A.N.: Let's throw in some exposition!
For SOMA week, day 2 - Can't Sleep
Maka's room is dark, the fan above her the only sound she can hear as the chain for the light clinks against the bulb. She sighs to herself as she stares at her ceiling - or what she assumes is her ceiling, the darkness too think around her to see anything else.
She flips onto her side and digs under her pillow for a minute, pulling out her phone and turning it on. She squints through the sudden flood of light, eventually dimming it down and finding the time.
2:07 A.M.
She groans, dropping her phone and flipping onto her stomach, stuffing her face into her pillow. She needs to sleep. She has an early shift at the diner tomorrow (or today?) and needs to be up by 8.
Yet here she is, still awake, nowhere close to sleep.
She groans again, kicking her legs a bit under her covers to emphasise her frustration.
She pulls herself up into a sitting position, eyes squinting through the darkness at the crack beneath her door. There's a light still on. Maybe that means Soul's still awake.
Maka nods to herself, sliding off of her bed and into her fuzzy slippers, shuffling across her room and opening the door just enough to see through the crack. She can hear a laugh track playing in the living room, the lights from the television flickering like a fire in the darkness. She opens the door completely, tiptoeing through the hallway and poking her head around the corner of the wall separating the hall from the living room.
Soul sits on the couch, one arm thrown over the back cushion, feet on the coffee table in front of him. His eyes are half-closed, but he laughs at the show he has on - some sitcom from the 80's that Maka hasn't seen in years. She debates turning around and sneaking back to her room, but he notices her presence before she can.
"Maka?"
Even though she'd watched him turn to face her, his voice still makes her jump. It cuts through the air between them quickly, like a firecracker lit on an empty street.
"Uh, yeah?" It comes out small and uncertain, and she shrinks behind the wall a bit more.
"I thought you were asleep."
"I can't- Uh, I can't sleep."
He looks at her the same way Papa would whenever he caught her reading in the middle of the night under her covers, and she hangs her head a bit, feeling very much like a child.
She hears him sigh, though, and looks up to see him looking at her expectantly, arms out as if telling her that she can join him on the couch. She feels something in her chest tighten as she shuffles across the carpet slowly, half-expecting him to turn her away.
Instead she's met with him grabbing her once she's within range, large hands circling her small wrists as he pulls her into him. She squeaks as she falls onto his lap, his arms circling her waist and pulling her closer.
Maka adjusts herself so her head rests on his chest, crossing her ankles as her feet rest on the arm of the couch.
"Why can't you sleep?"
"'Dunno," she says, shrugging a bit as she attempts to move in closer, "What are you watching?"
"The Facts of Life," he deadpans, and Maka snorts.
"The one about the girls that live at that boarding school?"
"Mhm."
She can hear his voice in his chest, hollow and warm and rumbling.
"Which episode?"
"I dunno. It just came on."
"Why aren't you asleep?" she asks, raising an eyebrow accusingly.
He shrugs, "I can't sleep either. The only difference is that my shift isn't until 1, and yours is first thing in the morning. You're gonna pass out right in the middle of work if you don't go to sleep soon."
Maka shrugs, "Coffee will be my best friend. The Starbucks baristas absolutely love me."
Soul laughs, resting a hand on her knee, "Once they know you by name, you know you have a problem."
Maka fights the goosebumps rising on her legs, silently yelling at the butterflies to get out of her stomach. She laughs with him instead, although a bit forced, "Either way, I'm not sleeping any time soon."
She feels Soul's hand graze her thigh, voice low as he says, "I can help with that, you know."
Maka chokes, her heart leaping into her throat. She coughs, her question tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop it.
"Oh really?"
Soul hums, falling to the right as he lays out along the couch, pulling Maka with him. She slides into the cushions, fitting into Soul's side perfectly. One of her legs drapes over the both of his, her head resting in between his shoulder and his side. He reaches across the coffee table, pulling up the remote and turning off the television.
The light from the screen flickers off, and Maka's washed in darkness again.
She closes her eyes, sliding her arm over Soul's chest and settling it against his ribs. He hums, resting his own hand on the small of her back. The couch is small, but Maka is comfortable enough not to care. Soul rubs her back, voice nearly a whisper as he begins to speak.
"When I was little, I lived in Boston," Soul's voice reverberates through the darkness, "My whole family did. We had this really big house on this really big cul de sac, and my brother Wes and I went to this small private school downtown somewhere. I don't remember too much - it was a long time ago."
"Wes, the same one-"
Soul laughs, breathy and sarcastic, "Yeah. The same one dating Liz."
Maka hums, eyes growing heavy.
"We went to this school, and it was awful. They had this dumb uniform; it was real itchy and uncomfortable. And then after school we would be taken to our music lessons."
"Don't you play piano?" It comes out as more of a slur of words than a sentence, but Soul seems to understand her as she asks.
"I do, yeah. Mom plays cello, Wes violin. Dad plays the piano like me." He sighs, adjusting his weight and running his fingers up and down Maka's spine, "All of them went to Juilliard, naturally. Mom and Dad are huge in the classical music world. They play benefits and concerts and all of these big things - the Evans' are known for their music. So Wes and I were expected to be just as good."
There's a bitter edge to his voice that Maka doesn't miss, so she pulls him closer to herself with heavy limbs.
"Every day it was the same thing - school, music, home, music, dinner, music. If we weren't playing it, we were listening to it. If we weren't listening, we were studying, or composing, or watching someone else play instead. I think I could probably play half of Beethoven and Mozart's pieces in my sleep. I had written my first composition when I was 8, and had performed in front of crowds of near thousands by the time I was 13. Wes was the same.
"We didn't really have a choice, you know? I didn't have much of a social life - who would want to talk to the kid who only knows instruments? My entire life was music. So once Wes got into Juilliard, all eyes were on me to go next."
"But you'idn't wanto?"
Soul takes a deep breath, and Maka's head rises with his chest, "No, I didn't."
"So you came here?"
"Mhm."
Maka pats his chest, humming her approval. "Good fer you, then."
Soul laughs, "I guess. Mom and Dad weren't too happy, though. They cut me off from everything."
"Thas' n'good."
He laughs again, moving his hand from her back to her head, pulling her closer and kissing her hair. "No, it's not."
"Are'you okay now?"
"I'm fine, yeah. I haven't spoken to my parents in a few years, though. I haven't really been close to Wes since I left, either. I think he might have followed me here after he graduated in order to make sure I had somewhere to go in case I screwed up, you know? Which I appreciate. He's always looked out for me. I could never hate him.
"I just hated the idea of being this machine that my parents made. Like I wasn't worth anything to them unless I played, and I played what they wanted. You should have seen them when I told them I wasn't following their life plan. They went crazy, throwing things and yelling and calling me a mistake - all because I didn't want to play piano for the orchestra like they did. So I left; figured that if they didn't want me, then I'd just go figure shit out for myself. And I did."
"And you found me!" She says it in a half-asleep triumph, squeezing him with what little strength she has left. She can feel Soul smile, squeezing her back.
"And I found you."
Maka wakes up to the sunlight from the windows, the rays slipping between the living room curtains and hitting her eyes. The couch she lays on is empty as she sits up, yawning and rubbing at her eyes.
There's a cup of coffee on the table in front of her. She smiles, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering with her heart.