Part 2
"Tsubaki," Maka said, gaping at the sparkling neon pink light illuminating the dimming parking lot.
"Mm?" Tsubaki replied as she dug through her purse for her I.D. Purple smudged the underside of her eyes, made darker by what appeared to be mascara.
"Why are we at a strip club?"
Poorly censored posters of half-naked women plastered the windows of the crumbling building, women's shouts and hoots and the thick bass pumped through the open door, shaking Maka's bones. Every time the bouncer lifts the red, velvet rope and let small groups of giggling, blushing women in, she caught glimpses of skin. A lot if it.
"It's ladies night," Tsubaki said, as if she were remarking on the weather.
"But why are we here, today, right now? It's a Tuesday," Maka added, horrified.
Liz and Patti laughed, already clutching their I.D.s in their hands. They were dressed in matching glittery cowboy get ups, complete with pink ten gallon hats and, in the right light, caused twin glares in Maka's eyes.
"Oh," Tsu said, a glint in her reddened eyes. "Because… this is my bachelorette party!"
"What."
"Black Star and I are getting married tomorrow at the dinner party!"
Liz and Patti exploded into jumping and excited giggles. They hugged Tsubaki tightly, sandwiching the teary woman between them.
Maka gasped, and held a hand to her mouth. "But… you just met, like, a month ago, Tsubaki. You can't get married."
"Shut up, she can do what she wants," Liz said, excitement brewing in her bright eyes. "Do you have a dress? Flowers? Do you think the gift shop has cute lingerie for the wedding night?"
"Uh, kind of, I have a garden, and no, thank you."
"Don't encourage her," Maka said shrilly. Her friends stared at her, their jaws grazing the pavement.
Liz let go of her sister and Tsubaki, and stepped towards Maka, her pink boot crushing fallen leaves.
"Don't ruin this, Maka," Liz said firmly. "You're worried, but you don't have to be. The Timer doesn't lie. We are going to get drunk, feel up random guys, and then get this chick hitched tomorrow!" Liz wrapped her arm around Tsubaki's shoulder and led her into the club with Patti skipping after them, singing a childhood song, but with more obscene lyrics.
Maka flashed the bouncer her I.D., and slumped after her friends. The dimly lit room was flush with bodies in various states of dress. The music was stronger inside; it shook her body, making her steps uneasy as she weaved through the crowd. She stumbled into a tall man, reaching out as she tripped over her own toes. Her hand made contact with a thick, oiled chest.
"Hey, honey," the stripper whispered into her ear. "Lookin' for a dance?" He flexed his pec muscles under her hands and Maka gagged. She pushed away from him, wandering into the crowd again, and tried to take a calming breath but sucked in a lungful of cigar smoke. She coughed her way to where Liz, Patti, and Tsubaki were sitting, and plopped down next to Tsubaki, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone in a thong.
Maka's eyes watered as she snatched up the one of the drinks a waiter dressed in tight, gold colored shorts placed on the low table in front of them, and quickly downed it. The sharp alcohol burned her throat but slowed her churning head until one thought stood out.
Married.
Maka narrowed her eyes at Tsubaki, the word repeating in her head like a tattoo.
"Maka, I know that look. Please, just be happy for me. I love him. He's my soulmate. I don't need to know anything else."
"I wasn't going to say anything," she said stubbornly. Tsubaki raised her eyebrows at her, and Maka relented.
"At least tell me more about him," Maka pleaded.
Tsubaki sighed around the lip of her martini glass. "Ok. His name is Blake Barrett, but he prefers Black Star."
Maka wrinkles her nose. "Um. I'm going to call him Blake."
"Call him Black Star," Tsubaki said sharply.
Maka was taken aback. "Tsu…"
Her hurt must have been evident, because Tsubaki sighed, harsh and tired. "It's been a long day. He's… not at all what he seems."
"I don't understand," Liz said. "He's not a ball of blue, misplaced masculinity?"
Patti put her hand over Liz's. "Sis, sh. Sh."
Maka nodded to herself, remembering that Patti was Black Star's band mate.
"It's not my business to say," Tsubaki continued. "You'll get to know him after the wedding."
Maka twisted the end of her pigtail around her finger. "But why tomorrow, Tsu? You have the rest of your life."
"Exactly! So why not now? He's my soul mate," Tsubaki reminded her gently, slipping a dollar into a stripper's thong. "You'll have to meet him, and I'd rather you do it sooner than later."
"But… tomorrow? Don't you want to get to know him first?"
"What for?" said Liz. "Wes and I would have gotten married the day we met, but I had to wait until I turned eighteen."
"What if he snores?" asked Maka desperately.
"He doesn't," Tsubaki said, staring determinedly at the stripper gyrating on stage.
Maka sat straight up in her chair. "How do you know?"
Tsubaki stared at her from under her eyelashes, waiting for it to sink in.
Maka's face felt engulfed in flames, and she sank into her plush chair as Liz and Patti whistled.
"You go, Tsu!"
"Tell me when to stop," Patti said, holding her hands together and slowly pulling them apart.
"You met him less than a month ago," Maka muttered.
"Soulmate," Patti reminded, singsong, waving over glistening man with a cowboy hat and cow skin chaps.
"Fine," she said grudgingly. "And he's ok with your impromptu bachelorette party?"
"Why wouldn't he be? He's at his Bachelor party. I think he and his friends went to 42 Tits."
"A different strip club?" Maka said, scandalized. "How many are there around here?"
"So innocent," Patti said solemnly, as the stripper grinded on her lap.
"I remember my Bachelorette party," Liz said, her eyes a little misty. "Wessy and I went to Death's Girl. It was ladies' night there, too."
"And Wes enjoyed that?"
Patti snorted, and slapped the stripper on his ass. He skipped away, a twenty-dollar bill hanging out of his tool belt.
"Like Wes explained: Sometimes you wanna suck dick, sometimes you wanna lick pussy," Liz shrugged. "It's just a thing."
"You know what you need, Maka?" interrupted Liz. "You need a another drink and a half naked man to grope." She whipped twenty dollars out of her bra and waved it in the air. Like heavily muscled flies, the strippers flocked to her, grinning broadly. Liz dropped the bill in Maka's lap and a blonde stripper snatched it up, stuffing it into the front of his thong.
"My name is Hiro," he slurred. So close, he stank of vodka and sweat. "Let me be your hero tonight, sweetheart." He placed his foot on the armrest of her chair, swiveling his hips in her direction. Maka sank down in her chair, putting as much distance between her and Hiro's crotch as she possibly could.
A loud trilling made Maka jump, her head bumping into his bicep.
"I gotta get that," she squeaked. She slipped out, sliding under his open legs. She ran to the back of strip club and ducked into the long hallway, leaning against the wall outside of the ladies' room, grappling with her phone.
It was blank.
She stared at it, confused as a neon green light flashed softly as the beeping changed to a mechanical-sounding harp beneath the sleeve of her blouse. It trilled from her wrist as Maka slowly pulled her sleeve away.
Her Timer pulsed softly, the number ticking downwards.
2 hours, fifty-seven minutes, 47, 46, 45 seconds…
Maka rushed to the bathroom, pushing past several drunken patrons and strippers, and emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet.
"Maka," Patti call, banging on the bathroom door. "Come out! It's not a big deal. It's just telling you you're going to meet the person you're going to spend the rest of your life within twenty-four hours."
"Pat," she heard Liz hiss. "That's not helping."
Maka curled up in a tighter ball, clutching her knees to her chest, the offending ticking on her wrist counting down the hours to her doom. Or her destiny. She wasn't sure, and she really didn't want to know anymore. She scraped her wrist along the blue tile, a little harder with each pass. The clacking echoed off the walls, thickly layered with graffiti and stickers.
"What is she doing?" Liz asked loudly. "Maka, what are you doing?"
"Ma'am, we're going to need your friend to vacate the restroom. It's against our house rules for patrons to barricade themselves inside."
"Maka," Tsubaki's soft whisper came out from under the door. "Please come out. Let us talk to you."
"No."
There was a shuffling outside of the door, and Liz's voice came stronger. "You have to come out, this is what you have been waiting for since you were fourteen. Don't hide from true love, Maka. It's not supposed to be scary! It's going to complete your life."
"My life is fine!" Maka screeched.
It was fine. She had a good income, friends, and her health. That was enough.
Right?
Maka pressed her closed eyes to her knees until the black showed darker black spots.
"Lets go get pancakes," Patti piped. "You love pancakes!"
Maka lifted her head.
"And I promise to make Liz and Tsu stop talking about your Tim- ah, the thing on your wrist. Ok?"
Maka stood and brushed the dirt from her dress, trying not to imagine the millions of bacteria clinging to the material, and slid the heavy, metal trashcan from blocking the door. She opened it, her friend's relieved faces outshining the strip club manager's angry red one.
"Ok."
After dropping Liz off ("Gotta go comfort Wes"- they didn't ask what for) Maka, Tsubaki, and Patti made their way to Death's Diner, where Maka immediately ordered the biggest, most disgustingly sweet pancake-chocolate syrup- peanut butter concoction on the menu. They waited patiently for their meals as Maka watched the dwindling numbers on her wrist, the gin from the strip club threatening to make a return trip up her esophagus.
Why did the damn thing have to turn on now? she thought, stabbing her pancakes with her fork. Her soulmate chose an incredibly shitty time to care about her. Who got their Timer at nearly midnight? What was he doing out so late? Sure, she was at a strip club a few minutes before, but what excuse did he have?
And who was he with? At midnight? On a weekday? How could she trust, let alone love, a man who was out at nearly midnight on a Tuesday?
She thought of her mother and her Timer. Maka's mother had told her that she loved her father, that he was her soul mate, not matter what. But then the Timer ruined everything.
Her mother left the comfort of her home, her young daughter, and a handsome husband. What more could she have possibly wanted? It hadn't been perfect, but why hadn't it been enough?
Why wasn't Maka's life, like this, enough?
Maka jumped out of her diner seat as her Timer trilled again, for the penultimate time. The next time it sang, the final time, would be when she made eye contact with her soul mate.
She would be stuck. With the same man. Forever.
"Ahhh," Patti acknowledged. "There it is. Ball and chain."
"Patti," Tsubaki said scoldingly.
Patti ignored her. "I'm calling Kid, he'll know what to do."
Tsubaki watched, exasperated, as Patti dug through her pockets for her cell phone as Maka stared at her wrist in horror and condemnation. "Tsu…. Get it off."
"Maka," Tsubaki said, putting her fork down.
"Get it off." Maka seized her friend's fork and began to dig at the skin surrounding the timer.
"No, Maka- stop."Tsubaki gripped the utensil, trying to take it away, but Maka held fast, hyperventilating as her Timer's cheery tune faded into quiet.
It should have stayed quiet, Maka thought as she attempted to drive Tsubaki away with her fork. It should have never gone off, this is ridiculous soul mates are a joke, a sick joke. I don't have a soul mate, I don't get a happy ending.
"Hey, Kiddo. Maka's freakin' out," Patti muttered into her phone. She paused for a moment, before she said "Tsu's trying to stop her from stabbing herself."
Maka vaguely heard Kid shouting at his foster sister as she wrestled with Tsubaki, the patrons around the little diner turned their heads to stare at the scene. Tsubaki managed to distract Maka with a kick to the shins and ripped the utensil from her grasp.
"You're panicking, that's ok," said Tsubaki, stashing the fork in her purse before quickly snatching up Maka's knife as well. Maka glowered at her. "You're panicking," she continued. "But this is a good thing! It's what you've wanted for so long. It happened to me, and it's happening to you now!" Tsubaki clasped Maka's hands in hers. "It's your happiness, Maka. It's finally here for you."
Maka withdrew her hands. "I have my happiness already. This," she said, waving her wrist, "Was a teenage mistake. Whoever this will lead me to won't complete my life- my life is already complete!"
"Of course it is," Tsubaki said soothingly. "But don't you want someone to share it with?"
"No," Maka said, crossing her arms stubbornly.
"Well. You're going to get him," Patti said with a bright smile. Maka let herself fall sideways onto the booth, curling up with her wrist tight against her chest.
"Is this a bad time to ask you to be my Maid of Honor?" Tsubaki asked quietly.
Maka fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, the loose threads kept getting caught in her Timer.
She had spent most of the day flinching at every twinkling cell phone, every out of place musical note. She nearly screamed when an ice cream trunk jingled past her on her morning jog to work. She'd thrown up at least twice, and now she was just sick to death of the whole ordeal.
Her soul mate still hadn't shown his miserable face.
Maka had walked into Tsubaki's house to see her friend in full wedding attire, her half veil failing to obscure the hope in her eyes. Maka just brushed past her, and nearly ran into the biggest biker she had ever seen in her life.
She barely heard his profuse apologies as she checked her wrist, praying that it would stay silent. The biker introduced himself as Free, and stuck out his meaty hand for Maka to shake. She obliged, grateful that he did not comment on her shaking hand while he gripped it under his tattooed knuckles.
She avoided eye contact with any of the other people in Tsubaki's house as her friend led her to the bedroom, but it didn't keep her from watching the scene in the living room. Men, their skin permanently etched in ink, their hair outrageous, rainbow colors, hung garlands of white daisies.
She really hoped it wasn't one of Black Star's friends.
Maybe it was someone she already knew? Maka went down the list of her single friends, single and without Timers.
Kid, the Thompson's foster brother? No, he made it clear he was on the same happy path of singledom as Patti. And he would want a second Timer on his non-dominant wrist, which was against the rules.
Maka wracked her brain for more people, physically tapping her fist against her forehead.
Nothing.
Maka groaned as she dumped her things on to Tsubaki's bed, throwing herself bodily after.
"I need more friends," she mumbled, her face crammed into a pillow.
The bed springs creaked as Tsubaki sat beside her, the crinoline of her dress brushed Maka's bare forearm. "I don't think that would help your situation," she said, smoothing the wrinkles in on her bodice. "That would just be more people for you to avoid."
Maka glared at her friend. "When did you get that dress?" she demanded.
Tsubaki flushed, her blue eyes sparkling with embarrassment. "Since my Timer activated," she mumbled.
"That is ridiculous."
"That's love, honey," Tsubaki grinned, smacking her friend on the back with a loud clap. "Get dressed."
Maka donned her long sleeved, pink silk dress as Tsubaki directed the decorating committee. When Maka questioned her friend about how the bride traditionally hid away from her groom in her wedding dress while other people took care of the details, Tsubaki said "I have to make sure these guys don't mess it up. Besides, Black Star isn't exactly the traditional type. And neither am I, really."
"Tsu, you are so the traditional type. You've hung the same Christmas ornaments every year since you were a baby."
Tsubaki sighed. "This was kind of last minute, so I'm making sure it's as perfect as possible. Black Star insisted his friends help, and who am I to refuse a sweet offer? I'm compromising. Soulmates, you know?"
No. Maka didn't know.
Maka picked harder at the sleeve of her dress. It was fraying at the edges, Maka noted grimly. She'd have to take it in somewhere, have it repaired somehow. She gingerly pulled a thread out and-
"No," Maka hissed. The stitch had pulled a two inch hole, right over her Timer.
Her mother's dress, forgotten at the dry cleaners the day she left, now had a hole. The pink silk dress her mother wore to Maka's first ballet recital, the dress from Christmas when she was eleven years old, the dress from Tsubaki's parents' fifteenth anniversary party. The dress that held memories, the lingering scent of her mother's perfume, and felt as soft as her mother's skin did, had a hole in it.
Maka gasped for air, her nose and eyes flooding. She stood shaking, staring at the hole.
There was a knock at the door, and a head of blue hair popped into the doorway. "Hey, you seen Tsu- Whoa. You looked bummed. You ok?" Black Star asked, pointing at Maka and squinting suspiciously.
Maka held up her wrist, feeling more like a child with a broken toy than an adult with a torn piece of clothing. "I ripped my mom's dress. It's the only thing I have of hers- she took everything when she left," she babbled.
"Is that all? Yo- come here." He walked into the room and pulled a little sewing kit out of his pocket. He'd have looked almost elegant in his suit jacket, if it weren't for his torn up Ramones shirt and equally mangled skinny jeans.
I'm compromising.
He held her wrist steady as he threaded a needle and slowly sewed the tear. Maka stood perfectly still, afraid for her wrist and terrified of her best friend's soulmate and husband-to-be.
Tsubaki had invited her to meet him, several times before. For Tsubaki's birthday, for Thanksgiving. Maka refused each time. It had only been a month since he and Tsubaki met. They were soulmates anyway, Maka had plenty of time to meet him, though, if she was honest, she had no idea what Tsubaki saw in him.
His tattoos peeked out from under the sleeves of his jacket, and he smelled of motor oil and AXE cologne. Maka had never actually spoken to him, but she was certain she did not need to. Maka recalled his performance, how clumsy he was. Sure, he had been drunk and nervous, but he was a mess, a bright blue disaster threatening Tsubaki's neat and peaceful life.
But the hand he used to sew her mother's dress was steady, secure, gentle.
Black Star tied a knot and nodded, seeming satisfied. "That'll hold for now. I got the number for a badass tailor- just let me know when you want it."
"How do you know how to sew?" Maka asked, not bothering to hide her incredulousness.
"Punk doesn't give a fuck about your gender normity."
"...Seriously?"
Black Star shrugged, a small smile on his face. Maka suddenly saw why Tsubaki was so taken with him. "I'm always there for my followers; even if I have to sew shit every once in a while."
….Followers?
"A god's gotta do what a god's gotta do."
What.
"I've even invited the lesser peons from my old band to the wedding today-"
Maka took everything positive back about him.
"-Hell, even settle down with the most glorious goddess the world has ever known."
Her head spun from the back and forth, from the douchebaggery to the odd sweetness.
Black Star stashed his sewing kit back in his pocket and said, "Heard from Tsu that you're going to meet your soulmate today. Nothing yet?"
Maka shook her head, not daring to speak.
Black Star patted her shoulder. "No problem, any of my friends would be kick ass soulmates for you." He paused, looking up thoughtfully. "Except my best man. The wimp's still hungover."
"How do you know?" asked Maka, wiping her eyes carefully with the back of her hand. "How do you know I would be a good soulmate for them?"
Black Star wrapped his arm around her shoulders and began pulling her out the door. "Tsu's told me about you, so I know. Trust your god."
Maka felt her heart turn into a puddle at the bottom of her ribcage, actively choosing to ignore his last comment. Tsu, her best friend, told this idiot that she was capable of being a good soulmate to someone. Or at least said enough positive things about her that warranted an almost-compliment from that odd, sweet, big-mouthed punk.
And Tsu, her best friend, was about to marry this odd, sweet, big-mouthed punk.
"Tsu could do worse," Maka blurted. "She could do worse than you."
Black Star snorted, and gave Maka a squeeze. "Yeah, well. I couldn't do better."
Guests started to file into the living room, sitting on the mismatched couches, lawn chairs, and plastic chairs. Maka spotted Tsubaki's conservative parents, looking, to Maka's surprise, amused at the colorful array of guests. Music swelled and guests quickly settled, gazing expectantly at the back of the room where Black Star and Maka stood.
Black Star let go of Maka at the edge of the makeshift aisle. He grinned at her, eyes bright under pierced eyebrows.
"That's my cue. Count to five, then follow me." He walked down the aisle backwards, casually holding his palms up, the guests slapping him five on his way to the white plastic garden arch.
"Maka," she heard Tsubaki hiss from behind her. "Here-" Tsubaki shoved a small bouquet of snowdrops into her hands. She gestured with her own bouquet- snowdrops, with peach blossoms- and said, "Go on."
Maka crept down the aisle, Black Star and Tsubaki's adoring family and friends watching her with serene smiles. She stumbled in her heels as her traitorous brain replaced the faces in the crowd with more familiar ones, the tattooed groom at the front replaced by a generic black suit and tie, a generic handsome face. It was unbearably familiar, a scenario played on television since she was a child. The happy beginning for a Timered couple. A beginning Maka had imagined for herself for years. It was finally coming true- for Tsubaki. She was happy for her friend, truly happy.
But she couldn't even imagine herself as a bride anymore.
Maka took her position, standing before the crowd, clutching her wilting flowers.
The music shifted, and Tsubaki walked down the aisle, her head held high, her eyes focused entirely on Black Star, who was bouncing on his heels.
Maka could at least pretend her tears were from joy.
Maka stirred her tea as the party raged on. Her shoes were long gone, having been discarded after her tenth dance with the Thompsons. She was pretty sure one of Black Star's friends had slipped them into the depths of their leather vest, but Maka was not about to complain.
The ceremony had been perfect, fit to the quick, odd, wonderful, upside down relationship Tsubaki and Black Star had. Black Star wrote his own vows, which were hilariously incomprehensible between his wheezing sobs and constant blows into his handkerchief. The minister, who received his certification twenty minutes before the ceremony, refused to removed his sunglasses the entire time. His friend- or girlfriend, Maka couldn't tell- kept violently motioning for him to remove his lenses; she could have caught fire from the friction from her squeaking leather jacket.
Tsubaki dipped her husband during their first kiss as a married couple, and the audience roared with approval.
Maka's tears turned to ones of mirth.
She sipped her tea, stifling her laughter as she watched Black Star attempt a left-footed tango with his new bride. Tsubaki was pink, bright and shining in the middle of her living room wedding. Her heels were abandoned, too, under some rickety rocking chair in the corner, after they kept getting snagged on the shag carpet.
When they were young and freshly Timered, Tsubaki would dream about her wedding day. She would spend a good chunk of her allowance on bridal magazines, and hide them at Maka's house, embarrassed that her parents would find them. She'd pour over them after finishing her homework, and spin Maka a tale about her wedding. She had favored a long train, silk, and a modest neckline. Tsubaki had wanted lilies and roses, because of their symbolism, and their class.
They had changed so much.
Black Star tried a complex breakdancing move and slipped, falling flat on his face at Tsubaki's feet. She doubled over in laughter, the drink in her hand tipping and sprinkling her husband in champagne. Black Star leapt to his feet, licked the drops from his face, and wrapped a hand around the back Tsubaki's neck, dragging her down to plant a big kiss on her lips. The wedding guests hooted and hollered, clinking their glasses and stomping their motorcycle boots.
Maka was on her second cup of tea when Tsubaki came up for air and flopped down on to an empty chair next to her.
"Whew," Tsubaki sighed. "What a night."
"Understatement of the fucking century," Maka said daintily.
"But you're enjoying yourself, right?" Tsubaki looked so earnest, like a tall, ridiculously beautiful puppy.
"It's different than I imagined it to be," Maka admitted. Across the room, a couple smashed a set of plates on the floor, and shouted "OPA!"
"Actually, with Black Star's friends, it's exactly how I thought it would be," Maka retracted with a wry smile.
"I couldn't have imagined anything like this," Tsubaki grinned back. "This is better."
"My man," Black Star crowed. He gesticulated wildly towards the front of the house, his enthusiasm leaking from his jumping feet.
She lifted her eyes to the man Black Star greeted. His garish orange shirt clashed horribly with his leather jacket, the sleeves of which were rolled up, revealing strong, tan forearms. He lugged six packs in both hands.
"Am I late for the party?" the man asked, settling the six packs on the floor and fist bumping Black Star, who then pulled the new man into what looked like a rather stifling bear hug.
Black Star let go and cackled, pointing at his friends face. "Sharpies, 5 billion. Soul, ZIP!"
The man pushed Black Star away, self consciously rubbing the side of his face. "Never drinking with you again," he mumbled.
Black Star clapped him on the shoulder. "Can't take the bachelor party heat, stay out of the titty bar."
The vague outline of a dick ran from the corner of his mouth to the lobe of his ear, the skin around it bright red, presumably from trying to scrub it off, or the beginnings of an adverse reaction to the permanent marker. And-
Red eyes.
Two jingles ran out, a lilting tune, and Maka's blood turned cold.
He had run his hand so many times through his white hair that it stood up in all directions. He kept his gaze locked on the toes of his motorcycle boots, as if she'd disappear if he didn't look at her for long enough. He hadn't glanced up once since Black Star had forced him into the chair next to her, previously occupied by Tsubaki, who had leapt over to engulf Soul in a hug that rivaled her husband's.
Soul stared at her over Tsubaki's shoulder, horror igniting his eyes. Maka could only stare back and try not to wheeze.
The newly wedded couple-turned-matchmakers abandoned them as soon as Soul's ass hit the plastic chair, leaving them in thick, cold fear.
Soul.
His name was Soul. What kind of ass-backwards name was that? She had been searching for her soulmate for ten years, and the idiot was actually named Soul. And why was his hair white? Was it dyed, like Black Star's? Crap, did he have tattoos? He hadn't taken off his jacket yet, so he could have half-sleeves, a full-on back piece, and maybe even piercings! Maka wasn't sure she could handle that...
His eyes! They were such a weird color. Did he have contacts?
"Do you have contacts?" she burst out.
Soul blinked. "No."
Silence.
Their first exchange of words. Romantic, Maka thought bitterly. He was being so quiet! She hoped he wasn't going to be one of Black Star's monosyllabic friends, but there he was, grunting his responses like an albino cave man. It had to be some cosmic joke. She was a college professor, for crying out loud, there was no way her soulmate was going to be some lowlife biker dude.
She had been hoping for a Wes, not a Black Star.
"What's you name?" he asked gruffly, glancing up from his boots for the first time in five painfully awkward minutes.
"Maka," she replied, her arms tangling themselves across her chest.
"Oh."
Silence again.
She was going to lose her shit. "'Oh'? Is that is!?"
"What do you want me to say?" he asked, bewildered.
"I don't want to tell you what to say," she said stubbornly, tightening her arms around her chest. "Think of something."
He made a choking noise but stayed quiet otherwise.
Unbelievable. He didn't even try to make conversation with her. They were soulmates. This guy, whom she met all of 10 minutes ago, was her soulmate. She was going to spend the rest of her life with him. He was going to make her happy.
And his name was actually Soul.
She wanted to laugh and cry and punch a baby.
"Who are you?" There was no point in trying to be subtle. If it was a mistake, she wanted to know sooner rather than later.
Soul let out a short bark of laughter. "I don't even know."
His words were weighted, dripping with bitterness and remorse. Great. He had baggage. Maka so did not want a soulmate with baggage.
"Are you a friend of Tsu's?" he asked, changing the subject. He was evasive, too.
"Yes, we've been friends for a long time. Have you known Black Star for long?"
"I guess," he shrugged. "I'm probably the only one who can stand him for very long. Other than Tsu, I guess." A few more syllables, yes, they were finally getting somewhere.
But wait. Tsu? He and Tsubaki were on a nickname basis?!
"How long have you known him?" Maka asked eagerly.
"Couple of months." He ran his hand through his hair again, digging his nails into his scalp. He blinked through a grimace; was he trying to pull his hair out, bring himself back to reality? Maka knew the feeling. Her own clipped manicure was going to leave little half moons up and down her arms.
"Months?" Maka asked incredulously. "And he asked you to be his best man?"
"It's Black Star," he raised and dropped a single shoulder. Enough said, really, but he continued. "I answered an ad. We were roommates for a couple of weeks, when I first moved out here, but our landlord kept getting pissed about Black Star jumping into the pool from the second story and kicked us out. We had to split."
Maka snorted. "I don't even know Black Star, and that sounds like something he would do."
Soul gave her a small smile, and hesitated before asking, "What made you get a Timer?"
Ah. It was Maka's turn to shrug. "Everyone had one. Tsubaki and I got ours at the same time. They were blank for the longest time, and we decided to have them removed. But hers lit up like a Christmas tree right before our appointments."
"Must have sucked."
Maka traced the plastic outline of her Timer, her cause for chaos for so long. "It did. I was looking for a guarantee. Now I'm not so sure."
Sou's smile melted off his face as he ducked his head, hiding his face under his bangs.
"I mean there are no guarantees, right?" she pressed.
"There is with a Timer," he said flatly. He put his head in his hands and rubbed roughly, making him look like he'd just been electrocuted. "We're stuck. I didn't even want a Timer. Fuck. "
What an asshole. He didn't want to find her? Fine.
"Didn't think a biker could be so sentimental," she sneered.
"Didn't think a skinny, short girl could even have fat ankles," he sniped.
She reached blindly for a blunt object and hurled it at him. It smacked him in the middle of the face and he reeled back. He hissed in a breath and held his nose while the object clattered off the table and on to the floor.
A spoon, Maka mused. More aerodynamic than a book.
"If you weren't interested in finding a soulmate then why did you even get it?" she snapped.
"Oh," he rubbed his nose sheepishly. "I got it when I was drunk."
Maka blanched. "How do you make an important life decision like that while inebriated?"
Soul rolled his eyes. "Black Star got it, and he met Tsubaki, like, a month later."
"It was two months," Maka corrected.
"Whatever. We went out for his Bachelor's party-"
"Gross."
"Lemme guess: You're the one at Tsubaki's Bachelorette party that hid in the bathroom for three hours, and then tried to stab herself?"
"…"
"Thought so. Anyway, after a fuck-load of drinks, he bet me I didn't have the balls to get one. Had to rise up to the challenge, yanno?"
"No," Maka deadpanned. "What did you think when it lit up with the time?"
Soul shrugged. "I sobered up pretty quick after that. Almost had it removed."
"Why didn't you?" she asked acidly. "It might have saved us both the trouble."
"And miss the opportunity to drive you up the wall?" he smirked. "No chance."
She wanted to come up with a brilliant response, something witty and memorable, but his crooked smile drove up her temperature and tangled her tongue.
He was hot? When he smiled? He was so surly the whole time, his face contorted with desperation, his odd hair and eyes, it was hard to think of him as handsome.
But his smile.
The smile drove up one cheek, deepened a dimple smack dab in the middle, and his teeth were… intriguing. The were super white, almost like they were artificially bleached, all ending in small points. They grazed the skin of his lips as his smile stretched.
Maka clenched her knees together.
He watched her struggle, with a growing grin that crinkled the edges of his eyes, and decided to put her out of her misery. "How about you? How long did you have a blank timer?"
Maka stiffened, but could not prevent the burning blush from invading her face.
"Ten years," she mumbled.
Soul blinked rapidly. "Holy shit, that's a long time. You got it as soon as you could, eh? That eager for the end of your life?"
Maka's eyebrows furrowed. "The end?"
"Ball and chain, and all that."
"This doesn't have to be permanent, you know," she bristled. "We can choose not to see each other again."
"You don't believe in destiny?"
"I believe in self-fulfilling prophecies," she said. "And the ability to choose my own destiny. This is one we don't have to fulfill."
She stood.
Soul stared at her from under his pale bangs, his face blank.
Cold realization swept over Maka, a silky blanket of relief. They were total strangers, they didn't know anything about each other. They were supposed to be soulmates? No, impossible. Not one of Black Star's friends, not this weird looking probably-not-but-could-be-albino. Maka had been fine on her own for the last decade, she would be fine for however long she had until she met someone she could chose for herself. Someone more like her. Or maybe no one at all.
"It was nice meeting you," Maka continued, toeing the carpet under her foot. "But I'm not fourteen anymore. And I'm not looking for a soulmate. Tell Tsubaki and Black Star congratulations for me."
She turned on her low heel and left Soul at the table. Maka felt his eyes on her back as she darted out of the door and into the night.
She would have her Timer removed, burned and buried, along with the night itself. She vowed to burn her dress, her shoes, the flowers she choked in her hand. Maka would forget that ever happened, go back to work, go back to her life.
It would be quiet, it would be peaceful.
Her life would be hers and hers alone.
Maka finished out the semester as "The Professor Who Had A Blank Timer Then Didn't But Turned Him Away."
The GPA of the entire class dropped half a point.
Maka nearly broke her favorite pencil when the department head called her into the main office to yell at her. She bore it as best she could, distracted, as usual, by the hearts dancing across the face of her Timer every hour. They sent her out when her subtle scratching turned not-so-subtle clawing, her wrist red and raw, the punctures holding her timer in place oozing blood.
She managed to get home in a haze, tripping over her boot laces. She landed on the living room couch, her backpack still looped around her shoulders. She lay there, like a turtle, until the sun dipped under the window sills.
So this was her, post Timer. She had expected to feel relief, joy, or incredible sadness. But all she felt was an emptiness in her chest, a gaping hole that refused to fill, even when she tried to stuff it shut with food, office supplies, and books.
Maka couldn't get him out of her head.
It had been at least two months since they first made eye contact. Two months of Tsubaki calling her cell phone and leaving messages dripping with disappointment, telling her about Soul's whereabouts, his interests, and how much he probably wanted to see her.
Maka doubted Tsubaki actually spoke to him, because all of that information took too many syllables for Soul produce.
Maka shut her eyes, squeezing out the dark of the living room.
He wasn't even there and she was being rude to him. To her soulmate.
Maka wriggled uncomfortably. She tried hard not to think of that night, the panic flooding her bloodstream.
She had met her soulmate and immediately shut him down. They barely managed a conversation before she bolted. She never found out his last name. Or what he did for a living. Or anything beside his slow reflexes.
Maka let out a snort of laughter, and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She watched green and red splotches dance behind her eyelids, like a moving Rorschach test. The splotches began to look suspiciously like a laughing couple.
She groaned and rolled over, landing on her elbows and knees in between the couch and the coffee table.
"Hey, sweetheart."
"Hi, Papa." she mumbled, her face smushed into the carpet.
"You look a little down."
"Funny," Maka said, lifting her head. Her father stood over her, grinning at her, still in his suit and tie from work. Spirit worked for disgraced, former politician Lloyd Mort, who traveled around the world talking up Timers and their success, using his own romance with Arachne as an example.
It really wasn't the best example, but the media ate it up, and it was Spirit's job to make sure the story circulated among the females aged 18-35 demographic. And he did his job well.
Perhaps too well, Maka always speculated.
"Come on," he said, sitting on the couch and patting the space next to him. "Tell Papa what's going on."
She muttered something about not needing to, about not needing her papa, but he ignored her damn lie and hoisted her up by the backpack and plopped her down next to him. As much as Maka resented being treated like a kitten, she had to admit she hadn't been acting like someone full grown recently.
She also hated that she inherited her mother's height, or lack thereof.
On the couch, she curled up into herself, her mouth pressed firmly into her knee.
A hesitant hand landed on her shoulder. "D-don't eat your knee."
"Papa," Maka sat up. "I met my soulmate."
Papa's hand tightened. "What."
"I met him and it was so screwed up," Maka sniffled, and felt her lungs start collapse.
"What did he do? Where can I find him?" Spirit demanded. "Mort knows some people-"
"It wasn't him, he was nice. I think he was nice- I didn't really even give him a chance," Maka began to cry in earnest. "I don't know if my soulmate is nice!"
Maka bent over her knees again, sobs ripped their way out of her body. She was so stupid. She didn't give Soul a chance. He seemed normal, sane.
She didn't bother getting to know him before she shut him out.
Why was she so scared?
"I ruined it," she said, lifting her head, mystified at her own foolishness.
"You can't ruin something that never really started, sweetheart."
"We met, Papa. That was supposed to be the beginning, the happily ever after. And I lost it."
Spirit shook his head. "That's not how life works. Timer or no, people always have a choice." He paused, seeming to steel himself before he continued. "I had a choice. I could have stayed with your mama, been faithful."
Maka's spine straightened as she listened. Papa never willingly spoke to her about what happened between him and her mother.
"She had a choice, too. She made hers when she came home with a Timer. She decided what would make her the happiest. And, Maka," he said. "You have to choose."
Maka had grown comfortable being stuck in limbo, wandering and flopping back and forth without making any decisions. Now, there was a path lying plain before her and she refused to go down it.
"But I'll never see him again," Maka insisted. "I don't know where he lives. I don't know anything about him. "
"You're a smart girl, sweetheart," Spirit said, his grin returning. "Just don't hurt the boy. Or do. I'd prefer that you do. And call me if you need help."
"Papa, I'm not going to let you hurt my soulmate."
"Your choice, entirely your choice."
The Spring semester began with Maka enduring her punishment for failing nearly her entire class: two thirds of the course load she was usually allotted. It meant less experience, less research funds, and less money on her paycheck.
She ran her way to her two-thirds job, her feet pounding the asphalt rhythmically. Maka's mother used to say that she could set her watch to Maka's running, her steady pace more reliable than ticking clock. Her mother would reward her each time she broke a personal record, usually a book or a trip to the library, just the two of them.
Maka's pace slowed as she thought about her bills, and how many fewer books she would be able to buy in the next few months. She could always ask her papa for help, but he was on a twisted kind of tirade, going back and forth between wanting to help her find Soul and offering to pay her tuition to a local all-women's college to "ease her financial strain."
When Maka finally settled at her desk, she shuffled through her hastily written syllabi. She was sure that she had packed the right one, but as she dug through her backpack, she began to panic. Students started to traipse in with their corporate label coffee cups and yoga mats. Maka stared determinedly at her things, focused entirely on locating the syllabus. She would not start the semester as "The Professor Who Rejected Her Soulmate But Then Regretted it And Also Lost The Class Syllabus."
In her peripheral vision, Maka could see a black and white blob sit right in front of her. He was hunched over, and appeared to be stifling his laughter. Maka's face and neck felt hot as his snickering reached her ears, but refused to look up, not even to glare at the asshole.
Who did he think he was? Didn't he know that she had complete control over his grade? Ok, that power was why she was teaching introductory level psychology instead of upper division like the previous semester, but she still had it! Maka grit her teeth and she yanked stack after stack of papers out of her backpack, swearing that she'd buy a proper briefcase and develop a better organizational system if only she survived the following hour and a half of class.
"They're under your desk," an all too familiar voice said helpfully.
She'd memorized it in their brief interaction, recorded his tone and timbre in her mind, it resonated in her chest, deep and whole. It made her ears ring and the skin around her Timer throb.
Though that might have been her accelerating heart.
Maka let the papers in her hands slide to the floor. "Fucking shit," she breathed.
"Woah, Professor Albarn, I'm not sure that's appropriate language for the classroom," Soul said with a crooked grin that made Maka's face turn molten.
"What are you doing here?!"
He gestured to his notebook and shook his head in mock disappointment. "You can't recognize a student when you see one? What kind of professor are you?"
"D-did you know?"
"That this was Psych 101? Yeah, that's what my schedule says."
"No, idiot," Maka snapped. "Did you know I was the professor?" He had to have known. Clearly, he orchestrated the whole thing. There was no way it was a coincidence…
"Nope," he said as his smirk grew more pronounced and looked, to Maka's increasing agitation, rather pleased. "It's destiny."
Maka screeched and chucked her backpack at his head.
After being pulled off of Soul by his fellow students, Maka was back in the Department Head's office. She sat sullenly, Soul tapping his toes to an silent beat in the seat next to her.
"Tsu said you were feisty," Soul said casually, weaving his hands behind his head. "But she didn't say you were violent."
"Don't call me feisty," Maka said, resting her head in her hands. She could count on her hand the number of times she had been to the Department head's office, most of them having occurred after her Timer lit up. True love was making her become a delinquent.
"Alright, no calling you feisty. We're getting to know each other so well."
Maka groaned loudly as the office door swung open. A tall woman sashayed in, wearing heels higher than Maka ever thought safe, her black hair shining purple in the light.
"Kitten, you're back again?" she asked, settling in to her desk.
"Don't call me kitten," Maka said, her face still buried in her hands.
"Right," the woman said enthusiastically. "No affectionate nicknames for Professor Albarn, Professional only." She turned to Soul, her smile bright and warm. "My name is Catherine Blair, I'm Head of the Psychology department." She leaned over her desk and stuck her hand out for Soul to shake, the motion pushing her breasts higher.
Maka watched Soul out of the corner of her eye. He kept his gaze on their joined hands as they exchanged greetings, and folded his hands over his chest as he leaned back in his chair.
Hm…
"According to the eyewitness reports, you tried to claw a student's eyes out?"
"Actually, she tried to strangle me, then decapitate me with a textbook," interrupted Soul.
"Oh, my," Blair said, and turned to Maka. "That doesn't sound professional at all, Kitten."
"Don't call me that. And I didn't try to decapitate him. I just wanted… to maim him."
"Maim him," Blair repeated. "Why did you try to maim Mr...?"
"Evans," Soul replied. "Soul Evans."
Maka perked up. "That's your last name?"
Soul cast her a peculiar look while she tried not to tangle his last name with her first. "Yeah?"
"Evans…" she repeated, blankly. She wanted to laugh, and cry, then maybe scream. Of course they had to be related. The hair, the shape of their eyes. Hell, even the bridge of their noses were the same width.
But there was no way. It was too much of a coincidence.
She was half-tempted to punch Fate in the face instead of Soul.
"Are you related to Wes Evans?" Maka asked eagerly.
"Yeah." he replied irritably. "He's my brother. You want an autograph or something?"
What monster in the seventh ring of hell thought to put her in this situation?
One of her best friend's husband's brother was her soulmate.
The brother of a man she had known for more than ten years was her soulmate.
How had she never met him before? For years, he had been a phone call away. How many times had Liz offered to give her Wes's brother's number?
It was completely ridiculous.
So Maka laughed.
She laughed and laughed, and laughed until tears streamed down her face.
Her laughter deteriorated into giggles, and Soul seemed alarmed, but relieved that she wasn't going to try and kill him again.
"You… done?" Soul asked hesitantly.
"My friend Liz is married to him," Maka said.
Soul's strong jaw (she wished she would stop noticing that) dropped. It was not an unattractive expression on him.
"Shit."
"Yeah," Maka agreed with a short laugh. "Now I know why Liz has been blowing up my phone. After what happened, there was no way I going to answer."
Soul blew a raspberry. "I've been ignoring her, too. Figured Wes told her what happened, but I wasn't about to lose my hearing."
"Her squeals are abnormally high-pitched," Maka agreed.
Soul laughed, loud and true, his head thrown back and his shark teeth exposed.
Maka bit her lip and stared at him, watching his face turn bright under her gaze, the color of his weird, beautiful eyes. They were so warm; she wished she had something to compare them to, but she could only feel them on her as she tried to keep breathing.
"Maka, we do need to discuss why you're in my office," interrupted Blair. "Your various outbursts recently have brought your competence into questions."
Maka sobered immediately. "He can't be in my class."
"Why not?"
"It's a conflict of interest."
"How so?"
Maka's words died in her mouth. She didn't want to admit it in front of Soul, which was stupid because obviously he knew he was her soulmate.
There was just something about saying it out loud, in front of him, in front of her boss, of all people, that made it seem more real. Actualized. Concrete.
Soul seemed amused by her silence.
"Go on, Professor," he goaded. "Tell her why I can't be in your class."
"Because- we're- I mean we're not but-"
"Eh, what was that?" Soul was having way too much fun; Maka's fingers itched for her textbook.
Blair tapped her long purple nails on her desk. "If this is some of sort of lovers' quarrel-"
Soul began. "Well-"
"N-not at all," Maka stammered. "I would never do something so unprofessional-"
"Except try to beat up one of your innocent students on the first day of class?" piped Soul.
"You are not a student."
Soul shot her an incredulous look.
"I don't even know what the hell to do about you," he said.
"W-what-"
Soul ignored Maka, and shoved a square sheet of paper towards Blair. She lowered her purple reading glasses from the top of her head and quickly scanned the paper. With a quiet click of her tongue she wheeled herself to face her computer screen, nails clacking against the keys as she typed at lightning speed.
"What did you give her?" demanded Maka.
"Student number," he grunted back, staring determinedly at Blair.
"Yes, it is. For Soul Evans, music major." Blair clicked her tongue again. "Way behind on his general education units."
Soul slumped down in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm a music major," he mumbled petulantly. "General Ed is for chumps."
"'Chumps,'" Maka echoed. "Are you a twelve year old?"
"Nah, but you look like one."
"Ok, ok, stop." Blair blew the bangs out of her face. "I'm transferring Soul to a different class. On one condition."
"Which is?" Maka asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
"That you go on one date."
Maka balked. "Not gonna happen."
Soul just sank deeper into his chair, until the middle of his back brushed the seat.
"Maka, the department has watched you grow from a freshman, whining about the lack of representation in Psychology textbooks, to a brilliant- if erratic- professor. You are valuable to us, Kitten. More than that, you have a long career ahead of you. I would hate to see this-" Blair jerked her head towards Soul, "-stop you."
"Hey," said Soul, offended.
"And you," Blair said, turning to him. "I can see your academic history all over my computer. All ten pages of it."
Soul pursed his lips, stifling the indignant noise he had been about to make."
"Stay out of trouble. Get your units. Graduate."
"Fine," Soul ground out. "Can we go?"
"You may," Blair replied sweetly. "Maka stays."
Soul looked pointedly at Maka.
What did he want her to say? That she wanted him to stay because she was terrified that the next words that would come out of Blair's mouth were going to be "and also you're fired?" That her main source of comfort and guidance left her for a stranger and now she had nothing but a gaping hole in her chest? That she was desperately clinging to any source of sanity by her fingertips?
Did he want her to say that she needed him to be with her right at that moment?
Because she really wanted to say all that.
Instead, she said, "I'm ok.."
Soul didn't seem to believe her, but he shrugged and stepped out, glaring the whole time.
Blair watched him walk out with a lecherous grin, her professional front plummeting to the hardwood floor as soon as Soul's back was turned. She pounced on Maka in a second.
"Lucky girl! I told you it would be worth the wait. He's so handsome I could eat him up. Don't mind sharing do you?"
"You can have him," Maka mumbled.
"Aw, disappointed with true love?" Blair tilted her head sympathetically. "That's ok, Kitten. Do what I did after I met my soulmate, and go have your fun for a while! If he's your true love, he'll be waiting for you when you get back."
"I don't know if he's my true love. Uh, I mean he is but he's not- not yet. I don't want to do that to him."
"Soooo," Blair mused. "What are you pussyfooting around for? He's waiting for you. Literally, outside of the door."
"... No, he's not." He couldn't be. They met only a few months ago, and hadn't seen each other at all since. And she clocked him in the face with a book not two hours ago. Why would he wait for her? "Why would he wait for me?"
"Because he accepts his destiny. Embraces it," she said. "Unlike you."
Maka dropped her head to her knees, trying to keep the room from spinning. "Why is this so hard?"
Blair rolled her eyes and pulled out a nail file from the depths of her desk. "Because you're stubborn," she said in a bored voice as she dragged the file across the tip of her nails. "Resistant to change and afraid of things you cannot control."
"He's going to hate me. Or worse, he's going to like me."
"Nuh-uh, no," Blair scolded, waggling a glittery, purple fingernail. "Shut that doubty brain down. I know you've been running in circles for months, your daddy told me."
"How-? You know what, don't tell me." Maka smoothed her pigtails. "I… have to talk to him."
"That's an excellent start," Blair nodded approvingly. "This is so exciting. You'll finally have a boy, and get laid!"
"Ughhhh, I just met him! Can't I ask what he does for a living first, or something?"
"Sure, that's one approach."
"Ok," Maka said finally. "I can talk to him. Get to know him. I'll be ok. It's not forever-"
"-Technically it is forever-"
"I can leave at any time."
"Maka, it's a date, not a gynecologist appointment. And you may not be sure, but he is." Blair sighed. "The way he looks at you already. Makes a girl feel all drippy."
"Can we go back to being colleagues now? You know, professional?"
Maka shut the door to Blair's office and immediately pressed her back to it, ready to keep Blair from opening it and trying to talk to her about how "first date sex is totally acceptable because soulmates."
Maka rubbed her temples with her fingertips as she sank to the floor.
As much as she was sick of the indecision wrecking her brain, her concentration, and her life in general, she had to admit it, at least to herself.
She was scared.
It seemed like a dream before her Timer had activated; she would have someone to spend the rest of her life with, no questions, no problems. But it wasn't like in the commercials. It wasn't neat or tidy, and there were certainly no smiling faces.
Maka almost wished her Timer would go blank again.
"'Sup?"
Maka banged her head against the wooden door as her body jerked in shock.
"Why do you keep doing that?!" she gasped, clutching her heart.
Soul laughed, but quickly coughed to cover it up as Maka glared up at him. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." He crouched in front of her, unsuccessfully stifling a smile. He met her eyes, and Maka felt her body heat up from her spine.
He had dimples.
"What do you want?" she asked brusquely. "Are you going to see Blair again?"
It would be so typical of him. Most of the complaints about Maka stemmed from men, who had met Blair and were dying to meet her again, and made up some excuse or other to see the Department Head again.
"No, I was waiting." He turned serious, a little furrow forming between his eyebrows. Adorably so. He looked so concerned. Damn him. "Did you get fired? Because I can go in and explain what happened."
Maka wanted to squeeze his face, either out of her face or a little bit closer. She had been nothing but rude to him, but there he was. Soul was waiting for her, worried about her.
"What would you say?" she asked curiously.
"I'm not actually sure." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I thought I'd say I was stalking you and you were defending yourself."
"That's a terrible plan," Maka scoffed. "Blair would have called the cops. And maybe impaled you with her nails."
"Well. I'm glad I didn't do that then." Soul stood and brushed the dust off of his pants. "Wanna go celebrate you not getting fired?"
"What?"
Soul's hands were apparently on autopilot, still brushing invisible dirt from his pants. To Maka's delight, there was faint pink creeping along his cheekbones.
"Just for food. You eat, right?"
"I do," Maka admitted.
"So, let's go." Soul reached his hand down to her. She glanced up at him as he refused to look back at her, the top half of his face hidden by long bangs.
He was so… cute.
"Ok."
She was almost giddy.
He felt as awkward as she did.
Maka's glee refused to fade as they walked across campus to "the best pizza place ever" according to Soul himself. The night was thankfully warm; Maka feared that if it were too cool, she would have had to do something weird, like ask for his jacket. Or was he the type to offer it up? Were they familiar enough with each other to do that? Maka couldn't remember the last time she borrowed a jacket from a boy. Was it high school? What was the protocol? Was it different now that they were adults?
It didn't feel different.
Save for the fact that she knew they were soulmates, destined to fall in love.
But absolutely no pressure, she thought irritably.
Soul opened the door for her when they arrived to a dimly lit Italian restaurant, Death's Kiss's sign shined red neon. He led her to a tiny booth at the very back of the restaurant and squished himself as close to the wall as he could.
"I usually eat here alone," he shrugged. Maka slipped in next to him, trying to give him space but finding it impossible on the small square booth seat. She was hanging half off, her fingertips digging into the table for stability.
"Don't make it weirder, Maka. Just sit."
She scooted closer to Soul, until the side of their hips were flush against each other's. Warmth surged in her face and she was gratified to see that his face was approaching nuclear as well.
"So, you come here often?" She felt like a total dud.
"Not really. They just know me."
"Can you be more vague?"
"If I try," he mumbled.
A waiter swept in and placed a couple cups of coffee in front of them, and another waiter loaded their table with tray after tray of food, steaming and delicious. Three different pizzas, piled high with meat and veggies, stromboli with layers of melting cheese and broccoli, and a small bowl of salad.
"Where's all this coming from? We haven't even ordered yet."
"This is my regular order. I come in, they bring it," he shrugged, pulling a slice of pizza off of a tray.
"Are you in the mafia?"
"What? Where do you even get those ideas, jeez. I just… eat a lot," he emphasized a lot with a huge bite of pizza, his teeth ripping through the thick layer of toppings with ease.
"And you don't really come here often?"
"I don't," Soul said around a mouthful of dough, meat, and cheese. He swallowed and said, "My family kind of… owns the chain."
Maka choked on her bite of stromboli.
Soul patted her on the back as she coughed, and explained. "It's my parents' side venture. They're more into music, but Italians, you know?"
"No, I don't know. But wait a second," she pouted. "All this time I could've had access to free pizza? You should've gotten a Timer sooner."
Soul sputtered and for a moment Maka thought she had made a colossal mistake; was it too soon to make that joke? Why was there no 'So You've Met Your Soulmate: How Not to Make a Total Ass of Yourself.'
But he laughed and and bit another chunk off his third slice of pizza. "You can blame Black Star for that. If he gotten his a long time ago, he would've gotten me drunk at his bachelor's party sooner and I would've been bullied into an implantation chair then."
Maka tilted her head thoughtfully. "I wonder if that would have changed where and when we met?"
"Way too philosophical for me," Soul groaned. "I just ate my weight in dough and cheese."
Maka snorted. "I do have a serious question though."
Soul shifted his body so he was facing her, and she mirrored him. He leaned towards her, very serious, and Maka wondered what he could possibly be thinking. She took in his white bangs, his red eyes and furrowed white eyebrows, and she had to ask.
"What's with the salad?" she asked, stabbing her fork at the pile of lettuce and slivered carrots.
Soul shrugged, his mouth crammed with food again. "Gotta have some veggies, or the kitchen guys call my mom."
Oh, now that was interesting. "Afraid of the Wrath of Mom, huh?"
"Something like that."
"No, but seriously, what would she do?" Maka pressed, fascinated.
"Why are you so curious?" Soul asked with a barked laugh. "Got a mom kink? I don't know if I could be into that."
"Moms are kind of a foreign concept to me," Maka smiled sadly, shrugging.
"Oh," Soul said, his mouth twisted (she was paying too much attention to his mouth, she needed to stop) in concern. "Want to talk about it?"
Maka felt the weight she usually associated with thoughts of her mother in the back of her head, but it was lightened.
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.
Soul nodded. "Okay," he said, and dove back into the food on the table.
Maka leaned back in her seat, openly watching him. He didn't seem to mind, but his eating picked up pace. Tsubaki and Liz would have nagged and nagged, tugged on her sleeve for more information. But this man, who she barely knew, who barely knew her, left her to her thoughts, because she asked him to. How many other people would press and ask questions, herself included?
A waiter a red visor pushed a trolley full of cakes, pastries, and ice cream to their table. "Dessert?"
"Yeah," grunted Soul. "Leave the cart."
"Yessir," the waiter simpered, and left the cart laden with sweets beside them.
"Which do you want?" Soul asked, perusing the options. "Do you have a favorite? One of the guys back there makes a wicked red velvet cake. It's dyed red with beets, which sounds nasty, right, but it's actually really good."
"Who are you?" Maka asked incredulously. "And how can you eat so much?"
Soul snickered at Maka's stricken face. "Soul Evans: Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist- ow!" He rubbed his arm where Maka punched him. "No movie references, gotcha. Soul Evans," he said. He nudged her with his elbow before mumbling, "Your soulmate."
They walked mostly in silence, occasionally commenting on the weather or a passing car. They had shoving contests every few stop signs, which ended up with Maka forcing her entire weight on Soul, trying to push him into the street.
He walked with her until they were half a block from her home. She thought it was because, as she had explained blushingly to him during the trek, her father would be in and she did not want to deal with that introduction just yet. But as they walked past a line of elegant houses, with tall gates and acres of pristine grass, Soul wavered in front of a long drive way.
"My house is just on the next block…" Maka trailed off as Soul tugged out a key.
"I... kind of live... here," Soul said, twisting the key in his hand.
"Oh," Maka said, surprised. She gestured to the expansive home before them. "So this is what owning a restaurant chain earns you? I definitely went into the wrong business." She added a half-hearted laugh. If she counted, her house was probably two-hundred fifty steps away, across the street and down three houses.
"We're neighbors," Soul said, flatly.
"Nearly," Maka deadpanned.
They stood in silence as they both contemplated their situation. They were soulmates, destined to fall in love. They hardly knew anything about each other, yet they were practically neighbors.
"This is so weird," Maka said, her voice taut.
"Absolutely," Soul agreed.
"But it's not… bad," she admitted.
Soul's mouth quirked up, the dimple in his cheek making another appearance. "No," he replied, reaching out to take her hand. "Not bad."
His hand is warm around hers, a perfect fit, and Maka didn't try to speak or explain, didn't bother withdrawing her palm. She let the moment rest, let it fill her up.
Soul stared down at their joined hands. "Sorry I made you wait," he mumbled. "Ten years is a long time."
Maka felt a smile creep up her face, bittersweet, and she squeezed his hand. "You're here now."
"And I'm here to stay," he said, his red eyes piercing her. "If you want."
Why did his words feel like some sort of proposal? Maybe because it was, sort of. They were soulmates, sure, but accepting it, accepting each other, was on a whole other level.
Ten years was a long time. The rest of their lives would be a long time, too.
"Yeah," Maka replied, mouth dry. "I want."
Soul flashed her a smile, bright and brilliant. "Alright," he said, bouncing on his heels. He looked like an oversized, over-excited puppy in a leather jacket. "I'll call you tomorrow?"
They exchanged numbers quickly, their faces red and their hands shaking, like preteens with their first crush. He waved to her sheepishly as she walked away towards her house, away from him for the night, for only a few hours.
For the first time for as long as she could remember, she was looking forward to the rest of her life.