Chapter 4: Unchained Melody

The next morning Maka wakes up to find a lack of drool on her neck along with the other side of the bed cold and empty. She rubs at her eyes and listens to the bathroom in case Soul is showering or in there, but hears nothing. Complete silence fills their room which is rare. He's never woken up before her in the past; it's always been her who's had to pull him out of bed ten minutes before he has to leave to go anywhere, and she's curious to find out what's caused the change.

Rolling out of bed, she stretches and walks over to her suitcase to grab a clean pair of clothes for the day, tying her hair up into a ponytail as she makes her way down the stairs. When she gets close to the landing, she sees two new suitcases sitting by the front door and hears voices coming from the dining room. Familiar voices meet her ears as she stands at the bottom of stairs listening for one in particular, but can't pinpoint it in the mix of voices. The only one that sets her off is the unfamiliar, gruff voice of a man as he talks to Evelyn.

"I thought you said you weren't coming this week due to other circumstances," Evelyn says. "What happened?"

"My meeting ended early," comes the unfamiliar voice.

Maka stops outside the dining room where they're at to listen knowing very well she shouldn't, but her curiosity gets the better of her. Unease washes over her at the sound of the new man's voice. Every inch of her is on edge, her intuition screaming at her to avoid him at all costs, but she remains rooted to the spot.

"So I decided to come join you all at the lake house, but if this is the warm welcome you're all going to give me, I'll take it my presence is wanted here."

"It's not that you aren't wanted here," Rose says, "it's that none of us were expecting you to come."

"Yes, and I'm aware of that, but I can't imagine what the problem here is, Mother. This is my property just as much as it is yours and Evelyn's."

There's a pause in which someone sighs heavily, and Maka feels her own heart tighten at the palpable tension in the air. Whoever this new person is, he isn't welcomed in the Evans family, and she wants to know why. Wants to know why Soul hasn't spoken yet, what's keeping his tongue in cheek, because he isn't one to fall silent unless it's someone he isn't comfortable around.

She supposes her ex-boyfriend is what's keeping her rooted there.

"We have a guest with us," Evelyn finally says.

"And is this guest taking my place?" the man asks, a bite in his words.

"No," Evelyn is quick to say. "She's here with Soul which is why-"

"Soul brought a girl?"

"Yes." Maka hears the tightness in Evelyn's voice as she says the word.

"Where is she? I'd love to meet her."

"I'm not entirely-"

Evelyn is cut short by Maka rounding the corner to finally see who this new stranger is. A man who looks to be in his fifties sits at the head of the table with Wes, Rose, and Evelyn on either side of him. He's wearing a grey tweed suit with a dark blue tie, his hair is clean and cut, the complete opposite of Soul's or Wes's, but his strong jaw is reminiscent of the boy she's come to love over the years. The only off putting aspect about him is the sharpness of his dull, brown eyes; the way they trail over her body and scrutinize her attire underneath them. She swallows and becomes self-conscious. Maybe she should have brought some nice spring dresses with her instead of the torn blue jeans and floral shirt she had opted to bring instead.

Then again, she didn't know she would be judged by her clothes.

She's quick to determine who this man can be, though. The head of the Evans household is someone she's never met before since every time Soul invited her over for family gatherings, he was always holed up in his office or out of town. But there's no doubt in her mind this is Soul's father.

"And who might you be?" he asks, standing from his chair. He presses one arm over her torso while the other hides behind his back.

"Maka," she says a little too fast. Slower, she says, "Maka Albarn. I'm Soul's-"

"Girlfriend," he finishes for her.

The way he says it like she's a disgrace to the Evans family name, like she's an unwanted guest, makes her want to punch him square in the face. She holds herself back, though, because first impressions are important to her. Even when the person is a douchebag.

"Right. And who are you?"

He closes the distance between them, his hand extended toward her, and smiles though it doesn't meet his eyes. "Charles Evans. I'm Soul's father. It's nice to finally meet you."

His handshake is strong and curt. He doesn't hold her grasp for longer than a second, and she doesn't miss the way he brushes his palm on his pants like she's a lesser human than him. It's no wonder Soul never wanted to introduce them before. The man is utter trash.

"Where's Soul?" Maka asks Evelyn, not bothering to return the kind words to Charles.

It's Wes who answers her.

"He might be in the music room knowing him." The cold glare he gives his father tells Maka the reason behind Soul's disappearance has something to do with the man, and she nods.

"Thank you," she addresses to Wes. To Charles, she says, "I guess I'll see you around."

"Indeed."

Soul stares at the black and white ivory keys of the piano his parents - father - had bought for him when he was a boy so he could practice when they were at the lake house. He had managed to avoid the music room over the last five years and instead focused on spending time with his family, but this year is different. With the arrival of his father, he finds himself retreating back to the place his nightmares still crawl, the sickening feeling flipping and twisting his stomach the longer he sits there.

Memories of the painstaking time he spent in front of the piano practicing Mozart and Beethoven piece after piece until his fingers grew numb under the watchful eye of the man he hates float to the front of his mind. His vision blurs into swirls of black and white, an irksome buzz ringing in his ears until his swallowed into darkness. Piano pieces of his childhood crash around him, invading his senses, and drown him beneath their weight as demons pull him under. He feels lost to the world around him as he reverts back to his childhood and wishes for a way out. Suffocates beneath the pressure of music and his father's demanding practice sessions.

"Soul?"

He blinks at the sound of his name.

The voice is soft and light, very reminiscent of the music room itself as sunlight streams in through the French windows and the swaying trees come back into his view. Crystal blue water reflecting the scorching sun above dances in front of him as he leaves his reverie, and he's reminded of where he is. Reminded of the people he's spending the week with, the new addition to their lake house. Birds chirping outside calm the crashing waves around him as he returns to his position on the piano bench. Warmth spreads over his heart at the familiar hand gripping his shoulder, and he lifts his own to cover it.

"Are you okay?" Maka asks.

Slowly, he turns to meet her gaze, and his face must be pale because her brows knit together at the sight of it.

"I'm fine," he croaks out. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Maka wets her lips before sliding onto the bench beside him. "Maybe because your dad's here?"

He doesn't meet her gaze as he stares at ivory keys and brushes his finger along them. A familiar melody he wrote a long time ago back in college when he had first met Maka comes to mind as he plays the first few notes of it. It's calming and serene like the soul residing in his ex-girlfriend; kind and warm like the hugs and kisses she used to give him when they were together, and it's enough to let him breath a little easier.

"Yeah. Wasn't expecting him to be here or else I wouldn't have invited you at all," he confesses. "Sorry 'bout that."

"There's nothing for you to be sorry for. You didn't know." She pauses. "He's a charming man, though. I don't need to think hard to figure out where you get it from."

"I take that as an insult."

"I'm joking, Soul," she says, bumping her shoulder into his. Her smile is genuine and warm as it meets her eyes, and he feels his own face a crack a smile in return.

"I'm guessing you two didn't have a good first meeting, huh?" She shakes her head, and he nods. "Yeah. I figured. My dad's kinda… difficult to get along with. He has very high standards."

"I don't think he likes me very much."

"Don't take it personally. He doesn't like anyone if you want the truth."

"I'll try not to."

They fall silent, and Soul plays the next chords of the song he knows by heart. It's the only song he's willing to play on piano voluntarily given the person it's for and the calming emotions it evokes from him. The song - Maka's melody - has always been his retreat, the one song he can play over and over on his worst days and be fine in the end. It's the same effect Maka's presence has on him even when she hates his guts and can't stand him; even when she's being hard-headed and refusing to give him a smile. She's his escape, his one true love.

She places her hand over his and squeezes, making him jump in surprise.

"I'm here for you, you know," she whispers. Soul stares at her, but she doesn't return his gaze as she continues. "I know we're broken up, but it's like you said yesterday, I'm still here for you. I know… I know you and your dad have never gotten along, and if you need someone to talk to or help you through this, I'm here."

Dark green eyes lift to meet his.

There's a certain sadness in them as she holds his gaze, and he sees more than feels her walls slowly coming down to let him in. Whether it has something to do with his father's appearance or something else entirely, he isn't sure, and he doesn't think he wants to ever know for sure either. If Maka is willing to let him in for the week and pretend to be a couple for the sake of getting through his father, he'll take it, because when it comes down to it, she knows him better than anyone else. The topic of his father has never been one they've talked about in full, only in passing, but through the few conversations they've had about the man, she knows how hard his regime has been for Soul.

Knows the affects his strict life style had over Soul and his music.

"You wanna stay in here for a while?" she asks. "Give your family some time to talk to your dad before we go out there?"

"I'd like that," he admits. "More than anything."

"Good." She removes her hand from his and straightens up, tugging at the hem of her shirt and seeming to hide the blush he catches blossoming over her face. "So why don't you show me how to play that song you were just playing?"

He cocks a white brow at her. "You wanna learn how to play? But your taste in music is shit, Maka, and you're pretty tone deaf, too."

Her lips purse as she half-heartedly glares at him. "You're such a music snob. If you gave Taylor Swift and Beyonce a chance, I'm sure you'd enjoy them. They aren't that terrible like you keep saying they are. They're better than the other pop music out there."

"I'm not talking about those two artists. I'm talking about your need to play Deadmau5 and Avicii when you're trying to concentrate on shit," he grins.

"Just because you aren't a fan of electronica doesn't mean you can insult them," she says. "I don't like your jazz music, but I tolerate it. I don't tell you how shitty it is, and I did try to listen to it once. Remember?"

"I remember it lasting for only an hour before you gave up," he says. Maka puffs out her cheeks and opens her mouth to say comment, but he interjects before she can. "I'll show you to play the song I was playing, though. If you'd like."

Green meets red when she glances at him. "So long as you don't comment on my tone deafness or tease me about music, I'll sit here and be a good student."

"I won't make any promises."

"Neither will I."

Soul starts by teaching her the three main chords in the song before placing his hands over hers and guiding them to each separate note. Her touch is warm and soft beneath his, a comfortable feeling settles over his chest, and he doesn't realize he holds his breath until it leaves him a minute or two afterward. It's funny how easy it is for them to fall back into old habits and how they were before the breakup. Maka doesn't stiffen for more than second under his touch, and he swears he feels her beating heart against his fingers as they sit there.

Yet, it still surprises him when she asks to sit between his legs on the bench to get a better feel of the piano, and his breath hitches at the feel of her back against his chest. The smell of her coconut shampoo invades his senses as it takes everything within him not to sniff it and drown himself in the scent. It's familiar and nice; it reminds him of how they were before everything went to shit. He fights against the urge to kiss the crown of Maka's head and curl his arms around her waist, feel her relax against him like they had done on their couch so many times.

It's so tempting to cup her chin in his fingers and kiss her and forget they're not together just for a moment. To fall back to their old selves and let himself get caught up in the past.

So tempting, but he holds back nonetheless.

Maka sucks in a heavy breath at the feel of Soul's chest on her back, and she fights the urge to relax against him and let the emotions running through go. She wants to cry and bask in everything Soul is, everything he was before, and let herself forgive him for breaking her heart. She wants to turn around and kiss him slowly, deeply; feel the brush of his lips on hers, the hitch of his breath at her touch, and feel his tongue slide into her mouth. It's so easy to go back to how they were before the truth came out of what he did at night, who he went to see, and she hates it.

Hates it because they're supposed to stay broken up. They aren't meant to get back together. He's a cheater and a liar no matter how she tries to spin things around to prove to herself he isn't. It's easy to forgive him and allow herself to fall in love with him again, but she refuses to let herself be ensnared in his trap again.

All men are the same, she reminds herself, and Soul is no different.

But god is it tempting to go back.

They leave the music room an hour later after Soul's taught her the first half of the song with little to no success. She had at least learned how to perform the first couple notes, but she doesn't think she'll be able to remember them by heart like Soul has. He's been classically trained in the gift of music and knows everything by heart and soul alone unlike Maka. Her only talent is remembering stories she's read about a dozen times like the book resting in their bedroom upstairs, but she doesn't much mind. His music and her books have always found a way to live together peacefully even when they aren't together together like they had once been.

As they enter the living room, Maka catches sight of Charles first, one leg resting on top of the other as he sorts through some papers. His posture is perfect like he had been taught to sit like this for all of his. So unlike the perpetual slouch Soul seems to keep with himself no matter how many times she chastises him to fix it. Now it makes sense why he always rolled his eyes and ignored her. He didn't want to be like his father; she doesn't blame him.

She feels Soul stiffen and suck in a hard breath beside her when he sees his father, and she doesn't think twice as she slides her hand in his. His grasp is warm and comfortable as she squeezes, and her heart stops when his thumb brushes along the back of her hand.

"Ah, Soul. Good of you to finally join us," Charles says, his tone hard and cold as he addresses his youngest son.

There's a bite of sarcasm in Soul's voice, but it isn't much different from his father's. "Yeah, well, I needed a little break before I saw you, Dad."

If Charles is taken aback by his son's sharp tongue, he doesn't react to it, and instead waves a hand over the couch in front of him. "Please. Sit. We have some catching up to do, don't we?"

Soul flinches slightly at the request, but leads them over to the couch regardless. Maka's surprised by her refusal to leave his side because technically she doesn't need to be here for Soul. They're exes, they aren't together, they won't be together when all of this is over, but at the same time she doesn't trust Charles enough to leave him alone with his son. So exes be damned, Soul doesn't need to be alone when facing his father for the first time in what Maka assumes is over a year.

"What do you wanna talk about?" Soul asks first once they're both settled.

"How is your work going? Are you still working as a music teacher, or have you found a more respectable job?" Charles asks.

"I'm still a music teacher," Soul flatly tells him.

"Which is a respectable job," Maka chimes in. "Soul's one of the best music teachers his school has had in years and won an award for it last year when five of his students got placed in nationals."

Both Charles and Soul are staring at her slightly wide-eyed, the latter more so than the former, but both surprised by her outburst. Even Maka's thrown off by her need to defend Soul. But there was something in the way his father said respectable that made her blood boil. She knows perfectly well his father had never approved of Soul's career choice and had told her as much when they were in college after specific concerts when the empty seat next to his mother had never been more apparent. His determination to win over his father for four years was something she related to given her own high school self doing the same but with an absent mother instead.

"I see," Charles says. "That's quite impressive, but, as you well know, son," he turns his attention back to Soul, "you can't go very far with being a music teacher even when you have so much talent in doing so. I've arranged for you to audition for a performance group in New York City in two weeks. I'm expecting you to be there since I had to pull a lot of strings for it, and I'm risking my own reputation in this career for you to audition. Remember that when you go."

Maka opens her mouth to say something, but Soul silences her with a squeeze of her hand.

"What do you mean you arranged for me to audition? I told you I don't want to be part of some stuck up symphony group," Soul growls.

"Tone," Charles warns, "and this group will be good for you, Soul. You'll be recognized in the music industry as a respectable musician."

"I'm already a respectable musician, though. Maka just told you that. Don't you care?"

"Of course I care about your career as a music teacher. It's very nice you enjoy teaching children how to play and leading them to nationals and such, but a music teacher is nothing in this career. You don't get the recognition you deserve or the career options you're going to want later on. This symphony audition will be good for you. Trust me on this."

"I don't want to be a part of a symphony, though. That's something you and Wes want, something you two are good at, and even if I get in, your music snob friends will never see me as anything else except for another Evans. That's why you want me to do this, Dad." Soul pauses, sucks in a deep breath, and Maka squeezes his hand for support before he continues, his voice low. "I'm tired of living in the shadow of my dad and Wes. I wish you can see that. I'm not like you two, and I never will be. My type of music is different."

Charles isn't fazed by his son's rant and only blinks in recognition of it which irks Maka more than it should. Parents not listening to their kids has never really sat well with her. Her mama had spent a good majority of Maka's high school career lecturing her over what she expected of her, which schools she should apply for, and what major was appropriate for her without ever once listening to Maka or recognizing the talent Maka had in her own right. It had always been Spirit, the man who she assumed never noticed or cared for her, who pushed into doing what she wanted to do.

Which is how she got to where she is now, and why her copy of Persuasion is so important to her.

"That's why this will be the best career choice for you, son," Charles said. "You will learn how to properly compose a song people enjoy and how to become one of the greatest composers of your generation. Growth in the music world is about changing your taste, and I'm sure you're over the dark pieces you've composed in the past."

"You're not listening to him," Maka says, ignoring the warning look Soul gives her. To him, she says, "No. I'm going to say this."

To Charles, she says, "Soul is telling you he doesn't want to do something, but you keep insisting he does which is wrong. You should listen to your son and respect his career choice no matter what. Everything you're saying isn't what he wants to do. Soul's happy being a music teacher which is something you would know if you bothered to be a part of his life. He hated performing in the symphony at our college, and I watched him stress over performing every night. Something you would know if you cared to show up to a performance."

"Maka," Soul growls in warning.

"Do you seriously want to sit here and listen to your dad tell you what he wants you to do?" Maka asks him.

"This isn't your battle, though."

"I'm not going to sit here and watch you take his bullshit," she hisses to him.

"With all do respect, ma'am," Charles says, "but this is a family matter. It doesn't concern someone who isn't part of this family."

"She's my girlfriend," Soul defends.

"Girlfriend isn't a fiance, son."

"That's bullshit, and you know it. It doesn't matter whether she has a ring on or not, I'm not gonna let you dismiss her like one of the girls Wes brings home."

In another room, Maka hears a faint cry of hey followed by another person shushing them.

"Soul," Charles sharply says like a warning, "I don't care what you think or if you agree with this girl, you're going to the audition whether you like it or not. End of discussion."

"No, I'm not," Soul snaps. "Listen to me, dammit! I don't want to go to a stupid audition!"

"I really think-"

Before Charles can finish his sentence, though, Soul stands, pulling Maka up with him, and throws a glare at his father. Without saying a word, though, he leads them both out of the room and up the stairs until they reach their bedroom and shuts the door behind them. Maka stands to the side and watches as Soul paces the length of the bedroom, running his hands through his hair, and taking calming breaths every five seconds. The energy bounces off him from the conversation, and she's almost afraid to say anything. Maybe it had been out of line for her to raise her voice to his father, but she couldn't help it. He wasn't listening to his son, and it bothered her.

Bothered so much she couldn't stand on the sidelines and watch Soul being forced into something he didn't want to do.

Again.

Soul pauses at the foot of the bed and sits down, cradling his head in his hands.

Out of all the things he had expected to come with his father's appearance, talk about an audition had been the last thing on his mind. He had expected the retribution of being a music teacher because his father despised his career choice even when he pretended to support it. Soul has never been one to be oblivious over his father's actions and saw right through the congratulatory card the man had sent him upon graduation.

This isn't his father's life, either. It's Soul's, and he'll do whatever he damn well pleases.

But, out of all the things he didn't expect, Maka being there for him is definitely one of them.

"Thank you," he says, glancing up at her. "Thank you for defending me in front of my dad like that. I appreciate it."

Maka chews on her bottom lip, wrapping on arm around her middle. "Don't mention it. I didn't like the way he talked down to you. Thank you for defending me."

"It was nothing. Guess I didn't like him talking down on you either." He sighs. "But it's like you said, my dad's a real charmer. He really knows how to talk to people."

She nods and goes to sit beside him on the bed. "You gonna be okay, though?"

He meets her gaze and gives a weak smile. "Probably not until he's gone, but I'll try."

Silence falls between them. After a minute or two, she places her hand on his knee and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"It's like I told you earlier, though," she starts, "I'm here for you. We may not be together outside of this week, but that doesn't mean I won't be here for you. I know how much your dad has had an affect on you in the past."

"So I take it that means you don't hate me," he presses even if he knows it's futile.

"I wouldn't go that far. We are still broken up, but that doesn't mean I can't still be here for you."

"It was worth a try," he shrugs. Soul places his hand on top of hers and feels her stiffen beside him, drawing him to remove his hand. "Thank you, though. Seriously. I don't think I would've been able to stand up to him if it weren't for you being there."

"Don't mention it," she says so quietly he barely hears her.

Maka has to stifle her laughter as Wes and his grandma get into a heated argument over who can bid what for Soul's Park Place and Boardwalk. They've been going at it for about five minutes, neither one relenting even though Evelyn's reminded them both no one has landed on those two spaces since Soul bought them, but they don't care. Both Wes and his gran are determined to buy the two properties from the youngest Evans. Wes even goes as far as to bet real money on it to get Soul to give it to him until Rose chides him about cheating and using only play money.

Unless, of course, it's her doing it.

"I'll give you a hundred dollars if you give me Park Place and Broadway," Roses grins.

"What?!" Wes says, leaning up on the table and almost ruining the Monopoly board. "I thought you said we can't use real money, Gran! What gives?"

"I said that for you, dearie. It's fine when I do it. So what do you say, Soul? You want a hundred dollars for those two or what?"

"No!" Wes interjects. "That's cheating! You can't do that!"

"Dearie, I'm eighty years old. I can do whatever I damn well please," Rose says with a crinkly smile.

Next to Maka, Soul hides his face behind his hands leaving only her to witness the fit of giggles he's in the middle of over his family's dispute, and it makes her laugh harder. He hasn't been this carefree and loose all day with the looming presence of his father stalking around the lake house. Especially not after their argument earlier. It's nice to see him like this, though. He reminds her of the times they used to go out with their friends on the weekends for small get-togethers and would play dumb trivia games or pictionary. Back when Star's boisterous attitude and determination to win no matter what could crack a smile from Soul of it's own accord.

Her heart leaps in her chest when he finally comes up for air. His sanguine eyes are bright and warm as he fondly stares at his family, the corners of them crinkling slightly from the faint laugh lines, and his smile genuine. She loves seeing this side of him so much.

Slowly, she realizes how much she's missed it these last two months.

"Sorry, Gran, but I think I'm gonna take Wes's offer. I can go for the yellow pieces on the board instead of a hundred dollars."

Rose scowls. "Sure. Pick your brother's side, but I'll remember this the next time you need me for something. I might as well go find myself a new favorite grandchild," she sniffs.

"Awe, come one, Gran. You know it's not like that," Wes says, exchanging the Monopoly spaces with Soul. "We still love you even if you do cheat."

"It's not cheating," she defends. "It's investing my money where it counts."

"I wouldn't advice investing your money in a board game, Rosie," Evelyn says, patting the elderly woman's hand. "It's pointless, and the boys will probably only spend your money on useless things."

"I don't care. I want to win," Rose says. "Maka, do you have anything you're willing to trade with me for a hundred dollars. How about those red places? Do you need those?"

Maka pulls her red cards back towards and shakes her head. "I don't need a hundred dollars, but thank you."

"Suit yourself," Rose says.

Somehow, they aren't 100% sure how exactly, Rose ends up winning the game of Monopoly. Soul is the first one to go bankrupt after being the unfortunate victim of landing on Park Place followed by Broadway after Wes built a hotel on both spots. It's Maka who goes bankrupt next followed by Evelyn and leaves Wes and Rose to duke it out between themselves. After much debate and debacle between the pair, it's the older Evans son who relents and files for bankruptcy in the end, much to Rose's enjoyment. Maka's slowly starting to see a pattern within the Evans family and their consistency to bet and win.

Charles' location during the game is a mystery to her, though. The last time she had seen him, he was holed up in his office on a phone call with someone very important if the tone of his voice was anything to go by. Evelyn had invited her husband to join them, but he waved her off by shutting the door in her face. Maka wasn't sure how the matriarch of the family managed to deal with the man without wanting to divorce him because if his actions were anything to go by, he didn't love her. He could give two shits about his family's well-being.

Even her papa had been more of a family man when he was cheating on his wife.

"I had fun playing with your family tonight," Maka tells Soul as she sits on the edge of the bed and puts her wet hair into a loose braid. "I don't think I've ever seen you laugh so much."

"Family game night can be fun in its own right," he admits. "I look forward to them when we come out here, to be honest. It reminds me of the families you see in commercials and on TV."

She diverts her attention from him as he changes out of his shirt and into his pajama shirt. Tonight she decides chiding him for undressing in front of her is off the menu. Besides, it's not like she hasn't seen more of him in the past. Their relationship hadn't exactly been of the abstinence variety, and she knows every inch of his body like the back of her hand. Knows where his birthmark rests on his lower back, the mole on the right side of his hip, the oblique scar on his chest along with the many others on his body faint as they are; she's seen and touched all of them.

So it's not like seeing him half-naked is anything new to her.

Still, she respects his privacy by looking away. They aren't technically together anymore and seeing him bare feels wrong.

"You guys have a nice little bond," she says, turning her attention to him. If she said she isn't sad to his him with a shirt on, she'd be lying.

"Even with my dad in the picture," he snorts.

"A minor aspect about your family, but it doesn't take away from the majority."

"Well, thanks." He makes his way over to the bed and gets under the covers. "No pillows tonight?"

Maka glances at the spot where the pillows she had put the night before are supposed to be and shakes her head. "I figured we can maybe go without them tonight."

"Cool," is all he says. "You gonna be up for a bit longer?"

"No. I'm good."

He nods and turns off the lamp on his side. "Night, Maka."

"Night, Soul." She reaches over and turns her own lamp off and buries herself in the covers.

Without the pillows to guard her from him, she feels the heat of his body seep into the space between them all warm and nice. It's tempting to turn over and mold her body to his, bury her nose between his shoulderblades and smell the lingering scent of his body wash as she drifts off to sleep. It's easy to go back to who they were as if two months haven't passed between their breakup and now, she realizes for the uptenth time that day. Her body betrays her as a wave of warmth washes over her, traveling from her chest to her toes, and the happiness she had felt once upon time resurfaces.

Her closing her eyes, she fights against temptation, and instead listens to Soul's steady breathing as she falls asleep.