Freefall
by. Poisoned Scarlet

6a

Things were certainly different.

Maka had expected as much but it had been like a punch to her gut when she had first seen her mother - with that same smile, laugh, bright eyes, thin body - standing beside a tall man who offered his own polite smile when she approached them. They had been standing far too close; looked too comfortable with each other. Her mother had let her hand linger on his arm; he had nudged her to embrace Maka and watched with a strange, soft, glimmer in his chocolate colored eyes.

Maka knew even before her mother told her.

She had been more concerned about her father than her own tumultuous feelings, though: Spirit always brought up Kami when he took her out on their many father-daughter dates. Maka always felt resentful when he did, thinking he doesn't deserve to look as if he loves her because it was his fault she left in the first place.

But it was as Soul said: her mother was at fault here, too, something which Maka hadn't acknowledged until she caught sight of her engagement ring. Kami had practically dumped her onto Spirit the instant the divorce papers were finalized. There was no reason for it yet she still did, with the claim of leaving to tour the world and 'reinvent' herself. Could she not have reinvented herself with Maka alongside her? Was she ashamed of looking at her, seeing all the familiar traits of her father in her? Had she really not loved her as much as she'd said that day before she left, or was it because she truly needed to roam the world on her own to build herself back to that proud woman she had been once before?

Maka would never know.

She would never ask such a personal question to a woman she barely even knew anymore.

"Do you have anyone waiting for you back in Death City, Maka?" Kami asked with a tense smile. They sat in the leather couches in her spacious living room, with Maka holding a glass of soda in her hand while her mother finished a cup of coffee. Kami had decorated her apartment in the Western style instead of the traditional Japanese one, but Maka didn't mind. It made it seem as if she were just visiting another person in the same town; not that she was thousands of miles away, surrounded by a culture she barely knew, away from everyone who mattered most to her.

But the few days spent under her roof were stressful.

Kami wasn't the same cold, no-nonsense, woman Maka remembered.

She was different, kinder, softer, somehow.

Does love do this to people?

Maka found herself wondering about this the entire time, watching her mother and her husband-to-be smile lovingly at one another; laugh at the most trivial things, like who stumbled on the rug or who accidentally spilled some juice on their shirt. The lingering touches, stolen kisses, the general aura of happiness that surrounded them, was something Maka wondered if Kami felt when she had been married to Spirit, her father.

Or was this completely different: once-in-a-lifetime? Extraordinary, rare?

Maka did not have it in her to ask, nor did she want to know the answer to it if she did.

"Anyone waiting...? Well, Tsubaki, my best friend, and – and all of my friends at college are going to miss me a bit. Or at least my notes." Maka added, with a small smile. Kami's own smile relaxed. "And Soul – !" She cut herself off brusquely, chiding herself for being so careless. He was a topic she wanted to avoid altogether when under the same roof as her mother, for the simple reason that she would ask about him and Maka would not know what to say because she didn't quite know, either.

"Soul? Such a strange name." Kami questioned, curious. And as Maka predicted: "Who's that?"

"He..." Maka hesitated. "He is..." The question made her blood run cold, faced with the challenge of answering that simple inquiry. Who was Soul to her? There was no easy definition for what they had. He wasn't her husband or fiancée; calling him a boyfriend made it sound as if he were a teenage infatuation; lover only captured a fragment of what they shared; friend could never encompass all he meant to her...

He was the only person in her life, she thought with wonder, who seemed to defy description.

"He...is my partner."

"Partner?"

Maka stared into her glass, allowing the word to sink in. Partner: one that is united or associated with another in an activity or area of common interest. It was the only word that fit, that captured more than a glimpse of what they were both nurturing. But it went beyond that generalized definition: there was more to them that met the eye, and Maka was just beginning to understand this.

Her cellphone weighed like a block of lead in her back pocket.

The clock ticked louder than she remembered.

The calender nailed on the wall was starting to bug her in the way her eyes kept straying to it.

She kept thinking back to their conversation just a day ago, how he'd awkwardly composed his way of saying I miss you and how the words had left her lips so easily; like breathing, no hesitation and no thought.

"Yes. My partner." Within the carbonated drink, she saw the ceiling fan spin. The afternoon sunlight streamed against the walls, a rich golden, and the air was clean and warm and saturated with her mother's dulcet scent. It was unlike her own apartment, which was always dimly lit; always rather drafty, rather lonesome until he moved in, and which seemed to flourish with his refreshing smell now.

Everything was different in Tokyo, with her mother and her fiancée.

But different was not always better, as she set her sight to her mother and her concerned smile. She probably thought she liked him and they were dating, Maka deduced absently, and she had no idea of the dreadful sin they had been committing this entire time.

Because they were not dating. It had not been established, and Maka had avoided establishing their relationship like the plague.

But now she couldn't even remember why she avoided it so much.

She didn't wanted to continue living in limbo; living as if nothing were wrong and they were friends and nothing more.

Because things weren't so black and white anymore...

She didn't think she'd be able to play the part of indifferent lover anymore, not with how heavily she missed his presence; his jokes and snarky grins and how he always, always, always managed to piss her off one way or another. How he hovered without even knowing, scowled at people who were rude to her when she took him to the market (usually by force; he loved her couch), and how he made her feel safe when he wrapped her in his arms but subsequently ruined the mood by kissing her ear and laughing when she squeaked and tried to regain hearing by rubbing it out furiously.

"Partner...that's a very strong word, Maka." Kami commented, noticing the dreamy look her estranged daughter had. With a covert smile, she added: "He must mean a lot to you."

"...He does."

And she really did believe it this time.

6b

"C'mon, Soul, man up!" Black Star shouted over the pulsing bass, energetically bobbing his head to the beat. Soul leaned against the table, a drink in his hand for appearances' sake. "Nothing can stop you tonight! Maka's gone for another couple of days– it's just the two of us! In a strip club! You do the math." He smirked.

Soul snorted. "I came because you didn't wanna' go alone. That's all." He took another drink, as a scantly clad woman spun around a pole with her head thrown back in laughter, performing gymnastic feats that would leave a few wide-eyed. "Go do what you came to do and let's go – there's a game on tonight and I wanna' see it."

Black Star deflated. "You're always such a buzz kill when we come to places like this! Live a little, would you?"

He ignored that. "Hey, look." Soul gestured toward a beautiful blond with a curling smile and twinkling hazel eyes. "She's looking straight at you. Go for it." She would be pretty, if her hands weren't so soiled with the filth of her job. He watched Black Star shoot her a haughty grin, receiving a coy smile in return, and rolled his eyes when he swaggered up to her and whispered something that had her giggling and nodding happily in reply.

"How about you just go for it!" Black Star told him the instant he came back, holding that girl by the waist. She smiled flirtatiously at Soul but he ignored her. "You told me you and Maka were just fucking around, and she ain't here right now. So, what's the big deal?"

"An STD, maybe?"

"All our girls are checked weekly." The girl pipped up, sweetly. She wrapped her arms around Black Star's neck, pressing her bulging assets against his chest. "He's got a point – just have fun. Let loose...any girl here is sure to satisfy you." She smiled saucily. Soul hardened his eyes in reply to the devilish twinkle in her own.

"...No, thanks." Soul coolly rejected, looking away when he caught a glimpse of a topless girl on stage; already starting to strip off her stockings as her audience urged her on with hoots and money. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen them before - but now it felt wrong, doing it so casually. It wasn't the same as before. "Hey, 'Star, get going, would you? The game starts in an hour."

"An hour?" He gaped. "No way! That's not even enough time to get started!"

"Then you better start now, you idiot!" Soul snapped, losing his last strand of patience with him. He wanted to leave, he suddenly realized, because he felt something tight and uncomfortable in his gut; heavy like a weight, fouling up his entire mood. "Tsubaki said she'd let us use her TV since we can't use Maka's! She's waiting for us."

Black Star clammed up and mouthed her name, suddenly unsure and lost, but Soul had already waved him off. He left his half-finished drink on the bar table and, with one last glance at him, walked through the narrow aisles of the club. Girls roamed the scene, holding trays with drinks and wearing sultry smiles, with indecent clothes and inhaling the scent of sex and cigarette smoke with a dirty flourish. Men chatted amongst themselves; groping the passing women, wearing lewd grins.

He felt suffocated by it all.

Being in such a place felt like a horrible mistake; like he would be getting punched, slapped, gutted, when Maka came back from her trip although he, technically, had no reason to fear retaliation because they didn't have a definite label on their relationship. He was still free, for the moment, still able to have his fun, but it didn't feel like it anymore. He felt committed already.

He guessed that was why it felt all sorts of wrong; that weight in his gut becoming unbearable to carry the longer he stayed within the cabaret. Something edging on panic clouded his thoughts, made his walk brisker than before, when he thought of Maka and all those heavy, thick, textbook-like books she carried around with her. The damage she could do if she ever caught wind of this was frightening to think of. So when a girl stopped him, smiling widely and asking if he needed anything at all, he turned her down with a glare; intent on reaching the exit by all means necessary.

But, he admitted to himself, that gust of icy air was like breathing for the first time.

Soul leaned against a lamppost outside, running a hand through his hair. The emotion he'd identified as guilt had subsided the instant he stepped foot on concrete. He took a deep breath to settle his pounding heart. This was certainly uncool, fearing a girl because of her uncanny skill at smacking him around like some loser. But a wry smile still crept on his face; still made him think that even though Maka was the one who put him in place when he got too out of hand, he would always be the one to weaken her knees and unleash that urgent desire she sealed away, which always made his blood boil as her eyes would be the brightest during that span.

He had only just composed himself when the door flew open and out stormed Black Star, scowling heavily and complaining loudly about this basketball game being worth it.

"Whoa, what's the matter? I thought you were gonna' fuck her." Soul said, bewildered, but followed his friend to his car at a much slower pace.

"She's a bitch." Black Star simply said. He was careful not to look at Soul as he said this. He stuck his chin up in the air loftily. "And someone as great as me is way above fucking a bitch. I'd rather go without it! So, who against who again? Wanna' place bets like last time?"

Soul did not comment but answered his question, knowing Black Star had only stopped himself from indulging in his lust because of one girl; one timid, soft-spoken, kind, girl who was happily humming a song to herself in the kitchen as she cooked dinner for the two boys who were to arrive soon to watch their basketball game.

A.N: On direct orders of a certain reader *coughKnickknack47cough*, I posted this chapter as promised! You guys are lucky: you get a double update! That's practically unheard of on this site XD

Maaaan, I can't stop listening to Misery by Maroon 5! It's been on replay for the past... three hours now. If someone does a SoMa on that, I will love them forevaaaa...

Scarlett.