Day 1 - First Kiss: "every wednesday at the same damn time you're at the same cereal aisle getting the same cereal brand and i've been trying to make a move on you for ages" AU

He sees her every Wednesday around 9:00 pm in aisle 14 without fail. Soul doesn't know her name but he knows three important things: she is unfathomably cute, goes to NYU (thank you, obnoxiously bright college swag and branding), and has excellent taste in breakfast foods. They have crossed paths a total of eight times since he moved to the city and Soul still hasn't worked up the nerve to say anything more than, "Gotta have those Honey Bran Cluster Oats, huh?"

Whoever "she" is, she is friendly and always flashes him a warm, bright smile before grabbing her box of Honey Bran Cluster Oats. The last time they met, she even waved goodbye before jogging to the self checkout station. It's getting to the point where Soul doesn't even need the damn cereal anymore– he has literally four unopened boxes sitting on top of his refrigerator– he is just looking for an opening to talk to his mystery cereal soul mate.

You need to man up and say hi before you deplete New York City of its Honey Bran Cluster Oats, his band mate, Kilik, joked. Do it for the kids who need their cereal, dude.

Soul doesn't want to be held responsible for The Great Honey Bran Cluster Oat Shortage of 2015 and so it is his obligation, no, his dutyto say hi to Cute Cereal Girl.

Wednesday night. 9:06 pm. Like clockwork, she appears before him in aisle 14, a vision in her NYU hoodie and plaid skirt. Her dirty blond hair is pulled back into two low pigtails and her steel toed boots look like they could do some serious damage. She is a mystery wrapped up in an enigma. He has so many questions. Why does she need so many boxes of Honey Bran Cluster Oats? Is there is a boyfriend or girlfriend that she is sharing them with? How old is she? Does she like snarky, sarcastic musicians? Does she know that he is bordering on obsessive and it's all because she is both adorable and looks like she could kick his ass and maybe fate has brought them together by way of cereal?

Soul is gross and hates himself and this is the complete opposite of cool. He needs to just pull the trigger, get rejected quickly, and then write a new song about it.

"Oh, hey! I didn't see you here last week," Cereal Girl says cheerfully. "It's weird but I just sort of assume you'll be here at the same time as me."

Was she looking for him? Good sign. "Had a gig," Soul says, hoping he sounds cool and not like his heart just did a backflip from his chest to his stomach.

"Too bad." Soul's face flushes. She was disappointed that he didn't show. "They were having a sale on Honey Bran Cluster Oats and I know you're a fan!" Soul rubs the bridge of his nose. Alright, so this girl is more practical than romantic.

They both reach for their cereal, Soul mentally berating himself for pussying out yet again. He is going to die alone with his keyboard and sixteen thousand boxes of unopened cereal and he deserves it. "Ah," Cereal Girl says as their hands brush. "There's only one box left."

This is it. This is his chance. Soul wants to say something smooth like, "Give me your number in exchange for the last box of Honey Bran Cluster Oats?" but for all of his cool bravado, he is a massive fucking dork that usually hates interacting with strangers. Instead he says: "Whatever. You can have it."

She frowns. "Well, you got here first. You should have it."

"It's fine. Take it." He has enough cereal at home to feed an entire village. He doesn't need the damn cereal.

"No, I insist."

Soul sighs. She is stubborn but he can see her heart is in the right place. "Are we really arguing over cereal?"

Cereal Girl looks thoughtful. "Do you want to share it? I think it's the only fair thing to do. If you're hungry right now, we can go to my apartment."

Whoa. Hold up. Stop everything. Did he just get an invite to her place? Soul sends a silent thank you to the cereal gods for answering his prayers. "Is that really okay? You don't even know my–"

"Soul Evans."

"Or where I–"

"You live two blocks from here."

"And–"

"You're in a band, you come from Boston, and I know for sure your favorite cereal is Honey Bran Cluster Oats. Either that or you have stock in the company."

"That's freaky," Soul sticks his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

Cereal Girl laughs. "Your backpack strap has your name on it, I always see you walking from your apartment, you just told me that you had a gig last week, you have a slight Boston accent, and we've met no less than ten times getting the same cereal. I notice things. I'm Maka, by the way. Maka Albarn."

Maka. Finally, he was getting somewhere. Hallelu.

"You shouldn't be so trusting. I could be a serial killer," Soul offers.

"No problem. I have a black belt in Aikido, Judo, Krav Maga."

Cereal Girl– no, Maka– is more awesome than he could have ever hoped.

"Then let's go eat some cereal."

Soul is two bites into his Honey Bran Cluster Oats before he plucks up the courage to lean across Maka's table to kiss her. It is chaste and short but sweet and Soul is hopeful that he'll be able to see her outside of aisle 14 more often.

They smile goofily at each other and Soul's eyes stray to the top of her refrigerator. Five boxes of Honey Bran Cluster Oats.

"Pfft, you've got it bad," Soul teases, like he isn't guilty of the exact same crime.

"Shut up," Maka blushes. "I just really like cereal."