The intensity of his gaze was not as strong as this morning's affair. Perhaps it was because they were situated further apart than they had been when she first saw him. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but look at him for slightly long enough to be called rude.
"The next stop will be West Gate. West Gate, next stop."
The crackling of the PA system made her jump, snapping her gaze away from the crimson eyes, she blushed and pretended to read as if she hadn't just been staring at him like an obsessed child.
Her eyes skimmed the line that she had already read five times over. Maka wasn't focusing, the constricting feeling of being watched tightened in her stomach again.
Throwing the book aside with a huff, Maka gave up on reading, too uncomfortable to take in anything that the author was trying to get across. She instead crossed her arms over her chest and leant against the window, focused on not allowing her traitorous gaze drift in the way of a certain red-eyed man.
How did that saying go? Eyes are the mirror of the soul, or something? She skimmed through what the colour red symbolised. Anger, hatred, annoyance, violence, blood. Maka's eyebrows pinched together. Frowning, she watched the abundance of concrete buildings fly past in blurs. Not wanting to associate his 'soul' with such horrible examples she tried again, thinking differently. Red was a sign of heat, of passion, of love.
Feeling safe to do so, she looked up to find him mimicking her pose on the opposite side of the carriage. Arms crossed over chest, looking out the window, reflection from the hints of light that shined through, lighting up sections of his face and eyes.
She found herself unable to look away again.
But unlike the recent two times, Maka looked not at his eyes, but his whole being. Clothed in a jumper and dark jeans, he looked morose, slouched against the cold metal of the train. She wished she was closer, to read his expressions, his body language. She wanted to know if that saying applied to the man with almost frightening eyes. Whether they really did mirror his soul.
She wanted to know more.
After looking back out the window for who knows how long, the blonde didn't notice the sun set until she was shaken into reality by her phone going off. Jumping, she frantically searched her bag, feeling embarrassed at the stares she was receiving. She sighed in relief when her hand made purchase with the device she was looking for. But just as Maka was about to answer the annoying tune stopped.
She grumped, reading the screen. 'One missed call from, 'Papa'.' Not bothering to call back she threw the mobile back into her bag and slouched down into the chair again, purposely looking out into the night and not at a the black hooded male she wished to stare at like a child who didn't know better.
"Next stop will be West Suburb 5. West Suburb 5 next stop."
Running a hand through her chest length hair Maka stood up, slung her bag over her shoulder and brushed down her skirt, in preparation to depart from the train.
As the carriage slowed Maka waited near the doors, holding onto the handle so she wouldn't fall once the train halted. Not sure whether it would be the bringer good or bad consequences, Maka braved a look to the right, where he was sitting, and found him-to no surprise- looking at her again. The train slowed to a stop, the doors opening to let her out.
Before she stepped off Maka smiled at him, not exactly wanting to leave into the cold, as she had to walk home from the station.
Just as she was about to look away, the sides of his mouth picked up in a half-hearted smile. Though it didn't reach his eyes, Maka's heart jumped around in her chest anyway.
She walked home with a ridiculously happy grin on her face.
Not even thinking twice about it, Maka balanced the two dinner plates on one arm, holding the drinks with the other hand. It was getting to the stage where working was more of a balancing act than waitressing.
"The two Caesar Salads and Diet Cokes?" Maka asked standing in front of a small table in the back corner of the café she worked at.
"Thank you." The two girls nodded, as Maka placed their meals down on the table, not quite as gently as anticipated.
"Enjoy your meal."
Leaning against the bench, behind the counter, Maka looked up at the clock for what felt like the 10th time in 5 minutes.
It wasn't like she despised her job. In fact, she was extremely grateful to have obtained the position. Maka needed the money if she wanted to stay living in her apartment. Though the Uni payed for her tuition, it didn't cover her living arrangements. Maka refused to let her father pay anything but the electricity, gas and water bills leaving her with the rent and groceries.
Her work was good. Getting enough money to eat and pay the said invoice with only two weekdays and a weekend shift. Just the right amount of hours to allow Maka to focus primarily on her studies. There were also the people she worked with. Kid, the boy she spent the most of her shift conversing with, him also being a waiter. Marie, Maka's ridiculously nice supervisor, and the cooks out the back whom she only spoke to if she was fixing up orders and such.
All were very easy to get along with.
"Maka hon, how 'bout you knock off early?" Marie approached her, drying a plate. "It's Saturday and you've only got 20 minutes left anyway." She smiled warmly.
Maka stood up straight. "Are you sure?"
"Yep go, it's not like we're busy" She scowled at the basically empty dining area, watching Kid sweep the floor diligently before practically taking Maka's apron off for herself.
"Thank you, Marie." The dirty blonde smiled, finishing untying the bow that her supervisor had started on. Maka was pleased, getting off early (even if it was only 20 minutes) meant that she had time to go food shopping before it got too late out. Slipping the apron over her head she placed it on the bench to be washed for her shift next week, but as she went to take her hand away she knocked a coffee cup over. The employee watched in horror, visibly cringing as the sharp sound of china smashing echoed around the café earning the few people who were seated to glance her way. A few of the cooks even peering around the corner to see who and what had caused the sudden vile sound.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Maka found herself pulling her hands away from her mouth, not remembering placing them there in the first place. She frowned, bending down to pick up the bigger bits of china from the floor before she could sweep. "I should have been more careful. Sorry! I'll clean it up!" Maka was ranting apologies as Marie bent down to help also.
"It's fine, it's fine!" The older woman dragged the portable bin closer. "Don't worry Maka, as long as you're not hurt." She helped to pick up the larger pieces also.
"Please take some money out of my pay Marie." Maka hung her head, listening to the rustle of the plastic bag as she dropped the pieces in the bin, sighing. "I'm so car- ah!" She interrupted herself with a painful gasp, dropping the piece of china back to the floor as her hand erupted in sudden pain. Holding her throbbing palm with her other hand, Maka watched as blood proceeded to seep through the new sliced cut.
"Ah! Are you ok?" Marie asked, in what seemed to be serious concern.
Maka frowned, standing up. "I'm fine. Cut myself accidently."
She would have taken her eyes away from her bleeding cut to prove to the overly caring woman that she was ok, but Maka couldn't bring herself to do so. The blood that was now, slowly, dripping down her wrist distracting.
Well the colour of the blood, not so much the liquid itself.
Red. Such a dark crimson. So startlingly similar to his eyes.
She had the morbid desire to let the blood collect in mass, to see if it would swirl around as breathtakingly beautiful as his eyes did. To see if the accumulation of vermillion would make her loose all sense of time and location like staring into his iris's did.
She doubted it.
"-aka?" The yellow-blonde haired woman stood in front of her, face full of worry when her employee didn't answer straight away. Maka snapped out of it.
"Sorry! What where you saying?"
"I asked if it was okay for Kid to help you with a bandage. I'll clean this up." Marie nodded towards the broken cup still in pieces on the floor, a small section of red staining the biggest fragment. Maka noticed the dark haired boy was already standing next to her, not even looking half the concerned as their boss did.
Maka nodded in agreement, following the boy –who had already began to walk to the crew room- before turning around quickly, still feeling extremely guilty. "Sorry again!" Maka ran out of the room before Marie could answer.
It was raining by the time she walked out of work, the bell chiming, signifying her exit as she shut the door carefully, being overly cautious of her now bandaged hand.
Maka checked her phone for the time, frowning when she realised it was already 6 o'clock, hopes of picking up groceries now impossible. It was too late to be out, sky already darkening as the sun disappeared behind the trees. She placed her phone back into her pocket before sliding her hood over her head, in an attempt to keep relatively dry as she proceeded to walk home.
Choosing –probably not wisely- to walk through the park before it got too dark, Maka turned down the closest street, the route that would take her through the gardens instead of the boring residential roads more appealing.
Maka smiled, enjoying the smell of the rain as she walked, resisting the urge to skip joyfully. No 21-year-old skipped through the park like a child who had just been promised ice cream. No matter how contented she was at that moment. She settled on smiling madly instead. It was funny how little things such as walking through the park in the rain made her so ridiculously happy. She should really grow up a bit. It wasn't her fault that her father had gotten her into the habit of wearing pig-tails 4 days of the week. It was more comfortable that way mind you. That's just how she rolled. Comfort over style.
Although her authentic smile was wiped clean off when her eyes made purchase with the almost frightening familiar black hoodie, strands of white peaking out from underneath. The rain making his hair stick to his face as he sat quite literally motionless on the park bench. He was looking straight upwards, the rain obviously not bothering him, though it must have been falling in his eyes. The eyes she seemed to have fallen in freaking love with.
She didn't know what to do.
A/N: Really liking the new login area set up. It's so much more organised then before.~
Ok... I said i was going to give you information about Blood Red in this chapter, so that's what i'm going to do now.
It's based in America as Soul Eater is, but because i'm definitely not familiar with the US's collage system, Maka and Tsubaki go to university. It's just easier for me to write being from Australia. Maka is 21 and Soul is 22. Tsubaki a little older than both of them... probably 23.
I'm not sure how many chapters it'll have. Hopefully longer than 'Mixed Emotions' was. I'm just going to upload whenever. But hopefully once a week at least. I would have uploaded chapter 2 sooner, but i had exams all last week.
Thank you for all the reviews!