Wow I am still somehow alive! Ha, ha ha.

I'll try my best to update this fricker throughout my rigorous school schedule guys, sorry the updates are so long in between! After I finish this and my GhostAU, I think I'll just post one and two-shots. Multi chaptered stories suck to make.

Enjoy~!

Soul pushed both doors of the entrance out with an experienced grunt and casually glanced about the vast glossed floor of Shibusen High's gymnasium. The smell of new and old sports equipment as well as sweat washed over him and Black*Star, who was strangely quiet for entering a large room with great echo-ing possibilities. Large overhead lights shone in their usual aggravating radiance which forced both boys to wince.

"Damn," Star began, "Remind me why there is such thing as an afterschool?"

Thankful (?) his motor mouthed friend had found his voice again, Soul easily countered with a, "First of all, I won't remind you about anything since you agreed to come here on your own free will. Second, it's not anything academic, so you should be able to keep that brain of yours un-fried for more than ten minutes."

His eyebrows furrowed, the blue-nette was about to retort something not as eloquent but equally insulting to his friend until the sound of padding footsteps stopped him short. Speaking of short, there was the munchkin herself, right before them in a whirlwind of pigtails and striped knee socks; Black*Star thought he remembered them one Christmas ago way back when, but the memory was foggy and his attention some where else at that moment.

Right. Careful to the warning that was issued beforehand of 'not to fuck up this time man', he willed himself to hold back any commentary about height, breast size, kankles or pertaining to anything remotely funny, in his superior opinion. Forsaking his glorious arrival at the entrance was hard enough, but no matter. If this was important to his bro, a great god would humble himself enough to bow his head in respect.

…For like, a few minutes he estimates. Such greatness could only be shrouded for so long!

"Hey Soul! Looks like you made it!"

"Looks like I did." An easy smile came onto his face, bringing out an identical one on Maka's. Conversation continued and flowed between the two well, Star guesses that tends to happen when they work together as religiously as they do. It was just a job, not anything too serious, but his priorities were not that of others'.

Just as he was going to contemplate how many pull-ups he could manage on the nearby basketball hoop's backboard, Maka turned her bright (and ever calculating) gaze to him, offering a greeting of her own. Recalling Soul's instructions his back straightened and arms uncrossed, an all too tense posture for an afterschool hangout.

"Hey Black*Star."

"Uhh.." he intelligently replied, "'Sup."

"I'm uh, glad you came! Soul said that you liked volleyball."

He did? Internally slapping his traitor of a friend, his words came out ground and low. "I do like to…on occasion."

A small breath was let out by the female party of the dying subject, a sigh halfway between exasperated and empathetic. The now third wheel Soul felt it was just plain pathetic, Black*Star's nice-guy act was worse than expected. With softened eyes Maka sought out the unsure ones of the latter mentioned.

"Black*Star, would you like to cut the formal stuff already and relax?" She smiled genuinely and nodded to the ongoing rally her team was still half-playing. "A new game is about to start and we need an extra to even out our team. Why don't you go join, we need a top quality player."

Thanking the stars and heavens Maka was so forgiving (or she had at least let go a little of her grudge), Soul watched a wide grin break out on Star's face as he laughed with his usual gusto; he presumes that neon monkey also resolved to start on a clean slate. Leaning on the wall he watched his two friend's fronts crumble and the tension in the air disintegrate. Black*Star's signature pride showed in the way he balanced his puffed out his chest with both hands resting at his hips, yet Maka looked the other way and gave an eye-roll, choosing not to comment on the ridiculous pose. He merely sniffed at her consideration, letting the opportunity to bag on her decline for a fight go with the wind of his awesomeness. After all, he was totally going to get even better opportunities to defeat her soon enough.

Planning to use the wide, hollow space to his advantage, Black*Star announced with his much missed authoritative voice, "I SEE YOU HAVE COME TO YOUR SENSES AND BESEECHED MY VAST VOLLEYBALL EXPERTICE! NO MATTER, THE GREAT STAR SHALL WOO THE FINE HAREM OF YOUR TEAM WITH HIS SIGNATURE- OW!"

The pigtailed she-demon had struck again, having pulled out her Calculus textbook from her fifth dimensional booty short's pocket. Soul knew very well that once any hint of 'wooing fine harems' was found out Maka would stomp the suggestion out of the ballpark with her ever present combat boots, or in this case, 600 pages of moral reassessment. Even the Buddha will lose his patience when insulted thrice, however Maka was no god of the sort (and neither was Star though he boasted otherwise) so once was one time enough.

All friendships take time, after all. Or is it rather that all rivalries are dissolved slowly?

"Before I introduce you to my AP English class's book, which I warn you contains almost all of Shakespeare's plays, you might want to go and see what position you'll be filling on Jackie's side."

The two sole males in the gym shivered in reply, understanding what underlying punishment her wine-glass green eyes and mocking smile held.

~O~

From that time on Maka seemed to entertain the idea that Black*Star was a half-decent peer of hers and allowed him to prance along the court in his own ridiculous glory, that of which he toned down and eventually played together with the rest of the girls. To her surprise and Soul's utter relief, he was actually a good team player; a great support with his strength, anyone who made a foul or hit the net on the serve was ignored out of consideration, and any point scored he rooted with all the might his voice could carry. Star even gave a great bear hug to Tsugumi, a sophomore a little on the skittish side who managed a spike that he dived just a second too late for, calling out beginners luck but it made the embrace no less kind.

Maka, though she later denied it, smiled after he ruffled her pigtails in a rather rough manner as she began to understand the blue monkey showed his compassion through excessive physical teasing. His insisting to join the volleyball squad however was turned down flat, he would most certainly not "be the shining star on that dull and dreary club" of theirs. Muscles and skill aside, practice with that one man circus was exhausting enough.

Recognizing that they needed another additional player after Kim had ran off to meet her tutor, an hour late for their study session (he went by the name of Ox, and those meetings between her and said bald nerd never seemed educational as much as they did a forceful and incredibly awkward date, Kim and the rest of her social pride rest in peace), and Black*Star's team looked to the lazy albino leaning sleepily on the bleachers next to them. Their matching cheshire smiles caught his attention, and further caused him to crouch like a turtle in the security of his "cool" shell. Sports other than basketball were not his forte, trust him.

However a mob of girls and a short-stack ball of blue energy had a certain way of convincing (forcing) him to fill in the empty place, and another match soon began. For the most part Soul thought he himself did an okay job at a sport he had never played before, though many a joke were made at his futile attempts to serve the ball OVER the net, damn thing just couldn't fly straight. Or curved, whatever! In hindsight it was probably this exact unfamiliarity that led to Black*Star hitting him square on the jaw, the volleyball making a painful slapping sound throughout the gym and his body softly thumping to the floor with a finality that made Maka fear for the worst and Star laugh to the high heavens.

"I told you to take it easy you know! Geez, I knew you never played volleyball before but getting a concussion on your first game isn't exactly what I expected."

Soul took the ice pack she offered with little enthusiasm and held it to his swelling head, retorting, "Woman, concussions and passing out for three minutes aren't the same thing." Water from the melting cubes trickled down his nose, which he wiped away distractedly with the tank top he wore. "And that idiot probably didn't look where he was aiming at, he was too hyped up about showing off to a crowd of ladies."

"That's still no excuse, you were really out of it! I thought I had to call for an ambulance before you started blinking and- oh, that Black*Star! When I get my hands on his tree stump of a neck I'll…" Instead Maka cut off her threat, holding her now free flowing hair with both hands as she blew a hot breath of air to the ceiling. She leaned back against the lockers and tried to clear her mind from anything having to do with boys and hospitals. It was all just one big accident, after all.

Meanwhile Soul surveyed the girl's locker room, the only place close enough Maka's squad could think of with a first aid kit and benches to lay him down onto. Now though his head was not spinning and he could sit up by himself, so he took this rare chance to study the inner sanctum of the school's female population. To his disappointment, everything was a mirror of the boy's dull, dusty locker room, except for some change activated machines that dispensed tampons for a dollar, that which his gaze chose to quickly bypass. It was nothing like how television portrayed it to be as a guy's wet dream.

Soul's eyes naturally then gravitated to Maka, making that contemplative face where she was either deciding someone's visit to the emergency room or fighting back some seriously mushy, un-Maka-like outbursts. Her flaxen hair a little longer than it was last month brushed just past her collarbone, tiny dents along where it reached her ear telling him she recently took out her twin tails. The rest of her looked a little disheveled too, the front of her v-neck shirt crumpled from worrying hands and making the oversized skull mascot on it crease into an even sillier face and her shoes cast off into the nether, her (his) striped socks now exposed to the cold concrete below. Had she been distressed about him again? The thought made Soul's heart heavy, though it beat faster every second.

"Where'd your kicks go?" His ruby eyes pointed to her wriggling toes hidden by patterned cotton.

"I figured if you went comatose I could run faster to a hospital when I carried you."

"Uh, wouldn't you slip and fall on your ass if you tried carrying someone more than half your size with just socks on over a polished floor?"

"Maka Albarn doesn't fall."

"So that time when you turned the supply closet upside down on my night shift and I found your ass lying on the floor doesn't count because…?"

Jade eyes spat lighting at him, yet her twitching nose gave away all; she too remembers their fateful encounter and yes, remembers indeed about sleeping on a table top with him just opposite of her, holding her feet in his lap as he pet her head and his quiet, yet deep laughter rang in the late-night lamplight. She had hoped he remembered too.

But Maka couldn't stand like a lovesick (lovesick?!) penguin all day and reminisce about such memories! All that mattered was that Soul was alive and conscious enough to be a little shit again. With an indignant snort she twirled around opened the locker behind her. Soul noticed that oh, duh, that must be hers, and she faced him again with a roll of gauze and a plastic pouch filled with gel, reading "Cool, Icy Relief!"

"Stick this to wherever you feel the swelling." She tossed him the cold patch and gently took the soggy bag of ice from his cold grip, and placed the roll next to him on the bench. "And wrap it to your head with the gauze afterwards. I'm going to check on Star and how many more of my teammates he knocked out while you put those on."

Before he could protest and ask her to put it on for him, just give an injured guy a break already, Maka was out the door and on to berate Black*Star no doubt. On second thought though, Soul decided to take that back. This whole day Maka had been true to her word on giving his misunderstood pal a clean slate, although she was no ray of sunshine (as if she ever is) she kept her mouth closed and mind open. Just a few moments prior Soul could tell that she was about to bash on him for making another mess of a previously good day, letting all her past judgments and nit pickings rise to raise hell, yet she hesitated. She stopped herself with a deep breath and a single glance at his awaiting eyes. Never had someone reconsidered smack talking the school's egotistical hothead, after all, it's not like he himself knew how to think before speaking. But she did, just because he asked.

Taking the roll of gauze and unrolling it, Soul had begun to think more about his twin-tailed friend. Maka, over the course of half a year, had managed to worm her way into his affections and became a big part of his life. At school they meet on the football field during lunch and share subs they take turns buying, and occasionally he'll get a tuna sandwich just to piss her off and hear her say "We're both going to the cafeteria this time because I will NOT be subjected to eat that fish slime wrapped in wheat bread that you call 'food'!". A few hours later they meet again to spin pizzas and bang on dying cash registers together, laughing at Taylor Swift falling down in a bathroom on Ellen from the flat screen across them. On weekends they still stay glued to the hip, Soul idly playing on his family's grand piano while Maka tries to coax him into a Calculus study session, sitting on the soft red rug his richer-and-much-better-than-you-will-ever-be parents bought for a price that cannot even fit in his calculator. Soul occasionally thought about calling off their weekend hangouts or school lunches, maybe even ditching the shifts they shared now and then, but was utterly surprised to find that whenever he did a creeping loneliness came over his heart that made air hard to swallow and his cheeks burn a totally un-cool pink.

He looked down when he saw his hand had not stopped unrolling the gauze during his dozing, and embarrassedly looked down on the sizeable pyramid of white fabric he created on his lap. Cursing softly, Soul quickly rewound the tape to a decent length and cut it off with his coincidentally sharp teeth, smirking at their handiness in the oddest of situations. He grabbed the cold pack and pressed it to the slight bump he felt, its thin layer of frost a great relief, luckily having not melted in his idleness. With three quick wraps around his forehead he tied a knot at the base of his skull and leaned back lazily. Even though her presence was gone Maka still had found a way to take care of him.

Black*Star too was not excluded from her mothering nature; contrary to her feigned anger while exiting the locker room outside Soul could very well hear an exasperated yet not-unfriendly hum of her voice along with the more throaty and strangely sheepish yelps of Star. Soul didn't know for sure when Maka had shown this warm, doting side of herself to him for the first time. But then again, he himself could not place when the sarcastic curl of his lip was replaced by genuine smiles and a soft bubble of deep chuckles gathering behind them, yet he knew for sure that it took place after he had met Maka Albarn.

"Soul!" The entrance doors swung open, revealing Maka's lithe form jogging to him. "How's that gel pack working for you? Aw geez, you tied it all funny too." Puffing out one of her cheeks, a signature gesture that was as silly as it was really frickin' cute in Soul's opinion, she made her way to sit behind him and untie the messy knot he created.

"Can't you do anything on your own anymore?"

"Hey, give a guy a little slack muffin. It doesn't matter how cool I am, tying bandages with a concussion isn't the easiest thing in the- OW! Hey! I'm already injured, can you try not to add anymore to my pain you beast- OKAY POINT TAKEN, I'LL SHUT UP NOW-!"

Perhaps it was a little too soon to be cracking jokes about brain injuries he mused, rubbing his head soothingly as Maka put away her copy of Les Miserables.

"I see your commonsense is returning as well," she added with a quirk of her lips.

"More like survival instinct," he muttered, yet a smile managed to find its way upon his lips. Instead of his usual spite held for her goliath novels she so loved using to inflict justice with, a fondness had formed which made his lips curl even further. Maka's habitual chops carried no real ill-feeling; it actually reinforced how close they had become.

Come to think of it, Soul absolutely loved how cool they were. Hanging out afterschool, tossing pizza dough at each other at work, making fun of the other's music tastes, he hasn't felt so at ease since he was a kid and piano lessons still held an air of wonder about them. The thing was that, Maka was everything he could ask for in a friend. She could hold a conversation with depth, knew how to enjoy the quiet nature he had, and was just fun to spaz off whenever she gave him the chance; she even took the extra step to try to understand and accept his obnoxious bro after a rough and well-known history since their elementary days. Maka was open, like the books she built her life around.

After a snug tug of the gauze around his forehead and a soft apology ringing behind him, Soul realized that at times, she did the exact opposite of calming him down. With an accidental flash from her notoriously short skirts, or the lingering squeezes of her palm on his shoulder, hell, even smelling the mint on her breath after she had brushed her teeth on an early morning shift could cause the structure of his stubborn resolve to collapse. There were a lot of things Soul admired about her, sure. Liking Maka was as natural to him as it would be for anyone else; she was just that kind of person you wanted to like you back. Yet, it's not only when he appreciates the heaven sent volleyball body and legs made from miles of ivory that set him ablaze (how could they not, especially with her bottom preferences ranging from short skirts to short shorts to anything above the goddamn knee), it's also when she wordlessly handed him a to-go sushi pack from his favorite Japanese restaurant whenever he had a shit day. It's when his parents didn't stay when he called them to his room to listen to a song he'd been mulling over for half a year, and she gave him a standing ovation for a stupid little tune he wrote on the back of his homework. It's just when she's there, sitting next to him, happy to enjoy the stillness of air and to coexist, and just be.

A firm wall had been built around Soul's heart, and here she was, swinging her hammer and letting it go to rubble, making his chest beat after every blow.

He looked at Maka, whom dipped down her head bashfully and let her mussed curtain of post-practice hair slide messily across her shoulders. It was also her whom looked up at him from her tangled veil and reached for his hand, standing Soul up carefully and maneuvering him into closed position, leading them into a not-so poorly rehearsed waltz. A bit shell-shocked, since spinning with a head injury is probably not the best rehabilitation process to undergo, he stretches his fingers for proof that her hand his wrapped around his, and indeed he feels her own squeeze his in reaction.

Happy yet baffled from the spontaneous action, Soul let his countless dance lessons lead his feet along to the silent beat of a song, a former degrading practice now one he rather took jubilation in, at least with girls in pigtails and grease-stained aprons. Maka somehow mastered not stepping on his feet every step he took, unlike most of their last ballroom dance session, and Soul couldn't have helped but smile at the small feat.

"Just wanted to show you my progress," she mumbled to the lighting above.

"Right after I awoke from unconsciousness? Not exactly your best idea, bookworm."

"Oh please." She had enough nerve left to sound sarcastic. "You're still standing, aren't you?"

Some silence passed, and Soul spoke carefully. "Why now though, all of the sudden? Not that I'm not enjoying this or anything, but it seems a bit random of you."

Within a beat Maka still smiled overhead and sighed out quietly, "Don't you dance when you can't find the right words to say?"

Looking right past him while simultaneously giving him her sole attention, her usual sharp gems of jade were unfocused, and soft. Maybe she was picturing when he played Sinatra for her and taught her how to fly over lunch tables, like he was. Maybe she was just sleepy, and he was delusional via blunt trauma to the skull. His eyes had gone soft and foggy too.

God.

Everything she'd done recently could have also been described as "soft", really. From patching him up in the dingy locker room to working at Death Hut and wordlessly listening to his infamous jazz mix tapes on their stereo, she had acted different as of late. Not a bad different, Maka had always stayed like Maka, but a "hey, I kind of want to tuck you into my bed and either feed you warm chicken noodle soup or strip you bare and see how far your legs stretch without those DAMNED STRIPED SOCKS BLOCKING THE VIEW" different.

But he's pretty sure if he said what he really thought out loud, his dick would meet the nearest garbage disposal in less than ten seconds flat.

So he stuck to her advice she in actuality said she took from him, to which he reminded himself to JUST SHUT UP AND REMEMBER WHO THE HELL YOU ARE, and spoke naught.

And in the silence of his psyche, the soft pads of their shoes on concrete, and the hum of a forgotten gym teacher's walkie talkie in a distant office, Soul finally figured something out, for once.

It happened in a series of memories. Step after step, moments of their time spent together slowly came to mind with each turn around the lockers. Like wiping the fog away from a frosted window, images of his head leaning towards hers show in the streaks of his fingers, pretending to adjust their shared headphones while he admires the slight freckles that kiss her nose. Another moment he sees her beaming at him through the pixels on his phone screen, skyping him at 3 in the morning, because she finally received a post card from her world-traveling mother and HE was the first person she really wanted to tell. Soul still was thankful that she couldn't see his stupidly wide smile about that very fact through her tears of joy and heartbreaking frustration.

Enough fog was erased through his inner clipshow that Soul could make out what was behind that glass barrier, and all he could see was him and Maka together.

And he very much wanted to keep his life leading towards that general goal.

"I think I'm getting really good at this, Soul!"

It was by the third turnaround that he decided he had stalled enough for several months actually, much to his chagrin, which caused him to press his lips onto Maka's (whom's where currently open with her tinkling laughter at the un-cool fluffy faces he was most likely making) all the more quicker.

She tasted like the tart Granny-Smiths she had brought for practice, and he's pretty sure his hands are sweaty and shaking as they touch her forearms in his nervousness, yet all Maka does is close her hands around his so they can shiver together, and she slants her lips further in-between his. Soft, breathy, and more or less the most nerve-racking and relieving thing they have done in their lives, they exchange kisses again and again as Soul backs into a set of lockers and allows Maka to lean on her tip toes to better meet his awaiting lips.

She whispered thank-you's to the curve of his chin for giving her her favorite striped socks in the entire world, and he swallowed them as his mouth showed gratitude for wearing them everyday for him to her jawline. Her bottom lip had disappeared into his hold as he sucked it lazily, Maka slumping against him and just appreciating the feeling of his lax, lean body as their tongues barely met behind pinked lips. Soul was glad to realize that their hands had been interlocked all the while.

Lifting his right and her left hand up, he touched her cheek with both appendages, having paused their previous activities to say, "Yeah, I think you're really good at this."

"Shut up Soul, I know."

And he did, just bending his head down far enough to kiss just below her eyebrow as she fluttered her eyes happily. Slowly she led their hands down to her striped socks and spread his fingers across the back of her thighs, signaling the okay for him to begin the touching, please. Thanking the powers that be for letting him live long enough to experience the rapture and fear and utter bliss that was sharing his first kiss with Maka Albarn, Soul closed his eyes along with hers and thought of blonde lashes and green apples as their lips craved their moist company yet again.

Please R&R! And thank you all for the awesome follows and faves! *faints from your kindness*