It wasn't the most invigorating weather, with the constant, steady thrum of the rain drops over the bus stop roof. The air held the chill that accompanied 40-degree weather with a 98% chance of rain. The sun hadn't shown itself in days and wasn't predicted to anytime soon in the coming weeks.
The light of the clear skies and full sunshine warmed her skin as she stood in the field, surveying the area with a hand above her eyes, to shield her gaze.
She tightened her coat around her body, tucking her hands into her pockets for warmth, as she others around checked their watches or cell phones and waited alongside her in the dreary weather. She sighed, her breath visible in light puffs emanating from her mouth and nose. She shivered, as another car sped past, splashing water up onto the sidewalk from the flooding drainage.
The summer breeze tugged at the stray strands of hair framing her face as she spotted the figures in the distance, and their slow approach.
The bus came barreling down the road, nearly missing the stop with at least six people waiting for their ride, their money and passes at the ready. As the doors creaked open, she found herself last in line to board, most likely leaving her standing at the front and attempting to keep her balance the entire ride home. She recognized this driver, and he was a bit too rushed when it came to his turns.
The figures became less blurry and she could make out his lean form as he quickened his pace to a run, the group at a relaxed pace behind him, though she only had eyes for him as he made quick work of the space between them. She was very much aware of the grin on her face and that she looked like an idiot, but she wasn't in the mindset to care.
She attempted to lean against the plexiglass divider to maintain her balance, her right hand on the rail along the windows. She ground her teeth and attempted to keep her boots firmly planted on the metal floor. Her dripping pigtails swung sharply with every speedy and reckless turn. She just wanted this day, much like every other day for the past 6 months, to be over.
He caught her thin frame up in his arms and spun her around as she barked at him to put her down, "Right this instant unless you want a book shaped indent in your skull!" Even though she kept that stupid grin the entire time and had her arms around him in a vice grip, never wanting to let go again, even if she knew she had to.
When Death finally had mercy on her and her stop neared, she rang the electronic bell and the drive slammed on the breaks, nearly missing another stop on his route (which he apparently was oft to do). She went flying to the ground, the contents of her bag tumbling to the ground. As she gathered her belongings, she got nothing but glares, from the driver of all people! One other young passenger took pity on her and helped her gather her ungraded term papers. She muttered a quick "Thank you," and was off the bus as if there were a Kishin on her tail. She attempted to protect the already weakened integrity of the papers by tucking them under her trademark leather trench coat as she made dash for the mansion owned by the new Lord Death, Death the Kid.
He set her down with a chuckle and stared at her face for a moment, memorizing it again, as red and green clashed, both still wearing those idiotic grins. His hands never left her waist, wanting to keep a steady hold on the girl he'd missed for 6 months. "It's as if you missed me, or something!" she teased, her typical snark like a smooth jazz melody to his ears after being away from it so long, with nothing but letters to hold him over. The others approached the pair from behind, Patty and BlackStar hollering for her attention.
Kid was in the kitchen, making perfectly symmetrical lasagna with Liz, when Maka came trudging out of the front hall, resembling a kicked puppy after it had been left in a box for a week and taken a mud bath. Her demeanor was damn close, too. For a second, Liz thought she could see a bit of Soul in her expression as she grumbled and growled.
Before she could avert her attention to their friends, Soul leaned in for a kiss that spoke of the months of sleepless nights and empty cots and beds and the distance between them. She responded in kind, and the hoots and hollers of their friends turned into catcalls and pleas to "Go get a room!" She flipped them her middle finger over his left shoulder as her hands snaked up into his shock white hair.
Maka didn't say much as she hung up her trench in the coat closet and took her papers up to her room and private office to do the work she'd brought home with her. She didn't have anything better to do on a Friday night than grade some papers a week before she'd promised them back and get some lesson planning in. It's not like a mission was anywhere in her future anytime soon.
For the next week, they were practically glued together. No one could pry them apart for more than half an hour, not even their friends. Maka's father was at a frenzy, now that her time was once again being monopolized by her Weapon lover. Their friends couldn't stand to be around them for more than a couple hours at a time. Which was fine by them, because when they weren't at the academy they were at home, in their bed, making up for as much lost time as possible.
She didn't notice the time until the clock struck twelve with 8 chimes. She straightened her back and stretched her arms overhead, cracking bones and stretching sore muscles. She set down her infamous red grading pen and leaned back. There had to be at least 100 graded term papers in a neat stack at the top right corner of her desk, with another 50 or so to go. "Get some sleep, bookwork," a little voice whispered in her head, and she sighed. With a resigned smile, she pushed her chair back and stood, heading to the bathroom for a shower and her nightly routine.
He got the notice for another mission about a month after his return. When he came home from the Academy, Maka was on the coach in one of her torturous pajama ensembles, with silk shorts that barely covered her ass and displayed extremely long, gorgeous legs. Over all that was one of his shirts, and she had her hair down, her glasses perched on the edge of her nose, which was buried in a rather large volume, which was apparently very interesting. She didn't even look up as he greeted her, which made him chuckle. He kicked off his shoes, and she gave him a verbal warning about the pain this particular book could cause if he didn't put those shoes away in the closet like a normal person. He tucked the mission envelope in his jacket pocket and hung that up in the closet, too. They could deal with that later. Right now, he just needed to be with her, his Meister, the girl he loved.
As she slipped into one of his old shirts, she bunched the fabric around her nose and took a deep inhale. She fancied she could still catch the brief scent of his cologne, even in Liz made her wash the shirt a hundred times over.
The book lay forgotten on the floor, open to the page she left, as he ran his hands up the length of her body, his lips desperately moving against hers, his tongue massaging hers. Her legs naturally came up to wrap around his waist. Her hands yanked at the hem of his shirt, as his pulled on her shorts. They parted lips for a moment of respite, then he dove back in to continue the kiss. He leaned back on his knees, bring her up with him. She was so light; it was easy for him to get to his feet from the couch and carry her to the bedroom.
She lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes, thrumming her fingers against her chest, a mimic of his heartbeat that usually put her to sleep. But tonight, tonight it was one of the more difficult nights. She rolled onto her side and let the tears come silently, calmly. She didn't gasp or sob or cry out his name. That ended the second month. Now, she just let the resigned tears come and lull her to sleep.
The moved in a steady rhythm, their bodies glistening with sweat. She breathed his name every time he released her lips, and whenever she was in control all he could groan was hers. Sometimes, when the sex was particularly good, they could resonate on the deepest level they'd ever resonated. This was one of those times. She could feel his need for this moment, this night, and the desire for each other was at its strongest. Through their link, every feeling was magnified, and they were at it for hours.
She woke in the middle of the night with a start, wiping the dampness from her eyes. Her gaze darted around the room. She could have sworn that something was tugging at the edges of her consciousness to wake her. But that would have been impossible. She hadn't taken another partner, never even considered it, and one needed a partner to properly resonate. No one could resonate one-sided, not even her, and she was considered the best. Her head fell back against the pillows, but she spent the rest of the night – or rather, early morning – with her green gaze trained on the ceiling.
The next morning, as they lay in each other's arms and she traced patterns along his scarred chest, he murmured something as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. She looked up at him. "Hm?" He sighed and met her gaze, red again clashing with green. He looked forlorn, and she didn't like that look on him. "I got another assignment yesterday," he admitted. She quirked an eyebrow, waiting for the other half of the sentence. When he didn't speak, she frowned. "Another solo mission?" she asked, with trepidation. He nodded. Maka wasn't pleased; Kid had been assigning a lot of solo missions to both of them, but she'd been benched as of late, to work at the Academy. Kid was very much aware that the Weapon and Meister did their best work side by side, together, but he was insistent. This would be the fifth solo mission for Soul in the past 10 months, and the last one had been his six month op that had been classified to only the reigning Lord Death and Weapons and Meisters on the op. "How long?" she asked, staring at him. His gaze shifted away from hers, and he stared up at the ceiling. "It's at least another six months, Maka. Maybe longer this time."
She looked like a Kishin corpse when she emerged from her room in the morning to make her way slowly to the kitchen. Liz was already there with a steaming cup of coffee at the ready. Maka climbed onto a stool at the breakfast bar and sipped cautiously. Liz eyed the state of her friend and gave an exasperated "For Death's sake!" Kid emerged from the hall, with Patty trailing behind. Maka looked up and gaze Liz a quizzical look. "This has to end, Maka!"
When the first six months had passed, Soul's letters were already getting to be far and few in between. He could never reveal his location, and never had any idea how much longer he would on the op. Kid never even had any definitive answers, and it was driving Maka insane. The mission and Academy were everything to the couple, but they detested being away from each other this long. Just when Soul was considering leaving the op and the mission and talking of retiring, all communication went silent. The entire op went dark, and Maka had never seen Kid look so worried in all his time as Lord Death, or even before that. It made Maka's heart pound every time she saw him pacing his throne room, waiting for reports of updates.
"I don't know what you want me to say, Liz. I'm working at the Academy; I go out when you ask me to. I just can't do anything else," Maka said with a sigh and another sip of coffee. Liz slammed her hands down on the counter. "You have to live, Maka. You know he wants that for you."
When at last communication came in, it wasn't what Kid or Maka wanted to hear. First, it wasn't from their team. It was from a scout Kid sent out with specs on the classified mission to track everyone down. The news was devastating and saw Maka collapsed on the floor, sobbing, while Kid stood at her side, pale, eyes wide. He never stopped blaming himself after that.
"Wanted, Liz, past tense. I'm doing the best I can. I will not train with anyone else. I teach new Weapons and Meisters. Isn't that enough? I just can't do anything else anymore."
Those next six months were torture and every day, every step and every new Weapon Meister pair that approached her drove another scythe blade through her already mangled heart.
"Fine, Maka, waste away. Spit on his memory and keep being this person that isn't his Maka."