"Soul! We're going to be late if you don't get up now!"
No response, but it's not a surprise, really. His perpetual laziness has gotten incredibly annoying these past few days. Why can he never seem to wake up at a reasonable hour? You'd think it wouldn't take him so many years to learn.
"SOUL! Get up or I'll beat you so hard that you'll never be able to!"
Despite my rather violent threats, he remains fast asleep. The ticking of the clock and his loud snores are the only sounds in the room. What does he do to have to sleep in this late?
And then something occurs to me.
I re-enter his room about twenty minutes later and immediately lean down to kiss his forehead. "Soul, there's food on the table if you want it..."
He awakens in a small supernova of drool and blood from his nose, which I quickly learn is the ugliest spectacle known to man, and bolts out into the kitchen.
"MAKA!" His yell becomes more of a shrill scream, and I wince as it echoes throughout the house. "IT'S SIX IN THE GODDAMNED MORNING!"
***
"Why the hell would you do that?" he moans, his voice still laced with drowsiness.
"Admit it, if I hadn't woken you up, you would have slept through the entire fucking day, no questions asked."
"Couldn't you have at least woken me up at seven? Six is so early..."
"And seven's too late. You wouldn't have even had time to eat."
He rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say, Mom."
My book quickly finds itself smashing into his head, but even before they escape my lips I know my words are going to be more painful. "I'm just worried about you, asshole! Can't you ever be grateful about anything, or are you always going to be such a terrible person?"
I storm off, not even glancing back. "I don't know why I chose you..." I mutter under my breath. We're like two corner pieces in a jigsaw puzzle; try as they might, nobody will ever fit us together.
***
In every class, my cruel words echo through my mind, and by the end of the day, tears are beading in my eyes. What I said was unbelievably harsh, it's true. But I can't cry. An Albarn never cries.
Remorse slowly begins to seep into my veins; cold, heavy, heart-crushing remorse. I just want to sob out an apology to Soul and kiss him until my lips are numb, but he's probably packing up and moving out by now. Pondering what kind of Meister he really wants.
But even if he tried to push me to the back of his mind, he'd always be in mine.
***
When I get home, he's lying on the couch, ankles and feet dipping lazily over the opposite end, and there are no suitcases in sight. Surprisingly, he doesn't look angry, but his eyes widen when he sees me.
"S-Soul," I manage, practically diving into his arms. "I'm sorry for what I said, I know you'll probably never forgive me, and I understand...I just wasn't thinking and I was angry and the words just sort of...came out..." I collapse, bawling like a baby, into his chest. So much for never crying.
"Hey, hey, stop beating yourself up." He takes my chin gently and gradually lifts it up, until I find myself staring into his vast crimson eyes. "I should be eternally grateful to you, for supporting me and taking care of me, even when I'm being a pain, but instead I just shrugged it all off like it was nothing...Maka, I'm sorry too." He leans in and kisses me, ever so gently, before drawing away and wrapping his long arms around my body.
"I-I love you," I gasp, choking on my own tears. The dark, heavy wings of sleep grab me and begin to pull me away from reality, and just before I let them steal my consciousness, four words resound through my mind, deep and rich and powerful:
"I love you too."
