RIBBON BOXES

" if you want to sing out sing out and if you want to be free be free "

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c h a p t e r t w o

finding beauty in negative spaces

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The torrential downpour made the air feel damp amongst the crisp atmosphere, and the tinkering of golden bells hitting against a wooden surface filled the room with a silvery essence, making mahogany walls nearly shine with a unique radiance. It wasn't something he had become accustomed to, nor did he plan to come here every morning as if on routine, but for the days he needed, he supposed it would be alright being seen here.

It was going to a good cause, anyways.

Before the piano another man already stood – one much older than he – who had the top opened so that all the strings and hammers inside the instrument could be tinkered with. A heavy smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he approached scene, peering inside for only a moment before his gaze rested upon the male who worked ahead of him. "Thanks for coming in." He leaned against the wall which resided nearby the piano, easing a hand into his pockets as he relaxed down into a much more casual, detached stance.

The man looked up, a smile flickering across his face. "Ah, anything for you, especially considering it must be a special occasion."

Soul wasn't known to play for people willingly, and anyone that had decently met him before understood that fact. Perhaps it was because he got tired of it quickly; or maybe because he didn't know what he was capable of, but regardless, others seemed to enjoy it when he did, even if the pieces he improvised were always rather dark selections. Though, he hoped this time would be different. For technically, this was an improvisation as well, although it had been written on paper, he hadn't played it for himself. And he wasn't planning to either. Yet, brushing the situation aside, he straightened his posture once again, taking a few steps forward. "Have you seen a girl around anywhere? She might have been here when you got in."

"Might this young lady be the reason you're giving a concert of sorts?"

His eyes narrowed. "No way."

With a chuckle, the tuner glanced back inside, "She went into the kitchen, I believe."

"Cool. Thanks."

He dismissed himself, walking away to instead place himself elsewhere – leaning up upon the countertop to peer back through the doors into the kitchen. It wasn't necessary for him to go back there, someone would probably yell at him, anyways. "Hey, you, I'm hanging around for awhile." It seemed as if he spoke like he owned the place, and could casually converse with this girl, who he still quite easily considered a stranger, and perhaps for a moment he may have felt slightly ashamed of it. But, in any case, it didn't seem as if he even realized that himself, so therefore it was easily brushed off.

Out through the opening, the waitress emerged, a crystalline glass being dried in her hand, "Writing again?"

He grinned, pivoting on his heel rather fluently. "You bet."

"Aren't you going sit at the piano or something? You know… To test it and see how it's coming along?"

He took a seat in an available chair at the opposite side of the room, spreading multiple sheets of inked pages out upon the tabletop. "I couldn't do that." At this point, he was very determined on his actions and no one could possibly change his mind. Everything had to be thought of beforehand. Because Maka would know what kind of questions to ask when she came here – and Soul wasn't a liar. "No one else is allowed to hear it before she does." Between his fingers the pen was grasped loosely, teetering back and forth, hitting the table's surface every few moments. "Because she'd be totally pissed off if she didn't get to hear it first." Truthfully, on their first meeting in the past six months, he would much rather not be hit in the head with the nearest hard object; or a book – which she'd probably have on her anyways – for that matter.

The girl rested her palms on the exterior of the table beside his paperwork, "Say… Your girlfriend… What kind of person is she?"

He sighed, "You really are way too nosy."

"And who said that was a bad thing?"

"I did." The pianist gave her a weary look, but lingering within crimson optics resided the familiar cockiness of his everlasting persona as he looked down upon his unfinished work as if to show her that he was uninterested.

"Well, that's too bad for you then, because I like being nosy." She draped the cloth that she had been using previously over her shoulder and set the glass down. "So… Tell me, please?" A grin was apparent, plastered across her face, and he could hear it in her voice without even having to glance up.

"Look, I'm bringing her here tomorrow, so after I finish you can meet her and talk about whatever you talk about, because I know it won't interest me."

"But you make it sound like you haven't seen each other in such a long time; I'd hate to take her from you."

That was true. He most definitely wouldn't want to have to be stuck hanging around while his girlfriend talked to this overly curious busybody. And, he assumed, Maka probably wouldn't want to either – as sociable as she could be – she'd probably be tired and would rather be elsewhere, even though this place was rather inviting, he hadn't planned on coming here in the first place when she had called a month or so back.

And besides, he couldn't make this the highlight of their evening once she arrived. They'd only have a day or so before she'd have to be taken from him again, and conversing in a coffee shop could be done anytime. But the thrill of seeing her again would only hast so long, and he'd hate to waste it.

He rested his chin upon the back of his hand, "I guess so… But I'm still not telling you what kind of person she is."

"Why not?" She pouted, as if she expected it to chance is mind.

"It's too much work; she can't be described."

"Oh, now you're just avoiding the question!"

He laughed softly, a breathy sound that nearly blended into the patter of the rain beating against the windowpane. "I'm not. It's true. She's her own adjective."

"And what might we call that adjective?"

"We call it Maka." Soul smiled broadly for an instant before dismissing her with a wave of his hand. "Now, I need to get some work done, so leave me alone."

She listened to his request hesitantly, and began to take a few steps in the opposite direction after he finally put his pen to the paper, selectively scribbling a various array of symbols and notes in-between the lines. He had done improvisations for so long, but he intended to allow her to keep this one, so just this once, writing it in ink had to be done.

-

This took a bit longer than I expected, because school has been catching up with me lately and my old laptop had to be taken back so it could be fixed. (Normally I can deal with minor problems, but the screen was falling off. xD) But, I finished it finally. The last chapter will hopefully be out by next weekend at the latest, as I don't know how much writing I'll get done this week because I have a few concerts and rehearsals I need to attend.

Also, a note that the waitress mentioned throughout the story does, in fact, have no name or appearance, simply because I didn't want to make a big deal out of her. So, I apologize if you get tired of hearing 'the waitress' or 'the girl' but there's really no other way to identify her. xD

Enjoy!