[Because you really don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.]
.
.
.
They stumble into the small apartment, exhausted beyond their limits, bruised and bloodied. She removes herself from his – strong, sturdy – shoulder and drags her feet to the bathroom. Slowly, carefully, she peels the useless torn layers from her skin, closes the door, and steps into the shower. The water burns her skin, but she pays it no mind.
Droplets resemble tears on her face, but that's all they are. Droplets. She does not need to cry. Her soul is already weeping.
Later, she steps into their living room, taking in the smell, the sight of home. Stein said to rest, but she knows she won't. Not for a long time. Home isn't the same.
"Maka."
Obeying his command, she shuffles to the couch, lightly placing herself next to him. The sunset illuminates his silhouette, throwing a soft orange glow across his white, white hair. He smiles, but he doesn't. It's more of a grimace, his eyes drooping even lower with fatigue and sorrow. He pulls her over, smashing their sides together.
She doesn't care that he's still covered in blood and grit, that she's injured herself, that it smells of despair. With his action, she relaxes into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Neither says a word, the silence speaking plenty for them.
Her lips form his name, and the silence is broken. "Soul, I…" Her words catch. His hand tightens its hold on her. She supposes it should be comforting, but nothing could ease her now. There is too big a hole in her heart. She's shaking now, and he knows. All he can do is hold her close, so that's what he does. And together, their souls ache, his for her, and hers for someone she can never get back.
"Papa."
There are droplets on her face again, but that's all they are. Droplets.
A/N: ... I killed Spirit. Why! Noooo! Gosh darn. Okay, well, this... thing here marks my return from a very long hiatus, and hopefully growth as a writer. Minimal growth, but it's there. Anyway, please review! Not beta-ed. Poo.