Day 7 - Love Letter: "Accidentally fell asleep on your couch during a party" AU

Soul hates house parties. Soul hates house parties with loud people. Soul hates house parties with loud people who have abysmal taste in music. It is physically painful to watch his best friend, the self proclaimed God of the Dance, shake his ass on top of their kitchen table to "Anaconda."

Someone throws a dollar bill at Black*Star and Soul decide it's time to retire for the night.

He starts to head upstairs to his sanctuary, aka his room, when his classmate Liz puts a hand on his shoulder. She is teetering on four inch heels and reeks of tequila and bad decisions. "Have you seen Maka? I think we lost her."

"You lost Maka," he repeats flatly. Maka is a nineteen year old, independent genius who certainly doesn't need anyone to look after her. His good friend and in no way, shape, or form love interest Maka Albarn is also criminally cute… not that he noticed or anything. "Are you sure she didn't just leave? Because I can see the appeal in that."

"Yeah, she said she had a headache and went somewhere but now I can't find her. I want to tell her we're leaving. Kid got into the jello shots and he won't stop crying about how the Leaning Tower of Pisa is an abomination."

"Good luck with that," Soul ducks away from her hand. Liz shouts after him but he ignores it. Maka is the smartest one, in his opinion. He wishes he would have gotten lost hours ago, too.

He opens the door to his room and immediately notices something is amiss. First: All of his clothes have been neatly hung on his computer chair. Second: There is a pair of familiar looking Doc Martens by his closet. Third and perhaps most importantly: Long, bare legs are hanging off of his foldout couch. Connected to those legs is one Maka Albarn, who has commandeered all of his pillows and is spread out like she owns the place.

Soul pokes her side gently. "Found you."

"Nnrgh," she answers back. Green eyes flutter open and Maka stares at him confusedly for a moment before remembering where she is. "Sorry I fell asleep on your couch. Too noisy downstairs and everything is sticky and smells like the backseat of my dad's car."

He worms his way next to her and Maka takes the hint, moving slightly to give him room. "I didn't take you for a binge drinker."

"I'm not, I haven't had one drop! Haven't gotten much sleep lately. Too much studying," she murmurs and unceremoniously drapes herself over his lap.

"Nerd. You're beyond help," Soul teases. He absently plays with her hair, wondering when it was that they got so comfortable with each other. Soul isn't usually comfortable with anyone. He likes her, he thinks, and he can live with that. "Your roommates ditched you. Want me to drive you home?"

"Mhmm," she says but makes no attempt to move. Within seconds Maka is snoring and he desperately needs a distraction. The large strip of exposed skin between the bottom of her shirt and the top of her skirt is very tempting. Too tempting.

Soul reaches over to his desk for a marker, pulls out his cellphone, and gets to work.

"I'm exhausted," Maka announces when she finally makes her way back home. She is disgustingly giddy from the cheek kiss she received from Soul after she hopped off of his motorcycle. Maka peels off her shirt and throws it into the hamper in the bathroom. "I'm going to bed."

"Wait just one second there, missy. Did Soul take you to get a tattoo?" Liz shrieks from the couch. "Did you tramp stamp it up? Maka Albarn, you rebel!"

"What are you talking about?" Maka whines. She is not in the mood for Liz's games. "Are you still drunk?"

Her friend pulls out her cellphone and Maka hears the distinctive click of the camera phone behind her. "Here. Look. On your lower back."

Scrawled in familiar, smudged red letters on her lower back, it reads:

(i do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens; only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

"Soul?" Maka whispers, her face heating up.

"That smooth motherfucker," Liz praises. "He E.E. Cummings'd you."