Chapter Text
For all of Maka’s obsession about angelic wings, she never would have guessed the real moment she’d be gifted them.
That moment Soul looked at her, grinned and said, “Even this music is something we made together, isn’t it?”
That moment feathers dusted across her ribs, her heart alive and soaring.
That was the moment that she knew.
The moment that Soul was no longer just her weapon, just her best friend, but…
The moment he became something else.
The moment she spent years examining, hoping, and wishing for that feeling all over again.
Normally, Soul sleeping in class would be the most irksome thing he could manage. Today was supposed to be no different, but… her bruises ache. She was sure his did too, including the gash he had on his right arm from a short stint of solo fighting. They should’ve been at home, but—and she could hear Soul say this in her head—little miss perfect attendance had to be here.
So let him sleep. She leaned on her elbow, finding the perfect angle to peek at his face. His hair was getting a little too long, falling over his brow and teasing at his closed eyes. Maka tapped her fingers against the desktop to resist the urge to move it out of the way for him. The fact that the idea glanced over her mind made her stomach loop in on itself, twisting with that pleasant pain.
She sighed, trying to ease the knot out, but it was no use. It’d been tied tight for days, months, maybe even a year. She mourned it and enjoyed it all at once—the dangerous, disastrous love she has for her weapon. No, stop framing it like that, Maka Albarn. Don’t lie to yourself. You love who he is, not what he is. Another little mournful breath danced over her lips as she continued to stare.
By this point, Soul was a death scythe. Soul had saved the world—well, they saved the world but without his song, what would it have been like? How much more blood would have been shed? And all the while, he stayed the same. The quiet, thoughtful, cool guy. He still slept through class. He still flicked her pigtails.
Or maybe some things had changed now that he was a year older. More than just his hair has gotten longer—limbs and torso stretching to make him abundantly taller when she used to be able to clear him without tippy toes. He was lithe, muscled but not in that stocky fashion of Star’s. He’d started shaving, too, to get rid of the stubble that graced his chin more than his upper lip. Or would he look more handsome with it?
Blaming it on her exhaustion, Maka allowed this line of thought. She could see him, unshaven, crinkly white hair dotting his chin. She decided against it. That trailed off into an even worse thought—about touching the baby-soft, just shaved curve of his cheek. If I did something like that, would he blush? Would he complain? Or worse, would he–
That was not a daydream for class, so Maka clamped shut on the last flash of him leaning towards her, teeth glinting in that dangerous smirk.
“Anyone? Maka?”
She jumped to attention, wide eyes falling on Stein who’s pointing at the board.
“Maka, since everyone else seems lost, would you care to answer?”
“Um…” She started to sweat.
“You’re talking about BREW,” Soul croaked as one red eye opened. “A demon tool created by Eibon.” Each syllable drew out until his sentence ended with a bored yawn.
“And here I thought I’d have to give you detention today, Soul…” Stein gave an amused chuckle as he went back on another intricate diagram on the board.
“See somethin’ interestin’?” Soul cooed as his bright, sparkling eye refused to shut.
“You’re drooling,” she replied as she flicked his ear.
He harrumphed and turned his head over, protecting the wounded side. Regardless of the distance he made, Soul’s grumble still found her ear. “Serves me right for tryin’ to help you.”
Maka leaned over, taking one more second to enjoy the line of his neck, the strong shoulders that shimmied as he tried to settle again. “Thank you,” she murmured. When he turned his head, that fluttering panic came to her gut, making her snap ramrod straight in the chair. He was too close. He was too handsome, and this was all too much.
Maka and Soul sat on the roof, feet dangling as the air blew the dust off the bottoms of their shoes. It had taken hours to discover him—blowing off classes because the endless open sky was so much better than any lecture hall rather. An upgrade from sleeping at his desk because he was beaten half to death. He’d only cocked his head towards her when she sat, ruby eyes still searching off into the horizon.
Her heart threatened to make the leap off the precipice as she hooked his pinky. The corner of his mouth quirked as his fingers climbed. It wasn’t a fall but a triumphant ascent as he took her hand completely in his. Her gaze shot out to the left, hoping to hide the blush that was clinging to her cheeks. “What have you been doing?”
“Sittin’ here,” he murmured. From the carry of his voice it was obvious he was looking at her now, but Maka couldn’t allow him to see the pink that wouldn’t die.
“Everyone’s been looking for you.”
“Doubt that,” he replied with a chuckle that made goosebumps travel up her neck. Another wave hit her as he flicked one of her pigtails. “You been lookin’ for me?”
“Well…” Maka muttered. “Of course. How else am I supposed to spar?” For once, the roll of her eyes was meant just for her, the flimsy nature of her own lie eating at her. Why can I just admit it? The silence instead of a reply made it sting even more. Maka pulled in a slow breath. “Are you okay?”
“Dunno.”
“Did something happen?”
“Depends…”
“On what?” Worry coaxed her eyes back to him regardless of whether or not the rose of her cheeks was gone. She met red eyes head-on.
“We gotta talk,” he croaked before swallowing thickly. His gaze dropped to their connected hands. “I-I was thinkin’ I’d do it at home, but I think I’m gonna chicken out. I’m gonna–” His Adam’s apple seemed to struggle against gravity itself.
Maka squeezed his hand, and even though her own heart felt as strong as rice paper, she murmured, “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
His lips folded closed, forcing his next inhale through his nose. After one last clench of his jaw, he opened his mouth just enough for the words to tumble out. “I talked to Kid today.”
“Okay.” Sweat dotted the back of her neck.
“He asked me a question.”
“Okay.” The word was glued to her tongue, the only thing she could offer.
“And I said I had to ask you, but…” Their eyes met again, and his were now pleading pools. “I think I already know what answer I want to give him. I do want you to know first, but…” The air trembled from between his teeth. “I-I don’t want you to hate me.”
There’s no way. Maka wished she had the courage to croon it, to take his face in her hands and promise him there’d never be a time. “It’s okay,” she choked out instead, tears starting to burn her retinas. “Just tell me, Soul.”
“Marie’s stayin’ here because of the baby,” he murmured. “So Kid needs someone to cover Oceania. He asked me and I think—I’m sayin’ yes.”
“For how long?” How she managed the air to ask that was beyond her as tiny holes in her chest seeped everything else out. Blood, muscle, life leaving her.
Soul’s lips squirmed before the unbelievable answer came: “Four years.”
No! Maka wanted to bray. Her other hand trembled as it came to her face, realizing that whatever beautiful blush had been there had drained to nothing but slick, hot tears.
“I-it ain’t about you, or u-us.” When Maka’s hand cleared from her face, she realized the hiccups were his own sobs. “You know I wanna stay, but I-I think it’s important that I go.”
More important than us? That was too dark and oily to utter, especially when us was an ill-defined term. Her heart fluttered every time she looked at him now, but doing something about it? Acknowledging it was… not a blame that he should bear. I should open my mouth now. I should tell him how I feel and that will force him to stay. Her gut sank, hearing the petulance of it loud and clear. “Y-you said you decided.”
“Yeah,” he warbled.
A whine quivered up her throat, daring to tangle her lips. “Can’t I come with you?”
His smile trembled as he squeezed her hand. “I asked the same thing.”
“Which means the answer is no,” Maka murmured.
He nodded weakly before his chin simply fell to his chest. “He’s got somethin’ else planned for you. No matter what, it seems like… like the plan is for us to split.”
Split. The word itself tore her in two. What a jejune, lackluster term for the ripping of her roots. Everything she had come to know– accepted as being hers was being cleaved from her very soul. Dramatic. You’re so dramatic. Just congratulate him. Don’t be so wrapped up in your petty little love that you’ll destroy this opportunity for him. No matter the internal berating, Maka still whispered. “I’ll miss you so much.” Her tears pooled as she looked to her lap, using the free hand that wasn’t anchored to him to uselessly wipe at the flood.
“It’s not forever,” he whispered hoarsely as he used their connection to pull her closer. Between his own scooting and pulling, he managed to get an arm around her shoulder. “But, yeah, Maka, I’ll miss you too.”
There weren’t many times Maka had allowed herself to cry without limit. The divorce. When Soul almost died. When Crona was locked away forever. All of those times she had let her heart mourn until she reached the bottom. This, though, was limitless. A well that never ran dry. As Soul held her, she wept, and was sure she’d never find an end to it.