Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!
So this was the end, huh? Maybe it had been careless of them wanting to join the fight against the kishin Asura so shortly after their battle against Crona, from which; they had escaped barely alive and with more than a few bruises─too many to be deemed ready for a fight of such proportions.
A scream erupted from his mouth as white hot pain tore through his body, the creaking of bones assaulting his ears, an ache throbbing its way from his neck down to his spine; his muscles tensed and cramped, a burning sensation invaded his every cell and fibre and nerve and the only thing that registered in his mind, body and soul was agony.
Hot tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, only spilling down his cheeks when he felt his breathing cut off, his chest compressed, his lungs burning and begging to be filled with air. His mouth was wide open, a silent scream released as that damned scarf constricted around his neck like a vice.
He gasped frantically, his heart racing, his nerves going haywire because shithe was going to die! He was so going to die.
"No! Let him go! Soul!"
Eyes he had been unaware that they were closed, snapped open in desperate search of the source of the shrill and downright terrified voice.
He groaned pitifully, choking back a sob as his squinted gaze found the severely weakened form of his meister as she tried to stand on shaky feet. "M-maka..."
It was calmly hissed against his ear, his gut twisting and churning in revulsion, and was accompanied by the scarf tightening around him to unbearable levels. He was too weak to scream, cry or yell. It was an excruciating struggle to breathe, every pant and exhale like a drop of water during a drought. It was his meister's whimpers of pain that pulled him away from the edge of unconsciousness.
His soul bristled and his limbs writhed in futile resistance because he had to help her. It was his duty, it was a matter of course that he protect her always and give his life to save hers. The thought of not being able to protect her pained him more than anything Asura could do to him. He wished he could transform and cut himself free, he wished someone would come and help them but...the more he felt his soul being invaded by madness and his body felt like it was being ground into tiny little pieces of broken bones and bloody flesh, the hope that they might maybe make it out alive dwindled.
He didn't feel any relief when the scarf around him loosened completely. He cried out sharply when his limp body hit the unmerciful ground, his hipbone harshly colliding with a pointy stone, his lips pressing together in a weak, pitiful attempt to reign in any more exclamations of pain. Maka wasn't lying far away from him. In fact, if he reached out with his arm he could touch her.
His ears vaguely picked up the light sounds of the kishin's bare feet slapping against the ground. His heart picked up in speed but his body refused to move. The panic flooding his entire being urged him to move, to run away and to get as far away as possible but he could barely move a finger. Everything hurt and he was so damn tired. Damn it. He didn't want to die. He couldn't die! But there was nothing he could do. He was too weak, too wounded. This was such an uncool way to die, passing on without having accomplished anything against Asura. It had been stupid of them to try to fight him, but what was done was done. At least they had gone successfully against Crona, even if Maka had been very hesitant to do so.
Damn it! When had he closed his eyes again? His vision was blurry and he could barely discern anything in front of him. He blinked, his eyesight clearing. Upon seeing Maka laying just bit away from him, he heaved a heavy sigh that burned his lungs and quickly turned into a strangled yelp that made the ache in his lungs worse.
"N-no!" His exclamation came out as something like gurgle, ridiculous and weak and amusing to the kishin himself. Soul wanted to scream and tear that bastard into shreds. Oh no! What was he going to do to her? Damn it. He couldn't bear this, couldn't watch his meister being killed. But, but...
He couldn't tear his eyes away from her vacant green gaze. He wished he could do something, say something. He wished he hadn't made so much fun of her, wished he had teased her less, wished he had shown her the real the extent of respect and pride her felt for her, wished he could have protected her, wished he could just throw himself over her frail body and take the kishin's attack. He wished, he wished-
In that moment of delirious pain racking his body, there was one thing that became crystal clear to Soul─one thing he had to say before everything was over.
He gasped loudly as he struggled to move his arm, but he managed nevertheless, his muscles feeling like they were tearing themselves apart with every small movement he dared to make. His fingers touched the tips of hers, causing her to startle, her eyes gaining the tiniest of spark back.
"Maka," he ground out, clenching his teeth and squeezing his eyes tightly in an attempt to stop his tears. Maka's gaze was full with guilt and pain and even now he wanted to smack her for feeling guilty. He felt her hand giving the weakest of squeezes, lulling him into false assurance. He reopened his eyes because this was important and he wanted to- no he had to look her in the eyes. At least that was what he pain-befuddled brain was explicitly ordering him to do in his last moments. "Maka, I-I love you."
Her eyes widened the slightest bit and he could see her lips moving, trying to form a reply but he couldn't hear anything. His view became less clear, duller, he could barely make her out, the sound of her voice faintly registering but words failing to do so. But then-
Her grasp on his hand became firmer and it was all he needed to make facing death somewhat bearable. He didn't know what was taking the kishin so long. Or had he just lost his balance of time and space? He didn't know. It was odd. The warmth of Maka's calloused hand was the only thing giving him comfort. There were some noises he heard. A male voice talking maybe. Maybe Asura? Probably Asura. Was he intending to play with them a bit more before he finished them off? The bastard.
And then...shrill screams, booming echoes, boisterous shouts, several other noises adding together yet none of them grasped by them in their entire loudness, only a dull mishmash of atrocious sounds that gave him a headache.
He succumbed to blackness still holding Maka's hand.
Well, this was unexpected.
Then again, since when did stuff go the way he wanted?
Wasn't it usually like this: you fight, you fight like a badass against a seemingly invincible enemy, you get the shit beaten out of you, and if you have the chance, you dramatically proclaim your love for the person you...well, love and eventually close your eyes and die like a hero.
This is how it actually went: they fought, they didn't quite fight like badasses against an invincible enemy, as they hadn't stood much of a chance against the kishin in the first place, and they consequently got the shit beaten out of them, and when he had the chance he un-dramatically proclaimed his love for the person he loved and had eventually closed his eyes, losing his consciousness─ but this is where the change from "what he expected" to "what happened" became very, very poignant: he lived, they both lived, which in itself was awesome. Nobody wanted to die at the age of 15.
But things were weird now!
Between him and Maka, that is.
One advantage of dying right after confessing your love to the girl was that you didn't have to face the possibility of a rejection.
Soul shook his head and winced immediately after. Bad move! He should resign himself to not moving at all for some months. Everything hurt like a bitch.
Leave it to Black*Star to save their asses. Well, he got his ass handed to him as well and only managed one punch.
The bottle landed with a gloriously shattering sound on the floor, nearly a litre of precious apple juice spilling over the pristine white tiles. He cussed again, not liking the idea at all of moving and clean this mess up and risking stepping on the shards of glass around him. This sucked. It seemed like fate or whatever supernatural force of dickassery wanted to delightfully screw him over and over again.
Grimacing heavily, he pressed his lips into thin, grim line and eyed the golden liquid that was already drenching his socks. He mentally muttered another array of colourful curses. He hated having wet socks. Gulping anxiously, he gazed briefly at the cast on his arm and lightly touched his healing ribs. Better to clean that up before Maka saw it and got seizures. He cautiously tiptoed to the sink, avoiding any shards, and got a wiping cloth.
Now that he thought about it, it seemed more intelligent to pick up the shards before he stepped on them and got more unneeded cuts on his body. This really sucked. How was he going to do that without his ribs protesting with bitchy pain?
He jumped a little when Maka walked into the kitchen, her eyes quickly scanning the floor that was littered with broken glass and spilled apple-juice.
"Are you okay, Soul?" she asked worriedly, and despite his spluttered protests and warnings that she might hurt herself, she walked into the kitchen hurriedly. Much to his relief, she was wearing slippers and was cautious to avoid the shards. Her eyes roamed up and down his body, scrutinizing every inch for new injuries. She raised her hand but before she could touch him, she retracted it, troubled uncertainty swirling in the depths of her big, green eyes. "Let me clean this up. You go to your room or watch TV or something."
He tried to not let her slight dismissal get to him too much. He failed, and promptly berated himself for that. Moping around because Maka wasn't paying attention to him, or more precisely, because she didn't touch his shoulder, was pretty low. Maybe the painkillers made him more sensitive. Yeah, that sounded good. He decided to stick with that. Besides, she had no obligation to be around him all the time or smother him with her concern, even though she usually did whenever he got hurt during a mission. He sighed dejectedly.
"I'm gonna change my clothes."
She just nodded, eyes fixed on the task at hand to clean the kitchen floor. He stayed a few seconds in place, watching her clean the floor, standing up to wring the drenched cloth out. He wasn't sure why he was still standing there. Hoping that she would turn around, hug and kiss him and admit her eternal love for him? Yeah, sure. Maka would never-
He turned on his heels, a thick knot lodged in his throat as he strutted to his room. Changing out of his clothes was easier said than done. One advantage that came with having to stay in the hospital was that changing out of the hospital gown was decidedly more easy than his casual clothes and that there was always someone ready to help him if he couldn't do it himself.
He hissed a pained breath between gritted teeth, the pain in his ribs soaring when he tried to yank an arm out of a sleeve. He contemplated cutting his shirt off altogether, he was a nifty scythe after all. It was easier to undo his pants, kicking them carelessly away and with some struggle managed to toe off his socks without having to use his arms or make unnecessary movements. Once again he was left with the task to take off his shirt, and the mere thought of it caused him to grimace.
He wanted it to be over with as quickly as possible, so grasping the collar of shirt with the full intention of trying to get his bandaged arm out first, he yanked sharply, a loud growl tearing out of his mouth. He was cursing and blinking stinging tears back because it fucking hurt and he was close to singing in happiness when Maka opened the door to his room, worried eyes peeking at him from the small crack of the between door and door case. "Is everything okay, Soul?"
His first instinct was to confirm her question and tell that yes, everything was indeed alright because he felt kind of stupid for needing help to change out of his clothes. That thought was squashed quickly because physical pain was always more demanding than ego-pain. So he sighed, his palm carefully resting on his ribs before he said pitifully, "I could use a bit help. My ribs hurt like a bitch whenever I move and-"
She was at his side in a matter of seconds. "Here let me," she whispered, fingertips accidentally brushing against his skin when she grasped the hem of his old shirt. He shuddered, somewhat grateful Maka mistook this as a sign for pain, yet also somewhat guilty because he lead her to believe she was hurting him. He could clearly see how she was intently trying to avoid any contact with his skin but failing from time to time. Each brush and gentle graze had his mind wandering down the path that was clearly tagged with signs warning him of unmentionable dangers.
He couldn't help it! Not even when he should be more concerned with injuries, he relished in the feeling of her small, warm hands touching his body sporadically. She cautiously pulled the sleeve from his arm, taking care to avoid the cast. From then on it was slightly more easy as she did the same more quickly with his other arm and pulled the garment over his head effortlessly.
He had his eyes downcast, fidgeting slightly at the heavy pressure of tense silence around them. Wouldn't that be a good moment to speak about what had happened during the fight with Asura? He raised his head a little, much to his surprise finding her gazing down at him. Their eyes locked and he wished he could pinpoint what was flashing in her eyes; she did look troubled, but he dearly hoped it was something like...like love.
She broke their eye-contact, turning away from him to rummage through his closet.
"Is there something particular you want to wear?"
He shook his head, "No."
"Do you need help with this too?"
She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, holding his pajamas in her arms. He bit his lip, a blush crawling over his cheeks as he nodded, hating the feeling of being so helpless but at the same time craving her closeness even if that meant he needed to be dressed like a helpless kid. Despite his embarrassment, Soul wasn't stupid enough to deny her help, they had spent so many years together that physical closeness, even while undressed, had never been much of an issue.
That was, of course, before he had made his declaration of love.
Never had he been so aware of how rough her hands were, hardened through battles and intense training sessions. The skin of her palms wasn't soft at all but she still touched him, if she had to, with utmost tenderness. The dim light of his lamp reflected strangely in her eyes, making the green flare a little. He was so entranced and distracted by his shameless staring that he missed her telling him to lift his arm a little.
She even helped him with the pajama bottoms, and he flinched slightly when she pulled the fabric over his butt, her fingertips grazing it lightly. She muttered a bashful apology, cheeks pinking, and he could only awkwardly pat her shoulder. Not that he would mind if she touched his butt more often, but in light of how tense things had been between them lately, he doubted such a declaration would improve their strained relationship.
She didn't leave even after he was properly dressed. She stood in the doorway, alternating between looking at him and trying to avoid looking at him. There had to be something she wanted to say. Maybe he should say something, try to instill some normalcy. Or crack a lame joke maybe?
Suddenly, she flinched, her eyes regaining their focus. "I─I need to clean the kitchen up," she said and turned away already out of his room before he called out to her.
She came to a halt, her back stiff and her shoulders tense. He noted that her fists were clenched too.
"What...is it?" she asked, risking a peek over her scrawny shoulder only to turn away from him immediately when she caught his eyes.
He took a deep breath. What...what should he say? Fuck. He should have gathered some words before he stopped her, but planning things ahead was never his forte. Sweat dripped from his brow, his throat was dry and his tongue felt too thick in his mouth.
"Uh..." he began, scratching the back of his head as he glanced down at his feet. He wasn't sure if having her back turned to him made things easier or worse. He gulped loudly, taking a step towards her. "Maka, I...I think we need to talk about what happened during the fight with Asura."
Her fists clenched and unclenched for a moment and he thought she might relax a little now but then she threw him a steely glance, the green of her eyes deep and impenetrable. "I don't think there's anything to talk about, Soul."
"Bullshit!" He ran a hand through his hair, teeth clenching as he hissed. "Of course there is! You wouldn't be avoiding me otherwise."
This time she turned around, her brows furrowed when she looked at him. She raised her hands, running them over her arms securely. "What do you want me to do about it, Soul?"
Inhaling sharply, he found himself at a loss for words. And it kinda hurt. No, it hurt a lot to hear her being so...so dismissive. He willed his voice not to crack when he spoke again, "I don't know." His voice had come out a lot harsher than he had expected but he didn't feel like putting the effort into sounding more gentle. "I don't know about you, but people usually give at least an answer to that. You know, say the words back...or...or they don't and move on."
He bowed his head, the knot in his throat painful and tight as he bit his lip, waiting for her reaction anxiously. He heard her soft pants, the way she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. "Soul, it's just that─" she sighed heavily and he didn't dare to look up, fearing the rejection in her gaze. "Soul, you said it when we were beaten up pretty badly."
There was a pause and he thought she was going to say more but the silence stretched on for longer. He ignored his frantic heartbeats, ignored the dread gnawing at his nerves and said, "Yeah, so?"
She sighed again, this time it sounded more exasperated. "You said those words in a situation where you thought you weren't going to make it out alive─", she raised a hand when he opened his mouth to protest even though she was right, "Hell, I thought we were done for, too. People sometimes say things they don't mean, you know. You weren't thinking straight and─"
"You think I didn't mean it?"
She flinched, wincing at his voice that was so full of hurt. "N-no, I mean yes, I mean─urgh!" She threw her hands up, unable to deal with this. She took a deep breath, calming down a little. "C-can you say it again? Can you say the same words again now, in this situation, without anything trying to kill you?"
His eyes widened, caught off guard and dumbstruck by her imploring gaze. "Uh..." he tried to gulp the lump in his throat down to no avail. Okay, he could do this, right? He did love her. He was sure. But seeing her look at him like that, the possibility of rejection and heartbreak almost touchable in front of him, made it difficult to make his mouth cooperate. "I...I..."
Maka lowered her eyes, frowning, and let her hands drop to her sides. "See," she said, her voice heavy and tired, "You can't say it now." She smiled sadly and walked towards him, patting his shoulder awkwardly. "It's okay, Soul. I don't mind. It happens and we'll be back to normal soon, I'm sure."
...this had to be what having your heart broken felt like, huh?
She stepped away and walked past him, her shoulder brushing against his arm but before she could lock herself in her room, he called out to her again. "What about you, Maka?"
"What do you mean?" This time she didn't turn around.
"Does this mean...you..." he closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to gather his thoughts. "What about your feelings...for me?" His voice was so full of hope it was sickening, especially since she had basically told him off with his silly feelings that possibly couldn't be real. But she had never said anything about what she might feel for him; maybe he was an idiot for hoping, for thinking she might suddenly hug him and tell him that she loved him.
Her squared shoulders slumped, her gaze directed towards the ground as she steadied herself with a hand against the wall. The silence was making him anxious and nervous. He wanted to pace, wanted to complain, wanted to do somethingto vent these tightly knotted feelings in his chest out.
"I don't know." She said it in such a quiet voice that he almost missed it. He was about to ask what she meant, to question her more, wanted straight answers but this time she didn't wait, didn't hesitate and went into her room, the lock sliding shut with a clear click.
He pressed his lips tightly together, a grim line as he directed a glare at a random point in the hallway. This wasn't fair. And why the hell couldn't he tell her, damn it! Was...was Maka maybe right? Did he really blurt these words out back then because he thought he was going to die for sure? Had they really been words spoken out of desperation, words he'd never say otherwise? But...she said she didn't know, didn't know about...her possible feelings for him. Should he dare to hope or should he resign himself to the heartbreak and try to maintain a healthy friendship and partnership with her instead of confusing those terms with...love?
He took a shuddery breath, his muscles tense before he allowed himself to relax, too exhausted and tired and cheerless.
She said things were going to be okay. He hoped she was right because he didn't feel okay at all.
Two months later, things were not okay. At all. He couldn't really look at her or talk to her without feeling an ache in his chest, tugging at his heart and pressing down on his chest. They barely had proper conversations, they consisted of short exchanges and became awkward quickly. One worded answers had become an unpleasant routine and he wished he hadn't said anything back then to her. It wasn't worth putting their partnership into such jeopardy.
It was all the more surprising when she walked into his room and told him that they needed to talk. And here they were sitting on the couch in the living room, having yet to start.
The silence was massacring his nerves and his cool. He didn't dare to open his mouth, though. She looked very thoughtful and he wondered what was going that amazingly brilliant brain of hers.
"I know how we're going to solve this."
He blinked. "What?"
Her head snapped up, her eyes narrowed determinedly, and he felt his heart beat against his seemingly constricting chest like a vicious hammer. Before he could say anything, she brought her face very close to his.
The only thought going through his blank mind looked like this: ….
And she got closer still, her lips pursing slightly, her eyes slowly sliding shut and her breath wafting over his skin and—
"What the hell, Maka?"
The sudden movement of his body made his sore ribs screech their vengeance and sent a searing pain through his chest. He inhaled sharply, ignoring the pain to stare at a flustered and bemused partner in front of him. And just because it made him faintly feel like he had a semblance of control over his shaky limbs, he said: "What was that supposed to be?"
Her bottom lip jutted out slightly, causing her to look like a petulant child. She glanced down to her lap, fingers jittery and fiddling and he didn't know anymore! Had she really tried to kiss him just now? If so, why? How was a kiss out of all things going to solve the awkwardness between them?
Taking another deep breath to calm his nerves, he ran a hand through his hair, overwhelmed and feeling that everything was beyond comprehension and sanity.
"Maka…what?" he breathed out, eyes widely scanning her hunched form.
She hesitantly raised her head, her eyes never having lost that determined glint. "We have to do something about this," she merely said.
He blinked and for the fuck of things, he just couldn't make sense out of this situation. He felt as if his brain resembled Swiss cheese at the moment.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. You're not making any sense at all." His voice was full with defeat and exhaustion.
She sat wholly upright, her spine stiff and her hands primly placed on her thighs. "You said…you love me," she began, making him flinch and tense up and blush and feel another array of stupid shit going through his brain and heart. He could only nod dumbly because him loving her was the only thing that made sense at the moment. "But you said that when you were just short of being killed—" she raised a hand quickly to silence him as he was vehemently about to scold her for doubting his sincerity again, "Things are a bit complicated now and—" well, no shit, "—I'm not sure about the extent of my feelings for you. That's why we have to do something about this mess."
Wow, she should have hit him with a book instead of deeming his feelings for her - and by extension her feelings for him – a mess. He didn't know if his hurt was so blatantly plastered over his face or if Maka had realized her ill wording but for one moment he saw her determination waver. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that, maybe."
He grunted, trying to make it not too noticeable that he felt like his heart had been stabbed by thousands of knives.
"And by kissing me you thought you could solve…thismess?" he spat the words as if they were laced with venom. He felt a bitter taste in his mouth, felt like someone was choking him, his fingers were wet with cold sweat and his hands were clenched into shaky fists.
The way she said it, in that matter-of-fact tone, in that infuriating bitch-please-I-read-books-24/7-and-know-more-shit-than-you-could-ever-hope-to-know-so-don't-argue-with-me voice, made his heart flare with fury, his eyes narrowing into a heated glare. "You're full of shit."
He took a sick delight in seeing her so indecisive.
"I mean…wouldn't that help us to determine our feelings for each other? We kiss and-and then we feel a spark or something…or we don't and…"
Was she serious? His palm itched to get better acquainted with his forehead immediately.
"Maka," he sighed, making sure to inhale and exhale, "You can't be seriously thinking that you can know if you love someone by just kissing him."
"Do you have a better idea then?" she snapped, her vigor renewed, glaring furiously up at him.
"You can't base your feelings on how a kiss goes." His head was throbbing and he knew he would be needing some painkillers after this. He tried to remain calm and knock some sense into that thick skull of hers. Actually, scratch that. He lost his shit because he was just pushing the girl he loved away. The girl he loved wanted to kiss him and he was rejecting her! "I mean…uh not that I don't want to kiss you!" He frantically waved his hands in front of him, his cool steadily leaving him and turning him into this blushing, blubbering idiot of un-smooth. "But-but you can't just go ahead and kiss someone and think this will solve everything and even if I'd love to kiss you, I can't I think and-and…shit, I mean this isn't how I…"
He stared at her helplessly. Her whole attitude and poise contrasted perfectly with his. How could she be so calm?
She bit her lip, an action his eyes faithfully followed. And she was so close again! He flinched away from her because his meister had surely gone crazy and he didn't know what batshit ideas could be going through her brilliant brain.
There was space between them once more. When had she gone to the opposite end of the couch again?
"You don't want to kiss me even though you would love to?"
He blinked. If she worded it that way, it sounded absolutely moronic. Maybe it was. He shook his head feverishly, agitation swelling in his chest. No way. He knew what he was doing. And kissing her because she thought she would that way be able to find out if she was in love with him, was not something he was going to act on, no matter how inviting her pouty lips looked like now.
He was about to put his hand on her shoulder, maybe he wanted to shake her, maybe just squeeze it, he just had to do something before they did something stupid. Only touching the person of his affections when she was scantily clad, the strap of her nightgown sliding off her shoulder and down her upper arm, might not have been the most rational of ideas on his part.
Her skin was warm and soft and smooth and touchable and—
There was no semblance of control when he unabashedly stroked the skin of her neck, her jaw, her cheek, her collarbones, her shoulder, just stopping short of her breasts. He gulped, body flaring, beads of sweat collecting on his brow. Maka watched him with rapt attention and why hadn't she smashed his head with a book yet? Her eyes glinted with something he couldn't place but it wasn't like he possessed the full capacity of his brain right now. She was so close again! And this time he didn't back away, didn't push her away─such thoughts didn't even flit trough his hazy mind.
It was a quick and very clumsy move. She didn't close her eyes, didn't hold her lips against his for longer than a few milliseconds at best, maybe. He was too shocked to react, limbs frozen, eyes wide and lips pressed into a thin line.
When she pulled away, her eyes were troubled, dull and swirling with conflicted emotions. He should say something, try to salvage the remaining pieces of their partnership because—
Maka had just kissed him.
And damn, did she suck at it. Though he doubted he would have done it any better.
Okay now. Just so he really got it. Maka had really kissed him, hadn't she? He unconsciously touched his lips. Yep, definitely. He had felt her mouth there. Her stiff, unmoving lips pressing against his equally unresponsive ones.
He blinked slowly, belated realization dawning on him in the form of plentiful Fucks, Shits, Damns and Yeses going through his brain. That and gaping. When Soul was still contemplating the situation and uselessly staring ahead, Maka stood up.
"I knew it! We…we're not in love."
He snapped out of his daze like the deer caught in headlights that it noticed too late by the driver and thus gets intimately acquainted with a front windshield.
He reached out only to have his hand get slapped away. He shrunk back, mouth unable to form words to retort.
"That was the worst kiss ever!"
His brow twitched. "Are you serious? Listen, don't you dare to say I can't possibly be in love with you just because you suck at kissing."
There was a moment of silence, both of them not knowing what to do aside from staring at the other. It was Soul who reacted first, eyes narrowed into slits, fists clenched. He was right in front of her with a few steps, barely any space between their bodies.
"If you're gonna rely on a kiss then-"
He didn't finish, he took her by the shoulders and pulled her to his chest, his lips seeking out hers and meeting them sloppily. They pulled away shortly after, chests heaving and eyes wide.
"Well, you're not any better than I am," she gritted out angrily and he was about to protest that nothing could ever match her sucky kiss in its level of fail, but she pushed him away before he had the chance to voice his thoughts, her features twisting up in a mixture of sorrow and despair. "See? That just proves how we're not meant to be! Soul, we can't─ mmph."
It was that moment Soul decided to shut her up with another kiss, which was, much to his dismay, not an improvement to the first one coming from him.
"Soul! What the hell?"
He grinned down at her tomato-red face, taking delight in it and her quivering body caged by his strong arms.
"Well, if you insist on basing our feelings on kisses, we're gonna do this until we get it right."
"Don't be stupid, Soul."
"You're the stupid one this time."
Their eyes met, his hold around her waist tightened as the tension grew. There was not even the slightest trace of resistance when they crashed their lips together. And it sucked.
He could sense her tensing up in his arms and before this stupid, gorgeous woman could open her mouth to say something stupid like they couldn't be in love because they failed at kissing, he promptly kissed her again. It sucked.
They did this until they sucked less and less at it, did it until they were lying on the couch, until she was on her back and he was on top of her, until they were sucking faces like pros. They continued this until Blair came back from work, interrupting their frantic dry-humping.
Meh, at least Maka wasn't intent on denying any feelings anymore.