She wants to travel, he learns on their fourth meeting.

It's been years since he was liberated from the concentration camp but not long before he has found little Liesel Meminger once more. Except where he hasn't changed - his hair still made of feathers, she is a new person. She's grown into a young woman fresh red cheeks and curves filling out her nineteen year old body. Her hair is tamed and smoothed downand her lips are painted a plum shade that brings out her eyes. Her fresh faced enthusiasm for his presence makes him feel like the old man he is but deep in his soul Max likes it.

He feels alive. He feels.


On their fifth meeting he finds Liesel reading a book of Frost's poems in a cafe near his apartment. Munich is busy this time of the day, young mothers in and out for coffees with their young children and businessmen much too hurried to actually enjoy the taste. For a moment he watches her, legs crossed and sitting with a straight back at the little table. There's a cigarette burning between her fingers and he sees her take a drag and then cough delicately.

"Do you know how to inhale?" he asks, startling the young girl.

"I thought I would start carrying them, in case you wanted one. They're disgusting."

"Yes they are." Max sits across from her and takes the cigarette she offers even though it's nowhere near the brand he prefers.

"I would like to go apple picking," she muses, closing the book and sitting it on the table between them, "like in this poem."

Max exhales the smoke from his lungs, a smile gracing his lips. "I will take you one day."


It's their eighth meeting that worries him the most.

They're alone in his small apartment, the noise from the hearth filling the room along with it's heat.

"Are these dates, Max?" Liesel asks, curiosity in her deep eyes. It's then that he realizes how young she still is, even if she is his best friend and acts like someone twice her age.

He falters, staring at the meal in front of him. It's not much, he thinks, but it's filling and Liesel had insisted on helping him cook. He glances toward the clock noting the time of seven o' two in the evening. His eyes land on how there's a yellowing stain in his table cloth. He looks at anything but the young girl across from him.

"Is that what you'd like to call them?" he finally asks, after what feels like an eternity to him.

"It would imply something more than friendship, don't you think?" she questions, sitting her fork down. It's surprisingly loud in his headand he nods.

"More…" he says the word carefully, thinking the implications through. "I would like more, I think."

"I think so too," she says, a smile growing on her pink lips.


He's officially in love with her by the tenth 'date' when he holds her hand as they walk through the park. It's colder than she expected, so he's draped his jacket across her shouldersbut she still folds into his warmth each chance she gets.

There is a world between them despite their silence - they found early on that they were both careful with their words, their cherished words. Words held so much meaning to them both that they chose them carefully and luckily they are both comfortable with silence. By the time they come to sit on a bench, Max feels as if he's had a whole conversation with her already.

She doesn't say anything though Max wraps an arm around her shoulders to keep her warm against the cold air. It's then that Liesel turns her head to press a small kiss against his lips. It takes him by surprise but it brings a rush of warmth through his body.

"Liesel," he mutters, pulling away from her. Their foreheads meetand she breathes out, her breath a puff of air.

"This is more."

More.

He kisses her again, this time savoring the taste of her dark lips - running his fingers through the curls she'd obviously worked so hard on that morning. She was the only thing that existed to him in that moment.

He had officially loved her since she'd turned up into his life once more.


He takes her apple picking in the fall the next year, just like he promised before.

She hates it but the ring that sits in his pocket, the same ring he'd kept since he'd agreed to more, well he is sure that it will change her opinion about picking apples.