Day 4: Snowstorm/Ice storm
It was, entirely, Maka Albarn's fault.
Most people would let it go when someone who bumped into them immediately apologized, but no, not Maka Albarn. She had to make a fuss and turned it into a big argument in front of half of the school.
Okay, maybe Soul was at fault too. He didn't pay any attention—but he was tired after studying for exam the whole week, mind you—so he didn't see her when he sleepily made his way to the lockers and crashed into her head on. Or chest on, as the top of her head was barely reaching his collarbones.
He'd said sorry, if only a bit drawled and accompanied by a snort, muttering that she was too tiny for him to see, but he'd said sorry, dammit, no need for her to get furious and turn it into an insulting match. But of course she would get mad. Of course she would take his thoughtless comment as a deathly insult. She's always like that. They're always like that.
One would expect lab partners to get along more smoothly, but no, never with them. Their exchanges always end in arguments, or in some cases—like this one—in detentions.
But the worst thing was, in all the places she could've chosen, Albarn decided to lash out in front of Dr. Stein, the biology teacher who delights in his students' misery. (Soul was no better, actually, choosing to insult her back right away, but he wouldn't admit it under a death threat.) So here they are, punished to clear up the entire old gym (that had been transformed as trash warehouse for the past five years or so) and couldn't go home until it's spotless.
Normal teachers would punish them with something typical like writing apology letters or fifty push-ups in the hallway. But this was Stein. He never gives a typical detention.
It's already 5 PM. Most of the school population already left, because it was exam week. Soul should've been enjoying his post-exam euphoria right about now, maybe by having an 18 hours-long sleep, but here he is, stuck with shitty cleaning duty because they had only cleared the first level and Albarn had the gall to hiss when he suggested they call it a day. Fucking perfectionist little gremlin.
Soul keeps grumbling and sweeps furiously, occasionally yawning and tries his best to keep his eyes peeled, until sunlight fades and he can't see that well anymore. He throws a dirty look at Albarn, who huffs and gets up to turn on the light.
"Hey, you don't plan to finish this tonight, right?" Soul calls her absently, though he still makes sure his voice is laced with annoyance.
"This gym will be used by female students next week and I want this finished before then!" she shoots back, words full of bites. "That way, I don't have to kick you idiotic boys for bullying girls in basketball every PE class ever again. So shut your mouth and move your hands, Evans."
"So what? You're doing this out of spite? Gee, Albarn. How nice," Soul scoffs, rolling his eyes. "But it's still Friday. Friday! Stein didn't actually say we have to finish today, you know?"
Albarn doesn't reply, staring out at the cloudy sky with a scowl.
"Heeeey, y'hear me? Just go back in the morning. He can't even tell! We have a whole weekend! C'mon, I'm hungry!"
Albarn straightens, and for a slight moment, Soul feels a chill running down his spine as she fixes him a burning glare and punches the lamp switch with more force than necessary. For the love of spicy tacos, how could a creature so tiny produce that sharp a death glare?
He gulps, watching warily as Albarn makes her way to the closed gym door, hand on the handle and eyes sharp on his.
"If you want to leave that much, then get out! Stop whining like a baby!"
Soul's eye corner twitches. "Like hell I'll leave you to clean the whole place and then accuse me of running from responsibilities for the next month!"
"Hah, as if lazybones like you knows the meaning of respon—"
Soul watches her freeze in the middle of her sentence, hand trying to open the door as her face pales. Albarn now turns all of her attention to the closed door, fruitlessly attempting to make it budge. A block of ice slides through Soul's backbones when Albarn lifts her face and stares at him with green, round, horrified eyes.
"It's locked."
What?
"Wait, wait, wait, locked?!" Soul abandons his sweep, all sleepiness leaving him as he strides to her side and starts to turn the doorknob open as well. "Oh, shit." It's truly locked.
Outside, the first drop of rain hits the earth. Lightning and thunder announces the oncoming storm.
Albarn's anger dissipates, replaced by a panicked look. "I-it must be because the caretaker thought it-it was empty a-and then locked the door. If we call someone—"
"How?" Soul raises his eyebrow. "This is the old gym. No one will hear us. And our phones are in our bags. In our lockers."
"If we keep making noises maybe the caretaker will—"
"He's already locked the buildings, which means he'd most likely gone home. And this is Friday. Post-exam week. Meaning no one would come to school until Monday."
Albarn visibly gulps. Soul swallows his own panic and does his best in maintaining his cool face. Outside, he dons an indifferent mask, but inside, he's screaming at how god never graces him with good luck. He's hungry, tired, and irritated. He has no smartphones nor music players to soothe his incoming headache. His nose itches because he's been among dusts and broken furniture for hours. And he's probably doomed to spend his precious weekend with Maka Albarn; teacher's pet extraordinaire. Things can never get worse.
"We can just use the windows!" Albarn brightens up, sticking out a finger. But before they could inspect if her splendid idea is possible, the weather decides it's impossible to leave the building without soaking themselves to the bones.
Great. Things indeed can get worse.
Soul cringes at the pouring rain, which is blurred by the (locked, apparently) windows. Albarn does the same, bringing her arms to her chest.
"Guess we just have to wait," Soul shrugs, walking towards the pile of faded banners they'd ditched at a corner and makes himself comfortable, trying not to think about his current predicament too much. Exhaustion makes itself known again, now doubled because he'd been lifting broken furniture for the past few hours.
Albarn hesitates for a minute, but eventually stalks to him, as it's the warmest spot in the room. She's careful with their distance, however, slumping at least two meters away and busying herself by grumbling incoherent curses. Soul closes his eyes and hums his favorite songs, dozing off as the temperature steadily drops with every passing minutes.
He's startled back to alertness by a little sneeze. He wrinkles his face at the disturbance until he realizes it was Albarn who made the noise. She looks pitiful, pale and hunched into a ball, hands stroking her arms in an attempt to warm herself. Now when he sees her clearly, she only wears the school cardigan over her uniform shirt, without the warm blazer, since they were cleaning the gym. It's lucky he'd tied his thick army jacket around his hips instead of leaving it inside his locker, so he has something to stave off the cold.
"Hey," he coughs. Albarn peeks at him out of her crossed arms, still managing to look irritated with just one raised eyebrow. "Cold?"
She just huffs and buries her face in her arms again. Soul rolls his eyes. Stubborn idiot. He yawns and just about to doze off again when new noises come into his ears. It's light, like a pebble thrown into concrete, only that it comes in great numbers and continues in steady rhythm.
He jerks upright and blinks disbelievingly at the window. "It fucking hails?!"
God. He thought he'd already had his lesson that things can always get worse.
Indeed, the lightning is lessened, but the water droplets have transformed into ice pellets. Albarn shudders, sneezing again. Soul actually takes pity at how she hugs herself and rubs her arms continuously.
"Hey, you okay?"
She stubbornly scowls. "Of course."
Too bad her red nose and trembling fingers betray her words. Soul makes a face. "Admit it. You're cold."
"No!"
"Your teeth are chattering."
"Th-they're not!"
Stubborn, bull-headed girl. Soul exhales and pats the space beside him. "C'mere."
"What?" she squeaks, "Why do I have to sit near you?"
His eye twitches. "Survival, Albarn. Didn't the books tell you sharing body heat is a legit way to survive cold weather?"
"No way!" she squawks, scandalized, bulging her eyes as if he'd just proposed they elope to Vegas and have five kids. The red on her nose spreading all over her face.
Honestly, Soul is very, very tired. He's not in the mood to think about appropriateness and personal spaces. He doesn't even have the energy to feel any sort of shyness. Despite their constant arguments and banters, Soul isn't that heartless of a jerk to let a girl suffer, thank you very much. It doesn't hurt that he's been known as a space heater either. So he just yawns, one hand scratching the back of his neck, the other reaching over at her, inviting.
"Just c'mere, nerd. Deflate your head a bit and just focus on survival. I'm so tired, I don't feel like dragging your frozen corpse out in the morning."
He almost dozed off again when she finally inches her way towards him, face entirely scarlet and teeth biting her lower lip. The coldness from her fingers jolts him awake when their hands accidentally brush.
"You're freezing!" he frowns, taking her hands to compare their temperature.
"I-I'm okay!" she yanks her hand back, leaning away, but Soul has no fuck left to deal with her stupid pride and just wraps his arm around her, earning a muffled yelp from the girl.
Soul closes his eyes again, steady rhythm of hailstones hitting the roof lulling him back to sleep. It was lost to him how Albarn tries her best to stifle down her blush or how she does breathing exercise to stabilize her heartbeat.
He only opens his eyes once, seeing the usually feisty girl dozing off soundlessly on his chest, their temperature finally the same. The last thing he remembers before he drifts off is that she has a surprisingly sweet and innocent sleeping face.
Huh. Interesting.
On the second level of the old gym, hidden by the railing, Patty Thompson pokes her sister.
"Sissy, should we tell them we have heater here? Or that Kid gave us the spare key?"
Liz Thompson, her sister, just yawns and curls closer to the portable heater, stealing a peek at the couple snuggled together below them.
"Nah, they're good."