"Love is a difficult realization that something other than oneself is real" -Iris Murdock
The mind is a funny thing, especially in regards to its imagination. When Maka imagined her first kiss, she guiltily played it out in her head like a movie: herself in a long flowing dress silhouetted against a warm setting sun, with hidden angels lightly playing golden harps while a nameless figure held her gently by the waist. In her little fictional reality, the breeze blew the airy light scent of thousands of wildflowers from the meadow they were in, shifting her hair a bit into the faceless figure's, his cue to swoop her up in his strong arms while bending her at the waist with a hand on the small of her back, like in every romance. They would both be giggling softly as white doves cooed from above, and the steadily darkening sky shimmered with millions emerging stars, a perfect Van Gogh sky their backdrop.
To give reality some credit, it was pretty dark in the hallway, there probably were some pigeons on the window ledge in the kitchen, and if she focused hard enough, she could smell the air freshener hanging in the closet, which wasn't too bad, even though it was New Car smell.
Surprised as she was, she was nearly positive Soul was even more caught off guard by his sudden action. Leaning against the wall with him holding up the toweled mess for her, her own hands awkwardly placed above her head held by his, not in any way the seductive manner characteristic of that position, she could do little else but wait, what for, she wasn't entirely sure, but it could take all the time it needed.
The gentle, unsure pressure on her lips was sweeter than she expected it to be, but was hardly the sole cause of her creeping blush. Frozen in mortification from the onset, her eyes were open and at the mercy of his, betraying the calm front she was trying to imitate. The worst part was, not that there were too many as she would later reflect, him searching for something in her face, some morsel of relief or enjoyment or something she wasn't sure what, but knew enough to know he couldn't find it.
In all honestly, she didn't know how long they stayed like that in the musty hall, his lips on her reluctant ones. All she knew for sure, because her mind was half blank from shock, was that if he didn't pull away soon to let her breath she might faint. And what a story that would be.
Despite not being exactly what she expected and her nameless figure not at all the knight in shining armor she imagined, more like a court jester in tin foil, she couldn't say it was necessarily the worst experience in her life. Court jester or king, he could kiss.
After the initial shock melted away, the gentle warmth that spread throughout her from where they touched was surprisingly calming, even if it somehow managed to raise her pulse with each passing second, or minute, or hour. That was the great conundrum of it all, how something so straightforward could be so paradoxical at the same time. It far outweighed the any description she ever read from Blair's novels under the cover of her bed covers.
Above all, the total absence of repulsion she waited for agitated her. Not the least bit disgusted, she found to enjoy the spreading warmth and fuzzy feeling building up in the pit of her stomach, she could almost say she enjoyed it. Encouraged by her lack of resistance, he leaned in closer and pressed her harder against cheap wallpaper. Then, impulsively, she closed her eyes and kissed him back for just a second, but was sure he felt it before the doorbell rang, causing him to jump away and her to quickly secure the fabric around herself.
Suddenly broken from an embarrassing spell, and sent barreling back to a tepid reality, they meet each other's eyes for scarcely a millisecond and went their separate ways quickly, Maka rushing to her room and Soul to the door in some understood silence.
Finally to safety, Maka shut the door and fell against it, listening to the persistent ringing and banging which she knew was characteristic of BlackStar's coming. And with a swish of the door signaled by change in air pressure moving her door and a booming voice reverberating off the walls, Maka's guess was verified.
As she half listened to their chatter about something, she couldn't quite recall what because of the blood pounding in her ears, she noticed only uncharacteristically trite and hollowed responses from Soul, and knowing what their lack-luster was attributed to it triggered another creeping blush.
For someone as intelligent as herself, she was quite an idiot. Though the interruption should have been a godsend, she couldn't suppress a rising sense of disappointment that she couldn't quite place. And that worried her, to the point where she stared blankly at the wall in attempt to make heads and tails of it all.
A warm shower is what she needed, wait no she just got out of the shower, she needed clothes, that's what, Maka thought, her mind still running circles. After trying to pull up her pant sleeve on her arm, Maka decided to sit down and calm herself before taking on the grand task of dressing herself.
After her heart stopped thudding to the beat of Staying Alive, which took much longer and far too much pacing than she would admit, she forced herself to lie in bed and think the situation through the only way she knew how, logically.
Though still confused with her own impulsive action in kissing him back, which she prayed went unnoticed, but knew in her heart of hearts it wasn't, the kiss itself didn't surprise her as much now that she was away from him. Finally, the months, maybe even years, of sly remarks she thought were ways to embarrass her, became apparent, nearly causing her to smack herself for her own stupidity. Maybe Soul was right, maybe she was hardheaded, but if she was then he was an idiot by default. And maybe she just needed a good, hard, Maka chop to set things straight.
She listened to the boys' intermittent yells and jeers as they were either watching a game or playing one, she couldn't really tell, but nothing in the world could get her to leave. And so she waited, for what exactly, she wasn't positive, but soon she heard a change in tone to lower, more deliberative talking, and wished she could hear exactly what they were saying, paranoid they were discussing her. She was almost tempted to chug the glass of water on her nightstand and place it against the door to listen through as done in the movies, but deliberated for too long, and they went back to their customary loudness.
"Yeah, I'll tell everyone, this will be the shit I'm telling ya," BlackStar bellowed as if her neighbors weren't sleeping as most people did at 1 o'clock in the morning.
"I don't know if it's a good idea, I don't think Maka will appreciate a party, not after what happened last time." Blackstar quieted for a moment, weighing his options.
"Oh, but who cares what that nag thinks, it's your party not hers, oh and anyway," his voice went down an octave, but didn't lower much in volume, "did you finally- damn it Soul I'll fucking kill you." Maka heard a hard thump followed by some tousling and some things falling to the floor with dull thumps, rolling away with a sound a whole lot like what she expected the bowl of lemons on the kitchen table to sound on the kitchen floor.
"Whatever I'm leaving, but don't worry 'bout anything, Tsubaki and I will figure it all out." He said the last half from outside the doorway, Maka could tell by the way his voice carried, and then heard the shut and the lock click as Soul did the nightly rounds of shutting off lights and straightening up, normally her job.
Not entirely sure of the meaning of their conversation, she surmised that they were probably having some sort of party, and then suddenly realized tomorrow was Soul's birthday.
They normally didn't have parties or celebrations, maybe a cake or a prank gift, but BlackStar seemed pretty excited, leading her to think it might happen after all. And in a way that was a good thing, she now didn't have to decide whether or not to be alone with him, but she couldn't help to feel a small ache of disappointment gnawing on her heartstrings. What was wrong with her? She knew what Blair would say, but this couldn't be love. Love was supposed to be light and sweet, not painful and confusing. And maybe she had been overestimating her intelligence, because boy, did she have a lot to learn.
Thanks! More coming- uh- soon...