Author's Notes- For Proma, who challenged me to write a story where Soul and Maka hate each other, and who received something not even remotely like what she asked for. But hopefully this will tickle a few fancies nonetheless.


Firefight


Maka wasn't really the marrying type, but somehow he'd always thought that if she ever got all dolled up, white gown and heartbreakingly beautiful, it would be for him. He supposed that just went to show how much three years could change things.

And it wasn't just the times that had changed. She had, too. She'd been sucked into their world, he didn't know how (yes he did), and her eyes were so much more guarded now. Anyone else who'd been on the receiving end of the stare she was giving him when their eyes met in the mirror would have just seen a polite- if a little forced- smile. But even after all this time he could still read her. He could read the anger and hurt in her eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. Spat, really. "I didn't think you would deign to come."

How had they gotten to this place? So much bitterness and spite in her words… it made him sick. "Of course I'm going to come to my best friend's wedding," he said.

That gave her pause, and she turned around to face him properly. "You still call me your best friend?" she asked, and god he both hated and loved that vulnerability in her voice, that sound that told him he still mattered, at least a little bit.

"Of course you're still my best friend." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No matter what, you'll always be my first meister, Maka."

That openness he'd seen in her shut down so fast he thought he could hear the slam. "Oh," she said, ice pouring from that one syllable. "I'm glad to hear of the sentimentality, I guess."

He had said the wrong thing again. Once upon a time, he always said the right thing… or rather, he was as bad at saying the right thing as ever, but Maka heard him, she knew what he was trying to say even if it didn't come out quite right. He sighed. "Look, whatever this is that's happened to us, I just want you to be happy. You know that, right?"

She frowned at him. "I suppose."

"And this… this will make you happy, right?" He needed to hear that even if he couldn't have her, she would be happy. As long as that was true, then he could reassure himself that he'd done the right thing in keeping quiet, cutting off their partnership for the sake of his stupid unrequited love.

"I made a promise and I intend to keep it," she answered, but that wasn't the answer he was looking for.

"That's not what I asked."

"Soul…"

"Answer the question, Maka." Is that really him sounding so cold and angry?

She glares at him and oh, there's that fire in her eyes, there's his Maka. No. Not his, not ever again… but oh wouldn't it be nice?

"I'll be happy enough," she said. "This wasn't my first choice and I'd think you'd have figured that out by now, but I've got the teaching position at Shibusen and-"

"No, fuck that," Soul spat out, interrupting her. How dare she? How dare she go off and marry him, of all people, and leave him alone with a broken heart? She'd taught him that he was worth something, taught him that he deserved what would make him happy, and just when he'd figured out that all he really needed to be happy was her, she'd gone and started on the path that had led to all of this! And if she wasn't even really happy with her choice, that wasn't fucking fair to any of them.

"Soul-"

"No, Maka, you shut up and listen for a second. If you don't want this, if you have any doubts at all that this is exactly what you need, then don't fucking do it. I didn't fucking give you up so you could be unhappy!"

He was probably some kind of masochist that the flare of deadly green in her eyes like she was ready to fucking murder him was a huge turn-on.

"Oh, what," she said mockingly. "Poor Soul ends his partnership and then wants to whine about it when I say no take-backs?"

"Fuck you."

"No, fuck you, Soul. You don't know anything about giving things up!"

Yeah right. It's a sign of how well he hid these feelings- for the sake of their now defunct partnership of course- that she has no clue just how much he really has given up.

But she's not done yet. "Do you have any idea how many years I spent keeping my mouth shut just so that we could stay together, stay the way we were? I kept my mouth shut and didn't tell you any damn thing about how I felt about you but you know what? That fucking sucks, Soul." She's crying now, she's going to ruin her pretty eyeliner (since when does she wear eyeliner? Oh right… since him). "It sucks and it hurt and you were never gonna love me the way I loved you so I had to get out, you understand? I had to let go and move on and I did, and I thought that would fix our partnership but then you went and ended everything. Not me, you! So you don't have the right to complain about that being over, because I did everything right, Soul. You're the one who messed it all up." She flops down on her dressing-room chair in exhaustion, and it would probably be graceful if it weren't for the ten pounds of taffeta anchored to her skirt.

It takes Soul a long few seconds to try and process everything. Because this doesn't make sense… this isn't how he remembers things… but then again, he's always been a little too good at getting stuck in his own head when he's stewing over something, is it possible that he…?

"Just go, Soul," she says, and she sounds so tired. "Now you know everything, I guess, so you can just… just go and laugh about poor little Maka who had to settle for second best."

"You know I wouldn't do that," he says blankly, because what the hell else can he say?

"Yeah. I know."

"Maka…"

God he can't stand the tears pouring down her cheeks or the forlorn way she mumbles "what?" like speaking is just too much effort right now.

He's got her face cupped in his hands before he knows what he's doing, fingers brushing away the tear-tracks and smearing her makeup in the process but at least he'd tried, right? And all he can hear is her voice saying over and over again "the way I loved you" because he thinks he knows what that means and it's amazing and terrifying and he can't just let that be, because he's already let too many chances slip by and he'll be damned if he loses the last one, so he leans down and kisses her, slow and passionate and full of every ounce of heartbreak he's felt watching her date him, kiss him, wear his ring… he wants her to know, needs her to know, how much he loved her. Still loves her, in spite of this insane gulf of bitter months between them, more painful than the black blood could ever dream of being…

She doesn't protest his kiss, in fact he thinks she might have kissed him back, which is not the behavior of a soon-to-be-married woman, and it gives him a spark of hope, but this has to be her decision whether or not she wants him. He'll lay his cards on the table and leave it up to her to count them.

"I won't apologize," he says against her lips when he finally breaks the kiss. "No matter what happens, I've loved you for years and I always will."

Her eyes are still closed. "Don't say things you don't mean," she whispers.

"I'm not. I've been saying things I don't mean for too long now. I want to be honest for once. Look," he drops his hands from her face and steps back. Those bright emerald eyes open to look at him. "I've said my piece. You do what you want now. If you… if you really want to marry him, then go marry him, and just promise me you'll be happy. And if you don't want to marry him… well, I'm always around."

Walking out of that room not knowing what's going to happen is the hardest thing he's ever done, but he trusts her to make the decision that's right for her. Once upon a time, he knows that she would have given up her own happiness to ensure his own, because they were stupid like that, but they're older and wiser now, and he knows she will stop and think this over and do what's best for both of them. She won't trap herself into a relationship that feels wrong out of obligation. In fact, he's pretty sure that even if he hadn't shown up today to throw a wrench in things, she wouldn't get married if she really felt it was the wrong thing to do. Maka's never been the kind of person to care about the two hundred guests or the deposit for the reception hall or the fact that the cake has already been ordered and made or any of that crap. She's like him, she understands the importance of those things but doesn't let them rule her. If she decides she wants to get married today, then she will, and she'll feel bad (she's always felt bad when he gets hurt) but she won't let that hold her back. And if she wants him (he thinks maybe, just maybe, she does), then she won't let the people out there waiting to see her say "I do" stop her. And so Soul walks away, heads back to his apartment (used to be their apartment) to wait out the day and find out what fate- or more accurately, Maka- has in store for him.

Back in the bridal room, Maka sits at her dressing table and stares at her tear-soaked face in the mirror for several long minutes, whether lost in thought or earnestly pondering, only she is sure.

Eventually, she shakes herself, pulls a sheet of paper from a drawer, and begins to compose a note.