Evanescent emotions

For some time Maka dealt with it, by immersing herself in study, exercise or plain apathy. She would push the frustration and disappointment down, shy from these new feelings, knowing they could offer nothing to her. This facade became second nature, a way to cope with anything life had to throw: hard, emotionless, strangely cold-it worked, it kept the feelings at bay. Occasionally the mask fell away into bursts of emotion, but seldom in front of others. This charade did not apply when alone behind closed doors, there the veil fell away leaving her with the raw feelings, free to imagine- to fantasize.

Maka opened the cabinet over the sink and eyed the barren dusty shelves for something edible. After moving aside half empty coffee bean containers and 5 year old boxes of mac n'cheese she unearthed an only slightly dusty box of macaroni. She scanned it for the date- not even a year old, score! Now I don't have to go grocery shopping she thought almost shamefully; ever since her father had starting 'seeing' one of the cashiers, he practically lived in the store, and Maka would not chance a family reunion at Go-and-Groce.

After setting a pot to boil and digging up some salt, Maka glanced at the sun shaped clock on the wall. The tongue, which doubled as the minute hand, sat on the 5. Soul insisted on buying it when they visited Cemetery Groove on a job, for next to nothing since for whatever reason it refused to tell the right time, always half an hour behind, but despite its stubbornness Maka loved it. It was a little early to start cooking, but she decided to go ahead, knowing that with exquisite culinary skills like hers there was bound to be at least one screw up, even with making something as mundane as pasta.

She found something green in the abyss of her sorry looking fridge and decided it was good enough for garnish. Setting it aside Maka went to the far cabinet to get some kind of sauce, which for some reason they always seemed to have an abundance of. Reaching up to grab a can her fingertips could only brush the side of it, even on her toes. She let out an exasperated sigh as she heard a laugh from the doorway. She choked on a nasty comment as she turned around. Her heart skipped a beat- or maybe two. In the doorway stood a dripping towel clad Soul. The small garment left little for the imagination falling dangerously low on his hips. Water droplets clung to his lean body, dripped from his sodden silvery hair and rolled down his muscles, leaving streaks down his bare chest. Pull it together, you've seen him like this before masquerading throughout the apartment in next to nothing, this is no different, she thought as she silently willed herself not to blush.

"Need a little help there shorty?" Soul remarked with a smirk. He made his way to the cabinet and brushed past her as Maka opened her mouth.

"We're practically the same height so that makes you short too," she responded lamely as she watched his back muscles flex as he reached up to reach the can. Maka turned away quickly and busied herself, setting the image to memory for later, while wiping away the drool, so not to seem like she was staring.

"Last time I checked I was still taller than you," he answered waving the can back and forth mockingly and Maka rolled her eyes. Soul leaned on the counter behind him after setting down the can, absentmindedly gazing out the kitchen window. Maka sneaked glances at him as she bent down to get a pan from under the counter. Her eyes shamelessly followed the scar down his wet chest, which was partially hidden by the blue towel when suddenly she dropped the pan. Holding the pan in the same hand she tried to shut the cabinet with proved to be a little too much of a multitask with her half naked death scythe in the room.

Soul turned to look at her as she quickly and clumsily put the pan on the iron grate of the stove, but Soul did not seem to notice her ungainliness.

"Oh, are you planning on cooking now?" he asked suddenly as if broken out of a trance.

"Yeah, Spaghetti, err without meatballs though," She added as she glanced gloomily into the equally barren frozen wasteland of the freezer, "Why?" Soul scratched nervously at the back of his head, a stupid little mannerism of his that he'd do when picking his words carefully so not to upset her.

"Err, I actually have plans tonight, with Kima. We were planning to go out to eat and take a walk around Luna Park later" He said, averting his eyes when he said it. Maka would get strange whenever he would mention her, though he had no clue why she should. She would get, not angry or disappointed, but just back off a little or not joke around or smile too much. With a hard swallow, Maka pried open the dried glued flaps of the box and took out a handful of the long brittle pasta before responding,

"Yeah, whatever, as long as today still counts as my turn for cooking," she joked a little dryly, as she broke and threw the macaroni into the boiling water. She could feel Soul staring into the back of her head trying to make out if she was at all vexed. Deciding that all was good he made his way out of the kitchen, pausing to playfully tug at a pigtail before dodging a swatting hand and snickering.

"Yeah, whatever," he mocked as he turned the corner to his room, leaving behind puddles of water where he walked.

"Oh, when you're done come back and mop up this water!" Maka yelled behind him. Either he didn't hear or pretended not to since he didn't answer. Maka sighed and wiped up the water with a spare dish towel, throwing it into the sink after. Something stirred in her gut, almost painfully, but she suppressed it, willed it to go away and busied herself with straightening up empty cabinets.

Ten minutes later when the pasta was just about done, Soul made his way back in, this time fully clothed, in a suit minus the jacket, and a loose tie around his neck. Maka raised her eyebrows at him, knowing just how much he preferred his sweatshirt and bandanna to suits.

"I know, I know, I look like I'm going to wedding or something"

"I was going to say funeral" Maka interrupted with a smirk that was meet with a glance.

"Kima's aunt owns some fancy food place downtown and she wanted to go dine there, so I'm being forced to wear this. Not by choice okay," he said as he fell into a chair. Maka smiled inwardly at his mocking tone.

"Ooh sounds fun. Maybe you could order caviar even," she said, knowing well how much he despised seafood, as he playfully stuck a finger down his throat and pretended to vomit. She was aware of his eyes on the back of her neck, watching her as she poured out sauce onto a pan to heat, and drained the pasta. Soul sighed as he looked at the clock, moving the tongue a half hour forward for it to only move right back.

"Maka, could you tie this for me," he asked suddenly as he took both sides of the tie into fists and sighed again.

"How don't you know how to do this yet," she responded with fake agitation as she made her way over. Soul stood up and tilted his chin up as Maka looped and knotted the ends. She smiled at being so close, for a moment letting her mind wander and wonder if it would feel different if the tie was for her.

"Why learn when you can do it for me," he teased, and she pulled at the ends harder than usual, causing him to stiffen. She smiled sweetly and lightly patted his chest,

"What would you do without me?"

"I'd be going on a fancy dinner date with no tie, which would not be cool," and with mock pride added, "and maybe next time I might, it would save me from the nagging." He added a lopsided grin sending shivers down her spine making everything seem alright.

"Well, gotta go, don't want to be late. Cool guys like me don't leave a girl waiting," he winked before leaving without a backward glance. At the slam of the door and without skipping a beat, Maka began cutting the green thing, her knife coming down harder and harder with each downward motion. She nicked her finger and exclaimed in anger.

She could feel angry sobs stuck at the back of her throat as the cutting board swayed and blurred. Taking shaky breaths, she ran her hand under water, realizing then that the small scratch didn't warrant tears, yet they fell down nonetheless. Turning off the burner and throwing out the nearly ready meal in the trash, Maka made her way into the living room when she threw herself down on the couch, spotting treasure under the coffee table. She sat up and pushed it away with her foot, picking up the dust covered textbook. She breathed it in, immersed herself in the theories and words, and soon the tears dried and her thoughts settled. After the sun had gone down and her neck stiffened she made her way into her room and lay on her bed staring out into the night. Sometime later she heard the turn of a key and the beat of happy footsteps that slowed when passing her door. That night she let herself dream that stupid gait was because of her.

Ahh, I'm back to writing. It's been what, 2 years now since my last piece, yikes. Anyways tell me what you thought; I'm open to all criticism. Thanks so much for reading!