When will the sadness end? Definitely not soon.

That apology was left undefined and built on top of it was rickety conversations that usually consisted of a few words whispered between them in the darkness.

A month started to stretch those words into sentences that took the second month to become paragraphs. These were something like the talks that they used to have except for the fact that Maka could no longer dip her shoulder into his or playfully flick the white hair out of his brilliantly red eyes. It was breathtakingly painful how much she missed those little motions that seemed to add so much to the ideas that passed between them.

Soul still seemed distant to her, his voice anemic in comparison to the rich, cool intonation she was used to. She blamed it on the hour, unsure how both of them had settled at 3 AM as their time. Don't do that. Nothing is ours anymore. You shouldn't even be doing this, should you?

"You doing OK?" That was usually one of his closing questions and she hated how desperate it made her feel.

"I'm lonely," came out in a suddenly painful burst of honesty that kept trickling from her lips like a dam about to break. "Mama has lots to do to prepare for the baby and I help with that. We talk but it's… it's not how it used to be." Not how we used to talk, not the kind of conversation that takes all the weight off my shoulders and lets me smile. "I'd love to actually go somewhere, too, just be out for a while. Enjoying somewhere with someone." You.

A strained sound came from his throat and perhaps a shuffle from the other end of the phone before his strangely cool, slow voice came back. "Then you should go out on a date or something. Isn't that what you want?"

"A date?" Maka warbled.

"Yeah, the pickings here were obviously not enough for you," his voice cut right through her, "So try out there. Smile. You're pretty enough that someone's bound to ask you."

For all the times he'd teased her about her looks she hated the compliment more. Pretty sounded like a curse from his mouth, especially with the ice that clung to each word. "I wasn't even thinking about that."

"You should," he urged back quickly. "I think that's what I'm going to do. Not that I'm half as good looking as you but at least I'm cool."

The flattery turned her stomach as the idea of it all twisted it back, making the bile rise up in her throat. It was that easy. It was knowing I was gone, out of the way, and he could move on, could tell me to move on. Maka knew the pause was too long so she forced out the words that pained her even more than his, "Good luck with that."

"I'm going to need it." The strangled quality of his voice escaped her, too busy listening to the echoes of their conversation.

He's moving on. From what, though, when you said you weren't together? She let the thoughts fight back, a useless altercation in her mind. From us because we were something! That's unfair, childish, and you know it! Grow up! As if growing up meant throwing away everything you loved.

Soul went to DWMA with that purpose resounding in his head, no matter how much others clamored to disrupt it.

You love her!

You want her!

No other girl is going to matter!

But I never got my answer. She had to have read that letter and all she could say was sorry. Sorry that we're not in love. That's all it could possibly be and I'm a pathetic loser if I can't let go of it if I can't get past it. Just like he was trying to get past Black Star who hadn't even technically registered in his mind.

"Hey, dude!" Black Star barely missed Soul's sleeve, instantly peeved by the fact that he had to reach for that hold in the first place to stop Soul's forward motion. "Hey, Soul!" Nothing came in reply and Soul's feet didn't stop, forcing Black Star to jog after him. "Soul!"

Soul stopped, snapping his head back. "What?"

That definitely wasn't what Black Star considered a proper greeting. "Nice to see you, too." Black Star moved toe to toe with him, eyes scanning his. "What's up your ass?"

"I'm busy," Soul shifted on his feet but didn't move out of the way.

"With?" Black Star raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

"I'm going to ask somebody out," he tried to make it sound as matter-of-factly as he could as if this were an everyday action, not something that threatened to completely destroy the equilibrium.

Black Star's head jerked back as if he'd been slapped in the face. "Fucking what?"

"You heard me," Soul snapped, feeling the courage starting to wither in the face of his best friend.

"No," Black Star shot out a finger as if to scold.

Soul blinked, "What?"

"Absolutely fucking not," Black Star emphasized each word with another wag of his finger. "Have you lost it? What about-"

"Don't even fucking say her name," came as a raw screech from his throat. "We're not together. We never were. This isn't some shoujo manga bullshit!"

Black Star took a step back, the air knocked out of his lungs. This wasn't best friend tones, closer to inflections saved for phone calls he'd overhead between Soul and his parents. "Dude, I know you guys fought but, seriously, think about this."

"I have," Soul spat. "If she doesn't need me, then I don't need her."

"Oh, Death, man, this is stupid," Black Star rarely begged but this was leaning towards it. It didn't make an ounce of difference as Soul turned his back, starting back on his direct path.

"What was that?"

Black Star was still processing through the stunning moment that he honestly could not completely wrap his head around. That wasn't my best friend. That wasn't Soul. Who the hell was that?

"Hello, Black Star," Liz huffed as she slapped the back of his head this time, hoping for more than rattling in his brain as a reaction.

"Fuck," he muttered as he rubbed her point of contact. "That's not Soul."

"Huh?" Liz looked at the quickly disappearing mop of white hair and then back at Black Star. "Looked like him to me. Unless we've got some kind of possession thing going on."

"No, he…" Black Star huffed out a breath of air. "He's going to go ask someone out. I don't even think he has an actual person in mind, just gonna do it."

Liz's heart almost seized in her chest. "What?"

"Yeah, just some girl," Black Star murmured as his eyes finally turned to Liz's face. "He wouldn't even let me say Maka's name, man."

She was ready to bust ass after that idiot, toss him to the ground and grind him into the dirt until he listened to some sense. "What happened?"

Black Star shrugged, "I thought you'd know. I know they fought like two months ago."

"Yeah, the phone call," Liz sighed. "But she apologized."

"So did he."

"Then…?" They stood staring at each other, two brains working together with no hope of making sense of the situation.

As those gears turned uselessly, Soul's feet were still moving forward towards the group of girls outside of weapons class. Patty was there and from the look on her face Liz must have sent a psychic message but it was really just the odd coldness in Soul's eyes that should be more like hot embers. "Hey, Soul," Patty waved tentatively as her brow started to knit.

"Hey, Patty," came as an afterthought as he seemed to zone in on the girl standing next to her, a petite brunette with big, blue eyes. "Hey, Sam."

"Oh, hi, Soul," she gushed out his name as she always did. Maka often referred to her as the cheerleader, a little Death's Last Weapon fangirl who'd take any chance that she could get to talk to Soul. "Are you coming to sparring today?"

"Yeah, especially since I wanted to talk to you," his words were smooth but his heart was trying to jut from his chest. It's going to hurt. It's not just going to hurt you, not just Maka either, but this poor idiot girl that you're pulling into it is going to be heartbroken. The adoration was shining from every inch of her smile and he tried to echo it. "You got a minute?"

"Plenty of minutes!" Sam's face was already turning pink.

Soul managed a smirk and motioned his head away from the group because his hand refused to listen. He was supposed to gently grab her hand, lead her away because wouldn't that just be dreamy? But every time his mind pushed the idea forward his body answered with the memory of Maka's hand in his. Even when he got her against the wall, all he could do was stand aloof, hands in his pockets. "Look, if you're not busy, did you want to do something this weekend?"

"Something?" Sam's voice reached a new octave and while it should have been cute it grated against him.

"A date," the word was so bitter that he felt the bile rise in the back of his throat.

"Oh," she was so sweetly breathless, now not a pink but a crimson coming to her cheeks. "That would be great, really, Soul."

"Great. I'll, uh, pick you up from the dorm at seven, Saturday?" This sounded like nervousness like this was his dream moment too, but it was really nausea stunting his words. It hurts. It already hurts.

"Yes, please," Sam was twittering, her smile bursting from the seams.

"See you then," Soul gave her one last look at the smirk before he turned away. As he walked towards the classroom his hand moved from his pocket to his gut, clenching at the old, imaginary wound from that explosive phone call. Let it go. It hurts, but it's over. Let it go because it's not like you were in love.

"Maka, phone!" Rin called from the hallway.

Her heart leaped faster than her feet. He's calling. He's calling and I can tell him I don't want to. That I can't imagine it. She yanked the receiver off the table and pressed it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Maka!"

The excitement drained, not just because it wasn't Soul but also because Liz's voice sounded distinctly not-Liz, a saccharine quality that didn't suit her. "Liz, hi!" she forced enthusiasm.

"How's the baby brother countdown going?" That at least was genuine, swelling with the dictated joy one was supposed to give when anticipating an arrival like this.

"Great! Mama's almost there, one month but she thinks any day now." Maka wasn't sure what countdown she was living in. She was obviously elated by the idea of being a big sister, but that time ticking by meant her separation was coming closer to an end. No matter what her mother had said, she hated the distance, this 'standing on her own' that seemed to have become her mother's mantra every time Soul's name was mentioned. "Then a few more and I'll be home."

"Great, great," Liz echoed herself, making the words fall unconvincingly against Maka's ears. The silence after didn't help, the obvious shuffling on the other side of the phone.

"Liz, is something wrong?" It wasn't as if Maka wanted the answer especially since her mind could come up with a million possibilities on its own.

"Maka…" there was a heavy sigh, another pause to collect words in her mind. "Maybe it's not any of my business, but did something happen? Like with Soul?"

"What do you mean?" Those million possibilities were narrowing, each option making her even more breathless than the last.

"Well, you said… you two fought, right? But you're still… together?" Liz offered.

"We're still friends," that word burned like acid on her tongue.

"Friends," Liz repeated, not a question but another bitter intonation.

Maka clutched her hand into the table, steadying herself as if a real blow was coming. "Did he… he asked someone out, didn't he?" She didn't need the answer to feel that ripping and tearing like rusty nails digging into her heart.

"Yeah," Liz whispered weakly.

"Who?" her lip trembled, almost failing to utter the word.

"Maka-"

The anger was starting to blossom, the idea that she was ready to give up, to beg him, who had just so easily moved on and forgotten a woman that he swore he'd give his life for. "Who?" she spat.

Liz sucked her teeth before relenting, "Samantha Yearling."

The cheerleader. The head of his devoted little fan club. A girl who is nothing like me. That drove another strike to her heart but the next was the one that made it shatter. Because he never wanted me. "Fine," Maka croaked. It's not like we were in love.

Soul tried to generate an ounce of nervousness, at least in sympathy for Sam's blushing agitation, but nothing came. Even as he reached his hand up to touch her cheek, he didn't have to make some excuse in his mind that he was clearing hair from her face. When he leaned in he wasn't worried about knocking noses or clacking teeth because none of it mattered. If she said 'no,' if she pushed him away, if she never wanted to see him again that would all be fine. Losing her would be as easy as misplacing a bobby pin.

It's not like she argued anyway, eagerly meeting his lips like she had something to prove. It wasn't bad, a tingle still running down his spine at the sensation especially since this was his first, wasn't it? He'd always envisioned it with Maka in a million different ways but now it was just a girl who could be any girl, pressed up against a wall behind the dorm. By Sam's standards, this was probably a night to remember, but Soul saw it all slipping away, the movie, the pizza, the arm he put around her on the walk back to the dorm. None of it was there to stay because there was no purchase left on his heart, no place to stake a claim.

That became the pattern, Sam being forgotten, tossed away after a week of empty lip locking and replaced by the next any girl. There were more than enough of them, some that required a little more chasing, a little more charm, and that was something that he found he could fake with the greatest of ease. He told himself he was living, that this was what it was like for a healthy eighteen-year-old man.

Just like healthy living was waiting by the phone at 3 AM, picking up on the first ring. "Maka."

"Hi, Soul."

"What'd you do today?" He knew he'd surprise her with the question, but something about tonight made him yearn for her voice. He tried to tell himself it wasn't because one of the any girls had tried to touch him, to press beyond just a kiss and he'd stalled.

There was a pause like she was compiling information and he waited almost happily for the gushing list he assumed he was about to receive. "I went on a date."

The succinct tone cut him to the core, the frivolous way she ripped out his heart stirring that original anger that he had to gulp down. "How was it?"

"Nice, he was nice," the weak repetition was a relief to him until she stumbled over the next part, "Not a great kisser, but he was charming."

His mouth twitched into a grimace as he tried to keep himself from grinding his teeth knowing the sound would be too obvious. Instead, Soul forced that cool back into his voice. "Set for date number two then?"

"Probably not," Maka murmured.

"Too bad." That's when he tilted his chin, getting his mouth far enough away from the receiver that he could choke on some air without her knowing.

"What about you?"

That anger stirred and he wanted to list out the names, the locations, the dates down to the minute but something in him wasn't frozen over yet, crying out against it. "I haven't." I'm not even sure I can talk about it without it hurting and it's not like she's going to be jealous anyway.

The silence hummed before Maka whispered, "You don't have to lie to me, Soul. I know. Liz told me."

"Oh," he withered.

"It's-" She cut herself off to produce another restless interlude. "It's not a big deal. This is… what we're supposed to be doing. And we're friends. We can talk about this kind of stuff, right?"

"Right," but his mind was moaning the opposite.

"So tell me, how was your date with Sam?"

That was a lance right through his heart that Maka could speak her name without even a stutter. "Fine. She just… I should have guessed she'd be a little too clingy," came breathlessly from his mouth.

"That's not surprising." The little snort of a laugh she gave in reply was another stab in the gut.

"I'm dating someone else now." He couldn't help it but the thought trailed right after, What will she think of me? I'm going to look just like her father and she's going to… but isn't that just the point? I'm not good enough for her so what the hell should it matter what she thinks of me? She doesn't even think of me.

"That was quick."

Soul tried to analyze every intonation there, a puzzle he had to solve as if his life depended on it. Again, idiot, it doesn't matter what she thinks. "I guess everyone realized I'm available and they've been coming out of the woodwork." That's right, cool. Lose the baggage, ignore the twisting in your insides, and be cool.

After their phone calls, Maka had gotten into the habit of crying. She told herself it was nothing, just now a natural part of falling asleep after letting him tear her apart for an hour in the early mornings. They talked now more than they ever had, spilling every last minute detail about their day, about the other people in their lives, their dates. Every girl he paraded in her mind was so different from her, the only connection was that maybe a few had been meisters and while that was most certainly a new kind of blow for her, she could only find one insinuation there: I was never the kind of person that he wanted.

Yes, she was dating, too. Maka honestly had to at this point and it wasn't as if her mother didn't encourage it. Maybe a little less so after the baby was born, a moment that Maka knew should have come with more of a shining blare of trumpets but she barely felt the joy in anything anymore. She could remember what being happy was like, the twitter of a genuine laugh or the rise in body temperature that came with pleasant thoughts, but none of that was now. Even holding her brother Dameon brought only a small reminder of what it could be like.

Taking care of the baby during the day, talking to Soul at night, crying, then what little sleep her body would allow had now become the day to day cycle. Every day brought a deeper yearning to be home, but that brought with it a distinctive new fear. Neither had spoken about the return as if uttering a word about the idea was a curse. In Maka's mind there was nowhere else she wanted to go except back to the apartment, back to coexisting with Soul, but the idea of him bringing those girls home, of parading them down the hallway to his room and closing the door, choked her.

Maka had let these dates kiss her, some even intent touches that wanted to go further but that further never happened. Those touches only felt like tiny bits of betrayal but she'd convinced herself that there was no way Soul had the same idea in mind. He'd probably touched, pressed, undressed and she would have to share in the reality of that when she went home, ignoring soft noises between closed doors. That thought came back to her after every call, doing nothing but urging the tears.