more earlyfic - set prior to the events of the manga. it should be assumed by this point they're starting to move into their apartment.
It's like an identity crisis, struggling and putting such weight on his name. Except,
his name doesn't have as much a significance in defining who he is, as he thinks it does.
He should probably tell her. Not everything (maybe later, maybe never) - just the basic stuff. It's unavoidable. And she'll find out, eventually. Somehow. She's got her ways.
"Evans," he grits irritatedly across from her, "my surname."
She turns the page of her book, "So?"
"It's... Great," he sighs and takes a breath, preparing himself to tell her exactly what he means, "You don't know."
"Oh, I know," she says simply, startling him, "so?"
"You...know," he blinks hard at her, "you know and-"
"Your piano piece was pretty," she supplies helpfully, "each package for our essentials and furniture that has been sent here has been signed under 'Evans.' Mail comes addressed to you," which means she's lied to him every time he has awkwardly and anxiously asked her if she has seen the mail before him.
She then gives a pointed look to his bags sitting in the foyer, waiting to be put in his room. (She's already scolded him that he can't just leave his things around and he needs to unpack already.)
"Not only that, but some of your bags have 'Evans' on it, even if it's really poorly covered."
The black tape across the corner of the bag indeed covers up what would be "-vans" and is replaced with crude writing of "-ater. "
"Soul Evans. Soul Eater Evans. So?"
And he knows that's just another reason why he's allowing her here, why she's still going to be here, why she had stayed that day in spite of his black refrain.
She's too cool to let him be continually burdened by his past or his name.
(And that's maybe - definitely - because she herself has had to come to terms with the legacy that she carries in her own blood and name.)
"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."