Sleeping on it blended into the next day much to Maka's chagrin. It was one of the stacks of reasons why her own hold on sleep the night before had been tenuous, sitting just below the added sounds of life still ebbing and flowing in the darkness outside her window. He'd mentioned gangs, the Noah Group or Gang, she could only assume what the acronym was since he'd snapped the lid tightly on that conversation. While he'd laughed off the idea of being part of them, the insinuation was that he was with someone, since why would he have been able to throw around his weight in the club if he hadn't? If NG didn't have a reason to be afraid of him?
No matter what, Maka was convinced of her first assumption more than any other whisper from that conversation - Soul cared. He wasn't your stereotypical thug, and while those tattoos gave off the aura of someone not to be messed with, he seemed to antagonize himself more than anyone else. While Maka didn't look anything close to intimidating, she was definitely guilty of sharing the second trait, especially as the morning bled into the afternoon with the only appearance from him being the sound of his footsteps between his room and the bathroom.
She settled into cooking, her regular Sunday activity which brought calm and normalcy back to her world for the moment. It wasn't until after she set out the containers, the pot of rice half empty as she went down the row when his voice made her almost send the entirety of it to the floor. "Hey." She watched him smother a laugh before letting it croak into a cough.
Maka collected herself, trying to force her focus right back to the line of lunches. "Still not better?"
"Probably not a one-day thing," he muttered, "but the medicine helped. Thanks."
"You're welcome." She was at a loss of what to say next because he was brushing past her, his hand tentatively touching at her elbow to keep her from bumping into him as he opened the cabinet to the side. Maka was never good at minding her own business and she watched intently as he brought a protein bar from the cabinet and was about to rip at the corner. "Is that all you're going to eat?"
Soul shrugged, always the wordsmith.
"You're sick."
A second roll to his shoulders.
Maka let out an exasperated sigh, "Put the bar down."
"Huh?" He blinked between her and the brightly packaged food substitute in his hand.
"Sit down."
A grimace started on his face, "Look-"
"Put it down and sit down," Maka repeated her orders succinctly before pressing her lips together in a frown.
The stare lasted a full thirty seconds before Soul slapped the bar on the counter and took slow steps to the tiny table in the corner of the kitchen. He firmly huffed as he dropped into the chair before turning his narrowing eyes at her. Maka didn't notice the stare, too busy with the containers and the mental berating she was currently running through. Who are you, his mother? Ordering him around like he isn't grown and can't take care of himself. How is he not laughing at you right now as he walks out of the room? But he wasn't, and she could hear him fidgeting at the table while she finished the prep.
Maka grabbed one of the containers and fished into the utensil drawer before turning to him and placing it in front of him on the small table. It wasn't much, just the regular lunch assortment she made, rotating a few things when she got tired of them or when a particular item at the grocery store looked good. That stubborn side of her pressed her hands to her hips as she looked expectantly down at him.
Soul had strangely spread his fingers open on the table, staring at the food in front of him with a glare so intent it seemed like he was studying physics rather than considering eating.
"Eat, dummy," she murmured and smacked his elbow, sending his eyes shooting to her.
Again, another case to study as he looked at her face, still silent. Her stomach started to shrivel under the intensity and she was about to crumble, to beg him to tell her what the issue was when he swallowed slowly, the dry snap of his tongue awaking her to the sudden realization that he was nervous. Of all things, he's nervous!
"You gonna sit and eat with me?"
'No' was supposed to be the response because it wasn't technically time to eat yet, she had to finish the other portions and pack them away in the fridge but it was like he was a kid. Maka couldn't quite place it but that was the closest equivalent, a kid indirectly asking for attention. At least it's not throwing a fit on the floor. The mental imagery of that brought a smile to her face and she let it grow regardless of the strength of his stare. "Sure."
"OK." He dropped his eyes back to the food as he put his elbow on the table, resting his cheek against it.
Maka took this as her cue to grab her own container and bring it back to the table across from him. It wasn't until she sat in the chair and settled that he even touched his fork, spending just enough time stabbing for her to catch up and get her own forkful. It wasn't until she was chewing through her first bite that he even took his and she watched the hint of a smile pulling at his mouth.
"It's good," he murmured.
"Don't sound so surprised," she teased. "And this is nothing special. It's just the regular lunches I make for the week." I can make much better, she stifled the brag in her head.
Soul cleared his throat and Maka was unsure if it was the cough or the difficulty of creating a sentence, "How'd you start that?"
Maka waited to clear the food from her mouth, studying the way the silence that usually he reveled in made him squirm. "Start what?"
"Cooking lunches and stuff," he muttered before shoving another bite in his mouth.
"Oh," she felt the joy in the moment flutter away as the clear answer came to her lips. "My parents got divorced when I was fifteen. My dad wasn't learning how to cook so I had to."
Soul raised his eyes to hers, "If he was the sleaze why'd you live with him?"
Maka's jaw clenched together and she forced her eyes open wide to resist the burn of the tears welling.
He exploded in a sigh that stuttered into the rest, "Sorry, fucking forget it. I didn't… shit."
"No, it's stupid," she took a shaky breath as her teeth nibble over her lower lip. "Mama just wasn't… available." What a nice way to put it. She ran her delicate fingers through her hair, absently twirling one of the ends to calm the storm. "So are you a snitch or are you up to something?"
That stirred a short chuckle from him. "Neither."
"Then?" Maka offered before popping another bite between her lips, trying to focus on the chewing rather than how much she liked the way his face always slowly crawled towards amusement.
His eyes dropped back to his food, taking a measly bite before muttering through a half-full mouth, "Friends talk about that kind of shit, right?"
"I think anymore on that subject might be best friend territory," Maka murmured, but regardless of that warning she continued, "I should be over it, but I guess it still feels fresh." But I could tell him, couldn't I? For some absurd reason it hurts, but it doesn't feel impossible to say. Because he'd never…
"Got it," Soul nodded. "I guess… I don't talk about my parents either. There. Makes us even."
"Good to know," Maka inhaled slowly, tensing her foot over the mire she knew she was about to step in. "So we're friends?"
"Thought that decision was clear," his voice was low, hesitant as if he'd take it back in the next second.
"Just making sure," she tensed, "because I was wondering…"
He dropped his fork, his hands splaying on the table as he stared at her.
He's bracing himself. He's going to run if he has to because right now he's still protecting himself, too. Don't ask it, don't break what you're building. "I, uh, like to cook most nights, too. I won't every night, but when I do, maybe we can eat together."
That frozen tightness in his muscles started to ease, his eyes softening from the sudden narrowing. "Like this?"
"This or in the living room. You're not a great conversationalist so maybe we'll need the TV sometimes," the laugh just stumbled across her lips to end.
He snorted his own in reply, "Sure. OK."
Crisis averted, Maka barely took in the next breath. And now, partners, roommates, friends. In her mind, she tried to draw the line there.
Soul was straightening his tie in the mirror as he caught her in the doorway in her periphery. "What's up?"
"This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself and he couldn't help but smirk. "Can you take me to work?"
His smirk trembled until it broke into a laugh. "What? Didn't figure out the subway route five times over last night?"
"No, I did, it's just…" She huffed, "Fine, if you're not-"
"I didn't say no," he cut her off as he waved a dismissive hand her way. "You ready?"
"Have been. Aren't you cutting it close?" He absolutely loved the way her eyes bugged at his clock on the nightstand.
"Death isn't going to lose his mind if you're a few minutes late," Soul laughed.
"But being late is-"
Soul finished in the mirror just in time to turn to her, lessening the space so that he was right in front of her. Without thinking, his hand reached out, his fingers nudging gently under her chin. "Chill out." As the culmination of that move hit him, Soul couldn't help but mirror her reaction, the surprise freezing him in place. What the hell was that? You touched her. To make matters worse, Maka's face flushed a pink that he couldn't tear his eyes from. He needed her to yell at him, to screech some kind of complaint but she was just as dumbfounded as him, letting her cherry lips part slightly with confused words trapped on her tongue. "Let's go," he forced the break of the spell.
"Finally." She tried to recover with a huff but her eyes still looked frantic as she turned away from him and hurried down the hallway.
He followed, letting her fiddle into her shoes: heels today he noted with an interest that he definitely shouldn't. When she was done it was out the door and onto the street. Soul tapped softly at her elbow, trying to force her in front single-file when they got on the street.
"What's that?" She pulled her arm forward and out of his reach.
"Trying to get you to walk in front," he grumbled.
"Why?" She sounded like she was ready for a fight but she still did as she was told.
Soul breathed a sigh of relief even though he knew the trial wasn't done, a million questions probably trembling on her lips. "Think about it."
"I don't know," she huffed.
"You didn't even try, bookworm," he admonished.
"Soul," she spat.
He groaned, "Maka. What's between you and me?"
"What?" That blush was back on her cheeks.
Soul tapped at the bag that she had slid to cover her butt. At least one smart move, though probably instinct. "The bag, Maka."
"Oh," came a flustered whisper. "Pick-pockets?"
"Sure," Soul shrugged. And if someone comes for us, I'm hit from behind, not you, but that's not a lesson I want you to think about. He tapped her elbow again, "When I do that, I'm saying 'left,'" he tapped the other side. "That's 'right.'" He gave her the 'left' signal and a second, watching her eyebrows narrow as she took the turn and arranged the orders in her mind.
"You don't say where, just use discrete motions."
"Yeah," Soul bit down his smirk, waiting to see if she'd get there.
Maka sighed, "I guess to make it harder to know right off the bat where we're going, but why would anyone follow us?"
"Lots of reasons," Soul muttered. But again, not a lesson I want you to think about. He tapped out a 'right' and a quick 'left' down the subway stairs. Soul was used to the sardine squish but he watched Maka's eyes widen at the prospect of so many people. This was no subway on a Thursday late night, it was Monday morning rush hour and with her bewilderment Soul abandoned the usual, instead placing a firm hand on her elbow and urging her forward and down to the platform stairs. Luck was with them, the car just opening and a stream of people coming out.
"This our line?" Maka nodded.
"Yeah, as soon as the stream stops, get on. Grab a seat, or if you can't, a wall." His orders were pointless because he moved her forward as soon as the people stopped exiting. He considered himself blessed as they slipped into two open seats especially as the crowd trickled in behind them. "Don't get used to this." Soul made the mistake of leaning into her to nudge and when she turned her head it was just a breath away.
"Is it usually not this busy?" This time she didn't seem phased by the closeness, other overwhelming matters at hand.
"Busier," he grunted as he pulled back. "I'm talking about the seats. Lucky."
"How did you get used to this?" Maka murmured as she sent her eyes around the car.
He snorted, "Should I take offense to that?"
"Maybe," Maka sighed. "I can't figure it out. You do and you don't like people."
Soul settled back in the seat, trying to use his energy the way he should: to scope out the car instead of waste it on thinking about another 'Maka comment.' Though this one's close again. Like she can see the words as they churn across my brain. "I like people."
"Sure, begrudgingly." It was Maka's turn to elbow him and he distinctly didn't like the way she fit into his side. "How long did it take you and Blake to become friends?"
Soul shook his head, "Not the best example. Black - Blake and I went to school together. Middle school, the first detention I got I met him. Bonded over mutual delinquency, maybe two hours before we were inseparable." He knew he was in trouble with the way her eyes narrowed with each word.
"You almost called him Black…?"
Soul rolled his eyes, "You're nosing."
"Friendly conversation," Maka corrected.
"Maybe I never should have agreed to this friendship thing, just got me more questions."
"Too late, no going back," she chimed.
Too late is right, he almost muttered but the air sucked out of him as she gently put her hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze before letting her fingers go back on their merry way. "Black Star."
"Hm?" She raised her eyebrows.
As if her touch eased it out of him he continued, "I almost called him Black Star. Street name. He's had it since I met him."
"So he was part of it, too?"
"Yeah, it," Soul didn't enjoy the emphasis and he worried when he'd have to clarify that, when that word would become the next question on her lips. "And not was, is."
Maka nibbled at her lip again, a motion he knew meant she was thinking over something, debating the next question that almost always seemed to come one way or another. "Are you an 'is' or a 'was'?"
"Trying to be a 'was.'" That came out with only a modicum of the surety he had wanted and worse, it came with a silence from her, a complete annihilation of any further questions on her tongue. Come on, Miss Never-ending Questions, give me something. Just something so I don't think you're worrying about that, thinking about that too hard. He swallowed hard as he watched her face tunnel deeper into thought. Please, Maka, please.
"You think he could come up with something better than Black Star," Maka murmured.
His laugh was a tumultuous mix of amusement and relief and it surprised her as much as it did him, his hand clapping over his mouth to stop the swell. "Thanks."
"Huh?" Maka tilted her head quizzically.
Yeah, thanks for what, idiot? Thanks for reading my fucking mind and saving me from… from the idea that you were thinking badly of me. "Nothin' just… glad it wasn't another fucking question."
Maka rolled her eyes, "Except you always end up answering them anyway."
That frightening thought tore across his mind, Because it's you.