The library was quiet and sparsely populated since the semester was still young. He saw her sitting patiently, not absently scroll through her phone but her eyes focused on the door as if waiting for him. That expectant look started to warm him, but he tried to resist it. Their texting had been sporadic since the first night, not an onslaught but a peppering here and there. They were just barely something you could call friends, so he shouldn't have some kind of glow every time he thought any of her actions was done specifically for him.

He balanced the two coffee cups as he opened the door, watching as she instantly shot to her feet and met him halfway. His smile felt a little tighter, but his voice betrayed him with a soft tone that he rarely ever used, "Hey, sorry I'm late."

"By just a minute," Maka shook her head dismissively.

"Still." Soul offered the coffee to her and she didn't try to avoid his fingers, letting theirs meet as the cup transferred hands. Oh, no, his mind groaned but his heart was already beating faster, that concentration of nerves in his stomach fluttering. It wasn't any different from when she held his hand for that second before. It was still wonderful. He had to let his free hand fall to his side and pinch his leg to stop the runaway thoughts. "I think those rooms you were talking about are to the back."

"Back right," she added. She turned from him and started the walk and he was happy just to follow her. Soul made his eyes stay to her shoulders, watching her loose hair swish over the back of her sweater as she walked. He was too happy to notice she'd opted for something a little more form-fitting this time, accenting a waist that transitioned to a midthigh skirt. Stop it, his mind corrected, sending his eyes back up and off to the side, focusing on their destination.

There was a line of four doors, each opening to a cubicle with just enough space for a table and four chairs. The natural light from the large window to the outside offered at least a reprieve from claustrophobia and also discouraged from any kind of private activity. She opened one of the doors, paused, but then seemed to find it acceptable. Without a word, she sat in the chair furthest from the door, already starting to stack her things in front of her.

Soul slowly closed the door and followed her lead, taking the seat right next to her. It was cramped and he felt that if he stretched out he could most likely touch both walls from this position. "I promise I took good care of your notebook." Which was not a lie. There were no dogeared pages, no stains, not even a speck of dust.

Maka held out her hand, a smile starting at the corners of her mouth. "That's to be seen."

"What, you're going to give it a white glove test?" Soul wasn't the only one who laughed at his joke as he pulled the notebook from his bag, placing it in her open hand.

She opened it on the table, not really inspecting it but coming to the first page of the last day's notes, her eyes seeming to stop over the number. That had been slick, something he never would have imagined from her, and he wondered if she had even guessed how much he'd panicked over it. He sure as hell wouldn't admit it: he still had some pride and dignity.

"Well?" Soul leaned in, his shoulder almost touching hers. This was entirely too close because he was hit with a whiff of some wild floral, maybe honeysuckle, as her head moved to look at him too quickly, flicking her hair. He wished she'd dip into him, letting their shoulders touch but she refused, her body motionless as her eyes studied him.

"It's fine," tumbled quickly from her lips. Maka's hand came up and brushed the hair back behind her ear, sending another wave of scent towards him.

Soul forced himself back into the seat, completely away from any possible contact. He was letting these feelings take a dangerous hold on him and he almost hated the way he was hungry for her attention. "Since I borrowed the notebook, why don't you quiz me today?"

That stiffness and nerves fell away from her but she had pressed herself into the wall, giving him a little more space in the tight room. Maka never seemed like a fish out of water with a book in her hand and by the time the first hour was over she'd recovered from the closeness. Soul, on the other hand, was still struggling, trying to keep his mind on the questions that she was firing his way without any restraint.

Her phone buzzed on the table and she started to reach for it half-heartedly, looking as if she would ignore it as soon as she actually got it in her hand. Instead, her eyes widened as her mouth tightened. "I have to take this."

"Oh, OK." She moved to get up but Soul shook his head, taking his headphones out of his pocket. He pressed them into his ears as he fiddled with his phone until the tunes washed out anything that resembled her voice in the background. The view from the corner of his eye was her hand gripped into the table and he couldn't force himself to look for more, knowing whatever the call was it wasn't any of his business. When he saw the hand retreat, he tested his luck with a little more of a glance, seeing the hand now obscuring her face by pressing into her brow.

This couldn't be good. He should really just close the books, pack up, and let her go and fix whatever this was without him being in the way. Instead, that strange new feeling was there and planted him in his seat, patiently waiting for her move. Her hand came back down, the phone with it, pressing it into the table. Soul counted to ten before tugging the buds out of his ears.

"Sorry." He wasn't sure that was a tone he'd ever heard from anyone before, a mix of anger, disappointment, and sadness in equal parts. Soul sat up from the notes and look at her head-on. Her face was flushed and he could see the moisture swimming at the end of her eyes. It didn't seem like she had the energy to hide the internal fight and she let out a pained sigh, her mouth opening and closing on words that wouldn't come.

Soul closed the notebook, standing and stretching. "Let's take a break."

She nodded, her hands coming to her face to rub away whatever was there, trying on a weak smile.

"Pack up, let's go." Soul started following his own orders, not even looking at her.

"We're leaving?"

"Fresh air, sunshine, and…" He paused, examining her face as if the answer was there. "You look like you're the ice cream type."

She was slowly starting to pack, still throwing glances at him. "Ice cream?"

"You like ice cream, right?" He opened the door and waited the second it took her to throw her bag over her shoulder before starting the trek back to the front door.

"Yes." It was soft, but he could hear less wavering in her voice.

The late afternoon sun was a blessing after the fluorescents of the library and even in the fall chill Soul found himself struggling to slip out of his jacket. He almost lost his bearings when she pulled at his backpack, holding it to make it easier for him. "Thanks."

"No problem, but it's not that warm," she teased.

He tucked the jacket under his arm as he took the bag back from her, slinging it over one shoulder. "Unless I'm riding, it's t-shirts until snow." They had cleared the library, making their way to the edge of campus and the sidewalk leading into town.

"Riding?" Maka hurried her step, bringing herself almost shoulder to shoulder with him.

"Motorcycle." Soul nodded over towards the parking lot, knowing that his bike wasn't even visible from here. "I ride most days from the house unless the weather's not good." The sidewalk stretched out in front of them as they finally left the confines of campus, a small neighborhood giving way to a sprinkling of the stereotypical small-town shops. He'd been this way only once or twice, trying to avoid the scene right by the campus like a plague, but having her hop on the back of the bike, even if she would consider such a thing, didn't allow him what he wanted, to talk her out of whatever mood that phone call drenched her in.

"What happens when it snows?"

"The bus," Soul shrugged.

"You didn't want to live on campus?"

"Uh," Soul grimaced, "I'm here for classes and that's about it. I like to keep it that way." Maka's eyebrows wrinkled, her smile fading a little. He didn't like the absence of her smile and he knew the cryptic reply was to blame but- "The truth is, my brother teaches over at the music school so I…" he swallowed, watching her face for another change, the realization that he was sharing tightening his throat. "I don't spend time with him." The silence was terrifying, even worse than the feeling as the words left his mouth, exposing that scar to her.

Maka let it be silent for at least ten thundering beats of his heart. "You don't like him?"

"Wes is great. That's the problem." Soul pulled at the sleeve of her sweater, directing her to turn into the storefront. He was hoping that the tinkling of the bell above the door was going to call the conversation, hoping that her attention would be taken by the frozen treats rather than this little corner of his life story.

"That seems like a strange problem." Her eyes were on the display window, flicking from flavor to flavor, but her mind seemed to be cemented on his words.

"I'm a strange guy, I guess," Soul offered with a sigh. He was losing his appetite quickly, the joy of a sugary treat blanched by his admission.

It was over in a second, but her hand came to his arm, her fingers cool against his skin. "No, you're not." And before he could even savor it her hand was back at her side. She finally allowed a pause in the conversation, leaning into the counter to order her ice cream. It seemed like her voice raised two octaves, a cheerful request regardless of the emotionality she'd been carrying since the library. Two scoops of cookie dough, an admirable choice, in a cup. She turned to him, "What do you want?"

You, would be the playful, normal response but it felt wrong to be that flirtatious with her. He wanted to draw it out, to make whatever this was last. "Same." He reached for his wallet as the girl behind the counter started to assemble his choice.

"No way," Maka shook her head. "No paying. It's my treat this time."

"I don't think I want you off the hook for the coffees."

"Then consider it payback for making you come to campus when you didn't actually want to." With his ice cream in hand, Maka paid the girl for both of them. "Or maybe just for being nice to me."

Everything in him hated the last part and he had to force himself from almost shouting at her. "I don't think I deserve anything for being nice. I like you." The last words tumbled from his mouth and his stomach flipped. He scrambled to add context, feeling like a middle schooler. "You're likable. Easy to be nice to." As if that took away from the juvenile level of the conversation.

"If you say so," she laughed, which should have made him feel better just on the face value that she was feeling good enough to laugh but he still hated it.

"Let's sit outside," he couldn't stop it from coming out as a grumble.

Regardless of his tone, she seemed to be coming back to normal, a hard to describe grin coming to her face. "Yeah." That grin turned into another laugh as he opened the door for her, loving how close she was when she squeezed past him. They moved only a few feet from the door to sit on a low wooden bench in front of the window.

He huffed, "I feel like you're laughing at me."

"No, I'm," she bought time by taking a bite of her ice cream, letting the spoon linger on her lip. "OK, maybe I am."

Was he blushing? That would be completely new, or at least something that hadn't happened since middle school, but he felt the heat rise up his neck to his cheeks as he watched her delicately tap that spoon to her lips. "This is the thanks I get after I take you out for ice cream."

"I believe, technically, I'm taking you out. I paid, after all."

Each sentence here felt perilous and he had to stuff a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, hoping that the coolness of it all would come to his face. It just felt worse, especially as the silence settled between them to the point he swore he could hear her breathing. He would give anything to know what she was thinking since the only show on her face was a soft smile between bites. It was simple to flirt, maybe even casually throw his arm over the back of the bench to just get them closer but it was the words that he wanted that stuck in his throat. It wasn't amorous, it was actually serious, those prying words that he wasn't used to. "Maka, are you OK?"

She studied her ice cream with intensity before taking a deep breath. "It's stupid. It's just my dad and it always happens every couple of weeks, but…" She plopped the spoon in the half-empty cup. "And now I'm bothering you with it, which makes it feel even more ridiculous."

"Listening doesn't bother me." He held his eyes on his own cup, not confident enough in his delivery to actually take in the look on her face.

"I guess… they're divorced, my parents. My mom will say something to my dad and he'll come running to me for some kind of validation." She scraped at the bottom of the cup before bringing another spoonful into her mouth. She waited for her mouth to clear before a sigh rushed past her lips. "I should stop letting him piss me off, but I'm a sucker for it every time."

"What's he do?"

"To piss me off? Where do I start?" Her laugh wasn't entirely bitter. "He cheated on her a million times, and I wish that was hyperbole, but it's a new girl every week."

"Yeesh," Soul hissed through his teeth.

"And then he has the nerve to constantly talk about how much he loves mom and me. Or that I need to be careful about guys. As if I don't already act like each guy I meet is bound to -" She cut herself off, those green eyes widening.

"Bound to cheat, too." He finished for her, adding another furious ache to his gut. Was it an urge to protect her? From what? Herself? Or did he just want her to realize what he was slowly coming to get to know - that she was too wonderful for any of that shit. Nothing about anything he felt around her was clear, especially to himself. Everything was new and he hated and loved it at the same time.

"I know that's not rational," she whispered back softly, her fingers tightening against the cardboard bowl. "Or fair."

"I get it." He tried to shrug it off because he knew that telling her that he wouldn't, he couldn't possibly, was not only crazy since this wasn't even a relationship beyond lab partners but also because it wouldn't make a difference. He'd have to show her, but that required that big leap.

Maka only bit at her lip in reply.

"You're not crazy if that's what you're thinking." It was obvious from the way her eyes darted to his, her tight mouth relaxing, that he'd hit the nail on the head. "But I'm probably out of my depth."

"I'm sorry," she sighed.

"You should stop saying that." He grabbed the empty container out of her hand, exchanging it with his that was still close to half full and a little melted. "And you should finish mine."

She took a bite of the switched ice cream and a part of him couldn't help but notice she didn't shy away from using his spoon. "Now I don't feel like I treated you to anything at all."

"I, uh, I think I have something I'd rather trade the coffee for." The cup started to bend in his hands, his grip a little too tight as his heart started to pound.

"What is it?" Her green glowing eyes blinked at him.

"Why don't you come see me play tomorrow night? I mean, if you're not busy."

She pursed her lips, "You mean at the bar?"

Oh, shit, you idiot she's probably not even 21. "Sorry, I didn't even ask if you were old enough…" He found himself putting a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it there.

"No, I can."

Soul couldn't even resist the huge grin that pulled across his face, even as he broke one of his own rules: no girls coming to work, no girls knowing where you work. "So you will, then?"

"Yes."

The bar, Reapers, was not exactly local, not in the same way the ice cream had been. Thankfully, it was an easy route by bus, probably part of Soul's design since he needed an alternative to his motorcycle. The only thing not easy was literally everything else. First, she'd blabbed to him like an idiot about her father and her own damn insecurities like he was Dr. Phil. Yes, telling the guy you like that you're afraid any man will cheat on you is just the perfect ice breaker, exactly what will get you to the next pivotal moment.

Second, was this a date? Absolutely not, since he was technically working - he'd invited her so that she could watch him play and that was it. But what purpose did she serve? It seemed just like how he managed to invite her to a party at his house, over a month in advance. It seemed strange, but she assumed that maybe people with busier social calendars usually got a lot of offers for Halloween, so he was playing it safe and inviting early. It made a creeping hope blossom in her that it was important to him for her to be there. It was as if he were slowly giving her puzzle pieces, one at a time, making her wait for that final picture.

Maybe they were just friends. That was a tangled thought because, yes, she'd like to be friends, like to know him, but it was happening more often that she found herself touching his arm or focusing in on those eyes like red wine. It made matters worse that he let her with no resistance but maybe no encouragement either. He'd said he liked her, but they weren't twelve and her head couldn't rationalize anything beyond he found her just acceptable as a person, hence the like.

Even with the yes to his face, it took most of Friday to convince herself that she was, in fact, going. All of her classes felt like a blur that day, and her notes looked half-hearted and mostly empty. She only had class to distract her until 3 PM, leaving her to sit and fidget until at least 8 PM, which was when he started to play, and even then, aren't you supposed to show up in the middle? It didn't help that Tsubaki was noticeable free, coaxing her to watch TV in the common area of the suite.

Tsubaki was half reclined on the couch while Maka couldn't be comfortable, sitting stiffly in the oversized chair. "So…" Tsubaki hit the mute on the TV.

Maka blinked, trying to adopt some neutral face but was already sure she was failing at it. "What's up?"

"You've been weird lately." Tsubaki didn't look like she wanted to press past that, but her maternal worry broke through the anxiety of upsetting Maka.

"Yeah," Maka sighed as if letting go of air she'd held all day. Telling Tsubaki wouldn't hurt, and she'd even kind of gotten into invited into this with Halloween to begin with. "It's my lab partner, actually."

"Soul?" There was a minute suppression of a smile, that worry still easily covering it up.

Maka took a deep breath, letting the air sit in her lungs before sighing out, "I like him."

"You've liked guys before," Tsubaki narrowed her eyes. "You even had guys stay over last year but you never got like this."

"I know," it came out as a groan. She wasn't some quivering flower, had dated and had her heart broken and broken one or two in return. "I can't tell what's different."

"Him, probably." Tsubaki shrugged.

"Sort of." Maka pulled her legs up onto the chair, hugging them to her chest.

"Sort of? Maka, the guys you pick are always perfectionists, high strung," Tsubaki had calmly started to list these traits out on her fingers, "Cold or too much of the opposite."

"So, just like me?" Maka offered weakly.

Tsubaki shook her head firmly. "Perfectionist, maybe, but the other stuff, not so much."

There isn't anyone like him. The thought brought a soft blush to her cheeks.

Tsubaki cleared her throat. "Are you two… dating?"

"I think we flirt and sometimes he seems nervous, but I think we're friends. Maybe. I don't know." Maka couldn't stop the rueful laugh that snuck past her lips. "And now I'm going out tonight to see him play piano, but he's working."

"But he asked you to?"

"As payback for getting me coffee," her smile couldn't be contained and it slid across her face as the warmth of that part settled in her.

"Oh, yup, not dating at all," Tsubaki laughed.

"He's at work," Maka repeated.

Tsubaki eyed her before shaking her head slowly, a smile on her face. "OK, whatever you say. Just, do me a favor and bring something to do while you're there."

Maka glanced at her bag, incredulous at the idea. "You mean like homework? To a bar?"

"You say that like you don't work on school stuff almost constantly," Tsubaki laughed.

Maka huffed in reply.

"Just trust me."