(Author's Note: Being sick SUCKS. But on to more important things, such as this chapter... I know that I don't write much with Liz and Patty but it's because they're actually going to have their own mini-series that I'm currently planning title Liz and Patty's Misadventures Down Under. Review, favorite, and have fun!)
Chapter Eleven: Time to Depart for the Ball!
For a long time I just sat there, unable to decide whether laughing or crying was what I wanted. While part of me was glad he was gone – less distraction that way – the majority wanted to run after him and beat on his door until he opened it. What I would do after that? I was still unsure. All I knew was that something about that closed door felt very, very wrong.
"You've done it now, Kai." My fingers laced together, slightly wet from the few drops I had allowed to be released from my eyes.
Strengthening my resolve, I got to my feet and glanced down at the dress that lay on my bed, half-forgotten in my rage. It seemed a shame to wear it now that my escort was pissed as hell at me, but… there were no other options. Plus, Warren should be at the ball and I would hate to disappoint my true meister.
Everything in my head was so confusing, a testament to why I was still suspicious of the Exchange Program's function. Why would you split up some of the most effective weapon/meister pairs? Sure, it could be argued that putting them with different partners would strengthen them. Hell, it could probably argued that it would weaken some as well! And who's to say the two can even resonate? I tapped my chin, keeping my eyes from turning back to Black*Star's door, and tried to work it through in my head. I knew I probably wasn't as cunning as Lord Death, but there had to be a simple explanation, right? What other reason would there be for splitting up already well-made teams and send them to other branches?
I sighed, already tired of thinking. I was worn from the emotional stress. It wasn't like I was part of Team Maka or anything; my sleuthing would amount to nothing. In fact, if I were being honest, I wasn't all that special as a weapon either. There were countless others similar in style to I, and they didn't have the… issues that I had. They weren't infected by madness like I was. They were safe to resonate with for prolonged periods of time, without pills. Closing my eyes, pressing the heels of my palms to my eyelids, I wasted some time by feeling sorry for myself. In all seriousness I was rather useless. Disagreeable. Angry. A loner. I didn't know what I was doing, talking to people and pretending I could ever be normal. It was laughable.
"Moping won't do any good, Kai." I whispered to myself, taking the dress in my hands. I held it up to my body and looked at myself in the mirror. It worked well with my hair, surprisingly. The burgundy was just enough red that it didn't look bad at all, but actually rather good. I placed it back on the bed and jumped in the shower to begin my preparations. After a quick scrub and shave, a thorough soaping of my hair, I ran back out and began with drying my hair. Next came makeup, though I kept it simple and dark. Thick black eyeliner lined my eyes, making the gray look like silver. A pale, shimmery lipgloss to give my lips a bit of shine. I skipped foundation because other than a few freckles, my skin was flawless.
As an afterthought, I grabbed my vial of anti-madness pills and took them back into my room, stuffing them into a backpack with a change of clothes and several other necessities. Knowing Black*Star, he might want to skip coming straight home and want to go right out on a mission. It was better to be over-prepared than have not prepared at all. A gut instinct told me that it was the right choice to bring the bag with me to the ball, no matter how tacky it might look to anyone who bothered to give me a second glance.
Finally came the dress. I glanced at the clock, amazed that nearly an hour and a half had already passed. Though I was still far from in the mood for a party there was no denying that even going through the motions of being excited was bringing me a bit of happiness. Not much, but enough to make me feel a bit lighter than lead.
The dress fit me perfectly, following the curves that I often hid under baggy clothing. Exposed, the skin of my shoulders looked to be like porcelain. If I wasn't feeling so dark I might have admired myself, but currently I barely spared myself a passing glance before slipping on my heels and going to set up a mirror for our departure. It was the same one, I realized, that Black*Star had used the first night to call the rest of Team Maka. The glass had somehow remained intact – many of the mirrors I had owned had fallen prey to whatever was causing them to break whenever I tried to call Warren. I set it up this time so Black*Star and I could easily walk through it.
There I stood, my hands folded together in front of me. My wild red waves were untamed and allowed to go free, my red asymmetrical bangs pulled into a side-braid that came around my head like a crown. Gray eyes stared at me, always sparkling with an amusement I didn't often feel; they practically belonged to someone else.
"Are you ready?"
The way Black*Star asked, it seemed more like something someone would say before going into battle than going to a ball. He looked quite handsome, though he had ditched his suit jacket somewhere. The sleeves of his white shirt had been rolled up past his elbows, his black vest buttoned up. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets as if he were uncomfortable but he met my eyes with a steady, unwavering stare. This side of Black*Star, the serious and mature-acting one, was a side that I wasn't sure that I liked. I missed his lighthearted ways, even if he often made me irreversibly angry. He wasn't the same if he wasn't bouncing off of the walls.
I wondered if I had messed everything up.
I wondered if it wasn't a bad thing, for him, that I had.
I nodded sharply, watching him carefully as he came to stand next to me and offered his arm.
I took it.
Maka Albarn looked over herself once more in the mirror. The dress she had chosen, after hours of shopping, looked pretty good if she said so herself. Brie had spent an enormous amount of time doing her hair and makeup. Her ash-blonde locks lay in perfect ringlets around her face which had a softening effect that even worked on her piercing green eyes. The makeup – by Maka's firm request – was light, and with natural colors, but anyone who knew her would be able to tell a slight difference. Maka looked in the mirror… and saw a girl who looked a lot like her mom. It made her happy to think that wherever she was, a piece of her was still here.
Brie, having finished her own styling needs in a fourth the time she had taken to do her meister's, was wriggling into her dress. Maka watched in mild amusement as the petite French girl's dress got caught on her hips. There was a small moment where she wondered if the small girl was going to fall over, but fortunately she stayed upright. Pouting, Brie turned towards her friend and silently pleaded for help, which Maka quickly provided.
"That's better! For a second my poor posterior couldn't breathe!" Brie sighed contentedly, now freed.
Maka giggled as her friend collapsed on her bed, faking death. "It couldn't have been that bad! You're so small, even compared to me!"
"Hey, who's calling who small, Pancake?" Brie teased, using her nickname for Maka. "But anyways, we have more important things to talk about!" The blonde girl sat up excitedly, "Are you ready to see Soul?"
Maka blushed a deep red, a denial on the tip of her tongue before her brain even processed quite what was going on. Our hero's feelings for her weapon had grown oddly stronger while they were apart. At times when they were talking on the mirror Maka almost wondered if maybe Soul felt the same way, but it almost felt wrong to think of him like that. A bit like dating a fourth cousin, twice removed: no matter how distantly, they were still family! And she didn't even want to think about what would happen if things went sour. Their entire partnership could be ruined over a stupid little lover's squabble.
Again the meister felt her cheeks color. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I suppose.
"I'm always ready to see Soul, he's my weapon!" Maka answered smoothly, avoiding Brie's eyes and suddenly becoming very interested in the bedspread. It just wasn't logical to try that with Soul, though Maka couldn't deny that she cared about him a lot. They'd been through so much together: Medusa, Arachne, and Asura. Without him Maka didn't know if she would have ever had the strength to keep fighting the kishin.
Brie scoffed, "You know what I'm talking about. And you're not dodging the subject that easily, miss! I see the way you look at him when you two talk. And I see the way he looks at you. There's no doubt!"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Brie!" Maka assured with a roll of her eyes, "Soul and I are partners and that's all. He wouldn't have any interest in me anyways, not with what Blaire's put him through the last few years. Have you seen my chest?" Thinking about the many mornings that she'd walked in on the often naked cat smothering the just-waking Soul Eater made her shudder.
"Blind!" Brie sang, nudging Maka with her shoulder, "The boy obviously cares about you, and you care about him. What's the big deal?"
"Of course he cares about me, he's my weapon," Maka returned her gaze to her fingers, studying the calluses on her palms. "And I don't want to end up like my Mama and Papa, alright? I don't want Soul to realize he's not satisfied with a flat-chested thing like me and find out he's been stepping out on me."
The weapon sitting beside her was silent for a moment after Maka's confession. It had come from the heart, and matched the sadness on her face as she said it. Maka truly thought that Soul was capable of hurting her like that. Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he really did care about her. What Maka knew, though, was that even the possibility of being vulnerable to someone in that way was frightening in a way that no kishin or witch ever had been to her. She knew that wounds would heal and scars would fade, but a heart was a different matter. She saw it in the way her mother had looked at her father after the divorce.
"Maka," Brie said softly, putting a hand on the girl's arm, "I may not know Soul very much, but from what I do know I can tell you that he isn't the type to do something like that to someone he cares about."
A tiny flicker of hope flared in Maka's chest, right by her heart. "You really think so?"
"I know so."
Just then Maka's alarm went off on the bedside table, signaling that it was time to travel through the mirror. The two girls grinned at each other in excitement. The sentimentality and seriousness dissipated quickly as they rushed around to collect a few last-minute things before standing in front of the mirror.
Soul Eater Evans stood in front of the mirror in a black pinstripe suit, much like the one that he was always wearing when he met with the demon inside his head. This one didn't feel the same but was still cool enough that Soul figured it wouldn't matter after a while. Plus, he didn't want to offend Nanuk by asking for a more simple – and definetly more loose – suit from his closet. Tugging, once again, at his tie, Soul watched a bead of sweat slither down his cheek. Why was he so nervous? This was so uncool. It was only a ball, after all. It wasn't like it was a piano recital; no one would even be paying attention to him except for the rest of Team Maka.
There. That was it. That was the reason Soul was so nervous, he knew it the second he thought of her name. It had been six months since he had seen his meister in the flesh. Six months since he had resonated with her soul. He had never considered how precious their connection was, how strong a bond they had. She was just there. She cooked and cleaned, put up with his teasing, helped him when he needed to study and stayed home to take care of him when he was sick. Hell, she worried so much about making sure she was a strong enough meister for him that sometimes pissed him off but at the same time he couldn't help but find that flattering.
No wonder his ego was so damn big.
Nanuk, the white-haired Russian meister Soul had been paired with, was an excellent meister. After two months they had been able to complete a full resonance, building up to Witch Hunter like it was nothing. Soul didn't push for Genie Hunter. It felt a little uncool to share that experience with anyone other than Maka. Soul knew it was pretty stupid of him to think that way considering someday he would be Lord Death's weapon – not Maka's – but he couldn't help but be uncool when it came to thinking like that.
At that very moment Nanuk walked in, a powdery blue suit on. If anyone else had been wearing it Soul might have made a joke, but on Nanuk it wasn't all that uncool. Considering he was gay, it really made sense for him to pull it off, Soul supposed. Not to mention he always had a way of walking – sort of bouncy and happy – that made you not want to burst his bubble. Like taking candy from a kid; totally uncool.
"Are you ready?" Soul asked, staring at the meister through the mirror.
In response, Nanuk fiddled with his cufflinks one more time. Then he checked that his hair was in place, that his pits didn't stink, and that his shoes were shined to perfection. Though he had decorated the entire room pink (Soul had quickly fixed that after he had arrived) he wasn't really a stereotypical 'girly gay'. When it came to looking nice Nanuk was much like Kid was with his obsession with symmetry, but way less severe.
"You look cool," Soul flashed his shark-like teeth in a grin, "Now come on, I can't wait any more."
"You just want to see Maka," Nanuk let out a big breath, gave himself a reassuring nod, and walked up next to Soul.
"Alright, let's go now."
Tsubaki twirled in the mirror, staring with wide eyes. Snow watched as she did so, taking in the beauty of the Japanese weapon. Tonight was going to be interesting, especially with all she had told him about Black*Star. He was expecting the bluenette to attempt to stake his claim over Tsubaki within the first few moments. This was one of the times that Snow did not yet know what he would do in reaction. The smart thing would be to let him have his way tonight and return to her side… but that wouldn't be an option. Tonight was the last night that he would be able to do something like this and he so wanted to.
The Japanese girl turned to look at her meister, assessing his expression. He was always so hard to read; his eyes so dark. His wide lips gave nothing away, not even a smile. It was still strange, even after six months, to have gone from someone as expressive as Black*Star to someone as silent as Snow.
Meister and weapon faced each other, counting down the time until they had to be going in each other's eyes. Something was building, something slow and simmering and strange hummed silently in both of their chests. They teetered on the edge of a cliff and there was nowhere to go but forward, nowhere to look but towards each other, but neither was sure if they were ready. Tentatively Tsubaki took a slight step forward, maintaining eye contact, wondering why it felt like the entire world was paused for this. She was more nervous than she ever had been before, which was saying a lot considering she had been pretty nervous at times with Black*Star around.
Silence was their enemy and their best friend. Neither was yet willing to cross the line, neither was willing to pretend it wasn't there. Both wanted what was on the other side but neither were sure if it was the best idea. The slight darkness of the mud hut masked the battling thoughts that they both had written clearly on their faces. Snow was silently urging himself to take the leap. To say something. Instead, as usual, he stayed silent and still as if he were out hunting.
"Snow," Tsubaki said quietly, "What are we doing?"
The meister didn't have an answer, not a verbal one anyways. He matched her small step forward with one slow stride, which she then countered. Before he knew it they were nearly touching. As he was several inches taller he had to tilt his chin down slightly to meet her eyes. What were they doing? As far as Snow was concerned they had passed the extent of his knowledge on relationships the second he'd developed feelings for her.
"I do not know," he admitted, shyly placing a soft hand on her forearm.
"Oh," she gasped softly, sliding into his arms as he slowly wrapped them around her waist.
Was he moving too fast? No, he didn't think so. Things had been building for six months. Six months he'd waited and gotten to know her, falling slowly in ways he wasn't supposed to. This was wrong, so wrong, and she might just hate him later but he couldn't help but do it. Just once.
He ducked his head slightly, slowly, incrementally so that she would have all the time in the world to say no. Later tonight he knew that she would be back with Black*Star, maybe even discovering that she was still in love with him like she had been when she had first come. Right now she was his and there was no one here to tell him otherwise. No duty, no rules…
The kiss was soft and sweet. It was like a bit of cotton candy after a year without sugar. Tsubaki couldn't help but notice how firm his hands felt on his waist, how gentle that mouth was. It must have only lasted a split second, but it was the longest second she'd ever felt.
"It is time to go." Snow said softly as they parted, leaving Tsubaki oddly disappointed. Was that all he had to say?
She nodded and turned away for a moment, pressing a hand to her chest and pleading with her heart to make it slow down. Her other hand touched her lips softly, her eyes closing as she ran through what had just happened again. When she was under her own control again she stepped towards were Snow was waiting by the mirror, putting on a calm expression. Snow must have noticed something was off, however, because he took her hand in his and the smallest, purest of smiles lit his face. Tsubaki's heart soared in the most cliché of ways as he squeezed slightly before writing the digits in the fog his breath made.
Though they didn't know it, though none of them were even in the same country, each of Team Maka approached the mirror at the same time. Kid, Nikolai, and Bastian. Liz and Patty, and Rex and Hollin. Maka and Brie. Soul and Nanuk. Tsubaki and Snow. Black*Star and Kai. All wrote the same digits on the mirror, each uttering the same words:
"42-42-561, if you're attending the ball at Death's Mansion."