Soul sighed tiredly as he pulled himself out of his new, but crappy, car, rented to make the trip. Four and a half hours in a tin can, only broken up by a single stop to use the toilette and drink coffee. He pushed his hands against his back and arched, hoping to hear a click. God, he hated driving for so long.

The passenger's side door opened and Maka climbed out, looking around apartment complex underground parking.

"This isn't like your car park," she murmured as she rounded the car to stand beside him.

He hummed. "Everything's stacked on top of each other in New York. Space saving. Metropolis." He waved his hand vaguely. "Boston's more spread out."

He did not think she quite understood him, but she smiled anyway.

"Soulieeeeee!" someone yelled form the other side of the car lot.

He turned just in time see a blur of light blonde rush at him and had the wind knocked out of him as the blur grabbed him in a tight hug, actually managing to pick him up off his feet.

Soul laughed even as he felt his spine crack under the tight grip. "Hey Patti," he said, hugging the blur—now obviously a woman—back. "You can let me down now."

Patti laughed too, and dropped him, grinning brightly and swaying slightly. "Sissy told me to bring you guys up, she's on the phone with one of her classmates." She looked round Soul and waved at Maka, who was standing behind him. "Hi there Soul's Girlfriend."

Maka waved back. "Hi."

Soul shook his head with a fond smile. "Maka, this is Patti. Patti, Maka."

"Cool," Patti chirped. "Now, c'mon, sissy's dying to see you!"

He barely had time to grab his suitcases (though technically one was meant for Maka, even if she did not need it) before Patti had grabbed his arm in one hand and Maka's in the other, and started dragging them towards the lift.

Patti babbled on happily about what it was like living in her new apartment with her older sister, chirping about interesting neighbours and complaining about annoying ones in a stage whisper to Maka. For her part, Maka seemed to be taking the woman's vast energy in stride. Soul knew from experience that Patti's…enthusiasm for life could weird people out.

Soon enough they were on the right floor and down the corridor and through the front door Patti dragged them towards.

Another blonde woman poked her head round a doorframe in the hall after the door slammed and waved energetically at Soul before pointing at the phone against her ear and disappearing.

"Sissy'll be a second," Patti supplied when Maka glanced at the both of them. "Her classmate's real chatty. But she brings cookies when they work together, so it's all good." Her face brightened. "You want a cookie? We got 'em especially."

And with that, she dragged Maka into the kitchen to presumable find the afore mentioned cookies. Soul merely sighed and dropped down on to the couch, thankful for the soft seat after so long in a car.

"You want a coffee Soul?" Patti called from the kitchen.

"Sure," was his reply as he let himself sink further into the cushions.

He heard some mugs clinking against each other and smiled. His eyes drifted shut almost without his permission. Only for a few moments, he told himself.

Before he knew it, he was being shaken about by Maka, who was standing over him, holding a mug in her hand.

He grinned. "Hey," he said softly, gazing up at her with hooded eyes.

She smiled back. "Do you still want your coffee or do you want to go take a nap for a little bit?"

"I'm good," he said, resituating himself on the couch so he was sitting up properly and leaving enough space for Maka to sit next to him comfortably. Once she was sat down, he took the mug from her hands and took a long, satisfying slurp.

"You two are so fucking adorable," Patti said, who was sitting on an armchair perpendicular to the couch. "Sissy's gonna have a field day."

Soul's shoulder slumped and he muttered a few colourful words under his breath, which Maka flicked his ear for.

"Yeah," Patti continued, looking far too smug. "Really fucking adorable."

"What's really fucking adorable?"

Soul turned his head and watched the second blonde, Liz, fall down into the second armchair, opposite the one Patti was in. He glanced at Patti, who grinned evilly at him, and groaned.

It was going to be a long week, even if deep down, he knew he was going to enjoy it. Mostly.

When Liz was not cooing and 'aw'ing loudly about his relationship.


Five days later, Soul found himself sitting in a cheap café chair, listening to Liz prattle on to Maka about fashion. While it was sort of obvious that Maka had absolutely no understanding of human fashion trends, he thought it was nice that she still paid attention to the other blonde.

"And then you tie—oh, hey, Kid!" Liz suddenly started waving at someone behind them.

As Soul turned round to see who it was, he noticed that Maka's head had turned so fast it probably would have snapped had she been human.

A man was approaching them, waving with one hand while the other was tucked in the pocket of his black slacks. He had raven hair that highlighted his rather unusually pale skin.

"Hello Elizabeth, Patricia," he said when he came to a stop next to their table, soft smile on his face. He turned to look at Soul and Maka, and his smile became slightly brittle. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting before, you are…?"

"Oh, this is Soul," Liz supplied before Soul could open his mouth to speak. "We were friends in middle and high school."

Soul took the man's proffered hand and shook it firmly. His hand felt slightly cold, even in the unseasonable warmth New York was enjoying.

"And this is his girlfriend, Maka," Liz continued, indicating her.

A brief beat of silence followed the introduction before the man held out his hand to her as well, which Maka took, smile in place.

"Guys, this is Mortimer," Liz said after said man had pulled up a chair next to her.

"We met Kiddo when we saved him from a muggin' a couple of weeks back, right sis?" Patti explained, beaming.

Soul looked at the man, Mortimer, in confusion. "…Kiddo?"

Mortimer laughed a little. "Ah, yes. I'm technically Mortimer Darte Junior, but my late father hated calling me that, so my nickname as a child was 'Kid'." He shrugged, smiling. "It stuck I suppose. Better than being called 'Morty', or something equally horrific."

Soul nodded but did not say anything. Maka, by his side, remained silent.


Mortimer, or Kid as he insisted he be called, stayed with them for the rest of the day, talking easily with Liz and Patti, and eventually with Soul. But Soul soon noticed that Maka did not receive the same openness, though Kid was not so obvious as to be uncivil to her. If Maka were to say something, which she hardly did that day, he would listen, but he would not encourage her conversation like he did Soul's.

It made Soul a little angry if he was being honest. Also a lot confused.

After dinner out, Kid excused himself to go home. Once he was gone, Soul told the sisters that he was heading to bed, claiming a headache, knowing Maka would come with him to make sure he was OK.

When the door closed behind her, he turned to her and asked the obvious.

"OK, what's your deal with Kid, or Mortimer, or whatever?"

Maka stared at him for a long moment before her shoulders slumped and she seemed to deflate somewhat.

Now that concerned him. "Maka?"

She moved past him and sat on the guest bed, shoulders hunched and hands clasped in her lap.

"Kid is like me, he is not of this world," she murmured.

"So, he's a demon as well?" Soul sat down heavily beside her as realization dawned on him. "Does that mean…Liz and Patti—?"

"No, no," she interrupted him and grabbed his arm. "Kid doesn't deal with contracts, he's too important in hell to spend time in this realm. Or at least that's the excuse his father used before…"

Soul blinked. "Wait, too important? What…?"

She sighed. "Kid's my boss. That's why I was so 'weird' with him." She squeezed his arm. "He doesn't, well, didn't know that I spend some much time in this realm. He won't be pleased. Especially since—" She cut herself off suddenly and bit her lip.

Soul was quiet for a moment, waiting for her to continue. When she did not, he prompted, "Especially since…?"

Maka laughed a little, but the sound was bitter and broken. "Especially since relationships between humans and demons are not allowed, for the human's own good."

A lump formed in Soul's throat. "Maka—"

"I need to go," she said, standing up suddenly. She barely looked at him when she continued, "I need to explain myself to him. And try and figure something out."

He stared at her in silence for a long moment. "OK," he finally whispered.

She looked at him and her face softened. She leaned down quickly and gave him a soft peck on the lips before straightening and whispering, "I'll be back by dawn."

She disappeared into smoke just as he reached for her, and she slipped through his fingers.

He could not help think that maybe he was losing her.

Swallowing the lump in his throat made of dread and powerlessness, he stripped and wrapped himself up tight in the bed covers. Sleep took a long time to find him as the lump moved from his throat to settle heavily in his stomach.


True to her word, Maka was back by dawn. By that time, Soul had exhausted himself and had not woken up when she crawled in beside him to curl up against his chest.

When he awoke to find her there, he wrapped her up in a hug and crushed her against him.

She mumbled sleepily against him and he whispered, "I was afraid you wouldn't come back."

She stilled for a moment before embracing him back, tucking her head under his chin. "As long as you want me to, I will always come back."

"And I'll always want you to," he said. "Always."

She nuzzled her nose against the point where his neck met his shoulder and said nothing else.

They spent the day out with the Thompsons, as usual, although Kid joined them again. Soul was now painfully conscious of the other man's…inhumanness and tried to stamp it down so the sisters would not notice. Thankfully, if they noticed that both him and Maka were off, Kid kept them distracted long enough to forget about it.

Soul was aware of the little looks Kid kept throwing his and Maka's intertwined hands and every time it happened, he gave her hand a small squeeze. More often than not, she did not return it.


Two painfully quiet days later, Soul was back in Boston. The car ride had been tense, Maka's silence had put him on an edge that even smooth jazz could not soothe.

She waited till evening to bring up whatever had been on her mind.

"Soul," she called from her place on the couch just as he was about to pass to go take out his frustration on the piano. He turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "Sit with me?"

Once he was sat beside her, reclining into the cushions while she sat up straight, she took a deep breath and clasped her hands in her lap. She refused to meet his gaze as she began to speak.

"Kid is not happy that I have been spending so much time with you," she began.

Soul snorted. "No shit."

She sighed and shook her head. "Yes, I guess it was rather obvious. But, because he is my Lord and I am sworn to serve him, I must do as he commands. And he has commanded that I see you as little as possible to satisfy the contract."

His heart lurched. "And—and how often is that?"

She took a shuddering breath and licked her lips. "Technically that's once every six months, but—"

"Fuck that!" He jumped to his feet, hands fisted at his sides. "What the fuck gives him the right to just do that? I get that he's your boss, or whatever, but that doesn't give him the right to—"

Maka was finally looking at him and she held her hands out in a placating gesture. "Soul, I know, but if you would let me finish—"

"I love you," he blurted. She blinked, almost taken aback. "I love you," he repeated, gentler. "And I refuse to let him try and keep us apart."

"Soul," she said softly as she rose to her feet as well. She took a step closer to him and cupped his cheeks. "I love you too, and I won't let him keep us apart either. I'll come and see you more often than one every six months, but it won't be every day like it has been." Her thumbs brushed his cheeks, just under his eyes, and his gaze could not have moved from hers even if a bomb had exploded just outside his window. "I won't leave unless you tell me to, remember?"

He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes with a sigh, placing his hands over hers. "Yeah," he whispered. "I remember."

He heard her swallow thickly. "I-I won't be able to stay for very long, but I'll visit as often as I can, OK?" He opened his eyes again to meet her watery green eyes. "It'll be like the long distance relationships you humans sometimes have." She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs again. "Just with few sky calls."

He huffed a little laugh through his nose. "Skype calls."

She laughed and nodded. "Yes, sorry. Skype."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment before he leaned down to kiss her. She responded hungrily and before he knew it they were laying on the couch, clutching each other desperately. She kissed him like it was the last time she would ever see him. Even as he kissed her back in the same way, he refused to believe it would be so.

He refused.


Maka began to visit less and less, and even then, she only stayed for a few hours, tops.

At first it was every other day, then every few days, then it was once a week. The sparseness of her visits coupled with the shortness of them tore into his heart. Every time she kissed him goodbye and disappeared into smoke, he was ruthlessly returned to the night everything went to hell in New York, and the feeling that he was losing her hit him forcefully every time.

Whenever she was over, all they did was hold each other close and kiss over and over and over. Things often got heated, and the burning desire deep in his gut to go further, to make love to her with all the desperate, longing passion he felt for her grew to the point where he almost could not take it. But he was too afraid to ask her to go further, afraid that if they crossed that final line he would lose her completely.

So he did his best to content himself with her brief, burning touches and embraces, did his best to absorb all the love she whispered into his skin as he did his best to return the favours.

His heart ached every time she left, almost enough for him to want to say enough when she returned, but the need for her would grow to the point where he would be unable to say no to her advances when she came back.

It was a beautiful, toxic torture. He hated it. But he loved her.

Eventually he broke though. She stayed away for nearly a fortnight and it was just enough for him to get through what he hoped was the worst of his withdrawal for her.

She appeared as usual, sitting on his couch so that she was next to him, like she knew he would always be there, waiting for her.

And god, looking at her, he wanted to be able to always wait for her. But it was getting too much.

He glanced at her and read her expression. She knew. And she knew he could see that.

"Soul," she whispered.

He took a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his hair. "We can't do this anymore."

She sat back, leaning away from him as she moved her gaze to the wall opposite. She nodded. "You're right. We can't."

"It's just—it's not fair," he said, wanting to explain himself, wanted to explain that while he loved her, loved her so damn much, he could not let himself get into the toxic place they were heading. "T-to both of us."

She nodded again and her gaze fell to her lap. "I understand."

He clenched his fists on his knees. He wanted to reach for her too, wanted to embrace her and kiss her but he knew it would not help. In fact it would only prolong their pain.

"I need you to either commit or admit you can't," he added hoarsely before he could stop himself. "And I know you can't."

She was on her feet then, clothes changed into her original black dress. The breath was almost knocked out of him. Jesus, she was beautiful.

She turned slightly so she was looking at him. "I suppose this is goodbye then."

He nodded and swallowed. "See you in six months for the required minimum." He ignored the crack in his voice and blinked back the sting in his eyes.

Her hands made a strange movement, like they were automatically reaching for him before she stopped herself. She opened her mouth and he half expected, half hoped she was going to tell him that she loved him, at least one last time.

Then smoke enveloped her and she was gone.

The silence of his apartment rang painfully in his ears until his own sobs—muffled by a fist shoved into his mouth—filled the space she left behind.

Later than night he called Blake. When it rang to voicemail he choked into the phone, "I fucked up man, I fucked up, I fucked up. She's gone and I can't get her back." He repeated it like a mantra until the message ended.

He was so drunk he barely noticed. He passed out in his bed and woke up the next morning to a pillow still damp with tears.


Summer break arrived and he resigned himself to empty days and nights pining for a girl who was not even human (despite Blake's insistence that he would pull through it). At least until he received a phone call from his mother.

Then he spent his time anticipating another home visit.

At least his mom had promised that his grandma would be there, even if his dad would still be around.

When he arrived home a week after receiving the call from his mother, he was almost relieved the large house was as imposing and alien as ever. As always, he refused to give up his suitcase to the butler at the door and climbed the wide front stair case alone. He would rather not let anyone see how he still flinched as he passed his older brother's bedroom door, the room that would never be open again.

After unpacking he found his mother sitting in the smaller of the two living rooms and welcomed her embrace.

"Ah, you need a haircut," she chastised lightly when she pulled back to hold him by his shoulders. "Or else you'll be able to tie it back in a pony-tail and—"

"You'll come cut it all off when I'm sleeping," he finished for her. He smiled and shook his head fondly. "I know mom."

His mother's beam nearly shocked him with its intensity. "That's my boy. Your nana's in the garden, if you want to see her before dinner."

He nodded and left his mother to find his grandmother.

His grandmother was appraising one of his mother's vast flowerbeds when he found her. Her white hair was up in a bun, just like he remembered from his childhood, and she leaned heavily on her cane.

She did not jump when he stood beside her and murmured a soft greeting, merely glancing at him with a small smile before returning her attention to the flowers.

After a few moments of silence she said, "You do no deign to speak to your nana for several years and then do not beg her forgiveness when you finally see her? I thought your father taught you better."

Soul laughed and turned to meet her mischievous eyes. "Sorry Nana."

She scoffed. "At least give me a hug, Soul, if you're going to try and apologise."

He felt his eyes water when he embraced her, feeling like a little boy all over again as he breathed in her perfume. "I'm so sorry Nana."

She pet his hair back and shushed him. "You're here now, that's all that matters." Then she pushed him back a little and studied him, before smiling softly. "Now, take me over to that bench and tell Nana everything that's happened. You look far too sad for your age, sweetheart, even with your loss."

Soul smiled, a little wobbly, and did as she asked. Talking was difficult at first, but eventually a heavily censored version of events spilled from his lips (along with a few tears from his eyes) in the face of his grandmother's loving smile.

Once he was finished and his nana had given him her handkerchief, she gave him her advice.

"The girl you spoke of seems to mean a great deal to you, yes?" she began. He nodded and she continued. "I understand why you felt it would be best to break it off, it is very hard to maintain relationships when you cannot see each other. But Soul, dear, if you truly care for her, you should persist."

He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand for his silence and he closed it again.

"I know it is hard, and it will feel like your heart may break, but things will change." Her smile widened and she wrapped one of her hands around his. "And when things change, it will be for the better. Trust me." She gave his hand a squeeze. "So, when you can, give your girl a phone call and ask for another chance. I'm very sure, from what you told me, she cares as much for you as you do for her, and that she will be more than willing to try."

While Soul did not believe his grandmother's words, he did his best to smile and nod as though he did. Seeming satisfied, she patted his knee and got to her feet, waving for him to follow her for dinner.


After a week spent with his parents, during which he finally had a reconciliation, albeit a very tense one, with his father, Soul returned home. The emptiness was still there, but it felt slightly less alien after enduring the emptiness of his vast room in his parent's house.

He then spent a week and a half working and trying not to think about what his nana had told him. It was stupid and hopeless, but the idea kept nagging at him. Though he could not call her in the typical way, he could try and summon her again. But then he could also wait the necessary six months to see her again, facing the risk that she might have moved on by then.

Eventually he caved, and spent several nights trawling google in hopes that he would find the same website he had used nearly three years ago. He found it on his fourth night of searching and noted down all the things he would need, as well as what he would need to say (not only to summon her, but to convince her to say).

That weekend, he set up what he needed and spoke in the incantation.

At first nothing happened and Soul felt his heart start to break, but before he could fully resign himself to the feeling, there was a boom of thunder and familiar smoke swirled in the circle of candles he had arranged.

And there, once the smoke had cleared, stood Maka.

She looked just as shocked to see him as he felt that it had worked, but he recovered first.

"Maka, before you do anything, let me speak," he said in a rush, rising to stand in front of her, hands held out pleadingly. "I need to tell you something."

Maka's mouth opened and shut silently for a few moments. "Soul, I—"

"Please."

She stared at him for a moment before she rolled her shoulders back and nodded. With a wave of her hand the candles flickered out and she watched him expectantly.

He took a deep breath and began. "I-I know I said that it wouldn't work. But only seeing you sometimes hurts far less than not seeing you at all. Maka, I…I want to try and make it work, make us work. So please," he watched her face as he spoke, looking for any hint of what she was feeling, "can I have another chance?"

Her face softened and she took a tentative step forward. "Soul," she said softly and took his hand in hers. "Don't ask for another chance—" he heart stuttered in his chest "—because that makes it sound like you did something wrong, which you didn't. If anyone should be asking for second chances, it should be me."

He felt like he could hardly breathe, he felt hope rising in his chest that he did not dare believe. Her eyes seemed to burn into his.

"I was the one who hurt you. I was the one who did wrong." She took a shuddering breath and broke their gaze, looking down at their clasped hands. "But you were right to break our relationship off, it's not fair to make you wait for me to come back whenever I can. You deserve to be happy, and I can't give you that. You never have to see me again, the girls can check in on you instead of me, if you'd prefer, and I—"

"I don't care about that," Soul said, forcing her to look up at him with a hand under her chin. "I can wait, I'm good a waiting. As long as you're here sometimes, I can do that, I will do that. I was just scared before, scared and tired. But I don't want to lose you, I don't want to."

Her hand reached up and cupped his cheek, and before he could help himself he was leaning into her touch.

"What were you scared of?" she asked in a whisper.

He shrugged a little. "Scared I wasn't enough, I guess. Scared that if I gave you all I had, you'd leave anyway. People tend to do that to me."

She stroked his cheek with her thumb and squeezed his hand. "I wouldn't have done that. I…I won't."

He stared at her in awe. "Maka," he breathed.

"If you want me to stay, I will. If you want me to be with you, I will," she said resolutely.

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled into an embrace. "I want that. I want you. I love you."

He felt warm moisture against his shirt. "I-I love you too," she replied, voice cracking a little.

They stood there for a long moment, holding each other and breathing it in. Eventually though, Maka pulled away and sniffed, rubbing the tear tracks on her cheeks away with the back of her gloved hands.

"I think maybe we should talk some more," she said, looking up at him with her big, bright eyes. "To help our bond grow again."

"Uh, OK." Soul shrugged. "Whaaaat did you want to talk about?"

The smile that tugged at her lips grew slightly smaller. "Will you finally be willing to tell me what you mean by people tending to leave you?"

His shoulders slumped a bit. "Well, it's kinda a long running theme, I guess. We should sit down for it." With her hand in his, he led her to the couch.

Once they were seated, he told her his life story, his inferiority complex with his brother, his brother's death, his subsequent guilt over the afore-mentioned inferiority complex. How he had only really gotten close to a couple of people in school, who had then left for university, how he had had a hard time believing his parents really cared.

There were some tears, and he eventually fell asleep on Maka's shoulder when she pulled him into a hug after he cried himself out.

In his slumber, he missed her own tears, and though he did not know it, she was glad he did not see it. It would have been nigh on impossible for her to explain without opening up multiple issues that she would rather leave buried till the end of time.