I really am sorry that I always have to make these romances between the two of them complicated. I have really no chill.
Maka read the entire poetry book as she sipped through her tea. It wasn't beyond her to notice that she'd spent the whole time touching her cheek, the ghost of his lips often distracting her from a line. Really, it wasn't just that, it was the entirety of the night that had been bewildering because while her mind had set her up with panic and anxiety, there was no place for it to hold. He hadn't forced her to undress, to rush through motions that she still wasn't entirely sure of, and instead reminded her at every turn how much he knew her.
Maybe that was the first hurdle: to accept that Soul was ultimately still the boy she'd known, just with broader shoulders and added height. And that obstacle was the hardest for her to overcome. Because didn't I come here knowing he hadn't given a moment's thought to me in five years? I was sure he'd see my face and laugh, let me be tossed out of the contest, remind me that all my happy memories were really just dreams. Even if she crushed that feeling there was more strangling her, bringing her down because, ultimately, she wasn't supposed to have gotten this far. This had been her final fantasy, the most impossible of all, and living it felt inconceivable.
After she finished the text and her tea, Maka slid down in the sheets. She was suddenly and embarrassingly aware that this was his side of the bed since the mattress had sunken to fit him but more so because that delightful woodsy smell of him was deeply ingrained into the pillow. Because there was no way for him to catch her, Maka enjoyed it by letting her cheek rub against the fabric. This was how he had always smelled and it fueled the memories of the two of them together, the stolen hugs or other moments of what she always told herself was improper closeness.
As time continued to tick by her eyelids started to droop and she rolled to the other side of the bed to hide her shame of enjoying him. At first, she'd assumed the lump was just the fact that the other side of the mattress was obviously not broken in but as she tried to settle the more it dug into her. Maka lit the candle again, slipped out of bed and settled on the floor before feeling under the mattress. She was instantly rewarded with a poorly bound book that looked more like a mess of pages banded together. Without any thoughts against the idea, she opened it.
Each page was a litter of letters, but most surprising was her name on the very first page, tucked away in the corner almost as if it were an afterthought. It was dated a few days after the accident. All he remembered was my name? Just my name? Not all our years together, the things we did, how it ended, just my name? She brazenly continued to flip through pages, details about his life, his brother, Black Star, even the kitchen girls each had their names a few times but always hers missing on every page. Dates zoomed by but Maka was still a singular blip, a tiny corner that he'd left behind.
She wanted to close the book. In a way, she cursed herself for finding it and him for creating it because it only seemed to verify exactly what she'd thought: He doesn't know me. I don't matter. I was just some girl, just a name on a page. Her heart threatened to break, but she pushed forward, in a way trying to make it happen, to pop the bubble of this illusion.
Instead, there was her face staring back at her. The charcoal was smudged and overworked, obviously an attempt at perfecting the image, but it was a very close likeness. The date was the first of the competition, his first view of her in five years. And while she might have imagined biting teasing, words of disdain, the rest of the margins were filled with every observation, the bottom of the page emboldened with 'I know her.' It was then that the tears started but Maka barely noticed them.
Every day after came with another drawing of her likeness and every single memory that had come back to him about her. The tea was there, the books, and things he hadn't admitted to remembering like the day one of the barn lofts had cracked under their feet and he'd grabbed her and took the weight of the fall. It was the first time they'd been pressed together so close, her body on top of his and it had apparently been a terrifying realization for him that even with the agony of having the wind knocked out of him he'd do it a million times more if he could.
Then she saw it, the most frightening of all words: love.
"I asked Black Star if he knew how I felt about her and that's when he gave me the gift I had made for her years ago, the honeysuckle hairpin. I don't know what it means and it's killing me. I know I need to give it to her but how do I make sure she knows that even if it was his gift that I think I want to feel the same way about her? Is that fair? That I don't know for sure, but even if he didn't, I do want to love her."
She hiccuped through a sob as she turned the page.
It was a beautiful sketch of her with the pin in her hair and he had somehow recreated the smile that she'd been hiding for most of the time she'd been there as if that was something he'd remembered on his own too. "I remembered! I did it all on my own and I know that it's the truth: I loved her. And I don't even want to put it in the past tense. The only problem is somehow that hurts her. I wonder if I did something. If there's more I'm just stupidly not remembering. Damn it."
Maka shook her head sharply. Again, not something you did. It was me. It was all my fault.
Another few pages of much of the same, and while she thought 'love' was the word that would bring her the most fear it was the last page he'd written, the one after yesterday's argument that made her heart feel cold and brittle. "I still can't stop worrying. I love her, I need to keep her safe, and the idea she could get hurt or even die is tearing me up inside. I'd do anything to make sure nothing happens to her. I would rather die. I'd die to keep her safe."
She shut the book, hugged it to her chest, and prayed out a thousand little 'no's.
A part of him had hoped she would have visited him, but as he snuck back through the dark corridors he couldn't blame her. Soul was exhausted as well but had pushed himself to play long enough to give her the time and space she might need. Maybe he needed time as well, especially to try to urge his memory forward, to bring forth a clear reason why her face looked so utterly destroyed when she placed her hand on his scar. He was only partially comforted by the fact that Maka had seemed reassured by his order, and even more so after he dared to kiss her cheek.
With each step closer to the room, he replayed that moment. There was no measure for how much he wanted that to have continued, for his lips to travel wherever she would have allowed them because that was part of his promise. It was actions that were going to show her that he loved her, and he was hopeful that tonight he had given her the clear message: When I do touch you, I want you to want it. It's not just my duty, it's not just because of this stupid pact for an heir, it's because I want you to be happy. I want us to be happy.
His eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness as he shut the door softly behind him. She was curled in the bed, thankfully facing towards him so he could steal glances at her sleeping face. His first urge was to wake her but that would only be for his comfort, not hers, so he left it. He slipped out of his shirt purely because of habit, tossing it on the floor in the darkness. With all the care in the world he eased onto the bed, trying his best not to disturb her. Now that he was close enough, his head on the pillow next to hers, the dried tears on her cheeks were obvious.
It was easy to curse under his breath, to imagine the reasons why, but instead he tilted his chin, letting his lips come to her forehead while he urged in his head, I'm sorry. Even that soft touch didn't wake her, so he curled closer, moving his arm around her. Holding her felt like a blessing, that knot easing in his chest as she didn't struggle or even seem to wake. Even with the mystery of her tears teasing in his head, Soul fell asleep quickly as he counted her breaths against his neck.
The knock woke her, but it was her cheek pressed against his bare chest that sprung her to life. Maka's head jutted back only to find Soul's arm tight around her shoulder and allowing for no more movement. She tilted her head up, her nose almost grazing his chin as her voice warbled, "Soul?"
"Too early," he grumbled. His hand slipped along her shoulder but hesitated at her hair, surprising her by coiling and digging in towards the back of her neck.
The knock started again.
"Fuck," Soul groaned as his fingers left her and he somehow untangled himself from her immediately, leaving Maka in want of warmth and an explanation. He rattled the door on the hinges as he opened it with a forceful annoyance.
"Morning," Black Star was cooing and Maka was thankful that Soul was still blocking the door. "How was it?"
"Shut up," Soul muttered.
"The servant girls are all mouths this morning," Black Star cackled.
"Is this important?" Soul shot back.
"What, did I interrupt? Morning after, too?" The scuffle started and Maka wanted to raise her head to see it but was afraid to leave the safety of hiding in the blankets.
After another string of curses and what Maka could only assume was more jostling between the two of them, Soul spat, "Just why the hell did you wake me up?"
"Your mother wants to see you. Now," Black Star cut the laughter.
"Just me?"
"Definitely."
"Fuck," he muttered. "Give me a few minutes."
"Oh, take your time," Black Star sang back but it was cut off by the slam of the door.
Soul stomped back towards the bed, picking up his shirt off the floor and angrily wrenching it into place over his head. "I don't know what the fuck she's planning but I'm sure I'm not in the mood."
Maka finally sat up, her hands smoothing over her nightgown and her hair. "You weren't lying when you said you didn't like to wake up."
While he had been in the middle of running his hands agitatedly through his hair it stopped, a smooth laugh bubbling from his throat. For the moment he was back, not a hint of unruliness as he moved back towards the bed. "Look, you don't have to come."
"It didn't sound like I was invited," Maka shrugged.
"Which means it's probably something about you," he sighed back.
Maka smiled softly, "Well, I know you'll be smart about it. I guess just don't promise them a second heir since we, well…"
"Yeah," he laughed tensely. "We can… talk about that tonight."
"Tonight," Maka nodded. "Soul… what you did last night…"
"Yeah?" He was holding his breath.
"It was nice, but…"
That sent an icicle through his heart. "But?"
"Maybe it's safer not to show me any particular regard." Her voice wasn't a murmur but a steady order.
"What?" He laughed at the ridiculousness especially as she couldn't hide the different message in her eyes, because while she was trying to make it look like a soft study of his reaction, Soul could see the tears she was trying to hold back.
"Just… try, Soul," she sent back sharply as she turned from him, her legs dangling over the other side of the bed.
'No!' was what he wanted to scream but the knock came again and he could only manage a terse, "We'll talk tonight."
"Of course." Once the door slammed behind her Maka let out a shaky breath. You're just doing it all over again. You're pushing because you're scared. You're going to try to fight him tooth and nail but what good are you doing? But those last lines in the book flashed back in her mind and the determination settled again. I'm going to protect him, too.
"Princess," Liz cooed happily as she opened the door just in time for Maka to flush the other thoughts from her face and adopt a smile. "Are you ready for the day?"
"She must be tired," another of the girls teased, flashing Liz a grin.
"Be careful," Liz hissed back.
"What, she's one of us, aren't you, princess?" A second girl offered as she raised her eyebrows at Maka.
Maka resisted the urge to bite at her lip and instead pressed forward a smile. "I grew up doing exactly as you did. I was just lucky Lady Marie took a liking to me." That was partially a lie, but Maka liked the fit of it, the way it brought her back to reality instead of the fantasy of being Soul's princess.
"See?" the girl offered.
Liz narrowed her eyebrows with a sour pucker to her lips before she pressed the other two girls to start jobs around the room. As she reached into the bureau to grab Maka's dress for the day, the voices continued.
"Princess, how was it?"
"Hush," Liz balked, even though it was the expected morning after gossip.
"He was gentle." Maka could claim that without a front since that had been the entirety of her night and her experience with him. Her mind followed with the admonishment because all of his touches and actions speak of the love you're so desperately avoiding.
"Oh," the girls cooed.
"That's enough," Liz snapped as she turned back to Maka and placed the dress on the bed next to her.
"It's alright, Liz," Maka's smile was less convincing this time and the taller blond adopted a disapproving glare with the other girls.
This seemed to go completely unnoticed as the one kneeling at Maka's feet to place her shoes continued, "Probably because of the consorts, you know? They're always so dainty about how they're touched. He's been trained well."
"Consorts?" The word felt alien on her tongue but Maka knew the meaning.
"His father keeps so many," the girl shrugged as she blinked up at Maka. "I guess you'd have to assume he'd used one or two and with the way he and his captain of the guard run around…" She turned her face to a seething Liz. "You were in the kitchens, Liz. I heard that's where they were most often wrangling skirts."
"Absolutely not," Liz spat back. "His captain, maybe, but the prince?"
The other two twittered with laughter, "I really did think his reputation was well known."
"What reputation?" Maka murmured.
"That he's more than gentle," the other laughed.
But the first girl picked up again quickly, "But that's not for you to worry about, princess. He's taken with you. I'm sure there'll be no need for that anymore for him."
"Get out," Liz snapped quickly.
"But, Liz-"
"Out," she repeated, stomping her foot childishly for emphasis but having no power to stop herself from doing it. She'd watched the color drain from Maka's face and while this wasn't necessarily a partnership out of friendship, Liz hadn't lied when she said she wanted to be on this girl's side. As soon as the other two had scurried off, Liz bravely put her hands to Maka's shoulders. "Please, don't listen to them."
"I'm sure it's just gossip," Maka said softly before turning her face to Liz, a weak smile pulling at her lips. "I wonder what they say about me if that's what they spread about him."
"Please," Liz urged again as she dropped lower, moving to grasp Maka's hands. "He never acted inappropriately in the kitchens and the consorts-"
"Are none of my business," Maka shrugged uneasily as she pulled her hands away from Liz's grasp. "Anyway, it's not as if this was some runaway romance. He has a duty to me and I have a duty to him. And right now I think I should get that started. Wasn't there something with, oh, the ladies of the court or something that I was supposed to attend?"
"You were invited to the court ladies' mid-morning tea," Liz sighed at the ridiculousness, happy that Maka echoed her. "To speak plainly, that sounds awful."
"It will be," Maka offered a short laugh. "And… I think you might be the only person I want speaking plainly. Is there a way you can get rid of those girls?"
"Oh, thank you," Liz gushed. "They're gone. I'll steal two of the naive, quiet kitchen girls who will actually listen when I tell them to stop."
Maka shook her head, "I don't think I need so many attendants. I am very capable of dressing myself and it just feels… a little too grand."
"You really were a common girl, weren't you?" Liz mused. "Speaking of dressing, look at what the prince had made for you. Functional, but…" She lifted the hem and displayed intricate embroidery. "Still fitting of a princess."
She stared at it, letting her finger trail the fine threads. "He does too much."
"To talk plainly again," Liz warned. "Would you let him? This is the first time I've ever seen him… I don't know how to describe it. It's not so much that now suddenly he cares about something, since he's proven he's fond of us and he obviously is inseparable from Black Star, but maybe…" Liz pondered this for a second and Maka found herself hanging on the edge of her seat no matter what her rational mind was ordering her. "You said duty, but this might be the first time I think he's doing more than just what duty, what life dictates. He wants something. It's nice to see that. So could you humor him, even if maybe you don't-"
"Discussing my feelings for him might be a step too far," Maka forced the order from her mouth even though her heart was still aching for it.
"Of course," Liz nodded with a sigh. "Let's just get you dressed."
Maka gave in to Liz's primping, leaving far too much energy for her mind to continue to churn over the same idea over and over. I need to protect him. Even if it's protecting him from me.