Away From the Sun
by. Poisoned Scarlett

Huit

This isn't something I'm used to, Maka thinks with a troubled sigh.

She clutches the pole as Soul stands behind her and Hiro stands on her other side. She had been on the verge of telling Hiro she was not interested, as he'd asked her again today with a hopeful smile, when Soul suddenly appeared from behind, greeting her with that aloof drawl of his and successfully killing her nerve. And then Hiro, whose eyes had soured and shoulders had squared, had the audacity of introducing himself to Soul with a haughtiness he certainly never showed when speaking to her.

Needless to say, the way Soul had said his own name – with an jeering edge – had set alarms off in her head. And now here they were: Maka waiting for her stop to arrive, two hostile males on either side looking on the verge of tearing each other to shreds if the other didn't quit with the sarcastic attitude. After the first few minutes of listening to them exchange barbs, because neither knew how to give up apparently, Maka decides to take a stand.

"Can you two just shut up!" She snaps, silencing Hiro almost instantly. She turns back to Soul, dangerously. "Other people are watching!" She hisses, glancing at the old man whose watching the verbal fight for dominance with only too much knowing.

"If that dumbass shuts the hell up, yeah." Soul says, earning himself a dirty sneer from Hiro.

"Soul, please." Maka groans. That old man with the knowing eyes? Now he's chuckling. "Can't you two just get along? What are you two fighting about any—HAHY!" She gasps, slamming into Soul's chest when the subway comes to a jerking halt. His hands grab her shoulders tightly, feet pressing firmly into the floor to keep himself from tumbling back as well.

She sighs in relief and says, "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention" and looks up at him.

But there's that look that pauses her: an internal conflict she doesn't understand yet. Her mouth parts to ask what was wrong but the train picks up speed again and she's back to holding onto the pole, Hiro scowling at Soul but relenting and Soul just looking out the window with a small frown on his lips.

It's a scene continues to reply in her mind like a broken film roll even hours later. She's walking out of Shibusen U with Tsubaki by her side now, the girl speaking of the new professor that has taken the place of their previous chemistry one. But she can't focus on that: her thoughts, all of them, somehow end up steering back toward that conflicting look in his eye. She doesn't understand what it is that makes him look that way and her stomach twists and knots at the thought of it being her fault. He certainly doesn't look like anything in particular is bothering him... until he looks at her.

It makes her heart sink.

"Are you okay, Maka?" Tsubaki asks, noticing her downcast eyes. "Maka?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." She shakes the feelings off, smiling reassuringly at Tsubaki. "I'm sure this new professor will be better. The last one wasn't that great – he always went off tangent during lectures." She says, and Tsubaki laughs and continues her tale.

And she's still trying to figure out Soul's heartache as she hands the customer in the bakery a bag of bread and her change. She thought, by this time, she'd be able to forget that look but it seems to only sharpen; focus in on the ringlets of crimson and flecks of black that is his iris. There are many ideas that come to mind, some wishful thinking and others a real possibility, so she's only too eager to leave her shift when Ox comes in and shoos her back home with that disgruntled frown and haughty fixing of his glasses.

And when the train finally arrives, halting to a stop before her after a twenty minute wait, Maka steps inside feeling less confident than before. Because as she turns to look down the subway, she finds Soul slouched in his seat as usual: headphones over his ears, foot tapping to the beat. He gets off late every Thursday, she's noticed. She just wishes it wasn't today that he looked at her like that because she still can't be sure if it's all her fault or something else.

He cracks an eye open, noticing her, and straights up and his headphones fall off his head; settling on his neck again.

She can't just ignore him now. So she walks further down the train, plopping down beside him. It's mainly silent until they reach the next stop. That's when Maka decides it's now or never and speaks:

"Bad day at work today?" Maka prompts carefully, gauging his expression.

"You can say that." He replies, vaguely. He looks at her and there's that conflict again, making her brows crease with concern. Just what is eating at him, bothering him? She wishes he was as simple as her anatomy professor describes his experiments: a simple slice down the sternum, opening of the chest cavity. Prodding and picking and discovering and knowing…

"Is something wrong, Soul?" She asks, receiving a shake of the head.

"Nah, don't worry about it."

"…was it something Hiro said?" She continues, his shoulders stiffening. "Soul, you should know by now that Hiro's an idiot." She sighs. So that had been it: it was something Hiro said. It wasn't her fault! That conflict in his eyes – he was probably deciding whether he should beat him up or not. "I'm probably going to come a little earlier now. He knows my schedule." She frowns, crossing her leg.

"That's creepy."

"Well, he does want to take me on a date," Maka says, thoughtful. "So it's not that creepy. It's just weird that he likes me."

"How come?"

"Well, I'm not that much to look at, and I'm pretty boring." She forces a laugh, a weak smile. But it's true: she's not that interesting. Even she admits that to herself.

"That's not true." Soul scoffs, and she looks at him curiously. "You're way more than you come off as. For one, I didn't take you as the violent type. Proved me wrong." He shudders, remembering how she'd stomped on his foot when he made fun of her sweaters. That had hurt more than he's willing to admit. "And you always have something to say. You just can't take that you're wrong, huh?"

"That's not true!" Maka argues, and he points a finger at her.

"See! Point proven." He flatly says, jamming his hands back into his pockets. "You're way more interesting than you give yourself credit for. He noticed," he adds, with distaste. "That's why he keeps bugging you."

"Well, even if all that's true, why doesn't he take a hint? I don't know how many times I've blown him off..."

"Maybe he thinks you're playing hard to get." Soul suggests.

"But I'm not!"

"Sometimes I think you are." Soul shrugs, making her brows meet in disbelief. And he watches as she swells with irritation, go off on a rant about how wrong he is and how right she is. She just doesn't see it: how interesting she is, how adorable she can be with her ridiculous knit sweaters that make her look so small and huggable, her emerald eyes that shimmer so bright when she laughs. Her hair, tied up in pigtails, sending him back to a time when everything was simpler. And then he remembers how soft her lips felt when they pressed against his, how he'd jolted awake one night sweating and feverish and unable to grasp his ghostly dream – unable to remember anything aside from bright, burning, green eyes.

And it hits him just like that, like a vision.

"Soul!" Maka screeches, grinding her teeth at his blank look. He's flat-out ignoring her: she knows when she's being ignored! And now he's chuckling—laughing? He really knows how to push her buttons. "What are you laughing about? You better not be laughing at me – dammit, Soul!"

"Your stop is here, idiot, let's go." Soul distracts her, grabbing her by the arm. But she follows, puzzled by his actions, and even more confused when he drags her to the automated doors while the train is still running full-tilt.

Then it slows.

And she presses into his chest, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.

And then the train comes to a complete stop.

And he still hasn't let go so she looks up, finding no conflict; no trouble, nothing.

She's met with a crooked grin, twinkling ruby eyes, that makes conflict spark in her own eyes.

"You alright?"

"What?"

He snorts, looking away as the doors chime open.

And then she realizes what his conflict had been all along.

She's never not wanted to leave the train station as much as she did there.