100 Souls, 100 Moments

100 Souls, 100 Moments- 8.033: Expectations

Maka remembers when she had first seen Soul playing the piano in his dignified tux. How he had worn a dauntlessly smile as he turned around to face her, causing her heart to skip a beat as she stood there with her brain spinning in circles.

She had thought him to be a real gentlemen.

The crème of the crop, so to say.

She ALSO remembers a few days later, when they'd finally decided to become partners and they'd moved in together, how she'd first seen the glimpse of what Soul was really really like… lazy, sarcastic, 'cool' boy and all.

First, she had thought he was just relaxing a little bit, now out of his stuffy mansion and so was kicking back for a little without having to think about manner and proper eloquent for once in his young life.

But as the days wore on…she began to finally realize that THIS was his true nature and not that suave nobleman she'd first glimpsed.

Of course, she'd gotten mad as she felt she'd been wrongly lead and deceived into believing he was an actual, maybe an above the norm, person…weapon...same difference.

But when she thought it over, it started to make sense.

He was just an example as to how ALL men were: pigs who would always need someone to care for them. How was he any different then her father? In NO way, that's what.

Yet she kept her slight disappointment hidden (her early Maka Chops didn't count) but found it was short lived as she soon realized that she didn't really mind the real Soul as much as she'd first thought.

She actually found it amusing at times.

The way he stumbled to express his emotions and how he'd always protect and stand up for her, no matter the consequences or who they were pinned against.

Unless…it was when he was flailing around with a nosebleed after Blair had come out of the shower in skimpy lingerie. 

THEN she got really pissed.

And when she'd seen him back in his rich façade in celebration for him advancing to a death weapon (second try's the charm), it made her chest twinge a little bit in sadness at not seeing him in his trueself.

She finally registered, blinking in astonishment, as she starred at him accross the ball room that she liked to be with the loudly laughing, drooling self rather then when he wore this pompous persona.

And while she just finished thinking that, he glanced over at her and meet her dazed glaze to flash a spiky toothed smirk her way, making her shyly smile back.

He wasn't the kind of Prince straight from a fairy-tale or a perfect gentlemen straight a dream

(no matter HOW good he looked in that black and white stripped tux), but to Maka he was her own kind of hero.

The kind with a crooked smile and true soul, no matter HOW much Dr. Stein argued it was 'twisted'.