I could hear the voices from the stairwell and it sent me starting with double-time steps, clambering even with the food in my arms.
"Just let me in," the man's voice barked.
I finally hit the hall just in time to see a blue head trying to press itself into Maka's doorway. "Hey!" I couldn't stop my own bellow, even with the breathless suck of air I had to pull in after.
"Oh," Maka's mournful moan started but was instantly overpowered by the man.
He turned to me, a wild smile on his lips. "And who the fuck are you?"
"None of your fucking business, but if you talk to her like that again-"
"Soul-" Maka was starting but I was already tossing the groceries to the ground outside my door as I continued my crash course towards him.
The man let me get within a step before bursting into laughter. "Is this the Mr. Cool guy?" He didn't even bother to keep his eyes on me, just peeking back into the crack of the door. "Him?"
"Blake, I swear." She huffed and I heard the door clap shut just long enough for the chain lock to rustle off. The door creaked back open and she stepped out into the hallway, arms crossing her chest.
Blake turned on his heels and I was just about to grab his arm when I heard the air suck back into his throat. "Maka, what the fuck?"
She let out a withering sigh.
"Please just fucking tell me you ate a watermelon-"
Now I did grab for his arm, but before I even swiped, he'd already dodged me. "Listen, I don't know what think you're doing-"
"Hey, Mr. Cool, live up to your name for a second," Blake snapped over his shoulder at me before glaring back at Maka. "Can you call off your guard dog?"
"He's not-!" She stopped with a frustrated breath before sidestepping Blake and sending pleading eyes my way. "It's fine."
"Doesn't look fine," I grumbled as I shoved my hands in my pockets.
"Listen- you got beer?" Blake's hands planted on Maka's shoulders as he pushed her towards me.
It was an awkward dance, Maka pressed between the two of us as her eyes rolled. "Blake…"
"If he's got beer, we're going over there," he muttered back. "Since now I know you definitely don't have any and I need a fucking drink."
Is he seriously inviting himself over? I dropped my eyes to Maka.
Her tight-lipped smile instantly gave me the answer.
I turned with a sigh, feeling her hands touch tentatively to my back as I now jittered to get my keys in the door. Holding her hand was one thing, but that sudden soft touch had my skin burning underneath my t-shirt. I got the keys in the door just as Blake scooped the groceries from the floor in front of me.
"I still don't even know how you got here…" Maka's grumble was ridiculously close behind me and I just kept my muscles from tensing as her fingers stayed on my back.
"Marie told me to follow Stein," Blake muttered. "Hey, Mr. Cool, you gonna let us in or what?"
I threw a glare at him, finding it did not a fucking thing to stop that smug look on his face. This left me with no choice but to open the door, letting the three of us into my apartment. Blake pressed through without an ounce of hesitation, moving with strange surety into the kitchen. Then again, this place is so small, how the fuck can you miss it?
"I'm sorry."
Before I could suck in a breath to answer, her forehead was tapping against my back.
"He's a pain, but I love him. So give him a break, please?"
Love him. All attempts not to have my knees knock together failed as my gut shriveled in on itself. Is that him? The- I couldn't even bring myself to think the word let alone gather a response.
"I'll pay you back for the beer." Maka's fingers gently patted against my back before she drifted away from me, moving up the hallway and disappearing behind Blake.
A sigh rattled in my chest, tossing around my heart as if it wasn't bruised enough. Again, how pathetic can you get? Makes fucking sense she'd love the father of her child and here you are pouting-
"Hey, Mr. Cool, you have pretty good taste!"
I followed the clink of the bottle, arriving just in time for Blake to plop himself on the counter with a beer in hand. "Thanks," I muttered. The bags were next to him, making me squeeze between the two in order to start unloading.
Another pop of his lips echoed before Blake barked, "So it was that dipshit, wasn't it?"
"Blake," Maka spat.
"Nah-"
This guy's voice was nothing but grating but all it did was suddenly toss my nerves to the side. That dipshit? So not him. They're…?
"-the calendar adds up, Maka Albarn. As far as I knew, you were still living with that asshole but suddenly I find you in a new apartment and knocked up? Too much of a coincidence." I turned my head just in time to see him brandishing the bottle in her direction.
"Could we not talk about this now?" Maka's eyes rolled in my direction.
"I don't give a shit if Mr. Cool hears." Blake turned his glare towards me. "You just keep your mouth shut- though from what I hear it ain't that hard for you to do that."
I settled on just grabbing the perishables and moving towards the fridge. "Listen, I'll just put these away and get out of your fucking hair."
"Soul-"
"It's fine, Maka. Like I said, it's not my business." And I'm spineless, aren't I? I heaved another sigh as I tossed the milk and eggs before dragging my yellow belly all the way down the hallway to my room. The door squealed as I eased it shut before sliding over to my bed. I let my knees buckle, sending me for a hard fall to the lumpy mattress. An instant trickle of regret hit me as my fingers searched uselessly along the seams of my jeans for something to do. My piano was still by the door, ruining any chance I had for some kind of catharsis.
The murmurs wandered on the other side of the door as I tried to ignore the cadence. There were plenty of stresses with highs that hit the roof. Blake's crowing reminded me of Wes's violin strikes, those wild, spikey notes. No matter how much I tried to change the tune, my shoulders kept clenching with each scale. She said to let him be. As if that mantra even started to quell that new protective urge that had started rearing its ugly head at every turn. I put my head in my hand and tried to pull the idea out with each run of my fingers through my hair. I'm not responsible for her. She doesn't even seem like the type that wants to be taken care of. She's doing this on her own, isn't she?
A knock stuttered nervously against the door.
"Yeah?" I croaked as I took the opportunity to level one last anxious stroke through my spikey strands.
Maka let the door squeak open as she leaned against the frame. "Let me make you dinner."
"Huh?" My hands dropped, eyes definitely bugging at least momentarily.
"I literally just let my best friend drink your beer and use your apartment." She threw a frustrated hand through her own hair before shaking her head. "So dinner is the least I can do. Are you- would you like to come over?"
The easy answer sat on my tongue as I dropped my eyes to my hands that were now in my lap, worrying together.
She huffed, "What's your last name?"
"Huh?"
"Your last name," she ordered.
I blinked at her dumbfounded as she glared at me. "E-Evans."
Maka stood up straight, smacking her hands to her hips. "Soul Evans, first answer that comes to mind: Do you want to come over and eat dinner with me?"
"Yes."
That induced a beaming smile. "So you can stop overthinking for one second." With an entire glow of victory, she dropped her hands and started to motion me forward.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I managed to grumble as I got to my feet. In the process of muttering to myself, I ceased paying attention to the flail of my hand, clipping the cup I'd put the flowers in and sending it tumbling to the floor.
"Oh no!" She was taking useless stumbling steps forward since there was no way for her to catch the bouquet before it took a nosedive. Instead, I scooped her, keeping her from joining it on the floor.
"It's just flowers," I teased as I righted her on her feet.
"They're pretty though, and the water's everywhere!" She was scolding right back as she slipped from my hands, leaving the room just as quickly as I'd tossed the blossoms.
A pathetically forlorn breath fluttered over my lips as I dropped to my knees, trying my best to gather the blooms without making a mess of the petals. As I got most of them together, Maka was back with towels in hand, sopping up the water they'd left behind.
"I'm surprised," she murmured.
"I can answer without overthinking," I griped.
"No…" Maka let a giggle take her, having to press the back of her hand to her lip to stop its cute twittering. "You have flowers in your room. I guess I wasn't expecting that. I want to say I didn't think you were the type but…" She dropped the towels to the floor as she squinted at me through the glow of her smile. "I guess I can't say I know exactly what type you are, Soul Evans."
I forced something close to a snort, trying out a grumbling laugh that was definitely closer to a deflated bit of air. Because they're for you, you know? But I guess you wouldn't figure that either since… since I'm such a fucking coward. I let my eyes linger down to the stems gathered in my hands. My hands trembled and I was sure those petals would fall like rain even in the short distance between the two of us as I pushed them into her palms left empty after the cleaning. "Maybe that means you should take 'em."
"I didn't mean-"
I produced a good enough rendition of a scoff. "I know by now if you wanted 'em you'd ask outright. I'm just saying that they're sorta wasted on me. Be better if you had 'em."
Her fingers slowly closed around the flowers and my own, gathering both together. There were a few slow, calculated breaths before she murmured, "It's not nice to give away things that other people gave to you though."
"Who said anybody gave 'em to me?" I muttered back as I desperately tried to extract my fingers. None of the past hours had been in the green, but suddenly it was all sirens in my head. Death, could you be more of a weirdo? A girl touches you, talks to you, and takes a gift from you and you're what? A complete fucking mess. "They're mine. Now they're yours." That finality came with a jerky squeak from my throat.
"Thank you."
"Yeah, no problem." Her eyes were drilling holes in my cheek but I couldn't move a muscle. Look at her, flash a smile. Be Wes for one fucking minute! If you could just be like that instead of whatever the fuck you are-!
"Come on. I have to start dinner." Maka tapped gently at my elbow as she started to try to angle to get towards standing. Her center of gravity wasn't perfect anymore though and I instantly hopped to my feet to grab her elbows and get her steadily up. "And you're going to eat something, OK? Not just a beer and bed tonight."
I couldn't do much more than nod because for a split second she was close enough to being in my arms, the flowers delicately pressed between the two of us. Yeah, OK, this was sorta what poetry was made of; the color of the petals were completely different as they sat against her chest, brightening the color on her cheeks. Her smile was the worst part, mostly teasing but a bit serious- a bit like she meant it. Fucking Death, there was no squashing this.
Because here was the fantasy again- If I was Wes, I would clear that little bit of hair from her face, pushing it behind her ear and letting my fingertip run along its edge. I'd tell her that the flowers weren't from anybody because they were for her, to brighten her day because isn't that what flowers do? And there would go that perfect, suave laugh that made any face go red accompanied by the signature Evans smirk. Wes would already have her wrapped around his finger-pregnant or no-and hanging on his every word.
Instead, here was the reality- I stuttered through another breath while trying to tramp down any last ounce of longing. Because while she was smiling at me, it was because I was being a good friend. I'm not Wes, so these sorta smiles from girls are the thank-yous for being a good listener, for playing my part right. Maybe I was handsome, and yeah, I could sure as hell live up to the Mr. Cool moniker-leather jacket and motorcycle and all-but on the inside, I was anything but. So when any girl finally caught a glimpse of that-the insecurity, the fucking anxious depression of it all-they moved on. And, honestly, I don't blame 'em.
"Depends," I muttered as I surfaced from the tumultuous bullshit of my thoughts. "Don't know what kinda cook you are so…"
That earned me a playful push to my chest, our closeness finally breaking with the sweet addition of her laugh. "You're the worst! I invite you over and you trash my cooking before even trying it!"
She was starting the walk down the hall so I followed after, trailing a few steps behind. "Well, I've only ever seen you eat takeout, so…" Here I managed a smirk, a glimpse of glowing teeth at her as she flipped her head over her shoulder.
"Because you gave it to me!" Her lips puckered into a frown.
I settled into this, letting her teasing play against mine. Yeah, that's what I am: a good friend.
As soon as I started running the tap her voice flashed from across the small kitchen: "What are you doing?"
"Washing the dishes," I muttered to the suds.
"What?" Now I could hear the scramble to her feet and I couldn't stop myself from seizing up, knowing her hands were coming. As predicted, I got a firm tug on my elbow. "Soul, you can't wash my dishes."
"You made dinner," I tried to offer this as flatly as possible. "Fair exchange."
"I made dinner because I owed you!" Her fingers were now incessantly yanking at me, trying to derail a process I wasn't about to stop. "If you do the dishes-"
"We're still even," I cut in firmly. At this point, I'd gotten pretty good at feeling her eyes on me without having to see the glare and boy was she fucking burning them into me then. I wiggled my elbow but her fingers refused to fall so I just kept at it, swinging her arm with mine with each dish. The way she clutched you like a kid always struck me as strange but at the same time, it wasn't as if I had much practice at how often or when contact was allowed so I sat with it. Sorta reveled in it, to be honest.
"About Blake…"
"Not my business" sat on my tongue. Instead of saying it, I kept scrubbing away at a spot that didn't exist.
"I'm used to the way he is since we grew up together," she sighed out into my silence. "He's always been brash and abrasive but… he's honest and caring, too. Sort of the older brother that you roll your eyes at but in the end can't live without. So don't take what he says personally, or…"
"'Mr. Cool,'" I grumbled.
A flustered bit of air came from her direction, but I was switching to the next plate to find more invisible stains. "I mentioned you. Like I said, you're the only person who I've really been seeing- been with-" she jumped through each phrase, each one leading to a more anxious search for the next "-the only thing I'd have to mention was work if I didn't talk about you, so-!"
"So, you talk about your neighbor with him."
"My friend," she corrected with a snap that stung my gut just as much as my ear. "We usually talk once a week but I should have known something was up since he purposefully called- he…" Her forehead met my shoulder and I froze, listening to her breath and watching as the bubbles popped one by one. "He's such a pain in the ass," her tear-saturated whisper hit my sleeve. "I still didn't know what to say today other than I made a mistake."
Mistake. That word was a wasp stinging in my ear, riling up some instinct to fight. Even with "not my business" pressing in on one side, the other half of my brain had a fire lit, sending out the croaking whisper, "Think you should stop calling it that. You made a choice, not a mistake."
That brought the heat of her sigh along with the tears on my arm. "I really wish it felt that way."
I tapped the counter, fingers needing more work than the dishes were giving me to dull the ache in my chest. "What exactly's the mistake?"
There were only a few more huffs of breath before she murmured, "I thought it was none of your business."
"S'not-" I tried to strip that bare of feeling "-so maybe that's why you tell me and then I tell you whether or not it's really a mistake. No bias." No bias my ass, Evans.
Her grip on me tightened, fingers needing into my skin as if searching for warmth, or maybe just a handhold to keep her steady. "Last year, I realized we weren't in love anymore." Her voice was so small it was almost entirely swallowed by the swish of the water so I turned off the tap. "Or at least I wasn't, but we'd been together for so long that I-I wanted to try." The next breath she pulled in was warbled, wet around the edges as I felt another rogue teardrop on my arm. "Because if I try hard enough, I can make anything perfect."
The defeat there was drowning her and I could hear her gulping for air.
"And I was perfect."
I pulled my hand from the suds and wiped it on my shirt before reaching for her desperate fingers. I couldn't pry her loose but at least I could put mine over hers.
At the sensation, she sucked in another breath. "I thought maybe we were just in a rut so I tried. I copied whatever I thought had made us fall in love, but… the more I did, the more Brian just seemed to stay the same." A woeful moan was only half-swallowed by her lips, turning it into an off-tune buzz. "Just steady and the same, so I knew the problem was me! And then-I swear I wasn't trying to do this-but I was late. Together all of college and of course it wasn't until things were going wrong that I realized I was late and I told him and-and-"
That senseless anger was starting to climb up my ribs like a rabid animal, snapping.
"I made a mistake." The word cut into my rage, numbing it just enough to turn my eyes to her rather than the water. She had raised her head, bleary green eyes blinking up at me. "I told him and all he said was 'let's get married then' and I-I said 'no.'"
I couldn't stop my brow from furrowing as I tightened my grip on her. "That's the mistake?"
"Why couldn't I just say 'yes?'" She asked me the question as if it was mine to answer. "I just had to be selfish, didn't I? Just making a headstrong, gut decision that if I didn't love him how could I raise a child with him? How could I pretend? But that's not fair to the baby, is it? It's wrong."
Honestly, she was telling me the boat was sinking and we were above water with no sign of a leak. All I could do was blink until I gathered enough sense to shake my head. "You think your kid could be happy if you weren't?" I could hear Wes yelling in the back of my head about that constant lesson of succinct versus soft but the words were already free. All I could do was watch them smack her in the face.
"But a family-" She started but when the wrinkle in my forehead didn't release her lip just fluttered uselessly.
"Trust me-" hoarsely scraped against the back of my throat "-parents who make a show of it-staying together for the kids or to save face-ain't better."
Her eyes widened, urging one last slip of tears down her cheeks.
"Don't think that's much of a mistake," I muttered as my eyes trailed back to the bubbles.
"Soul…"
I couldn't look at her, my free hand digging into the sink while the other still clamped tightly to hers. "He tell you it was a mistake?"
The only sound I got in reply was a trembling breath.
"Gonna guess he did." I tried to pull in the air as slowly as I could, filling my lungs until they ached. "Then you moved out?"
"I-" it squeaked from her throat and suddenly her hands were gone, slipping back. For all the fear of it, her hands leaving me was a worse wound, making me jerk towards her. She had pulled back just enough to get her hands over her face, disappearing behind the mask of her fingers. Her head was shaking, the blonde strands that sprinkled her shoulders waving with each move.
Blake's pleasant additions of "dipshit" and "asshole" were playing through my head.
"Maka, did he make you leave?"
Her shoulders shuddered before her hands parted just enough for her hiccuping lips to release the words: "I wanted to try. I thought even though we couldn't be a family, at least he could be a father, but-"
All or nothing. She was choking on sobs just as much as I was on rage, that old guard dog in me ready to bite. I know this feeling. I've been here before, angry, wanting to protect someone I- So I repeated the moment, for once reliving a past that wasn't one of those times that my idiocy brought my life spiraling down. I reached for her, not a well-practiced motion but one I could manage even in my rusty state. It struck me as strange- how tiny she was. Not that I hadn't noticed the height difference, but engulfing her in my arms made her feel so much more delicate than she'd ever looked.
Somehow, the picture of her in my mind was always saturated with such stubbornness and strength. I didn't want to delude myself into thinking it was just because of me, but as soon as I had her steady she bent, broke. She crumbled into me and there was no stopping the flood. She was fighting for a death grip on my shirt as bitter gulps of air pulled from the barely-there separation from her face and my chest. "You can tell 'em." The rumble of those words in my chest brought a little bit of relief, a small section of my fury drifting away. "Nobody who loves you is gonna bat an eye at that because he was wrong. You did what was right for the baby and he did what was easiest for him. Ain't the same."
I didn't get a reply, but I didn't need it. I'd never actually been sure if I was right-hell, if I was ever right about anything-but I took comfort in the way her tears slowly disappeared. When her breaths became steady against my shirt, I tried again. "Obviously, I don't know all that much about being pregnant, but… it sounds like you want your baby to be happy, to have the best they can, so whatever you did to make sure that happened wasn't a mistake."
She sighed, her shoulders only shimmying slightly with the force of it.
"Just maybe hold off on telling Blake since I think he might kill the guy."
Maka let a weak laugh tremble between us next, followed by a sniffle. "He was sort of threatening that even without the finer details."
"Makes sense." Something close to a chuckle hummed in my chest. "Wouldn't mind joining in, honestly."
Her fingers tensed, a quick tightness before she mostly released, making me do the same. "Soul, you… I don't know why you bother." When her eyes hit me, red-ringed and bleary, there was a solid accusation there that I couldn't suss out.
Why do I bother? Easy. You're only the second person in my life who's seen me-really seen me-and not sneered at it. "You're a pain in the ass, but you're a good cook." I managed a smirk and was instantly rewarded with one of those melodic little giggles as her hand came to her face to clear away the mess. "It ain't hard to listen, anyway. Not doing all that much work. Now, the piano playing, that's work. Might have to start charging you my regular hotel fee since I'm getting sick of playing my song for you."
Her face curled up, both lip and forehead moving instantly. "It's a good song, Soul."
"Again, you have shit taste." My mind lingered on reaching for her, and somewhere in the fantasy, I could see myself helping her clear away the last few tears on her cheeks. I shoved that hand in my pocket instead. "You really don't ask for anything else anymore, and at this point, you should be sick of hearing it."
"I'm not," she complained. I was sure she was turning away since she seemed to teeter on her feet but instead of leaving she was leaning into me again. She stopped just a breath away, her hands thinking better before digging into my shirt again. "I feel like a little kid, but… can you hold me again?"
Damn, was I ever glad that she was tucking her chin to hide those eyes from me, or else she would have seen the red drift up my cheeks to the tips of my ears.
She wavered a step back as she laughed weakly. "I'm such a mess- I'm sorry. I really shouldn't-"
I convinced myself it was self-preservation that made me grab her since I was still dreading her catching any view of my utter embarrassment at the question. Tucking her against me again didn't exactly help with that issue, instead making my heart thrum enough blood to turn my tan to lobster. "'Nother thing that ain't that hard to do," I muttered breathlessly. I knew then that I'd do the dishes a million times if it meant I could finish the night like that. Not her crying or desperately holding on to me, but breathing steady breaths against my chest like life wasn't in a shambles. Like maybe the safety of my arms wasn't such a bad place to be.