsubaki asks in a hushed tone.
"Us true coffee fanatics can be choosy when it comes to company, and many of us would rather read a book as we drink our coffee than talk to people who only like it because it's a 'fad'," Maka replies as they sit.
"Unless that company is a 'ruggedly handsome' coffee fanatic himself, correct?" Tsu tries to hide the giggle as Maka grins and turns a soft pink.
"Or an incredibly gorgeous black haired beauty." Maka winks.
"You know it," she replies playfully.
"Though he has yet to call or text me."
"It's only been two days. Give him some time. He might not have gotten the note yet." They chat for a bit as they sip at the steamy, caffeinated liquid in their cups. Tsubaki's lid surprisingly pops off mid drink and spills. As she assures Maka that it only got on her leg a little and reaches for a napkin, she finds a small paper envelope taped behind the dispenser.
"What's that?" Maka asks.
"I think it's for you." Tsubaki's trying to tame her excitement as she sees that it's addressed to her new friend and roommate. "I think it's from Mr. Perfect!" Good thing they're out of sight from the other Res customers, they'd be getting eaten alive by eyes of hatred right about now.
"Let me see." Taking it, she opens the small envelope to find an even smaller piece of paper that reads:
'Maka, watch out for that barista. She's a bitch. P.s. Thanks for the coffee ;)
- Soul'.
She is barely able to contain a laugh before giving it to Tsu to read.
"What does he mean by that?" she asks, eyebrows knitted together in obvious confusion. Maka is still stifling a giggle as she holds up a hand to motion that she needs a minute to get a hold of herself.
"I think he means that she did something to my note for him the other day." she answers simply, clearing her throat to stifle her titter. Looking down at the homemade envelope, she sees handwriting on the inside. Curious, she opens it to find that it's a message to Soul. She reads it and rolls her eyes as it's obviously from the barista. "He didn't lie," she states, unamused as she hands it to Tsubaki as well.
"Well, that was exceedingly rude of her. I'm glad it didn't work for her, though. Shall we leave him a note in return?" she asks, already pulling out a paper and pencil. What an interesting turn of events. This whole secret café note exchange thing is fun. Maybe she doesn't hate life as much as she did last week.
He can't take it anymore. Soul has been sitting there on the couch looking at some piece of paper with that doofus grin on his face for the better part of the last thirty minutes and won't tell him why. It's not fair, to be frank, since initiating that confidential letter exchange thing was his idea.
"Hey, asshole. Is that from your boyfriend?" This comment doesn't even receive a glare, which it most certainly warrants, and it's pissing Blake off even more. What the fuck could it possibly say to hold his retarded attention like that? Sighing in slight disappointment and defeat, he stands and goes to change his clothes. He needs to go hit a punching bag for a while.
"I'm gonna go work out."
"Wait, what, now?" Well, that surprisingly got his attention.
"Yes, now, ya dingus. I gotta go blow some steam."
"But you literally just finished eating."
"Your point?"
"You always say that that's a terrible idea and to wait at least an hour."
Fuck. Since when did he actually start retaining his advice? He probably just saves it for moments like this to piss him off.
"... and?" Blake stands at the door as Soul watches him from the couch, annoyance written loud and clear over his face. "What?"
"Don't tell me you're really that upset about me not showing you the note?" Blake diverts his eyes with a roll of mock absurdity.
"'Course not, that'd be lame."
"Blacky." Shit. He kind of hates that Soul is the caring, observant type. It had aided in the length of their friendship and continues to do so, but he can't stand that almost motherly look gleaming in his friend's eyes. It's creepy.
"Fine." He tosses his bag to the side and makes his way over to sit on the couch, preparing himself to just let it all out because he apparently can't refuse his friend. "Yes. I'm bothered by it. You asked my advice and took it and, yay, it worked and now you aren't telling me why you're cheesing it so hard, you could be Swiss. It just pisses me off a little, man. You rarely - if ever - find a girl you're interested in and I'm excited for you, but excuse me for getting impatient when you get a reply." Blake huffs as he sits back, feeling relieved after ranting.
"Oh, … well, I'm sorry, dude." Soul scratches the back of his head, looking all conflicted and shit. Good. He should feel bad. "I didn't realize that this meant that much to you."
"Well, it does." He puts his arms behind his head as he relaxes further back into the sofa, relishing in Soul being uncomfortable.
"Here." He hands the note over to him to read after a moment of silence, cheeks being tickled with embarrassment as he prepares himself for his friend's reaction. Blake takes a hold of the paper as he notices Soul's skin tone changing. Maybe he shouldn't read the letter. He watches as Soul looks anywhere but at him and begins to fiddle with his fingers. Who the fuck is he kidding? He can't help but read whatever has gotten his friend acting this bashful.
'Duly noted. Thanks for letting me know.
Craving something creamy? ;) - M.A.'
He's a horrible friend, and though Soul never did quite go into detail what he and his new beau had conversed over during their first meeting, this explains it enough for him to connect the dots. He isn't an idiot, thank God. But again, he's a horrible friend, because him laughing his ass off would've been letting Soul off the hook much too easily; this was an opportunity to savour. He is so proud of Soul, he didn't know he had it in him to talk about such erotic things with a girl, especially one he had just met. Yeah, he should have just laughed and given him back the note, but being the most horrible friend that he could be, he just had to feign ignorance and ask him. He knew the explanation would be so sweet and Soul's response would be glorious. He just can't pass up this moment, so, trying his utmost hardest to keep his features nonchalant, he knits his brows together and turns to look at his friend.
"And, uh," he clears his throat as he holds back a chuckle. "what's that supposed to mean?" His voice betrays him as it carries the obvious tone of amusement, but it only makes his pink friend become a shade darker. Glorious. He won't give the note back until he explains thoroughly now, and Soul knows this. Teasing him is Blake's greatest joy and weakness. He's a horrible friend and he loves it.
Going to the coffee shop on Friday instead of Thursday isn't so bad of a change for him. The Mizune chick doesn't work Fridays and he'll gladly make his own coffee in exchange for never having to see her again. It's been two weeks since the barista incident and Soul receives an adorable note from Maka every third or fourth day, except Thursday - never Thursday. Blake has been on his hide for her name since the beginning, but Soul refuses to fess up because he knows Blake will just try and go find her, and that, dear friends, would not be good.
He's surprised, though, when he turns to go get his coffee and finds Maka sitting at their spot. Well, not their spot, but the place that they share and delight in mutually. It's not as if … oh, forget it, it is their spot. The small table back in the corner, hidden from everyone else, is theirs. They are the only two customers to use it, that he knows of, and it's the place they leave secret scribbles and flirtatious handwritten notes for one another's enjoyment. Every time he finds a new note in reply to his, it makes his day. Seeing her in person again, however, after how many weeks, has him so overjoyed that he doesn't know what to do with himself. She's the epitome of beauty, the Helen of Troy of their time, and she's at their table. What has he done to deserve this?
He's standing there, staring at her stupidly, and there's sun shining in through the window behind her to add to her already glowing magnificence. It's down, her hair, wavy and lengthy about her shoulders and down her back. It flows and contrasts over her maroon shirt, which hugs her curves tighter than the last shirt he remembers her wearing. Her high waisted blue jeans emphasize her figure even further and the maroon high heels on her feet add length to her already mile long legs, as her right is crossed over her left. Her lips match her shirt and her eyelashes are dark and reach just below her brows. She has an air of grace about her and it's mind boggling. How had he dared to have the nerve to approach her before? He takes in a slow deep breath as she reads her book, running his fingers over his palms to find the sweat he knows to be there. She is breathtaking and he's a fumbling idiot.
The bell rings, a male barista announces, "One large, black." and her head turns, eyes widening slightly as she's met with Soul's garnet stare, a smile she can't quite decipher barely visible upon his features. She's startled at first, but delighted in the same breath. She's unaccustomed to the bubbly feeling sparking to life in her belly, flitting up in flames to dance in her chest and heat her cheeks. He's even more handsome than the first time they met. His carob jeans are baggy despite how tall he is, his feet covered by a pair of biscotti coloured Dexter Men's work boots. His shirt is white and there's that dog chain around his neck again. His hair is as unruly as before, but there is no headband keeping his bangs from his face. Instead, he sports a short, low ponytail in the back. She likes it. Well, she likes him, so what he wears or does with his hair doesn't really matter, she supposes.
Nepeta has never been more striking than when it swirls in her orbs and it's dizzying. She smiles and he swears the air in the room is just gone; disappearing along with his sanity. She waves and he responds almost too earnestly before turning to grab his coffee. Averting his sight is probably the smartest move he's made so far and he's glad for the excuse to look away, because staring at her any longer as he was might label him a 'creep', if one is being kind. It gives him the time to come back down from wherever the hell he flippin' floated off to. Thank God there's a lid covering his steaming liquid, it's such a simple and unnoticeable tick that he can get away with his nervous habit. He takes his cup and goes to her, because where else would he go? He's been craving to see her again and - though he is looking at the ground in fear of overindulging in her … everything; her anything - he is honestly probably the happiest man alive. He reaches their table sooner than he expects, most likely because he was overly eager to get there, so he isn't fully prepared when he meets her smiling face as she awaits him.
He's being bashful and it makes her blush, just like the slow and anticipated paper conversation they've been carrying out over the past few weeks. She never has a bad day when finding a small and silly note hidden in the napkin dispenser. It's almost cruel to have to wait for his replies, but it's probably the most romantic thing that has ever occurred in her life and it gives her something to look forward to.
Soul sits down with suave in spite of the back flips and somersaults that are erupting in the pit of his stomach and he forces saliva down his throat before he begins to drool. He thinks for only a moment, telling himself to calm the fuck down, and sets his sights on her once more; allows himself to be graced with the winsome creature sitting across from him. It's now that he notices that she has put her book away; the feeling of her undivided attention skipping up to tug at his lips in a derpy smile. Her cheeks are slightly rosy and her eyes are darting from him to his coffee to her lap and he susses that she is just as happy and anxious as he is. What a wonderfully fulfilling realization.
"It's been a while," he states lowly, the sound reverberating in her ears and down her neck, activating chills to sweep up and down her body. She almost forgot how sexy his voice was. Almost.
"It has." He can tell that she wants to bite her lip - heck, he does, too - she nearly does, but instead presses her lips together momentarily as not to blemish her beautifully white teeth with maroon. She's nervous and it's adorable, but he prefers her relaxed. He would never wish for her to be uncomfortable. Today is a day of sudden realizations for him, because it's now, and only now, that he finds himself fallen, low on the floor and he can't get up. He doesn't want to either. It's a lovely place, the ground, and he'll gladly stay there forever if it means she is always within his vision's grasp.
"It's nice to see you." It slips forth from his mouth without his permission, but he's ever so pleased that it did because her cheeks have become darker and the smile she attempts and fails to hide is like candlelight and it warms him right up. He wants to test the waters; to see just how red he can make her turn, but it's so astonishing to see her this way. She had been quite forward the first time they'd met, but then again, so had he. Their notes, as well, have been rather daring in themselves, so would it be too much to comment on her beauty aloud? No, he thinks, she deserves it.
"You're even more stunning than the first time we met." Oh, God. He's so glad that he said that. Her laugh, her smile, the way she tries to cover her face in embarrassment, it's all worth it. She's glowing, like the fucking sun, and he prays to God that no one else ever sees this. He's selfish and apparently hasn't fallen far enough because he's digging now. He wants more, more of her.
"Oh, goodness." she giggles out, giddy and flushed. "You also, um …" she glances at him with a quivering smile on her face and he can't take his eyes off of her. The mighty moss of her enchanting orbs turn away to his dismay, but the words that leave her mouth after have him wanting to yell 'yee-haw' and 'hip-hip-hurray'. Goddammit, he needs a bigger shovel, or perhaps one of those huge ass drills they use for Antarctic expeditions.
"You're even more charming than the last I saw you." He's blushing, he knows it, and he doesn't care. He wants to spend more time with her because, though the notes are delectable, seeing her face is innumerable times better than her handwriting. He hates that it's a weekday and the to-go cup in his hands reminds him of just exactly why he ordered it to go. Fuck. He has a class.
"Why is it that every time we meet I have to leave much too soon?" He asks her. He wants to grab her hand and run his thumb over her knuckles, but he won't. Touching of that sort is prohibited unless they start dating. Damn, how he wishes they were dating. He wants her to himself. He's selfish.
"Awwww, you have to leave already? I was enjoying the compliments." There she is, Miss Snarky Wit. She's still red, but much more at ease and it calms him as well.
"Sadly. Though if you want me to stay, I'll skip for you." He smirks at her, purposely trying to get her to ask him to stay. He wants to stay. He wants her to want him to stay.
"You would do that? For me?" She's mocking him slightly, in an innocent way, no doubt thinking that he's joking. So, he leans forward, putting on an air of seriousness as he allows only a light touch of their hands. This catches her attention. He glides his index finger over the top of her appendage as he gets closer and her smile is slowly getting smaller.
"I would. Any day of the week."
He was forced by a blushing, sputtering ball of everything perfect to go to his class when she found that he was going to be late if he didn't leave right then. It's sad, really, but he appreciates her caring and making him go. He would've missed a very important test if he had stayed. They didn't exchange numbers again and it's frustrating because he wants to see her right after class is over, even though he has yet another lecture to attend. He's tired despite the coffee and it's sad, really. He misses her already. He's in deep. Really deep. So deep that he might as well be on the other side of the goddamn planet. Soul has never felt this way before. He writes her another note in between classes, not having the time to actually go hide it at Res, but he's longing to see her again, and he can't wait.
His last class finally finishes up - late, again - and he needs to book it to the automech. shop or Mr., sorry, Dr. Stein will have his hide. He's packing up his things in a rush before a certain scent invades his senses. He continues to stuff his binders in his bag in a way that his laptop will fit, hoping all the while that the source of the obnoxious mix of Axe, morning breath, and b/o will leave him the hell alo-
"Hello, Evans." Fuck.
"Hey, Ford." Soul tries to be nice, he really does, but Ox Ford is a stuck up asshat that truly doesn't deserve it. The guy thinks he's the fucking best and biggest piece of shit on the whole goddamn planet and it's the most annoying thing ever.
"How'd you do on our last theory test?" Fuck. You.
"Well enough, yourself?" Soul really doesn't want to know, but he asks anyway, fully aware that Ox will tell him regardless.
"I aced it, of course," he gloats, which he really doesn't have the right to do, seeing as Soul knows for a fact that he has always gotten a better grade than this narcissistic bastard. "You really should put in a little more effort, Soul," he states, peering down at him through his thick, ugly glasses. He needs a tissue, there are massive amounts of mucus up his nose. Gross.
"Yeah …" Soul sighs, trying not to show his disgust on his face. "Well, I gotta get going, Ford. I've gotta get to work. See ya." He attempts to walk away only to be cut off as Ox side steps to stop him. He's probably a whole head shorter than him, seeing as Soul can very easily look straight over his head, leaving the vain pig in his blind spot. He smirks slightly at the thought until he notices how, even though the guy is looking up at him, Ox manages to look down through his very clogged, very boogery nose at him. What a dick.
"You really should use proper English, Soul." And you should really shut the hell up and get a fucking tissue. Soul's irritation is at a dangerous level. He just doesn't understand how someone can be such an arrogant prick.
"My apologies," he deadpans. He huffs in a way that blows his bangs from his eyes, trying to release his frustration with his breath instead of his fist. "But I really should be going now. Pardon me." And with that, Soul nearly shoves Ox out of his way, not looking back as he makes his way out of the building. Seriously, he tries.
The new term has begun and they're a little over a week in - only the strong survive midterms - Maka is thoroughly enjoying her classes this quarter. She takes long strides, excited for her Historical Literature class. She loves everything about it, the professor (who prefers to be called Sid), most of the students, the material; everything about it is more than ideal. She enters the medium sized lecture hall and makes her way to her seat. As she goes to sit down, she rolls her eyes at how much attention her seatmate is acquiring from the dimwitted girls around him. He smiles at them, fetching and polite, but she can see right through it all. He isn't the slightest bit interested. She hasn't a clue as to why he fakes it, catching the relief on his face as Sid calls them all to their seats. She shrugs to herself, it really isn't her place to wonder about such things, but curiosity gets the best of her often. That includes when they get their assignments back. She always skillfully takes a quick peek at his grade before he shoves it into his binder, trying to suppress a boastful grin. His scores are as good as hers, they are almost always equally matched.
"Damn," she hears him mutter under his breath as they copy down what the prof has up on the board. She glances over and watches for a short moment as he's fidgeting with his pencil, obviously out of leed.
"Need a pencil?" she asks. She feels a small, innocent connection to him for whatever reason. She thinks that he may possibly be just like her, faking her cheery personality behind forced smiles and meek laughter as to avoid negative attention. High school had been rough and led her to where she is now, looking at a guy she assumes to be much like her as he subtly turns his head in her direction.
"Yes, please," he sighs. He seems to be having a bad day. She reaches into her bags designated pencil pocket and pulls out one of many spares, handing it to him. He looks at her gratefully until a look of sudden realization sweeps over his features.
"Keep it," she says simply. He relaxes as his greenish eyes meet hers. So he really was worried about returning it later. He is surprisingly easy to read and she feels a little bad at how amusing it is.
"Thanks," he responds before going back to copying the board. She follows suit, finishing up the last few sentences before Sid begins his lecture. It's comfortable, sitting next to him, though the leering eyes of all of his fans weigh heavily on her back. They're glaring at her, but without any real reason and it's annoying. She glances over at him as she sees him shift in her peripheral and he's definitely more irritated than she is, the stares of longing and unvalidated affection scaring his backside. She's a little worried about him.
"Also, before I forget, I should remind you about the partner project coming up. It's in your syllabus. We have an even amount of students this semester, so you'll be in groups of two. No presentation, just a paper on Romanticism and a sheet to grade your partner's teamwork and participation. I encourage you to find someone soon." Sid announces before continuing with his lecture.
Soon, class is over and as everyone is leaving, Maka and her seatmate end up somewhat awkwardly walking side by side down the hallway as the girls follow close behind them. How fucking childish.
"I'm Blake, by the way." He states, seemingly out of nowhere, and holds his hand out to shake hers as they walk.
"Maka." She decides to introduce herself as well. She has the distinct feeling that he's not interested in her in any romantic sense, so she feels comfortable enough to grasp his appendage lightly for a short moment as they walk.
"Thanks for the pencil." He seems a bit distracted, though his thanks is sincere. She can still feel - or smell, rather - the presence of strong perfume behind them, and she knows that's why he's tense.
"My pleasure." She studies him for a moment; sees his fidgeting, and finds herself compelled to ask.
"Everything alright?" He glances her way and coughs into his hand.
"Do you have a partner for that project coming up yet?" He asks, his hushed tone catching her attention enough to lean in a bit closer. She notices how he chances a brief look behind him at the posey following them. She smirks slightly. He's scared of them.
"I don't. Would you like to be partners?" Maka relishes the relief that softens his demeanor and the harmless smile that raises his cheeks.
"Yes, please." He's like a little puppy and she just wants to pat his head and ruffle his jadecast hair. She kind of wants to tease him a little just to see how he'll react.
"Alright. You seem hardworking enough and your grades, that I've seen thus far, have been exceptional." She isn't lying; she's seen the bold red on the top of returned assignments before he can hide it away. He's surprisingly quite the intellectual. If one were to judge by appearances alone, they would assume that he was a "as long as I pass" kind of person. Maka sees amusement colour his features at her remark as he looks at her, an eyebrow rising.
"Peeping tom." He states, a chuckle escaping along with it. She giggles. He doesn't seem to care too awfully much that she had unknowingly peeked at his grades. He's a lot more relaxed talking to her than he is with others.
"Guilty as charged. What can I say? I was curious." It's interesting to talk to him, especially as she feels glares burn her backside, and though both of them are well aware of the infatuated girls behind them, they can't find it in them to care.
They leave the building, finally, and Maka looks around for Tsubaki. They have dinner plans and her new roommate has come to pick her up. Excitement. She quickly spots the beauty sitting about 20 meters away. She smiles and waves as Tsu enthusiastically stands and begins walking through the approaching onslaught of students fleeing their classes.
"Wh-" She hears Blake gulp down hard and turns with curious eyes. He's completely awestruck; his eyes are wide and his cheeks seem to burn, his mouth is faintly ajar and a deep sigh rushes from his lips as his head tilts slightly to the left. "Who is that?" He asks her breathlessly. She follows his gaze to find it directed toward her friend as she makes her way toward them. A smile spreads across her face. Yes. This is perfect.
"I'll introduce her to you." Maka tries to hide her growing euphoria as her friend finally walks up to the pair. He's still gawking at her like a poor lovestruck teen and it's rather adorable.
"Hey, Maka!" She wishes she could see his face right now because she knows that his eyes are probably glazed over with pure wonderment and his cheeks just might be changing hue.
"Hey! Sorry about class going over. Did you wait long?" She can make out a slight fidgeting next to her as Tsubaki merely smiles and shakes her head.
"Not at all." She answers cheerily. "I was just enjoying this beautiful weather." Her eyes momentarily leave Maka's person to glance at the handsome man standing next to her.
"That's good. This is Blake, by the way. He's a classmate of mine. We'll be working on a project together soon." Her left hand comes up to gesture toward him, watching as Tsu smiles shyly for the first time since they've met as she turns her attention from Maka to Blake.
"It's nice to meet you," Tsubaki states meekly. Maka is finding it difficult to contain her joy as she watches Blake dumbly lift his hand to shake Tsu's, still fixated on the dark haired woman in front of him. His cheeks are now rosy, contrasting against his aqueduct hair, and his pupils are dilated. The best part is that he's looking at her face, his eyes seem to be too entranced with hers to care too much about her plentiful bosom, slim waist, or rounded hips. It's the fucking best. The moment their hands meet, she can make out a chill sweeping over them both, as if an electrical current has been triggered by the meeting of their hands.
They are just standing there, both blushing as they hold the others appendage, staring into each other's eyes. Maka's mossy orbs shift between the two. It's perfect.
"And Blake, this is Tsubaki, my roommate, and friend." Her statement does very little at first to distract them from their daze, but as soon as it registers, they're pulling away from the prolonged skinship, embarrassed and flustered.
"I-it's a pleasure to meet you as well," he states timidly as he scratches the back of his head. They both have their eyes cast downward, cheeks touched with a scalding flush, and it's utterly adorable.
"We're going to go get dinner. Would you like to join us?" His head shoots up, eyes scared as they reach Maka's proud expression. How delightful, he's nervous. He's never this way toward the other girls in class, and he isn't faking - or rather, doesn't know how to fake - a charm to appease or impress the dark haired beauty before him. Maka glances over at her friend to find a hopeful look lighting up her features. She wants him to go. This moment is absolute perfection. She looks back to Blake and not only is he nervous, but he's panicking internally, she can see it obstructing his vision.
"I, uh …" He thinks for a moment, looking from Maka to Tsu, and back. "wish I could," he answers with a defeated sigh, and she can see Tsubaki deflate in disappointment. "I actually have to rush to work soon. I only have time to pick up something at the Turf." The Turf was a quick and cheap food option on campus, only used by those in a hurry. He's obviously dissatisfied as well, he doesn't want to leave.
"Oh, that's too bad," she responds. "Well, how about we plan something this weekend? We can talk about our project." They both light up at the mention and Maka has to pat herself on the back.
"Sure! Let's exchange numbers." He hastily pulls out his phone and exchanges it for hers to add their numbers to the others contacts. "Thanks, I've got to get or I'll be late. It was wonderful making your acquaintance." He's looking at Tsubaki like he doesn't want to leave and his hand comes up to shake hers again, obviously longing for even the slightest of touches or perhaps the shock that soared through them both earlier.
"You as well," Tsu replies coyly. Aww, she's being bashful. Their hands are hesitant to part and it's almost heartbreaking that they have to go separate ways so soon after meeting. He lets go, though, because he really does have to leave or he'll get docked on his paycheck if he's late. Fucking unforgivable Stein ruins his fucking life.
"Bye," he murmurs, disheartened. It's like watching a bittersweet love song unfold, it's beautiful. Sighing once more, he turns and strides away swiftly. Tsubaki watches him depart only to divert her stare when he looks back at her, and vise versa.
After he's long out of earshot, Tsubaki turns to Maka with her eyes wide and her cheeks aflame. "Oh, my goodness! Oh, my goodness, Maka!" She grabs her arm earnestly. "Who was that? Why have I never met him before?"
"That was Blake. I told you that," Maka laughs as they begin to walk to the bus stop. "And you've probably never met because he's an English lit. major and you're a welding slash biomedical engineering major." She taunts harmlessly.
Tsubaki shakes her arm as they go, her grip unrelenting. "This is no time to joke around! I think I've met my true love!" Maka slows down, a huge smile across her features.
"True love? You just met. You barely even spoke to one another."
"That doesn't matter. When you know, … you just know." Tsubaki rests her temple upon Maka's shoulder, her blush deepening. She has it bad. Maka pats her friend's head as they sit to wait for their transportation, an elaborate plan forming in her mind. She's never seen either of them this frazzled, they're both usually so calm and collected. It's utterly delightful and the feeling is obviously mutual between the two. Maka doesn't think that she's ever been this excited for someone else's love life. She can't wait for the weekend.
Blake is spacing out again. He's been doing it all evening and Soul's honestly afraid to ask why. He's worried about him, though, so he can't very well try to ignore his best friend's abnormal behavior.
"Uhhh, …" he begins as he watches Blake pick up a torque wrench when he should be reaching for the urethane and electric caulking gun. "Dude, you're replacing a window not fastening bolts." Soul grabs Blake's wrist before he can do anything dumb, as it looks like he's preparing to hammer in the new windshield.
Blake is startled out of his daze at the physical contact and glares at him. The fuck.
"No, I don't want to hold your hand, you deviant. Gross." Blake scrunches his face in mock disgust and terror. Soul shoots him with an unamused look as he releases his grasp.
"Don't lie to yourself," Soul finally retorts, smirking as his friend fakes a gag. "You know you want this." Blake chuckles then, shaking his head.
"Yeah, yeah." He seems to be back to normal as he returns to doing his job correctly.
"You okay, man? You've been dazing all day," Soul asks as he looks back under the hood of the car he's been stuck with - the piece of shit - when he hears Blake sigh. He never hears Blake sigh, especially like this. He's known the guy since middle school, they've been through a lot together, nay literal hell together: puberty, and yet he had refrained from this kind of sighing all along. It's completely new to him and he panics slightly, not knowing how to handle it. Holy shit, the world must be ending.
"Well, ... today I-"
"Mr. Evans, Mr. Blake, I hope you are conversing over motorized vehicles and not personal affairs." Mr., sorry, Dr. Stein is a motherfucking creepy as hell asshole and they despise working under him, but the job pays great and the work is actually fun. No job is perfect, one supposes.
"Yes, sir." Soul states politely. "I was just saying that he might want to scrape the lining a bit more before he places the window."
"Good." The doctor of who-fucking-knows-what nods and turns to go take a smoke outside. As soon as he's gone, Soul directs his attention back to Blake who is actually scraping the rim more.
"You were saying?" He whispers.
"Nothing. We can talk about it later." He's acting suspicious as if he wants to divert Soul from the topic. It's strange to witness Blake acting this way when he's normally very forward, it's so out of character. He won't push him, though. He'll wait until he's ready to open up about whatever it is that has his panties in a-
"*Siiiggghhhh*" … Oh, Lord, please give him strength.
And there it is! It's been a bit since I last updated this one so I wanted to give you all some length, but *phew!* 7,000 words is a lot, you guys lol so I hope you enjoyed it.
Don't forget to leave me a review. Please? Pretty please? In cursive with star dust and fairy dust? It would make me oh, so happy!
If you find yourself bored with nothing to do, check out more stories by you know who! I have two other Soul Eater fics and have recently uploaded an Inuyasha fic! It'll probably be a while until the next update, but I have some spooky Soul Eater and Inuyasha Halloween fics that I'm working on just for you! See ya soon!
Much Love! ~3
K.T.
