I deserve all the flaming I'm going to get for this.

Soul met her in Kid's office. Her hair was a brilliant purple in a short bob cut that she swept to the side, almost overwhelming one of her grey eyes. Kid introduced her as Nova, a DWMA CIA agent visiting from some obscure corner. She was loud, definitely a talker that left no information out of any conversation no matter the subject. I don't know if I like her or hated her.

As that thought glanced over his mind she started to ask, "What are you doing tonight?"

I guess I'll find out.

Nova. It was a stupid name, definitely a fake name, not possibly a name from birth (let's ignore that she would not be so flippant about Soul's name), and it was coming off his lips now more than once. It was lasting not just for a few days, not just a week, but two and then into three. A month hit and Maka tried to compare the tones if he was enjoying the way he said her name if those sentences containing her seemed to matter more than all of the others. You're jealous. So jealous. It's pathetic. But it was true.

It was 3 AM again and this was the only thought she could greet him with, "It's a month until your birthday."

"Yeah," he chuckled breathily. Really, he was suffocating. "Nova's planning some party or something."

This produced utter, cold silence, and Soul was about to try to veer away from the subject when Maka cleared her throat. "Can I come?"

"Where?"

"To the party, can I come?"

Why did that make him feel like breaking into wracking sobs? Get it under control. You have a girlfriend. Two month's worth of a girlfriend and she's… she's… "You're coming home?" it felt desperate and scratchy in his throat.

"I've never missed your birthday, not once since we've known each other," Maka murmured. "I can't do that now."

"But you're… are you going to stay?" His skin was paper and the wrong whisper back would shred him.

"Of course."

Soul clamped his hand over the receiver, forcing himself to take deep breaths to push back that urge to wail, to let the idea of her coming home break him down. Something close to a whimper still snuck from between his teeth.

"And I… well, I guess I want you to be honest about something," Maka's voice was trembling.

Honest? His heart lurched and he let the hand slip lifelessly from the receiver. "Alright."

The words all rushed out as if they were one, "Do you want me to move back to Spirit's?"

"No," Soul practically barked into the phone. Death, you sound desperate. Just let her go. Just let her be away from you instead of torturing yourself.

"No?"

Don't leave me, quivered on his lip as he dug his knuckles into this thigh. "We're friends. You live here. No need to fuck up the status quo."

"Right," she murmured.

"But you're going to come home before my birthday?" He wanted to urgently add the 'when?' but he'd already been pathetic enough.

"I thought I'd come home a few days before," if her voice was any softer he wouldn't have heard it and he wondered if she had moved her own lips away from the phone, trying to hide something.

"Great," Soul tried to keep that as even as possible, not give in to the agony.

Maka had gotten the invitation, one of those email invites that seemed too cheesy for words or maybe too hip. Either way, she hated it, the idea that his birthday was turned into a glamorous show, too many names in the to: category that she didn't recognize. That isn't Soul. He hates parties if they're for him and most of all he hates the spectacle of his birthday.

She hit the accept button anyway right before switching tabs to the airline tickets. She hadn't actually even made the arrangements to leave, letting it fall on his reaction. He'd been cool enough, bringing up the status quo and giving her almost no reason to worry about what it would be like to see him every morning again, to be in the same space, to let fingertips touch skin. No, no more holding hands, no more caresses, not even ever again sleeping in the same bed. That's all over.

Soul had Nova. A girl who planned birthday parties for him. That kissed him. That was probably wrapped up in his sheets right now because she'd asked him. He'd told Maka that much, that he'd been surprised that it wasn't his urging that got him somewhere. Maybe he liked a girl who ordered him around. Maybe he liked a girl that was willing to admit that she liked him. That bar can't possibly be that low.

And that's not Soul, she circled back in her mind. It takes him time and effort to decide what he likes. He's pickier than anyone I know. He never liked the way Sam fawned over him. He always hates to be bossed, even on the battlefield because we were a team. Were. Remember the were. Soul can be anything he wants now.

Soul hated this part, the one that clearly showed him he wasn't healthy and he wasn't anywhere close to living. Nova was mostly undressed and he was hesitating, fingers toying at the hem of her panties because that was what she wanted. The bold girl asked him after the first month if he was the kind who was saving himself and Soul had just shrugged, trying not to put any particular emphasis on the way he'd tried to stick with kissing but not touching. After that came the push, the insistence, and the request seemed reasonable especially since he liked her, didn't he?

Nova was eccentric, loud, strong-willed and actually had a pretty good taste in music if all you wanted to listen to was early punk. Soul could convince himself that this was what he was into and if that was the case, making her pant out his name like she had when he ran his hand between her legs should have been his aim. It should have brought him joy.

Instead, shame was always the main component. Because even as his hands were grasping into that purple hair he was imagining the long, blond tresses running through his fingers. Those fingers running up and down his back would be thinner, the hands a little more dainty even though there was no way that should be possible for a scythe meister but for Maka it was. He even went so far as to know, just simply sure deep down, that the kisses would be different, that the urge wouldn't be some absurd hormonal thing but a craving for comfort. Not to mention she'd taste like strawberry. I don't know why, but she would.

Soul always stayed silent, no moans to utterances because he knew the danger. Her name was always a second away on his lips and he couldn't risk it.