Maka became certain of two things as she slowly got up from the floor of the bathroom: that cold tiles must feel like heaven when on the verge of passing out in alcohol induced exhaustion, and that she would never, ever put a red plastic cup to her lips again. Rubbing out a knot in her neck, she finally managed to stand up on shaky legs with a helping hand from the bathroom sink. She screwed her face up in a squint to block the streaks of morning light shining in through the blinds. Who knew light could be so painful? The interminable pounding in her head made it difficult to focus on anything, adding to her amounting misery.
She glanced into the worn mirror above the sink and recoiled at her worn image in disbelief and self-pity. Only one pigtail survived the night, with strands of hair lying in tendrils around her, strays plastered to her neck. There were bags under her eyes from smudged mascara, confusing her since she didn't even own a tube of it. She tore her eyes away from herself quickly and ran cold water, splashing some on her face before angling her lips under the stream and taking a few much needed swallows to sooth her sore parched throat. While still avoiding any reflective surface, she brushed her teeth quickly, glad to get the stale taste out of her mouth, turning on the shower simultaneously.
It amazed her that even after a long hot shower the grogginess and her persistent headache refused to fade. Changing back into last night's clothes, which were in a better state than her, she opened the bathroom door and walked out into the drier air of the hall and made a beeline for her room. Once there, she half-sat half-fell onto the mattress and rolled over face first into a pillow, hands over her aching head. Despite feeling exhausted she knew there was no way she could fall asleep, even if the pounding stopped. The silence of her bedroom helped a little, and soon it subsided enough for her to sit up, knees to her chest with her head resting on them.
Screwing her face up in thought and a discomfort she couldn't quite place, she tried to remember the specifics of what had happened, but last night seemed like one large amorphous jumble of rope she had to untangle. She remembered her stay in the bathroom just fine, losing count of the times she threw up at around five making her mingling hangover feel not so bad in comparison.
And yet something scratched at the back of her mind, some memory that felt important, though just out of reach as words could be on a tongue. Whatever it was, it felt important enough for her to attempt to piece together so she tried remembering, not knowing that forgetting would be all she wanted after.
She wasn't at all excited to have so many people over in their tiny apartment, especially before she and Soul had a chance to figure out exactly what happened in the hall the night before, and if it would be impractical to hope they could go on as before, which she highly doubted. But the party would go on, as according to BlackStar's unannounced arrival.
She could almost hear the breaking of picture frames and the outbreak of some ego-induced brawl that BlackStar was bound to get in, making the only thing worse than her current situation to be a surprise visit from her father, a thought at which she literally knocked on wood despite not being superstitious; that was something she could never afford to risk.
By some godsend, the party committee onto which Maka was forced despite her futile attempts to get out of, managed to usher a half-asleep Soul out the front door before a word could be said, or look passed between them to Maka's pleasure. Why deal with her problems now if they'd just be there tomorrow?
And so Patty, self proclaimed leader of the committee and creator of the party committee plan, or PCP as she called it until Maka decided to enlighten her about her choice of acronym, devoted herself to helping, though in reality hampering, the effort. The next few hours consisted of ordering food, half hearted decorating with cheap streamers and balloons, and inviting guests, none of which BlackStar thought important enough to do prior to the date, becoming the main force behind why it all turned out so crappy.
Eventually, after many stupidity begotten Maka-chops on BlackStar, they somehow managed to make the shabby apartment look worse. And then Kidd came in to help, 3 hours late because of crisis in which the black bedspread he bought didn't exactly match the shade of black of the mugs on each nightstand. He nearly died upon seeing their attempts to decorate, and volunteered to fix up the, "hellish mess belonging to Satan himself" they created. So he was made official decoration fixer, which did really help the overall aesthetic of the place, and his help was worth it even if they were forced to listen to the occasional sob and mutter of their ineptitude as he straightened streamers and arranged everything from fruit bowls in the kitchen to their medicine cabinet in the bathroom.
Once a majority of the food had been set, decorations fixed, and cake placed on the table, Liz was sent out to find Soul and bring him back which took far longer than expected since no one exactly knew where he was. They all stood around the kitchen table and yelled "Happy Birthday" as the door opened, all except Patty who screamed "surprise" even though she was the one who called Soul just about an hour before to get his cake flavor preference. Maka fell back as they sung a round of Happy Birthday and he shifted his weight from foot to foot in discomfort.
For the most part, the party was pretty uneventful until the last few hours in her recollection. Other than forgetting to buy candles for the cake in their mad dash to prepare everything, in which BlackStar improvised by sticking in two large thin decorative candles from the living room and placing matches haphazardly for the remaining years, little happened otherwise.
Soul avoided her, and she him, so it always worked out in a way so that neither had to initiate the conversation they were bound to have eventually. So she spent most of the night eating the surprisingly good strawberry cake and talking to Tsubaki over the coffee table.
Just when the celebrations began to die down after an unannounced leave by BlackStar, the door swung open revealing him, Blair, and three large paper bags Maka instantly disapproved of even though ignorant of their contents. But she uncharacteristically kept her mouth shut as the bottles were placed on the tables with clinks, earning a strange look from BlackStar when her normal chastise for pushing her limits this didn't come along.
In all honestly, she just didn't want to make a scene that could potentially get Soul involved, especially in front of all their friends. So she took a step back from her normal parental position and let the boys drink all they want, her and Tsubaki only taking sips of whatever was passed to them in the red solo cups. At least their stupidity was amusing to them, as they got increasingly drunker and clumsier, tripping over one another as they made fools of themselves. At one point, a tipsy Blair decided to give Soul a present, which was, to no one's surprise, her in 'clothes' that looked more like fabric attached to string, making Soul pass out and her to be dragged away whining and pouting by an annoyed Kidd for causing Soul to knock over a strategically aligned bowl of fake fruit.
Watching them all was almost like a bad sitcom, and she was so immersed in their idiocy that when she placed to the cup to her lips for another small sip, she realized she must have drank it all without noticing. Feeling fine and thinking nothing of it she took up another cup, this one she nearly choked over as it burned down her throat, causing her to sputter and cough and making BlackStar look over tp her sitting alone on the couch.
"Who knew you'd go for something stronger!" BlackStar said as he sat roughly down next to her, earning him a look of displeasure. Unlike the others, no matter how much he drank, he never seemed the least bit impaired, just his idiotic self like always. She supposed since he was so drunk on life all the time, actual drinking had no effect on him. Maka rolled her eyes at him and set down the cup, which earned her an exaggerated pout, "Oh come on, you're gonna let me stop you! I thought you had more in you. Guess I was wrong." In annoyance, Maka tapped her fingers rhythmically on the table as he lifted his eye brows and took a large swing from his own cup. She took up her own and impulsively chugged it, trying her hardest not to sputter at the burning liquid, and remembered thinking who the hell actually liked this stuff. BlackStar's face shifted to that of surprise and he gave a small laugh,
"I'm impressed. How about we play a little game?" Maka's eyes narrowed in suspicion, she had inkling of what he was going to say, and not as all excited for it.
"What?" she said tritely, as he poured some more of something into her cup.
"I bet you can't keep up with me." He responded in such a condescending and prideful way that she itched to punch him, so as he put his own cup to his lips and took a sip she mimicked him wordlessly and he smiled as he walked away.
And the rest of the night went in that way, whenever he drank, she drank, until her head felt lighter and her movements more sluggish. Once she lost count, she noticed he wasn't taking the voracious gulps as before, slowing down considerably. The rest of the party went on in ignorance of their little bet, until the neighbors above them knocked and yelled to get out or go to sleep, threatening them with much explicit language. So they collectively decided to disband, BlackStar sitting down next to Maka before going, where he ruffled her hair affectionately, which her waterlogged mind allowed, or didn't completely register.
"Guess you win," he said with less animation than before, but in a sort of prideful way.
"I don't think either of us does," she answered as she tried to keep the room from spinning.
"I think you're right," he responded with a sigh, "how are you still awake, you're so tiny I thought you'd've passed out after the first, haha. You can really hold your liquor for sure!" he patted her on the back a little too hard and she cringed at the compliment if she could call it that. And after that he left along with the rest of the partygoers, the apartment reverted back to its usual semi-peacefulness, even though it swayed just a little more than usual.
Maka, tipsy and heavy-limbed, rested on the couch for a few more minutes, her problems with Soul completely leaving her mind until he walked in with a black trash bag throwing in empty cans and cups in some attempt to clean up a bit. Maka watched him move around half-avoiding her.
"What, you're not even going to talk to me?" she asked him without much thought, it was amazing how much alcohol can rob you of sense. He stopped what he was doing and looked over to her, hands resting on her head and the cushion holding her up, she must have looked like a mess.
"Didn't know you wanted to," he answered offhandedly, "So what then? You have anything to say?" She just shrugged in response, unsure of how to go from there, so she stood up a little shakily in front of him, meeting his eyes for the first time since last night. Another thing that alcohol can do, she realized, is give you courage, though at the expense of sense.
"Why did you kiss me?" She put it so bluntly and forcefully that even her drunken mind cringed a little at the awkward air it created. Soul let out a breath and put a hand to his hair in his normal nervous mannerism a creep of blush running across his face.
"I think you know, so stop this," he mumbled and looked away, unwilling to go on while she watched him so intently.
"Why didn't you say anything?" she answered, on the brink of annoyance. He contemplated his answer for a second, took a breath and almost angrily responded,
"What? Was I supposed to just out of the blue say, 'hey Maka, I've always had this weird crush on you but could never say anything because I thought you were too good for me and didn't want to weird you out so I digressed to doing things to make you notice me instead of saying that I loved you-" He stopped suddenly, a deep blush creeping across his face over what he let slip of his tongue. Flushed from drink or mingled embarrassment, Maka wasn't sure what to make out of it, but her mind wasn't thinking as quickly as she was used to so she decided to bypass her normal thinking process and do what she felt to be right at the time. The last thing about alcohol she learned that night was that it made you painfully honest, making you do things you only wished you could, maybe even those things you didn't dare wish for.
And before he was able to turn away, she suddenly took up his face into hers, looked him hard in the eyes and kissed him, sloppily but deeply. She couldn't distinguish whether her dizziness was attributed to her drunken state or the kiss, but the spinning in her head gave her a strange feeling as he steadied her by wrapping arms around her waist and kissing her back hungrily, amidst fields of cans and cheap plastic plates, but she had too much on her mind to care at the moment.
This time there was no spreading warmth or butterflies, just a sensation of her doing she was meant to be, or at least what she thought she meant to be, and sort of strange happiness she never felt before warmed her. And as much as she felt she was doing something right and never wanted to stop, she pulled away to take a breath knowing she was seconds from passing out,
"Exactly how drunk are you?" he asked her as she looked away, with a tinge of sadness her mind couldn't quite place. She pulled away from his slightly, holding her head with one hand and steadying herself against his shoulder with the other.
"You have no idea," she managed weakly, "I'm not feeling so well actually." He walked her over to her own room and made her sit down before leaving, giving her a long look and a shake of his head before going,
"I should get you drunk more often if it's the only way you'll kiss me back," he said so quietly she almost didn't hear. Sluggish and nauseous, she sat on her bed for some time, mind completely non comprehending of what he said or anything from that night.
Soon she couldn't take it anymore and walked to the bathroom as quickly as possible, beginning her long night on the cold tiled floor.
As the memory of the night before came rolling back in increments, Maka slowly sat up on her bed, head in hands, completely mortified. Something changed that night, whether it was with herself or with something between them, she wasn't quite sure; all she knew was things would be different, and maybe not for the better, wondering why she couldn't have just forgotten it. At least her drunk self had the guts to do something, she thought as she contemplated making her way into the kitchen, weighing whether or not meeting Soul would be worth it. But before she could decide she saw a figure appear in her bedroom doorway wearing a mask of indifference as he surveyed her hangover self on her bed. As if nothing had happened he asked,
"I'll be damned if you remember anything from last night, you look awful." In his words she saw her chance and took it,
"Yeah, I can't remember anything, is that normal?" she prayed her voice wouldn't give her away; she could nearly taste the lie on her tongue. He paused for second too long, which she pretended not to notice,
"You remember nothing?" He asked in cool apathy, making the hairs on her airs stand at his lack of emotion she couldn't quite place.
"After Kidd started crying about the balloons, everything gets fuzzy and just black," Soul didn't look completely convinced, or maybe it was just her guilty imagination that made it seem so, but just to be safe she added with a forced smile, "what did I do something embarrassing?" She searched his face for some sort of response, but it remained as placid as ever, damn him and his attitude; it was trying to yellow ink on yellow paper, everything sort of mixes together and you eventually decide just to give it up.
"No, not at all," there was new edge to his voice that unsettled her," Actually, it's a shame you don't remember, you really loosen up, it's like you're a completely different person." Maka grimaced inwardly, already regretting the way this was going.
"Soul wait," she managed before he went out, not wanting to leave their conversation at such an ambiguous place, "about the other day, about what happened-"
He turned away from her before cutting her off curtly,
"Don't worry about it, maybe it's better if you forget about that too." Of all the wrong ways she imagined this conversation to go, this was a million times worse than any scenario. She stared at his receding figure and jumped at the sharp sound of the front door closing leaving her to contemplate his words. He couldn't possible know, could he?
Maka sighed at the realization that in her sober state she had created a far greater mess, why couldn't she just have been honest? But in her heart she knew that if she had another chance, she wouldn't be able to change a thing. It terrified her, this strange feeling she had towards him, so she refused to admit to herself what it really was and it tore her apart.
They say love makes you do and say some stupid things; if that was true Maka was the biggest idiot in the entire world.
How other writers can dish out a chapter a day is beyond me! More coming in the (near?) future. Thanks for reading and sticking with these sporadic updates!