Update 4/14/13: Link to the music video is in my profile. I suggest watching it after the story if you want to watch it at all.

Also, I'm apparently going to continue this, but please give me time. Things are crazy right now.

XxXx

Parties were never his thing. And no matter how many times he explained that—in fact the more he explained it, the more invitations he seemed to get. He doesn't see why they're fun. It's too noisy to hear anybody, everybody's been touching the food that's mediocre at best any way, and the people who do try to strike conversation with you pretend that what you say is interesting and worth something.

Then the piano topic comes up, as it does every single time. They all look at him expectantly, their forced smiles beginning to twitch. He excuses himself, claims the room is too stuffy, he's feeling faint, it's probably bad seafood that he ate. He finds asylum on the balcony—this time it's grand, with staircases twisting out from both sides—away from the sea of fake.

He had sense enough to bring a glass of water out, because he actually was lightheaded, and sipped from it as he gazed at the stars. It was warm out, accompanied occasionally by a crisp and refreshing breeze. It was much better than the concentration of body heat going on inside.

People were coming and going on the balcony, which is something he should've expected with its grandeur and whatnot. He wanted to venture down the stairs, be completely alone, especially since that brown-haired girl who just came out has been eying him creepily all night. He set his glass down on the ledge.

The walk down the stairs was uneventful enough. The hand railing looked elegant, he supposed. Not much to say about grey-colored, grainy stone. Now on the actual ground, he saw finely trimmed bushes against the wall of the house, underneath the balcony. Okay, that's cool enough. What interested him more was the path that would probably be providing his escape route.

He did a double take, back to the bushes. Not because of their beautiful appearance, but because of the slender arm seemingly protruding from it. Unless it was some new avant-garde way to present landscaping, something was wrong. He crept up to the bush, forgetting all about escape plans and uncool parties.

Whoever this person was, they were engulfed by nearly the entire plant, which wasn't very big. He touched the arm. Maybe this was just some lame prank, but everyone here seems too "high class" to do something like that. The fingers reacted, curling and uncurling lightly. Not enough to be conscious movement. He pulled gently on the arm, which was surprisingly much lighter than he'd assumed.

He nearly dropped her from shock, but common sense guided his hand to support her back. It was a girl, not much younger than him. Her dirty hair was a matted mess on her head, and her clothes, jeans and a hoodie, had been snagged and torn. She was completely unconscious, as he'd gathered earlier, but at least her gentle breathing told that she was alive.

What the hell was such a girl doing unconscious in someone's garden? She was awfully pale, and maybe her small frame was from starvation rather than bone size. He wants to wonder what he can do to help her, but he knows exactly what he should do.

He looked back at the path.

XxXx

Seeing the fragile girl carrying a baseball bat like a deadly weapon was certainly not how he'd expected that she'd greet him when she woke up.

"You're up," Soul said, sounding nonchalant.

She eyed him wearily, a definitive trace of beastly ferocity in her eyes. When he'd brought her to his apartment and tucked her in the bed of his guest room, she was completely sound, like an angel. Now she was standing out in the living area, looking strikingly similar to a starved dog.

"I'll bet you're hungry. I found you passed out, y'know," He tried, as she adjusted her grip on the bat. "Look. I understand that you're cautious. But if you really don't want to be here, the door's over there," she tore her gaze away from him for half a second to look, but was soon back to her intense gaze. "Or, you can sit down and eat something, take a hot shower, and change into something clean."

After a minute of icy stare-down, she finally lowered her bat, still in hand, and stalked over to where he was on a couch. She placed herself in the chair adjacent to him, laying the bat carefully at her feet. "I'll be right back," he promised.

He came back about five minutes later with a giant plate of buttered toast and bagels with cream cheese to spread. She was still as hyper-alert as when he left her, on the edge of her seat and sitting up straight. She snatched a bagel the instant he placed the food down on the table and tore off a bite with her teeth, an action he hadn't anticipated so quickly.

"My name is Soul," He started, grabbing a slice of toast for himself. She nodded to show that she followed. "Do you have a name?"

She nodded in response, then focused on her bagel that was mostly devoured by now. It was when she was grabbing for another that he asked, "Are you going to tell me?" Without even looking up at him, she shook her head. He chuckled at her response.

"Do you have anywhere to stay?" Soul inquired, having captured her attention with his laugh. She once again shook her head. "You can stay here for as long as you need to. You can stay in the guest room. Nobody uses it anymore." He though it would be insensitive to ask where the hell she actually came from, or if she was even human, so he refrained.

"Can you talk?" He decided to ask. She tilted her head to the side and gave him a look. "Okay, okay! You can talk, you just don't like me," he laughed as she rolled her eyes.

"The bedroom you were in has a bathroom, you can take a shower in there and I'll lay out some clean clothes outside the door for you. They won't fit you very well, but I think you'd prefer it," Soul told her when she'd stopped eating. She nodded and stood up—careful not to forget her trusty baseball bat—and walked back to the guest room.

He'd picked out an old T-shirt and shorts for her, to place in front of the bathroom. Too big, but at least the shorts had a drawstring. He made his way to the guest room, but noticed that the door to the bathroom was opened slightly. He didn't hear the sound of running water, which worried him a bit. He decided to peek in, knowing it wouldn't be the end of the world if he saw her naked, because he's seen that stuff before.

She was in fact still in her underwear, examining herself in the mirror. She looked almost…disappointed. He wanted to ask her what was wrong but knew that if she saw him, she'd never trust him. But then he saw them. Up and down her legs and arms, even what looked like a few on her stomach, speckled with bruises. Purple, blue, yellowing spots that indicated struggle. He backed away from the door. It wasn't any of his business. If she wants to talk about it, she will.

XxXx

"I didn't see you there," Soul sighed, as he twisted from his position on the piano bench to address her. It's been roughly over a week, and still not a sound from the girl. She's finally put down the baseball bat. He's learned that her hair is dark blond without the grime, and she likes to wear it in pigtails. She's stubborn and she likes to read. She's very hard to impress when it comes to joking around.

She looked at the piano, then back to him, as if telling him to continue. Soul looked back at the sheet music. He didn't know how he felt about having an audience, or the fact she's already heard him playing. "You heard me play?" he asks, voice verging on timid. She nods. "You want me to continue?" she nods again, eager.

He turns back around all the way, licking his dry lips. His fingers hover over the keys, but can't seem to find the strength or will to meet them. He knows her opinion shouldn't matter to him, and she's just like the people at the parties, only pretending. She's not going to stay here forever, after all.

He finally finds it in him to play. The haunting melody flows steadily from skilled fingers that run up and down the keys. It starts slow, then gets faster, like a terrible storm. High notes plink like rain drops and the lowest notes supply the thunder. It made so much sense in Soul's head. A story.

The further into the song he goes, the more thoughts he's bombarded with. She hates it, it's weird, she's sorry she asked him to play. He stops playing abruptly, losing concentration. He grunted in frustration, slamming a fist down on the keys, producing an unsavory noisy.

"What's wrong with it?"

Soul had forgotten that he had company. He looked back to the girl, a curious look on her face. "Did you just…?"

"It was beautiful," the girl was definitely talking, though her words came out breathy. She looked enchanted, enthralled.

"You…liked it?" Soul asked hesitantly.

"That's what I just said, idiot," she gives a mirthless laugh, rolls her eyes. He finds that she does that a lot. "But yes. I didn't get to listen to music much before…so anything would've made me happy."

Of course. She doesn't even listen to music, so she has nothing to compare it to, Soul thinks bitterly. Anything, even his pathetic tunes would sate her.

"But what you just played…it sounded like someone's agony. I could feel their soul burning with despair. I felt that pain along with that person. I've never felt that with music before," That's the greatest, most sincere answer anyone's ever given him after he played his music. Not even his girlfriend—ex-girlfriend, he means—had sounded totally convincing when she praised his music.

"You mean it? You don't think it's creepy or weird?" he said, too hopefully.

"You're really bad at listening," the edges of her lips curled up, risking a smile. "It's creepy and weird. But that's why I like it. It's unique." She sat down next to him on the bench.

"Thank you…" Soul breathed, then smiled. "No one's ever said anything like that before. It really means a lot."

"No problem," she answers. Her words hang in the air for long moments before supplying, "My name is Maka, by the way. I'd love if you could teach me a thing or two about music."

"I think we can arrange that, Maka."

XxXx

The weeks spun by like thread from a spool. Maka told him that she wanted to start getting out of the house, but only if she was with him. He'd left her at home when he left for work up until then, and when he told her that she could come and go as she pleased, she declined every time. He showed her local venues, after she reluctantly responded that she wasn't from around Death City. She surprised him when he took her bowling and she'd never heard of the sport before.

This seemed to reoccur more than once. She didn't know what a trumpet was, she'd never been to a lake, and the split ends in her long hair spoke for themselves that she'd never gotten a proper hair cut before.

He introduced a skeptical Maka to his skeptical friends. She'd still never revealed exactly where she was from, why she was passed out in someone's lawn, and never mentioned a word about her bruises. She gave Soul's friends just as much information about herself as she'd given Soul.

At home, Soul taught her the basics of piano playing, teaching her the scales and notes. He played her some old records and tapes, claiming that it was the older stuff that was any good. They taught each other to cook, because Maka told him he couldn't live off of processed junk his whole life. Maka couldn't actually cook herself, though, so they took on the journey together. It usually ended with many an undercooked pancake and burnt casserole. They usually ended up eating out.

By now, Maka had spent at least four months with Soul, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't attached to her. He had learned by heart the way her legs crossed at the ankles when she was smug, the way bit her lip as she read intently, and could even detect traces of anxiety in her vivid green eyes. He realized this, and discovered that a new crush had bloomed in his heart. This mysterious girl had charmed him with her unusual personality.

"What are you doing?" Soul walked up to Maka, splayed out on the couch, writing in a journal. She lifted her journal so that it was parallel to her body, obstructing his view of the page.

"Writing," she answered simply, big eyes gazing at him innocently.

"Writing what?" Soul smirked, sitting down next to her and leaning towards her.

"Nothing~" she drawled suspiciously, swinging her legs on the couch and facing him directly.

"Oh really?" Soul made a move to swipe the journal from her, but she drew her knees up to her chest with a squeal to protect it.

"Mmhmm," Maka hummed deviously, trying to twist away from him.

"Don't make me tickle you," he mock-threatened.

"You wouldn't," she stated, smile still on her face.

"Try me," he dove at her, hands first, searching for her stomach. She curled up into a ball as a defense mechanism. His hands managed to squeeze under her arms, his fingers brushing over her stomach as best as he could move them under the solid defense of her arms. She released her arms, reduced to a giggling mess as he tickled her. He took his chance and grabbed her journal.

"W-wait, Soul!" her attempts to stop him were futile, she soon realized, as he could lift the book out of her reach while still reading it. "I-It's just a little poem I wrote about you…" she bashfully explained, blushing.

Soul's flirtatious smile slowly faded as he read on, line by ethereal line. He shuddered with just how much raw feeling the poem had laced in between the lines. She really poured her soul into a simple journal entry. It worried him, how much sadness and pain he could read, though the words were happy. Though joyful, her word choice and style was that of a girl in agony.

"I told you not to read it…" Maka buried her face in her hands, embarrassed.

"What? No! Maka this is wonderful!" he really meant it, too. She looked up and he smirked. "You think I'm hot."

"I'm pretty sure I used different wording," she laughed lightly, cheeks flushed red.

"That's the gist of it though. But this works out very nicely, because I think you're absolutely gorgeous." He teased.

"Oh, stop, you," Maka rolled her eyes.

"And you know where gorgeous girls go? To formal parties. Wanna go with me?" he crossed his arms and gave her a gentle look.

"A party? I've never been to one…" she started uncertainly.

"Well trust me, you're not missing much. But that's what I kinda thought; it'd be a good experience. And I'd have fun if you went…as my date."

"Date?" Maka inquired. "Like what Black Star and Tsubaki do?"

He knew that Black Star and Tsubaki did much more than just date, but "Yup. Just like that."

Maka smiled tenderly. "I'd really love to."

XxXx

She's absolutely ravishing in the black silk dress he'd bought her just for the occasion. She wobbles a bit in her high-heels, but she wouldn't settle for flats. She's expressed that she loves the way they coordinate; he's wearing his black pinstripe suit folded neatly over a red dress shirt and black tie.

They walk arm in arm into the ballroom of the five-star hotel that acts as the venue for the event. Maka's eyes light up instantly at the glittery chandeliers and exquisite painting that resides on the walls and domed ceiling.

"This is too much, Soul!" she gasped, looking now to the other guests who were dressed just as fancily as the décor. "I feel so out of place!"

"Nah, they're just like us," he laughs, "It's like a giant game of dress up." He takes hold of her hand, and sweeps her to the dance floor. "You know how to dance?"

"Absolutely not," Maka chirped. They stopped towards the middle of the floor, where it was less bustling. Soul guided one of her hands to his shoulder and captured her other in his hand. Finally, he placed his still-unoccupied hand cozily on her waist.

"Just follow my lead, okay?" Soul winked at her. Her face flushed daintily.

They glided along, Maka mirroring his foot movements. There was confusion sometimes, when Soul would step back and she would as well, or they would both step forward, leading to a few incidents of crushed toes. But Soul took it like a gentleman.

"You're doing great," Soul praised.

"Thanks!" She was still looking at her feet, slowly picking up the pattern.

"Yeah. Y'know, I've been so cheery ever since you came into my life those months ago," Soul confessed. She looked up at him questioningly.

"What do you mean?" Maka inquired. Soul was almost taken aback by how serious she sounded.

"I…was in a slump. Going through a really rough time," he gave a mirthless laugh, "My life was so dreary and depressing. My friends told me to snap out of it and move on but…" Maka looked at him intently, the both of them still shuffling along automatically.

Suddenly, the girl in front of him wasn't Maka. She had lush purple hair and her sympathetic eyes were a glowing yellow, rather than shimmering green. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she whispered softly in a voice that was very un-Maka. It was Her voice.

He blinked, and she was Maka again, blond-haired and green-eyed. "Soul?" she asked worriedly, voice higher than it should be.

"My girlfriend," Soul started, then corrected, "Ex-girlfriend, that is. She was beautiful and bubbly and full of life…I loved her so much, Maka." She nodded to show she was engaged, as usual. She's always there to listen to him.

"It's been two years. She went missing. Poof. Gone without a trace or lead," his voice was heavy, but it wasn't filled with tears. "I mourned her presence. I healed very, very, painfully slowly. Then you showed up. You're the most wonderful thing to happen in my life, Maka. You helped me heal. I really, really like you—"

Her delicate lips cut him off, her hands gripping either sides of his collar to pull him to her. He tenses, then eases into the kiss, lavishing in the heat of her body. It doesn't last very long but Soul is very glad that it happened. They pull away at the same time, on the same wavelength.

"I have something I'd like to say as well," she knew the transition was awkward, but she wanted to build on their relationship. "You've made me feel so special. I've never been treated like a human being before, and you've done so much more than treat me properly. I will always be indebted to you. I can't ever thank you enough for your kindness."

Soul brought a hand up to cup her cheek. "Never been treated…?"

"No," she whispers, and she can feel the tears well up. She sniffs quietly, then nuzzles into the firm palm of his hand.

"There's so much about you I don't know Maka. You have no idea how much that worries me," his thumb wipes away a tear that began to fall from her eye.

"Some day, I hope I can be brave enough to tell you. But right now, I can't," She stressed, more voice crawling into her words.

Soul nodded, "That's fine."

XxXx

Maka picks up the photo album on the living room table. She never bothered to open it, but now she's curious.

The album is filled to the brim with pictures of the purple-haired girl and Soul. They look like they could be married. There are lots of pictures with just the purple-haired girl in it, but most still of the two of them. His girlfriend really was beautiful.

She wondered if she'd be able to fill the hole that his girlfriend's disappearance left.

She turned off the lamp, deciding she needed to get to bed before Soul found her still awake.

XxXx

Soul was in the kitchen, fixing salads for their lunch when the phone started ringing.

"I'll get it," Soul called to Maka, who was reading in the living room. He laughed to himself, thinking that she was probably too engrossed in her book to hear the phone or him. He washed and dried his hands, then picked up the phone.

"Hel—"

"It's come to my attention that you have something that belongs to me," A husky voice noted on the other line, interrupting Soul. His eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Who is this? Black Star, are you—"

"If you think girls fall from the sky, then you're wrong," the voice growled, "Just listen to me."

Soul now knew the man was talking about Maka. He peeked out to the living room, making sure Maka was still blissfully unaware of his current conversation. She was biting her lip, the adorable little angel. He retracted back to the kitchen.

"I know your girlfriend disappeared two years ago," the voice continued, "I happen to have her."

Soul could feel the blood freeze in his veins. His mind was going too fast, unable to process what the man just said. This has to be a nightmare, or some sick joke. Soul felt crazed laughter simmering inside of him, trying desperately to bubble out. He's lost it. He's insane to think there's a possibility that she's still alive.

"I want to exchange. The blond girl for your girlfriend. It's quite simple, really," the voice persuaded. His voice then dropped down an octave, and said hauntingly, "I need that girl now."

Soul breathed shallowly, then finally hung up the phone.

XxXx

She's probably dangerous, or mentally unstable, he tries to convince himself. She's a criminal, and the police decided to pull a hostage situation on him to get him to comply. Maybe her father was really upset and wanted her back. Giving her back—getting his girlfriend back was the right thing to do.

Most importantly, he decided, it wasn't any of his business.

"Do flowers grow here in the summer?" Maka asked, whimsically spinning in the tall grass.

"No. It's not that kind of field," His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, as he led her through the grass. She didn't seem to notice.

"You need to take me to one sometime, then—is this a firefly? It's so pretty!" She chooses now of all times to act completely innocent, Soul groaned inwardly.

They waded through the grass until Soul finally saw the black van the man had described on the phone. He doesn't think he can stand much more of Maka's adorable banter.

"Huh~ A car. I wonder if they're going camping. This would be a cool place to camp, don't you think?" Maka pondered.

"Sure," Soul felt very sick approaching the vehicle that would take this sweet girl away from him forever.

"Hey, why are we heading towards the car? Do you know these peop—" She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the dark-skinned man that emerged with a purple-haired girl. Following them was a boy with black hair, mouth set in a firm frown. She could see the two other men in the van.

Maka snatched Soul's wrist, tugging roughly. "Soul, we need to get away from here! Those are really bad men!" He didn't move. She tugged more desperately, putting her whole weight into the action. The boy with black hair was coming towards them. She finally resorted to screaming at him. "Soul! Soul!" The girl who was sassy and witty wasn't there. She'd been replaced with a sobbing, screaming mess. She was terrified, face marked with betrayal.

Soul's heart twisted. You're doing the right thing. You're doing the right thing.

"Don't do this, Soul! Don't leave me!" she was clawing at his sleeve as the boy seized her by the waist and began to drag her away. "Don't go!"

His eyes stung with tears that were better left unshed, his tongue searing to cuss the bastards out, his fists aching to beat the shit out of them for touching his Maka.

He was too busy watching Maka thrash violently and scream to notice that the dark-skinned man came up to him with his girlfriend. Soul enveloped her in a hug immediately.

"Oh, my god, Blair. I missed you so much," he breathed, trembling. Blair pulled away.

"Soul, who is that girl?" She asked harshly.

"She's…" He looked back at Maka, still struggling and sobbing in the arms of the boy. He heard the boy call the dark-skinned man "Noah-sama." The man was rushing back towards them to help restrain her flailing. "No one." He answered. "Let's go."

Blair resisted. "Soul, we've got to help her! There are four men in total, so if we—" the horrible sounds of breaking bones and agonized screams filled their ears. They looked at the struggle and saw that the man, Noah, now had her, and her right leg hung limp as her healthy leg tried to find traction on the ground. Noah was scolding her fiercely, yelling terrible things to the hysterical girl.

He couldn't bear much more. Soul turned back to Blair, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Blair, it's none of our business. We need to go. Now." Noah was forcing Maka into the car, and Soul heard one of them men already in the car coo "C'mere, baby" at her. Arms pulled her in. The door was slammed shut.

Blair's eyes welled with tears. "Fine," she ground out. "But the instant we get home, I'm calling the police."

Before he turned his heel to leave, he saw her tearful face in the window of the van. She mouthed what he swore were the words, "I loved you."