The rest of the story will be in first person. :) Also: italics= song lyrics
Disc: I don't own anything but the plot line.
Chapter 2
If you haven't noticed yet, I have a lot of quirks. For example, running away from harmless people who only want to know my name. It's a shame, but it's who I am.
Another one of my fun little idiosyncrasies would be my inability to sleep without closing up the shop. So here I am, waiting for the nuisance pianist to leave so I can leave. But he won't. Because he is a bastard.
I can tell he knows that I won't leave until he has. He's picked up on it throughout the 4 months he's been working here. I groan loud enough for him to hear but he just continues to clean the keys of the piano for the sixth time that night, as if he didn't hear me. His smirk gives away that he, in fact, did hear me. Therefore, I shall dub thee, bastard.
Sid is long gone. I look to the clock. It's midnight. We've been playing this stupid 'let's see who gives in first' game ever since seven. I'm sick of it. I walk up to him and stick my face right up to his.
"It's late. You should probably go home."
"What kind of man leaves a woman to walk home alone?" I smirk at this. He left me such a good opportunity to burn him here.
"I don't know, someone who would like to keep his man parts in tact?" he laughs. Throughout our time together working in the restaurant, we had developed a very strange, but strong friendship. Unlike everyone else I come into contact with, I can have lengthy conversations with him. Well, the term 'conversation' would be used quite lightly. It's more like an insult competition. But it's all in fun and we can be civil any time we want to.
"How adorable. Maka, I could end you if I wanted to." He pats my head and walks to the bar area.
"Oh shut up. You're all talk. you could never hurt me." I give him an angelic face as he pours two glasses of vodka and rum and sets them down on the bar. I meander over and pick up one of the two glasses. "Soul, really though, you need to leave soon. I'm tired." He glances up at me from behind the rim of his glass before giving me his answer.
"Fine." This is all he says. He doesn't demand any further explanation for anything and that is probably why we became friends so easily. I do something strange. He doesn't ask questions. Sid was right about us after all. I smile and take up both his glass and mine. He grabs his coat and keys and waits at the door for me to come too.
"Come on. It's cold. I'll give you a lift." I shake my head. You see, Soul decided, at whatever age he was, that motorcycles are cool. He could have bought his first one at any age, really. My assumption is that he's been a moron his whole life. Anyway, the only vehicle he has is an orange one. Yeah, I know, orange. Regardless of the poor color choice, there is no way in hell I'm getting on a motorcycle. Those things will kill you. "It's not dangerous. Quit being a pansy and let's go."
It's not fair that he can read my mind. Plus, last time I checked, I was a girl. His insult is invalid.
"I'm a straight woman," he scoffs at the word woman and blatantly stares at my chest, which I throw my arms over immediately, "not a gay man, you idiot. If you want your insults to have any effect, they have to make sense." He sighs.
"Okay, Tiny Tits then, let's go. It's realllllly cold. You may die and I'm not about to let that happen. What would life be without your annoying ass telling me what to do all the time?"
'You are so correct. If I die, you would too. Without me, would you even remember to eat? Walk? Breathe?"
"I wouldn't. Your purpose in life is to serve me, Maka."
Laughing, I give in, remembering my rule to always agree. It seems that I start to forget about them whenever Soul is around. Maybe I'm getting too close to him-
"-Here's a helmet." He throws it. I catch it easily and hop on the back of his orange motorcycle. It's not even a nice orange. It's gaudy. I voice my thoughts. "Hey! Orange is a cool color." he veers sharply to the side and I grab him tighter in fear. Then I smack him when I hear his snickers.
"Ass."
"Don't hit the driver unless you want him to crash." He turns to me and asks my address, which I tell him almost instantaneously. The conversation ends there as he picks up speed.
I'm seriously getting too close to this person. I'm sure he'll leave me soon.
Like everyone else has.
The motorcycle stops all of a sudden and I look up to see my apartment complex glaring down at me. I really don't want to go in. I've always hated it. It's dark and shadowy and there is never a dull moment. You see, the complex houses many drug dealers and wanted criminals. Fights erupt daily, if not hourly. Why have I not moved or turned them in yet, you may ask. I answer, I value my life and I have barely enough money to pay for even this dirt bucket. Sid has offered me a chance to live with him, but then I would owe him. Rule number 7-never have a debt to pay back to someone. You never know what they could want in return. I hope off the bike and, to my surprise, so does Soul.
"I'm not going to let you walk up alone. I've heard of his place. Why do you even live here?" I stare at him and he lets it go, already knowing the answer. I allow him to walk me upstairs and blush when he wraps an arm around me protectively. He's glaring at every man we pass. He's like the father I never had. No, that's not quite it. Not a father, I'm not sure what I would call him.
We reach my door and I open it up without the need of the key. It's not like the doors actually lock or anything. I see Soul staring in shock at the state of my apartment. It's dank and dirty, but it's all I have.
"Thanks for wal-" he brushes past me and sits on my little couch. He looks back to me. "I don't remember inviting you in."
"Short term memory loss sucks." I try to scowl but it's ruined by the laugh that comes out with his quick, witty, effortless response. He smiles crookedly.
"I wish I had tea or something." he nods as if to say, "Yeah, that would have been nice," and "I don't really care," at the same time. Sometimes, the emotion he can show is incredible. I join him on the couch and lean back. "So here's the tour. My bed folds out over there, and here are the beautiful, rotting plants. Over there is the termite infestation and-"
"-Maka, do you need a place to stay?"
"Yes." He nods and before I can tell him that I can't do anything about it, he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder and we are out of the apartment. "First off, picking me up is a no-no." He grins at this and readjusts me. I scowl some more, knowing he purposefully put me in a more uncomfortable position. "And secondly, I can't leave here. I have no where else to go!"
"My place. It's not great, but it's better than there."
"I'm going to act like your kidnapping me if you don't put me down now."
"I hate to break it to you, but these people won't care." Okay, officially pissed. Pissed because he's right and pissed because of the shitty living conditions I have.
"Put me down now."
"I just can't do that, Maka. I'm going to help you. Just shut up and let it happen."
"You don't understand. You CAN'T do this to me." He sets me down.
"You need to get rid of those damn rules you live by." How does he know about them? I've never told anyone in my life.
"How do you.."
"I can read you like a book." With that, he picks me back up and carries me all the way to his motorcycle. I, being in shock, do nothing to stop him as he places his helmet on me and starts to drive away. He grabs my arms and puts them around his waist. "Hold on or you'll fall off." He says this in a light tone, as if he didn't just break down my world.
We reach his apartment and we take the elevator up to the third floor. I've never been on an elevator before. We step out onto the carpeted hallway, another luxury my complex didn't have, and go up to the wooden door with the number 42 on a plaque to the left of it. He brings out his keys and opens up the door to reveal a spacious room.
"My parents pay for it. They're rich. I'm not. They told me if I didn't stay in a nice place, people would talk. I buy everything else, which is why the furnishings aren't as nice. No one comes inside anyway and my parents know it." I blink. He has a balcony. A kitchen. Two bedrooms. A television. He has everything. I let him dropping the 'p' word slide and walk out to the balcony to look at the sky. It's prettier here then it is at my apartment. He has a lawn chair sitting on the balcony with a small table right next to it. On top of the table is a small notebook. I'll investigate that later. He attempts to join me, but I have too much to see! I can't stay in one place! I slip by him and run to the next place. He has a small cooking surface in the middle of his kitchen. Cabinets line the walls and he has a large stove next to a humongous refrigerator.
Opening the fridge, I realize that, despite the fabulous apartment, he really is poor. A jug of milk, a half-empty carton of eggs, and a six-pack are all that occupy the large space. I hear him close the balcony door. Time to move on. I migrate to the first door but before I have time to open it, a hand falls on mine.
"This one is mine. You're the other one." I skip to the other door after smiling up at him. I take a breath and open the door. There isn't anything in it, but it's beautiful. It's a light red, almost pink, color and it has a huge bay window facing the rest of Death City. You could even see the DWMA, the local school, from here! A small closet was to the left of me. I hear him come in behind me and I turn to face him.
"Let's put it like this. I'm helping you pay the rent for your place. Together, we can afford more things. You aren't saving me."
"If that's what you want." He ran his hand through his hair and went out into our living room.
The main door led to the living room and it was all white. White walls, white couch, white table. A small television also occupied the area. He was spread out completely on the couch with the TV on. A commercial appeared on the screen and I took a seat on the floor, leaning against our couch. He hit me in the head with his foot. What a winner. A new commercial was on. It wasn't a commercial though. It was one of those music videos they used to play all the time when I was a kid. Soul shifted and then got off the couch completely.
I love the way she fills her clothes, she looks just like them girls in vogue. I love the way she plays it cool. I think that she is beautiful.
He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. He then grabs both of them and starts to dance with me. Not a formal, nice dance. Oh no, it was madness. He twirls me and dips me and just plain moves around with me.
She's so lovely. She's so lovely. She's so lovely. She's so lovely.
He starts singing along and I can't help but join him. We were like children, dancing and singing to no one in particular. The song was reaching its end and it slowed ever so slightly. Soul picked up on this and slowed himself, simply holding my hands and swaying. He continues to sing, but this time, it feels like he's singing to me. That's crazy though. No way was he doing that.
I think that you are lovely. I think that you are lovely. I think that you are lovely. I think that you are beautiful.
The song picks back up and he's back to his wild dancing. The song reaches the end and before either of us could say anything about what had just occurred, the phone rings. He makes no move to get it, or even move, opting to just hold my hands and stare at me.
"Aren't you going to-"
"-let the answering machine get it? Yes, I am." he smirks. I gulp and nod. He smiles a genuine smile at me, then brakes away to check his message. This was not the Soul I knew. What happened to the sarcasm? The nastiness he always possessed? The self-involvement? Since when did he lose his "cool." I'm pretty sure he thought dancing was uncool. Plus, he was being so sweet. Since when did that happen? It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, just different. An annoying voice cut through my thoughts.
"Soul! It's your god. How dare you not answer! Dude, if you miss another meeting, Kim will be pissed," another voice cut in, " not to mention you'll have to start the program over. If you ever want to get out, you have to show up, Soul." The same voice from earlier came back again. "Kidd! Give me the phone! Anyway, let's get hammered after the next meeting, okay? See ya!"
"Those idiots," I hear Soul mumble.
"Who were they?" He gets this look in his eye, like a little kid who just thought of a way to steal a cookie out of the jar. My prior thoughts of him being a sweetie disappear.
"Hey Maka, it's Saturday, right?" I nod. "And we don't have work on Sunday, right?" I nod again. "I have a couple friends I want you to meet tomorrow night."
"Don't be an idiot. I can't go."
"And why ever not, my dear?" I falter.
"I'm busy."
"Busy with what? Your cats?" Okay. I don't have cats. Please. I may be a recluse, but I'm not a crazy cat lady. "I thought one of you're rules was to always agree?" Damn him knowing about my rules. "It will be fun. Please? For me?" Sid's favorite phrase to say. And it always pisses me off. But when I turn to look at him and say no, I break down into laughter at the completely ridiculous face he was making. It seemed he had picked up on the fact that Sid repeats this to me frequently because he was currently trying to make an impression of Sid and a puppy dog at the same time. Without thinking, I agree and he grabs my hand. I look up at him in surprise. "A handshake. No take backs." I sigh.
"Right. No take backs." He gestures me to my room and says a quick good night before disappearing behind his own door. It's one in the morning. He seems to of forgotten that I don't have a bed. Whatever. I settle into the couch for the night. This is as good a place to sleep as any.
A/N: The song they danced to is called "She's So Lovely" by Scouting for Girls. It's way cute. Don't let the repetitiveness shown in the story keep you from listening to it. Really though. It's adorable. Review! Please? For me? :3